#i am so deeply and utterly in love with her | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

drcranessweetestdoe · 2 months

Note

Hiii😻

I’ve got an idea as well: Older husband Cillian showing his young wife how to please him properly xx

Hii, thank you for the request!<3 I am always a sucker for some older husband Cillian:)

Hands on mine

warning: age gap, first time bj, oral (m), dirty and sweet talk, nothing too filthy:)

pairing: older husband!Cillian x younger wife!Reader

summary: Cillian teaches his little wife how to please him

The marriage between them caused a bit of a stir within the crowd, the big age gap was there, but who cares as long as you are utterly in love? Their chemistry was undeniable and the sex was amazing.

But as she was soaking in her bath, she couldn’t stop thinking about one thing. Cillian was always down to keep with his younger wife’s big appetite, doing his best to please her and fuck her until both of their bodies were spent. However, he never asked for her to please him back. It’s not like she didn’t want to, she did, but she was so scared of hurting him in some way. It soothed her that he was perfectly satisfied with her pussy, but sometimes she wished that he would just grab her head and shove his cock down her throat.

Cillian was her first in everything, which meant that she never sucked cock before. She jerked him off for half minutes just before he was about to penetrate her, but nothing more.

As she thought more about it, the more she felt her mouth salivating at the thought of pleasing him. She got out of her bath, dried herself and put on a lacy tank top and cotton panties. She knew that Cill would be in the living room, reading a book on his beloved armchair.

And of course, there he was. In sweatpants and a thin shirt, his reading glasses sat on top of his nose and his face was one of concentration. God, he looked so good.

While he was lost in his book, he suddenly noticed a pair of feet padding into his peripheral vision, before he knew it, his sweet little wife was making herself comfortable on his lap, demanding his complete attention without any words. With his book now put aside on the side table, he wrapped his arms around her, kissing the top of her head.

“Hello there, sweetheart.” He whispered into her ear. He was so smitten with her, he could smell the sweet vanilla scent of her bodywash and his hands caressed her skin that was barely covered. His brows furrowed when he noticed the slight pout on her lips. “What’s wrong?”

She moved to straddle him and moved her face close to his, she looked deeply into his baby blues and said. “I want you to teach me.”

Her closeness made his body warm up. “Teach you what, darling?” He whispered, her cotton clad pussy was sitting right on top of his hardening cock, he could even feel her warm heat.

“I want to please you, suck your cock.” She murmured shyly, which made him chuckle and caress her hair lovingly.

“Oh, my little doe, you had me worried there. But, you just want to be good for daddy, eh?” She just nodded eagerly.

“I-I want to learn how to make you feel good, because you always make me feel so good with your mouth, daddy. I want to do the same thing.” Her hand wandered down to his crotch and started palming him through the thin fabric. He hissed at the sudden contact, her clever little hands felt so good on him.

Before she could take him out, his hands grabbed her face. “Are you sure, little doe? I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this.”

She just giggled and kissed him. “I’m sure, daddy.”

“Well, then… On your knees.” He said to her in a deeper voice, the voice when she knew not to disobey him or she would be punished. In contrast to his voice, he planted a kiss on her temple, just so she knew that they could stop anytime.

She dropped to her knees and started to pull his pants down, along with his underwear. Cillian was petting her while she was doing it. “Very good, take me out, my pet.”

His demanding voice made her feel more excited to be finally doing it. When his nearly fully hard dick sprang up in her face and against his stomach, she grabbed it with her delicate hand and started jerking him off slowly. He grunted at the contact, never taking his eyes off of her. “Spit in your palm, it’s going to be better for me and easier for you.” She did as he told her and it actually was better, her hand now gilded easily up and down his member. “You can do it more tightly—“ he put his hands on hers, guiding her. “—just like that. Hands on mine, let’s go a bit faster, hm?” He put his hand back on her head when she had the perfect grip on him.

“Just stay calm and do what feels natural for you.” He sensed her nervousness.

“I-I don’t really know what to do, daddy…” She looked up at him sadly from her kneeling position and he felt his heart melting.

“Okay, so… Start with little kisses, and an occasional little licks here and there.” His voice was laced with pleasure, especially when she planted a kiss on his tip. “Oh, fuck—right there, doe, that is where it feels good for me the most.” She kept on kissing and licking at his tip, tasting the precum that was beading from his slit. His tip was smooth and warm, she enjoyed having it in her mouth. She suddenly had an idea, she ran her wet tongue from his base to his tip, when she got up to the top, she took his pulsing tip into her mouth and sucked on it. “OH—- You’re doing so good… So, so very good for daddy. Keep on sucking.” His hand tangled itself into her silky soft hair. After a few minutes, she let him slip into her mouth a bit more, with hollowing her cheeks she started to bobbing her head up and down on his cock. Her lips smiled around him when she heard his moaning and his fingers tightening in her hair, it felt so rewarding.

She still didn’t relax completely, she was constantly careful not to scrape his sensitive skin with her teeth and she was doing very well.

Feeling his palm pushing her even more down, she was trying to fight the urge to gag. She took a deep sigh and relaxed her throat, letting his big cock slip into her throat. “My god, doe, you are doing amazing! You are pleasing daddy so much!”

She deepthroated him a few times before he pulled her head off of him by her hair. He chuckled darkly when he heard her whining. “Hush, sweetheart. I’m going to show you another thing you can do to make daddy feel good.” Now she was listening with big eyes. “Touch me lower, touch my balls. Lick them, fondle them or suck them.” She lowered her hair to kiss all around his testicles. She gently palmed them and started to kiss them, occasionally letting her tongue dart out for a taste.

When his moans faltered and she got bored, her slightly swollen lips wrapped around his dick again. She let his hand dictate the pace, he was rough and gentle at the same time, something only her husband was capable of doing.

“Just a bit more, my little love.” He urged, barely being able to talk, the feeling of her warm and wet mouth all around him was swallowing him up. He didn’t let her break eye contact, he needed to see his pretty little wife to be able to cum.

He warned her before he came, giving her time to pull off, even if he wanted nothing more than to paint her mouth with his seed and have himself deep in her tummy. To his surprise, she kept on sucking on him and using her hands at the same time. Of course she would swallow, she was his good little girl who was always hungry for his load.

“I’m there! I’m coming, my darling— OHH YES!” She felt her mouth fill with his thick and warm load. She gulped it down eagerly, enjoying the feeling of her belly filling up with him. She pulled off when his meaty thighs twitched from sensitivity, then she gave him one last peck and tucked him back into his pants.

He smiled when she wiped the remaining cum off the corners of her mouth with her fingers, only to lick them clean.

He reached down and put her back in his lap, kissing her all around her face at which she giggled at. He saw that he tired her out, so he gently cooed to her.

“My good little wife, always so good to me. You did so well, the best blowie I ever got. Thank you, my darling.”

She nuzzled her face into his neck, smiling softly and enjoying his gentle caressing.

“Rest now, sweetheart. You deserve it.”

When he felt her nearly falling asleep, he kissed her hair again before picking his book up. His little wife asleep in his lap, with her tummy full of his seed, he smiled knowing that she was his.

taglist: @your-nanas-house @red-riding-wood

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lustfulslxt · 3 months

Text

Hellbent - Chris Sturniolo

summary : y/n and chris, so incredibly in love with one another, yet ruined by self sabotage.

warnings : angst, swearing, fluff, smutty, heartbreak, self-harm (if you squint)

a/n : this is the one :)) regular italics are flashbacks.

—

so who do i call now? i'd give it all now, just to be fighting in the kitchen and hearing the crash of broken dishes. thought it was bad then, this heartache is hellbent.

“Why are you pushing me away?!” She shouts, tears brimming in her eyes as the ache in her chest grows.

The two of them were everything and nothing at the same time. So head over heels for each other, but almost doomed from the start. Chris; scared to take things to the next step. Y/N; wanting nothing more than to take it further.

They were both in love with each other, but Chris couldn’t voice his concerns, instead, opted for trying to make her hate him. It was unconventional, yet it made the most sense to him. He loved her with every fiber of his being, and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. However, the thought of furthering their relationship, making it real, scared him to death. There were so many factors in which caused him to pull back. Though, things would have been better off if he had just explained his worries, he chose to make things harder than they needed to be.

Y/N loved Chris more than any and everything in her life. She loved everything about him, and she wanted to be with him, more than what she had. She didn’t just want sex and casual conversation, she wanted love and passion. She could feel it between them, the most amazing love and deepest passion, but there was still a barrier between them. It was easy for her to read Chris, well usually, but their recent encounters had thrown her for a loop. She could feel the love from him, yet the unexplainable distance he put between them and the impenetrable walls he put up only made her head spin.

“Chris.” She half sobs, after receiving no answer from him.

He can’t bring himself to look at her. He knows the sight of her torn apart will break his heart, especially because he’s the cause of their wreckage.

“Look at me.” She begs, “Please, Chris.”

He deeply inhales, his eyes frantically darting around, unable to lift his head. His heart feels heavy. He knows he has no right to be sad, considering this is all his fault, but he can’t help but feel melancholy.

The sound of loud sobs spring through the air, and the sight of Y/N falling to her knees in his peripheral causes his head to snap over in her direction. There she sat, her body shaking with every weep that left her mouth. Her rosy cheeks glisten with a tremendous amount of tears, and her lips pull into the deepest frown he’s ever seen on her. Her eyebrows are furrowed and her eyes clenched shut.

Chris can feel the lump forming in his throat as he takes in her appearance, utterly heartbroken. Knowing he’s the reason she’s so distraught brings tears to his eyes. Hurting her is the last thing he ever wanted to do. His mind is racing; he’s unsure of what to do. He wants to take her in his arms and hold her close, profusely apologizing and taking it all back. Yet, part of him feels it’ll only make it worse. Without another thought, he joins her on the floor, his arms wrapping around her as he tries to console her.

Her cries only worsen as she fights to push him away, “Why are you doing this?”

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, repeatedly, like a mantra.

Her reluctance to accept his embrace continues, only for him to try harder. Tears inevitably slip from his eyes, he hates the predicament he put them in. He can feel her struggling die down as the energy diminishes from her body. Her body still shakes with sobs, but she can no longer put up a fight against him. There they sat, her body slump against his as his arms wrap around her.

“I am so sorry, Y/N.” He mutters, his voice croaking.

A few moments go by before she responds, “I just don’t understand. Things were going so well between us, and you can’t say that you don’t feel something deep for me. I know you, Chris. We’ve spent almost every day together for the last year, I know you inside and out. But what I don’t know, is why the sudden change? Why are you pulling back?”

Again, he doesn’t answer, which only infuriates Y/N. She harshly pulls herself from his hold, turning around to face him. His face is ridden with sorrow as he looks at her with sad eyes.

“You’re giving me absolutely nothing! You’re leaving me in the dark about it, I do not deserve that. I’ve been nothing but good to you despite how you’ve been the last couple of weeks. The least you can do is tell me what changed.”

He sighs, struggling to find the right words to say. He can’t bring himself to tell her the truth, and he knows whatever he says won’t matter. She’s going to be hurt regardless. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, letting his head fall back.

“I don’t feel anything for you.” He lies through his teeth.

“Bullshit.” She snaps.

Even though she knows he’s lying, his words still hurt. She doesn’t understand why he can’t just be straightforward with her. He’s never lied to her before, why now?

“I don’t feel anything for you.” He repeats, his eyes now staring into hers, looking void of emotion.

Her heart feels like it’s shattering all over again. She’s never had to deal with this type of hurt before. She’s never felt the way she feels for him for anyone else. Despite never being in a relationship before, she knows she’s in love with him.

“Get out.”

“What?” He asks, unsure if he misheard her.

“Get out.” She repeats through gritted teeth. “Get out! Go! You don’t feel anything for me? You want to push me away? You want to call it quits? You want to leave? Then leave! Just leave, Christopher.”

He doesn’t want any of that, it’s the last thing he wants. And knowing that once he walks out the door, she’s going to spiral, makes him want to stay even more. But the whole point in him pulling back is to make her hate him, because he knows he won’t be able to leave her. He needs her to leave him.

Without a word, he gets up from the ground and makes his exit. She watches him leave, the door shutting behind him. She hopes and hopes that he’ll turn back around and apologize for everything. She hopes he’ll finally admit to her that he loves her and that he wants to be with her, but she knows it’s won’t happen. It’s done. It’s over. They’re over.

It’s been a week since Y/N and Chris have spoken. A week since he left. The hole in her chest only grows bigger with every passing second. She misses him so deeply. Part of her just wishes she could just go back to their last moment together. It was hard and it hurt, but she’d rather have that than nothing at all.

Going from seeing each other all the time to not having any type of communication was more difficult than she anticipated. She knew it wouldn’t be easy, but God, did her heart hurt.

Chris was in the same boat; distraught from the loss of her. He was stuck grieving their relationship and the guilt he felt was tremendous. He knew that the downfall of them was his fault, he accepted responsibility. There was nothing more that he wanted, than to go to her house and apologize, and tell her how he really feels about her. He loves her more than anything. He’s not sure he could ever not love her. Everything about her just calls out to him, he finds perfection in the simplest attributes of her being.

Leaving her behind caused him physical pain, but he couldn’t bring himself to give in. He was scared of fully committing, taking the next step with her and making it real. Although, it felt real, there was just something about giving all of himself to her that struck him with fear. Maybe it was the fact that he knew how his fans would react. They would chew into Y/N like they were starved animals and the only thing to satisfy their hunger was to eat her alive. He didn’t want to put any kind of negativity on her.

So, there both of them lay, alone in bed. Eyes glued to the ceiling, cheeks stained with tears, lumps in their throats, anxiety brewing in their stomachs, and heavy chests. Two different homes, yet exactly the same all at once. Eerie silence, so loud they can feel the echo of their painful heartbeats in their ears. The more they think back on all of their time together, and what came of them, the more frequent and louder their sobs got.

Chris and Y/N both lay on the couch, their legs entangled together while she rests atop of him. Their fingers are intertwined as she has her face buried in the crook of his neck. Every so often, she would deeply inhale the scent of him, feeling intoxicated by the way he smells. She can never get enough of it.

"Are you smelling me?" Chris asks with a chuckle, his chest subtly shaking with the vibrations from his laugh.

Y/N playfully rolls her eyes, moving to look up at him. "Yes, what about it?"

"Nothing." He smirks, shaking his head. "You're just odd."

"Hey!" She gasps, defensively. "You smell good. Is it a crime to enjoy it?"

He laughs once more, "A crime? No, but it's definitely odd."

"Shut up. Don't think I haven't caught you doing the same thing to me. You're not slick, Christopher."

His cheeks darken with a rosy color, warming up in slight embarrassment for being caught without him realizing it.

"You've seen me smelling you?" He asks, his voice timid.

"Please. You practically breathe me in." She teases, enjoying the state of him being flustered.

"How come you never said anything?!" Chris questions, his jaw dropped.

She shrugs, resting her head on his chest, listening to the rapid beating of his heart. "It was never that deep. We like the way each other smell, so what?"

He doesn't reply, instead, flips the two over, so that he's now on top of her. She looks up at him with wide eyes before he smashes his lips against hers, taking her in a deep kiss. Their lips move together as if it's the easiest thing they'd ever done. In reality, it probably is.

One of his hands softly grips her jaw, the other resting on the bare skin of her waist. Her hands cup his face, deepening the kiss, until he pulls away. His lips trail down her cheeks, meeting her neck with soft kisses. His nose grazes her skin, brushing over it as he takes a deep breath through it. Her sweet scent fills his nostrils, rushing him with dopamine.

"You're such a weirdo!" She laughs, pushing his face away from her.

"Hey! You said it's not that deep!" He defends.

She giggles, shaking her head, "Come here, you dork."

Her fingers softly grasp his dangling chain, pulling him into her for another loving kiss that the two of them both melt into.

Y/N's pillow was drenched with her tears. With every happy memory surfacing, came a thousand more tears. She was incredibly distraught. She didn't know what to do, she felt so lost. Never in a million years did she think she would lose Chris. It never even crossed her mind.

Her house was dark and quiet, the only sounds being her cries. Her fingers gripped the roots of her hair, tugging in frustration. The burning sensation couldn’t compare to the aching in her chest. Maybe on the outside, people would assume she's being dramatic and should get over herself, as well as the boy she's so bent over. But on the inside, she truly felt so utterly heartbroken. She hadn't spoken a word aloud since she told Chris to leave. It's been seven whole days since she uttered a single word.

She had no one in her life aside from Chris, his brothers, and their friends. No one has reached out to her, but she couldn't blame them because she hadn't tried reaching out to anyone either. She simply turned her phone off, attempting to shield herself from the world.

She didn't know how to cope with the loss she was feeling. She knew it wasn't good to stay in bed and shelter herself from any and everything, but she couldn't bring herself to get out of bed. All she wanted was Chris. She wanted to rewind time to go back and have him again. Unfortunately, she'd rather have their messy situation than have nothing of him at all.

Tear-stained papers were scattered throughout her sheets, handwritten notes from Chris. She reread everything he's ever wrote to her over and over again, wishing for him to say the words out loud to her. She could tell from his letters alone; he did love her. She could tell from his actions and how the way he treated her, he did love her.

So, why on earth could he not just voice it?

Why, instead of telling her he loves her, would he push her away and make her feel like none of it mattered to him to lose?

“Chris!” Y/N’s yells, her laughter filling the atmosphere as she runs from said boy.

The two have giant smiles on their faces, joyous sounds emitting from both of their mouths as they run around the house. A can of silly string rests in his hand, determined to empty it on her.

“I swear it’s all gone, look!” Chris fronts, attempting to sway her just to cover her in it again.

“You’re lying!” She laughs, running around the counter.

Chris catches her on the opposite side, causing her to shriek in fear. His free hand wraps around her waist, holding her close while his other hand sprays the silly string all over her. At that point, she accepts defeat and pouts at him.

“Chris.” She whines, feeling the substance coating her head. “My hair!”

The grin never leaves his face as he pulls her flush against him, one hand on the small of her back, the other hand softly grasping her chin. His eyes stare down at her in adoration, love swelling in his heart as he takes her in.

“I’ll wash it for you.” He offers, closing the gap between them.

Their lips meet, soft and tender together. She melts into the kiss, savoring the way they mold together so perfectly. Her hands trail from his biceps to around his neck, her fingers, instinctively, playing with the loose strands of hair at the nape of his neck.

Y/N pulls away, only to be met with a frown on Chris’ lips. She breathily laughs, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the direction of the bathroom.

“What are we doing?” Chris asks, following in suit.

“We aren’t doing anything. YOU, are washing my hair like you oh so kindly offered.” She grins, locking the door behind them.

He chuckles in response, immediately accepting with no hesitation. He turns the faucet on, adjusting the temperature just how he knows she likes it. While they wait for the water to heat up, he grasps the hem of her shirt and pulls it over her head, tossing it in the hamper.

The innocent look in her eyes as she stares up at him with love ridden on her face makes him feel like putty. He can’t help but capture her lips in a sweet kiss once more.

They continue to undress, discarding their dirty clothes with the rest of them. Chris helps her into the shower, joining her seconds after. He held her close, the hot water drenching both of them equally as they stood in each other’s embrace.

“I love this.” He mutters into her hair, his hands gently caressing her body.

“You love what?” She asks, looking up at him.

His beautiful blue eyes fill with admiration as he gazes back at her. His wet hair slick against his forehead and his lips a soft pink. He smiles at her, brushing the soaking hair out of her face. His touch against her incredibly tender and sweet, full of love and passion.

"Being here, like this, with you." He whispers, his voice soft and delicate, almost as if he is worried of scaring her away.

Y/N's lips pull into a rather large smile, her stomach fluttering with butterflies. His statement was so simple, yet it has her weak in the knees. She doesn't say a word, only clasps her hands around his neck and pulls his face into hers. Their lips meet in a longing kiss, both of them savoring the deep connection between the two. Chris' hands wrap tightly around her waist, tugging her against him, desperate to feel all of her.

After a moment, they pull away, breathless. She smiles up at him and lays her head on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat echoing in her ears. His cheek meets her hair, enjoying the feeling of her embrace. His hands run through her hair, massaging her scalp as he does so.

Suddenly, she pulls back and looks him in the eyes, "I love you."

He smiles, "I love you too."

She shakes her head, biting her inner cheek. "No, Chris. I love you. I'm in love with you."

He feels as though time stops, everything frozen around them. The running water muffles, and all he can hear is the sound of his erratic heartbeat. His eyes are wide as he stares down at her, his voice caught in his throat. He wasn't expecting this. Though, looking back, he should've realized it would be happening soon.

Her lips started falling, curving into a frown, before quickly pulling them back up in a tight-lipped smile. "It's okay."

He opens his mouth so say something, yet nothing comes out. She softly shakes her head, her fake smile growing in an attempt to reassure him, even though her heart is slowly breaking at the thought of him not loving her back. Not loving her the way she wants to be loved, the way she loves him.

"You don't have to say anything."

And so, he doesn't. He clears his throat, proceeding to wash her hair like he intended. The silence between them is loud, awkwardness filling the air. Y/N can't help but feel regret for saying those words. Although, they were nothing but true, she now feels as though she messed things up.

That was the beginning of their destruction. Everything changed the moment Y/N said those five little words. Chris pulled back and put his guard up. Y/N was so lost and confused, unknowing of why things changed. Using her head, she knew it was because she admitted her feelings, but her heart ached every time she attempted to understand why it changed. It was obvious to everyone that knew the two, Chris was undoubtedly in love with her. Why wouldn't he just say that?

The next couple of weeks after Y/N's confession were looming with uncertainty and inevitable ruination. Chris was snappy and seemingly far away, trying to put as much distance into them as possible. He could see what it was doing to her, and it made his chest tighten in agony. She wasn't the same happy girl she usually was. At times she would try to hide it, but he could read her through and through. She was sad.

No matter how many times Y/N tried to address the elephant in the room, Chris would always be extremely dismissive and standoffish. She could barely even get two sentences out before he was either interrupting her, or simply walking away. The pain she felt was excruciating. Every time he just left her there, she felt like he was taking her lungs with him, because she suddenly found it hard to breathe.

Chris was her person. Without him, she had no one to turn to. She couldn't reach out to anyone for advice, simply because there was no one else. She was stuck enduring the heartache he was causing, unaware of the fact that he was going through the same feeling. He didn't want to be cold towards her, he didn't want to leave her drowning in a pool of unwanted emotions, but it's what he felt he had to do.

Ever since their last communication, the skies were dark. It was as if the universe was following in suit of the two of them. The world seemed gloomy around them. Either that, or their overwhelming negative emotions clouded everything good in the world.

"Chris, bro, you have got to leave your room!" Matt's voice was heard from the other side of the locked door.

Chris doesn't respond, only continues to look off into the distance, reminiscing about the girl he loved and hurt all at the same time. His bedroom door shakes with the pounding from his brothers, both of them desperate to reach him. Suddenly, the furious knocks stop, leaving just a moment of silence before the lock clicks and the door flies open.

Chris turns his head, his dead eyes meeting Nick and Matt. The two of them look back at Chris, their faces morphing into sadness and confusion. They have no idea what's causing Chris to be so detrimental to his own health.

"What's going on, Chris?" Nick asks, "You have to talk to us. We're your brothers."

Chris can't even find the words to respond. Just by his features, Nick and Matt can see that he's absolutely devastated. However, they have no idea why. When he doesn't answer, Matt walks forward and sits beside him on the bed, engulfing him in a comforting hug. That seems to have an effect, because Chris bursts into tears, his entire body shaking as he silently cries. Nick gasps and rushes over to the other side of Chris, joining in on the embrace, desperate to help soothe the pain of his brother.

"Shh." Nick coos, "It's okay. It's gonna be okay."

Chris violently trembles, as his sobs grow louder, "I fucked up. I fucked up so bad."

"Chris, tell us what happened. We can help you fix it." Matt says.

He shakes his head, "It's too late."

Nick and Matt share looks of concern, completely bewildered by the state of their brother. He had never ever been like this before, and quite frankly, they were unsure how to handle it. They just continue to console him to the best of their ability.

“Is this about Y/N?” Nick asks, sharing another look with Matt.

“We’ve noticed she hasn’t been around this last week.” Matt adds.

Chris doesn’t say anything, so Nick continues, “Did something happen between you two? It’s not like you guys to go so long without speaking to each other.”

Chris’ cries only seem to get louder, indicating the two of them made correct assumptions. Matt rubs Chris’ back in another effort to comfort him.

“Chris, if you want to talk about it, you know we’re always here for you. No judgement, no criticism. Just here to listen, and if you want advice.” Matt softly states.

Slowly, but surely, Chris’ finally gets himself together enough to stop sobbing, however, the tears remain a steady flow. He lifts his head up, looking back and forth between his brothers with a frown on his lips.

“I told her I didn’t feel anything for her.” Chris finally admits.

“Why would you lie?” Nick questions, receiving an elbow from Matt, pulling a groan from his mouth.

“Go on.” Matt insists.

Chris sighs, tossing his head back in frustration with himself. “She told me she was in love with me the other day. I didn’t say it back.”

Nick and Matt look at one another, realization dawning upon them.

“I don’t know why, I just couldn’t say it. The words wouldn’t come out.” Chris adds.

“But you do feel the same, right?” Nick asks.

Chris nods, “I love her more than anything. I’m so in love with her, it hurts. But I’m such a fucking idiot. I pushed her away, I made her hate me.”

He lets out another sob, Matt quickly jumping in, “I’m sure she doesn’t hate you. It’s Y/N, she could never hate you.”

“You weren’t there.” Chris shakes his head, several tears falling from his eyes. “I looked her in her face and told her I don’t feel anything for her. I watched her fall apart. I could see it in her face, what my words did to her. I’ve never seen her so sad before. She told me to leave, and we haven’t spoken since.”

“Oh, Chris.” Nick sighs. “You’ve gotta fix this.”

“Dude!” Matt counters, nudging him again.

“No!” Nick cuts, “I know we said we’d listen, but come on. Chris it’s so obvious you love her. Look at the way you’ve been distraught over this! You haven’t left your room in a week. We’ve had to use old unposted videos just to give our fans content because you’ve been sulking. I get you’re upset, I understand that. What’s stopping you from telling her the truth?”

“I don’t know.”

“You do know, you’re just lying to yourself.” Nick snaps. “Accept it, Chris. Just say the words out loud.”

“I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?” Matt encourages.

“I’m scared of fully committing. I’m scared of giving her all of me and not being good enough!” Chris shouts, feeling exasperated.

Nick sighs, “Kid, look back on all these years. She’s been head over heels for you for as long as I can remember.”

“Plus,” Matt starts, holding a finger up. “You’re still committing to not being with her. So, therefore, it’s not commitment you’re afraid of.”

Chris shakes his head, a small chuckle leaving his mouth. “It’s not just that. What if after everything, she doesn’t love me like she thinks? And our fans would go insane.”

“Fuck our fans!” Nick exclaims, receiving a pointed look from Matt. “Okay, that sounded harsh. But seriously, if our fans can’t be happy that you found someone that makes you happy, then they’re not real fans.”

“I don’t want them to hurt her.”

“Like you’re doing right now?” Matt points out.

Chris frowns, knowing Matt is absolutely right. He is hurting Y/N, and that alone, makes his stomach drop.

Y/N’s phone had been going straight to voicemail, and none of Chris’ texts were delivering. He assumed she blocked him until he tried having Matt and Nick call her, but to no avail, neither of them got through. So, either she blocked all of them, or her phone was off.

Regardless, Chris was ridden with panic. He worried immensely about her. He knew she was hurting, and he was scared of her doing something stupid. Which brought Chris to where he is now; standing outside of her door.

He’s been on her doorstep for about five minutes, contemplating what to do and what to say. Part of him wants to turn around and forget about him, but he can’t bring himself to do so. He needs to talk to her. So, his hand reaches forward and, before he can talk himself out of it, he knocks several times. So much, in fact, that he yanks his hand back and curses at himself for being so stupid.

It feels like forever has gone by, like he’s been standing there for eternity, until the door opens and snaps him back to reality. His head lifts up and he’s met with Y/N. Her eyes are bloodshot, cheeks red and puffy, and she looks incredibly miserable. Chris still finds her beautiful.

Her eyes widen in surprise before they’re replaced with anger as she frowns at him, “Can I help you?”

The way she talks to him like he’s a stranger makes his stomach twist and he’s suddenly ten times more nervous than before.

“Y/N.” He sighs, unable to form another other words.

“Christopher.”

He takes a deep breath, washing his anxiety away in order to speak to her. “You were right. You were right about everything. I was a complete asshole. You didn’t deserve the way I treated you, the way I pushed you away. I lied. I do feel things for you. I feel so much for you that it terrifies the fuck out of me. I’ve never felt this way about anyone and I didn’t know how to deal with it. So, when you admitted your feelings for me, I panicked. I was scared, I’m still scared! I don’t know how to be in a relationship, I’m worried I won’t be good enough for you. I’m scared you’ll realize that you don’t actually love me the way you think you do. I’m scared I’ll ruin everything good between us, if I haven’t already. You’re so fucking amazing, I can’t even wrap my head around how you want anything to do with me. I do love you, I’m so fucking in love with you that it hurts. I’m so incredibly sorry for the pain I caused you, it breaks my heart that you had to endure that because of me. Because I’m an idiot. I’m sick for even jeopardizing us because I was an idiot and couldn’t use my words like a big boy. I do love you, and I want nothing more than to be with you, to have a family and grow old with you. I want to go to every single doctor appointment for our children. I want to have cute gender reveals and baby showers. I want us to have a cute little house with the white picket fence. I want us to have a cute little garden and a play-set for our kids, and a little doggy house. I want to go to sleep with you every night, and wake up with you by my side every single morning. I, so badly, wish I could take back the last few weeks, but I know it’s not possible. But please, if there’s any part of you that still wants me, I want nothing more than to be yours.”

By the time he’s finished speaking, he’s breathless. The two of them had tears running down their cheeks, never breaking eye contact for even a moment. Chris feels so much relief for finally getting that off his chest, he just wishes he had done it sooner rather than later.

“Do you want to come inside?” Her voice speaks up, softer than before.

“Please.” He nods, letting out a breath of nervousness.

She opens the door wider, allowing room for him to enter. He does so, turning to her once she shuts the door. The two stare at each other, no words spoken, causing Chris’ anxiety to spike.

“Will you say something?” He asks, “Please.”

Instead of speaking, she steps forward, yanking him into her. Her arms wrap around his neck, his arms going around her waist. She buries her head in the crook of his neck, and he places his head on hers. Both of them sigh in contentment, finally back in each other’s embrace. Their hearts swell with love as relief floods their bodies.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” He repeats.

“Shh, come on.” She says, reluctantly pulling away and beckoning him to her room.

He follows her in, watching as she gets on her bed. He stands there, almost unsure whether to join her, until she pats the space beside her. He wastes no time in lying right next to her, their bodies molding together once again. Her head on his chest, his arm around her, keeping her in place as their legs entangle and fingers interlock.

“I missed you so fucking much.” He whispers, pulling her impossibly closer in fear that she’d disappear.

She squeezes her eyes shut, gripping onto him tighter, like when she opens her eyes, she’ll find herself alone and realize all of this was a dream.

“Please never do that again.” She croaks, swallowing the lump in her throat.

He instantly lifts her head up, coming face to face with her as they lock eyes. “Never again. I promise. I’m never leaving you again. I want this, I want you. I’m sorry it took me so long to admit that, but I promise this is what I want. You’re what I want, what I need. I’m here to stay.”

It’s like his words flipped a switch because she could suddenly see right through him again. He’s being sincere.

Her hand slowly makes its way to his cheek, rubbing the soft skin with her thumb, before pulling him into her and pressing her lips against his. It feels like heaven. This is what both of them have been longing for, being together in the way they are meant to be.

Their mouths move in sync, the kiss deepening with each passing second. Y/N hooks her leg over him, sliding herself on his lips, to straddle him. Chris’ hands, instinctively, meet her hips, holding her in place.

He suddenly pulls away, “Wait, I don’t want you to think I just came over here to get my dick wet. I-”

“Please shut up.” She breathes, melting into his lips once more.

Their kiss becomes feverish and desperate, as if trying to make up for lost time. Chris’ hands move downwards to her ass, tightly gripping it as she grinds her hips against his. Almost instantly, she can feel his bulge against her core. Her lips part from his and continue trailing down his neck, leaving open mouth kisses, sucking and nibbling on the sensitive skin. His breathing picks up, now heavy in her ear.

With one quick motion, he flips her, leaving him hovering over her. His lips meet hers again, their tongues exploring each other’s mouths like it’s the first time ever doing so. His hand softly grasps her neck, his hips rutting against hers, eliciting a soft moan from her.

“God, I’ve missed that sound.” He mumbles against her lips.

Her hands reach the bottom of his shirt, tugging it upwards and placing her hands on his chest as he fully removes it. Her fingers roam his torso, goosebumps arising on his skin beneath her touch. His lips work on her neck, kissing down towards her exposed collarbone. He pulls the loose strap of her tank top down, exposing more skin, his lips following in suit. Soft, breathy moans fell from her mouth, enjoying every sensation he’s giving her.

Chris grabs the hem of her tank top and swiftly pulls it over her head, leaving her topless. His hands caress her bare skin as hers tangle in his hair. He lowers his mouth, peppering wet, open mouthed kisses along every inch of her upper body. His lips trail down the valley of her breasts, both hands cupping each one, giving them a tender squeeze.

“God, you’re so perfect, baby.” Chris groans into her chest, his lips wrapping around her nipple.

Her back arches, pushing her chest more into him, her panties growing more wet with every touch. He takes turns with each nipple, sucking, biting, and pinching them. Airy moans left her mouth, fueling Chris’ desire to hear more of them.

His fingers hook in the waistband of her bottoms, pulling them down and off her feet in one quick motion, tossing them across the room. Y/N’s left bare in front of him, he can’t help but admire the sight of her. Butterflies erupt in her stomach at the loving look in his eyes, her cheeks heating up under his stare.

“So fucking pretty.” He mutters, placing another kiss on her lips.

His hands trail down, groping at every one of her curves, softly massaging the plush skin. They make their way down to her thighs, caressing them with passion. He pulls them apart, her core glistening with her arousal, causing him to lick his lips. She’s completely mouth watering to him.

“Need you so bad.” She moans out, the cool air hitting her right where she needs him most.

He lowers his body in between her legs, softly kissing and nibbling her inner thighs. The moment she bucks her hips up, in need of friction, Chris lurches forward. His tongue glides through her folds with ease, causing her to let out a loud moan. His lips wrap around her sensitive bundle of nerves, gently sucking.

“Fuck.” She moans out, her face contorting in pleasure.

He pulls away, his finger taking his place. It rubs her clit in soft circles, before trailing down, gathering her juices. He leans up towards her mouth, placing his lips on hers, and sinks his finger into her entrance, causing her to moan into the kiss. His finger continues pumping in and out of her for a moment, before he adds another. He speeds up the pace, fucking his fingers into her and curving up just right, feeling that spongy spot he knows she loves.

“Oh my fuck.” She moans, grinding into his hand.

He continues this, his mouth now working on her neck once again, marking her up just how he knows she likes. He knows her inside and out, quite literally. His thumb rubs her clit in circles while his middle and ring finger thrust in and out of her, leaving her a moaning mess. Very quickly, her legs begin shaking and she clenches around him.

“Fuck, baby. Gonna make a mess for me, hm?” He whispers in her ear, sucking on her earlobe, and placing a kiss on it.

Unable to form a sentence, she frantically nods, her hands grasping his arm as he speeds his hand up. She gasps, feeling nothing but euphoric. The knot in her stomach tightens, her eyes squeezing shut.

“Fuck, right there!” She moans out, “Please, don’t stop. Please, please.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He speaks, quickly bringing his mouth back down to her heat, his lips easily wrapping around her clit once again.

Just as his tongue flicks over it, her hips are bucking as her orgasm rushes through her. Her legs tremble as she releases, her juices flying out and drenching the sheets as well as Chris. He moans into her center, his tongue working to taste all of her as his fingers slowly help her ride it out.

“Taste so fucking good.” He moans, pulling his fingers out of her and placing them in his mouth, sucking her fluids off of them.

Her legs continue to twitch as she tries to catch her breath, a goofy smile dancing on her lips as she watches him through heavy eyelids. She pulls him into her again, her lips easily molding with his, the taste of her juices still on his tongue. She can feel his clothed erection pressing into her, causing her to pull away.

Her fingers grasp the drawstring of his sweatpants, slowly pulling them loose. He gets the hint and pulls them down, adding them and his boxers to the pile of clothes discarded on the floor. His hand wraps around the base of his dick, sliding it up and down through her folds, coating it in her arousal. He places himself at her entrance, both of his hands interlocking with hers. Looking into her eyes, he slowly sinks in, loud moans coming from both of them as he bottoms out.

“Mm, missed you so much.” She moans out, her fingers tightening around his.

“I missed you.” He groans, slowly pumping in and out. “God, you feel so good around me, baby.”

As he thrusts into her, her hands guide his to her breasts. His hands engulf them, tightly squeezing them as she claws at his back. His strokes become faster and harder, desperately fucking into her as deep as he’ll go. Her eyes roll into the back of her head as her mouth falls open, broken moans emitting.

He grabs one of her legs, lifting it over his shoulder for better access. The deeper he gets, the louder the moans are, falling from her lips. His free hand comes down, rubbing her clit as he fucks into her at a delicious pace.

“Chris, baby, I’m so close.” She moans with a whine, her fingernails digging into the skin on his back. “You fuck me so good.”

“Let go, mama. Wanna make you feel good.” He groans, his thrusts meeting her just the way they both need.

The tightening in her stomach indicates she’s close to releasing, causing her to tightly clench around his cock. That causes his thrusts to grow sloppy, him feeling his own orgasm sneaking up on him. He recomposes himself, his hips rutting into hers so perfectly, instantly snapping the metaphorical rope inside of her. Lewd moans fall from her mouth as she lets go once again, her juices coating his dick.

“Fuck, so good to me, baby.” He groans, pumping in and out of her before his own release hits him, his hot load painting her walls.

His thrusts slow down before he pulls out altogether, their mixed fluids dripping out of her. Both of their breaths were erratic, their skin flushed mixes of reds and pinks. Chris collapses beside her, their hands immediately connecting as they attempt to regain themselves.

“I love you.” Chris suddenly announces, “I’m gonna remind you every chance I get. I’ll never let you forget it, or doubt it. I love you, I’m so in love with you. I wanna be yours and only yours, forever.”

a/n : lolzzz there ya go <3 wasn’t sure if i liked the ending but i got lazy and someoneee wanted a happy ending. it’s not my fic without a lil nasty 🤭 hope you enjoyed it xx

@worldlxvlys @flowerxbunnie

#lustfulslxt #joss speaks #sturniolo triplets #sturniolos #the sturniolos #imagine #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo smut #angst #chris sturniolo x you #christopher sturniolo x you #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #chris

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lavender-romancer · 15 days

Text

Push it Down

Astarion x GN Reader

Everyday it got worse, the longing stares interrupted when La’zel would curiously catch your eyeline always straying to Astarion. Or how you would always inextricably walk next to him regardless of the goal ahead. Shadowheart would often question if Astarion had to open “every lock we find” at your request. But you couldn't help it, being near him, with him was all you would think about

AN: Astarion brainrot is a real condition people. Lots of lovely fluff.

You're a squishy wizard

*°*°•.˜”*°•.˜”*°•.˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”°*

“Do you have to make your feelings so obvious that it's painful?” Shadowheart asked as you looked through some random boxes you found in what remained of moonhaven.

“Do you have to bring this up again?” You jabbed back with a smile. “I'm not ashamed of it, but I will never outright admit it.”

“Lady of Sorrows guide you, I don't know how you're able to stand with your debilitating lack of a spine.” She raised her eyebrow and you simply rolled your eyes “Here, go give these to your boy-toy.” Handing you a few thieves' tools Shadowheart walked to another side of the room and continued looting.

You scampered outside, only realising when you were in front of Astarion how desperate it must have looked to run up to him like a dog wagging its tail excitedly. He was unlocking a chest that was one in a big group La'zel and Karlach had put together for him to deal with.

“Here,” you held out the tools with a smile that was much too big for such a small token.

“Thank you, darling.” He smiled up at you. “You're looking particularly overjoyed, what's got you so energetic?”

“Uh… looting.” You never were good at lying.

“Thank the Gods you never became a politician because your inability to deceive is one of your greatest qualities.” He opened the chest he had been working on.

“I suppose. But I wish I was better at more things like that, it just makes me so nervous to not be honest.” You fidgeted with your hands.

“Well, for starters you need to be better at improvising, it is adorable to see you try and lie to anyone and fail miserably. I'm convinced you should just be completely honest and people might not believe you.” Standing up he brushed the dust off his trousers and you were now face to face. Given, a few steps apart but it still made you smile and your feet shuffle anxiously.

“The tadpole has definitely made me better at lying, you have to at least admit that.” You were practically beaming, staring at him in awe.

“Still, you carry most of your emotions in your eyes and your inability to stop smiling. You'll get there eventually my friend, probably, I mean probably not but it's very sweet that you continue to try. Anyways, we should head back to camp for the evening I am positively spent.” Astarion walked past you to pick up his backpack and you internally groaned.

It was so deeply embarrassing when you couldn't keep your emotions hidden. A problem you had usually put down to anxiousness, but realistically it was just something you had to learn to live with. You were an open book with almost no air of mystique about you. Maybe that was why Astarion seemed so utterly uninterested in seeking anything but friendship or a quick night of passion.

As you lay in your tent, you conjured a mage hand to throw books at you to try and practice your telekinesis but it was going dreadfully. Whilst your magic was growing back to it's former strength before the tadpole you were still plagued by poor reaction times to basically anything. One quite powerful throw from the conjured hand hit your arm and you yelped, sure that it would leave a bruise.

“What mischief are you up too now?” A voice suddenly asked, distracting you from the task at hand as a book hit you square in the face.

“Fuck!” You exclaimed, dismissing the mage hand and rubbing your nose.

“Are you trying to be agile again? You know how that ended up last time.” Astarion joked as he entered your tent and sat down opposite you.

A funny but painful memory entered your mind when you had tried to climb over a very small wall to surprise some goblins and had instead ended up on your back in front of them. If falling over in front of some goblins wasn't bad enough, you had also slipped in grease that was extremely easy to avoid alerting the whole horde to your party's location. The bollocking you got from La'zel after that encounter made you promise to work on your ability to not be “such a fucking Wizard” whatever that meant.

“No, surprisingly I was failing at something else.” You quipped back at him, “anyways, did you want to feed or-”

“No, well yes but, I wanted to talk to you.” He licked his lips absentmindedly and seeing the slight glint of his fangs off the light of your candle made your eyes grow wider. You never knew you'd have a thing for vampires…

“Oh! Do uhm, talk away.” You cringed at your inability to string a sentence together.

“I- look. I know that I am beautiful and wonderful darling, but have you been looking at me slightly differently lately?” he asked, you could almost sense that he was nervous but you weren't sure why.

“What do you mean?” You responded with your eyes fixated on your bedroll on the floor as the alarm bells rang in your head.

“With more longing behind your eyes?” You hadn't noticed that same longing in his eyes which was often present in your gaze.

“Who- I- why did you get that impression?” You fumbled through your words and began fiddling with your robe.

“Oh, I…” he trailed off and you finally looked up, sensing his dejected tone you cocked your head.

“You sound disappointed.” Your tone was soft in an attempt to stop him from running away from the conversation.

“Disappointed? Darling if I wanted you I could most certainly have you.” Having returned to his snarky sense of security you frowned.

“Is that why you seem so annoyed? Because I rejected you before?” Your mind went back to drinking red wine with him, the sour taste filling your nose all over again. It wasn't that you didn't want him, you just didn't want the first time you could spend the night with him to be clouded with alcohol and regret. Maybe it had bruised his ego but there were so many reasons to try to let your bond grow overtime.

“You think that wounded me? I have laid with thousands and I'll lay with thousands more before I am hurt by that!” He exclaimed but you could see the hurt in his eyes that he struggled to hide.

“I didn't want it to be like that. Something that you might feel like was a mistake, a drunken mishap you'd rather forget. I didn't- I don't want you to think I did it because I did not want it. Under different circumstances things would have been different for me.” Clasping your hands together you tried to reach his gaze but it was so accusatory that it was making your heart pound.

“I- I don't think I've ever been rejected as tactfully as you did.” Astarion almost laughed with a far-away look in his eyes.

“It didn't feel genuine and I couldn't allow myself to be swept up in all of it knowing that we weren't on the same page with our feelings about one another.” Smiling sadly you looked at the book that had previously hit you in the face, pushing it to the side you moved a bit closer to him. “I'm sorry that you felt like you had to do that, that night I mean. Correct me if I'm wrong, please.”

“I'm not sure how you know me so well that it's almost concerning.” His voice sounded strained as he departed from his snarky performative notes.

“You've become my favourite distraction through all of this shit we've dealt with. I really like being around you, it will be a shame when it all comes to an end when we get to Baldurs Gate.” your voice didn't show your true sadness but your eyes certainly did and Astarion could tell.

“I was hidden for so many years within those city walls, imprisoned and kept as a loyal pet before the nautiloid. A grim reality was the only way to escape the even worse life I was living and… I never thought I'd make friends let alone feel connected to someone. But you, you're thoughtful and sweet and respectful and too perceptive for your own good but so silly and honestly so bad as hiding that it's hilarious. Finding someone who understands you is a great gift and I would not like to squander it.” Astarion reached out his hand and it shook slightly as he showed his true vulnerability. You looked from his hand to his face, it was genuine and really from everything you could gather, it seemed like he was being the most honest he'd ever been with you.

“You want to stay together?” Your voice was so hopeful as your head told you that you were an idiot.

“Yes. You fool. Was that not clear. Now hold my hand so we're not both fools.” He rolled his eyes and you hurriedly held his hand. Your clamminess was immediately obvious given his hand was ridiculously cold. “God you mortals are always sweaty aren't you.” He gave you a cheeky smile and you had to laugh or you'd descend into an anxiety ridden madness.

“Do you want to stay here tonight? I would enjoy a cuddle.” You asked.

“Just a cuddle Darling?” He flirted but there was still that look behind his eyes that was there after the tiefling party. The look you had come to understand was the dogma drilled into him to seduce, sleep with and then sacrifice all his conquests. Sex wasn't the same in Astarion's head as it was in yours but you didn't mind, it wasn't important to you.

“Just a cuddle.” You smiled in a way that you hoped was supportive and whilst he looked surprised he didn't seem disappointed. “Come here,” you lay down on the pillows and invited him to chest.

Whilst tentative he rested his head on your chest and slowly placed his hand on your arm. You without warning wrapped your arms around him in a squeeze of a hug that would probably suffocate someone who wasn't already dead. But he seemed to appreciate it as he nuzzled under your chin and his body began to relax. You stayed like that for a while until you began to snore and Astarion peeled himself from your embrace. He sat up and started to read, every so often glancing down at you. How an earth had he allowed himself to fall for a Wizard?

Astarion Taglist:

@anukulee

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canyourfavesurvivecastledracula · 1 month

Text

Thief

@would-we-be-friends-if-i asked:

Parker (world renowned thief, enjoys rappelling/jumping off of extreme heights and crawling through air vents, gymnastic skills galore)

@pomrania writes:

Parker can escape anything and is also deeply weird.

@r0sequarks writes:

Parker is here to steal something; she’s probably in and out without being noticed. Even if Dracula does catch her I think her default is to run away and she is perfectly suited for it. Completely skips over all of the actual plot except wall-scaling.

@darthlordcommie writes:

Parker: Out the window day one. She doesn't like following social rules, so she'd book it as soon as she got bad vibes.

@wanderingandfound writes:

Parker is the only one getting out of there. Don't know if she survives the wolves. But you cannot keep Parker somewhere she doesn't wanna be kept.

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

So Castle Dracula has new locks, a sheer wall, and a big pile of treasure. This isn't the Horrors, this is Christmas come early.

I am utterly charmed by the idea of Parker breaking in, stealing Dracula's hoard, and lizarding her way back out again as quickly and quietly as she had come, without ever being noticed. She absolutely would, and it's what Dracula deserves. I've noted elsewhere that Breaking & Entering is the one power our heroes have that Dracula crucially lacks (which is perhaps why Van Helsing does so dang much of it) - he needs to get burglarized more actually.

But okay, what if Parker arrives as Dracula's invited guest? I think her biggest challenge will be keeping herself from stabbing Dracula with forks for laying hands on her. She has exploitable insecurities, but she really is just so inherently weird and closed off about herself that I think Dracula would have difficulty discovering and exploiting them. When Parker sees him out on the walls it earns her grudging respect rather than repulsing her. And then she decides to go check out the room he just vacated and finds the treasure hoard. It's the best day ever.

And yeah. Parker cannot be contained. She never sees herself as a prisoner, it's like "ooh, enrichment." And then she judges him for not investing in better locks. She's mystified about why she can't manage to unlock the front door, or lift the key off of Dracula (he had it a second ago, WTF), but whatever, the window is more fun anyway. The only thing keeping it from being perfect is the lack of vents. She leaves as soon as she gets the treasure, so like. May 13th.

And she leaves during the day, because Parker is superstitious, and this guy is clearly a creepy vampire. Look at those teeth! When she tells the others about it later they're like "Parker, we love you but not every weirdo with big teeth is a vampire." And she's like no but he was though. Anyway look at all these sweet roman coins I got. And it's like classic Parker, believing in vampires, but yeah those coins are super sweet.

But yes, Parker can survive Castle Dracula, almost trivially, and she has a really great time. Hey guys, we should get a Castle! (Babe, there's no wifi and no centralized heating ... and no vents. Awww, you're no fun :( *Parker Pout* )

#leverage #leverage: redemption #Parker #parker leverage #crooks #leverage week

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avocado-writing · 2 months

Note

I love love love your bg3 writing so much. I'm so glad i found your blog.

if you're comfortable writing about marriage, could you write the companions (minus lae'zel) reactions to a githyanki Tav proposing? like, Tav has done research into material plane customs and what marriage entails and has decided they want that with their love.

thank you if you do!! ♡♡♡

Astarion

A little baffled when he sees you get down to one knee so sincerely, thinking you can’t possibly be about to propose. That’s not a thing githyanki do is it? Gods, he should have asked Lae’zel…

Eyes widen when you produce the ring. Dead heart skips.

Is utterly bowled over that this is happening. That anyone would think he was worth proposing to, especially wonderful you.

You start a spiel about why you think you’d be a spouse he should consider, usual githyanki directness, and he cuts you off - “you don’t need to convince me, my sweet. The answer is yes. It’s always yes.”

You slide a ring onto his finger and he watches the way it sparkles.

You must have saved up for ages. He never thought he’d be deserving of something like this, but is going to try and see himself through your eyes from now on.

Gale

As you drop to a knee, he’s sorting through every piece of information in his head that he knows about githyanki, because you can’t possibly be about to —

Just stares for a moment when you bring out a ring. He sees your brow furrow.

“you are displeased.” Him, quickly, “no, no! Far from it! I’m just… surprised.”

”why would you be surprised, Gale? You are the most treasured thing in my life, and I believe this is how people in Faerûn seal that bond.”

He’s reduced to speechlessness at your sincerity. All he can do is nod and put on the ring, allowing you to scoop him up in your arms and kiss him over and over ❤️

Karlach

The second you drop to a knee she says yes.

“Karlach I believe I am meant to ask the question first—” “sorry, I got overexcited! do it properly then.”

”… will you marry m—“ “YES”

She grabs you and pulls you into her embrace, holding you in a bridal carry and kissing you deeply.

“Would you like to see the ring?” “There’s a ring too?!”

She’s so happy, man. You’re certain you’ve never made a better decision in your life.

“I researched into what gem would be preferred in a ring, and measured your gloves to get the size correct.” “You did all this for me? 🥹” “Karlach, you are worth moving the stars for.”

She goes around the camp showing off her ring. She can’t stop smiling all day ❤️

Shadowheart

Raised eyebrows when you kneel.

“Hmm, I wasn’t aware that githyanki knew of marriage.” “I didn’t. I read up about it. But I suppose if you’re against it—“ “no no, I didnt say that…”

Smiles when you drop to a knee again, pretends to be coy in her answer, but she knows she’d never say anything but yes.

You lay there with her that evening as she discusses all of the intricacies of planning a wedding, her hand tangled in yours, going into great detail about what she wants. Her face hurts by the time she falls asleep because she’s been grinning all day.

Wyll

He is so utterly surprised when you propose — but not for any untoward reason.

“Wait right there!” his face is so excited when he runs back into his tent, and when he re-emerges he has a ring box in his hand too.

“oh… is it custom for us both to have a ring when proposing?” “No, my darling. It’s just fortuitous luck that I was going to propose to you, too.”

“I see. So is your answer yes, then?” “Of course my love. A thousand times.”

You smile widely, and the two of you exchange rings, before he reaches over and kisses you sweetly.

Halsin

Is happy, but also wants you to know you don’t have to do this. That proposal might be a custom of this plane but if you aren’t certain, it isn’t something you have to do.

“I want this, Halsin. I have done my research thoroughly. I can think of nothing more joyous than being married to you. I do not enter into the lightly, and I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

He smiles so widely it threatens to crack his face in two. Lifts you in his arms and gives you a passionate kiss, assuring you that he will make you happy for the rest of his days.

Can’t stop looking at the ring on his finger. He’s an old elf, but he’s never felt more treasured in his life.

Minthara

Smirks. She knew this was coming.

Doesn’t say much, but confirms “you made the right choice. Yes. I will marry you.”

She scrutinises the ring as you slide it on your finger, but seems content. She keeps glancing down to how it reflects the light.

Proves just how pleased she is later that night in bed 😏

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serawritesthings · 3 months

Text

SPELLBOUND

Pairing | Legolas x Reader Summary | Your bittersweet love will surely endure until the last of your days. Word Count | 1.1k A/N | Hello lovelies! Ever since I was young, my love for Tolkien has been my greatest inspiration when it came to writing and world-building. But, also all the fantastic writers out there that had me plastered to my computer at 4 in the morning, staying up all night reading wonderfully written stories about all the characters. So, because of this, I am taking a tiiiiiiny step into the community with this short story, hoping some of you will enjoy it. If you do, I'll happily write some more, and if you have an idea you would like me to write, feel free to send me a message!

“Our love cannot be.”

Her words had echoed in his mind since the moment they left her blushed lips, at first only mindless words lingering in his mind as he stared thoughtlessly, then excessively nagging at him with every chance. Obsessively and utterly spellbound, he could only stare into your teary eyes that never hid from him, taking your trembling lips to his longing ones in a silent protest and carefully surrendering to the prospect of a love that might be possible if you loved hard enough.

How naive you were, for you said the words too late. What good did it bring to only now speak of what you should have said a long time ago? Perhaps it could be a testament to yourself that you at least tried to cease what you had, however weak the attempt might have been. Furthermore, you might have wished for him to be stronger than you, more sensible–but perhaps you were too alike in that sense.

“How can you say those words when you already know how my heart longs for you?” You could only close your eyes as he spoke, words dripping like honey over your troubled mind. Momentarily, you bathed in the golden glow, feeling the tenderness soothe the aches and hurt. How could you give him an answer that wouldn’t cause pain when his very words pierced you so–when his care for you extended further than you could have ever expected?

Devastated by the uncertainty that clouded your mind, shaking fingers jerked away from their hold on the silk that covered his forearms. You gasped when his hands didn’t hesitate to grasp yours, placing your palms against his heart that thumped heavily beneath the layers of fabric.

“Do you feel that?” He spoke softly, leaning his head down to try and meet your avoidant eyes as his other hand found your cheek. “It does not beat like this for anyone but you.”

Unshed tears gathered in the corner of your eyes at his confession, overwhelmed by the idea of being loved by someone who would surpass the short time you had yet to live. Time was a cruel hand, one you couldn’t help but fear deeply, for he, bound to centuries, had a timeless plight while you were made to fade in the fleeting light.

“Our love is naught but a flame caught between two winds,” you say in sorrow, eyes closed to spare yourself the guilt you would feel if you gazed into his sky-blue eyes, the usual vibrancy muted–as if the stars that danced within them had momentarily dimmed. “It’s fragile and fleeting, how will it last?”

“Have I not pledged my heart to you?” Legolas implored, his words dulled with sorrow at the distress residing in your eyes. “Have I not deserved to relish in the warmth you bring me?”

“Legolas…” He heard you whisper, a gentle plea that fell on deaf ears as he drew you closer, meeting your lips in a longing kiss. In a stolen breath, he reveled in the taste as his forever gentle hands cradled your face, fingers tracing the delicate contours as if to etch it into memory–into the fabric of his immortal being.

With each passing heartbeat, the glade witnessed two souls so desperate yet unsure, and as it held its breath, the air shimmered around them in the quiet night. Like a silent whisper on your skin, his fingers lighted a path like fire as they caressed, refusing to let you pull away. Oh, how you wanted to. Yet, your heart clamped something so fiercely when the thought passed through your mind, the feeling not far from making you double over in anguish from having to be apart.

The desperation in his embrace pulled at your heartstrings, urging you to cast away the dark thoughts that rained over you endlessly and lose yourself in his arms that wound their way around you–shielding you from hesitation and fear.

Yet tentative, your response wasn’t passive; fingers seeking refuge in the strands of his silken hair, and with each strand that slipped through your touch, only felt all the more consumed.

“You say it can’t be, yet why can’t my body stop aching for your touch even though you are right here, already in my arms?” His voice was a soft murmur in the night, lips parting for only a moment when speaking to find yours, then again, refusing to let you protest. “Mortal you may be, yet my heart yearning does not know the confines of time.”

Your gaze softened by his sincerity, voiced by her uncertainty. “I can not help but worry about what happens when my time passes. What aching memories will it leave you with…” You trailed off as the thought crossed your mind, but as you felt Legolas brush a strand of hair away from your tear-stained cheek, a soft determination shone through his glossy eyes.

“Then surely I will pass, for I couldn’t bear to spend the rest of my life in a world where I can not gaze upon the wonders of your spirit that light up the darkest corners of my soul.” Yet melancholy, the words rang true as his voice had a slight undertone of acceptance that confused you.

He knew that when the burden of your parting would become too heavy, he would transcend the sorrow that bound him to this earthy realm and leave all behind in hopes of once more feeling your touch on his graying skin. He came to welcome the idea a long time ago. Yet, the sadness in your eyes hurt him terribly, and his mind didn’t know how to lessen your anguish and recover the gleam that continuously resided deep within them, at times almost bursting with wonder.

“Why do you speak so indifferently? The thought does nothing but pains me something so fiercely.” He only gave you a soft smile in return, grasping your cheeks between his palms, thumbs tenderly caressing the soft skin underneath it.

“Can you not see, my love?” Placing his forehead against yours, his eyes pierced yours warmly, reassuring you that he only spoke of the truth. “In the realm beyond, we will once more find the embrace of one another, and I will continue to love you as I do now."

“Fret not, meleth nín.” Placing a tender kiss on your teary cheek, he whispered in your ear, bringing your head to rest wearily in the crook of his neck. “For you shall have me for the remaining part of your days, and when your departure becomes a burden too heavy to bear, I shall find you amidst the stars.”

#legolas x reader #lotr x reader #lord of the rings imagine #legolas imagine #lotr imagine #Lord of the rings #Legolas #legolas greenleaf #lotr

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ivysoul · 10 months

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CHERRY *ੈ✩‧˚ LEON SCOTT KENNEDY — PART I. [3.3k]

༊*·˚ in which your dad leaves you under the watchful eye of his best friend, leon kennedy, when he’s away on vacation.

[♱] series warnings — age gap (38 & 20), sexual themes, arguing, cheating, overbearing father, angst. more warnings to be added.

[♱] individual chapter warnings — afab!reader, leon’s a bit of a perv, smut, dub-con, oral (m), unprotected p n v, rough sex, one spank, praise, creampie, reader has a serious attitude problem lmfao, + might be some i’m missing, so lmk if there is.

[♱] notes — this is my first ever series i am shitting my pants stop. i’m excited tho !!! smut galore btw bc i am a fucking whore !! like i’m talkin smut every chapter type beat. anyways, please give me feedback, i desire it carnally. also not proofread. special dt @ouchvns bc they were probably more excited abt this than i was LMAO.

series masterlist. ୨୧ next.

༊*·˚ You could feel the anger bubbling in your chest as you looked back and forth at your father and his friend, who you knew, of course. Leave it to your dad to get you a babysitter at your grand old age of twenty years old while he’s out on vacation. When he offered to let you stay at the house while he was away, you had no idea it would come with its own terms and conditions—those being Leon Kennedy himself.

You sighed deeply through your nose as your dad went on and on about rules. You were zoning out through the entire thing, utterly wishing you could just go back up to your room and avoid Leon as a whole (and saying goodbye to your dad. Call it petty, you didn’t care. Petty is what you were).

“Oh, and curfew is 12AM.”

Your eyes shot open so fast you were surprised they didn’t end up on the floor. Mouth falling agape, you just stared blankly at him, hoping it was just some joke and he would take it back. But nope! Classic ol’ dad!

“Are you serious? A curfew?” What you hated the most was that he looked confused as to why you were so upset. “Dad, I’m twenty years old. I don’t need a curfew or a damn babysitter,” you groaned, pointing to Leon. To which he muttered a quiet ‘ouch’.

Your dad shook his head and pursed his lips. “I’m not gonna argue with you about this. Leon’s gonna watch you for the three weeks that I’m gone, and I trust that he’ll take good care of you,” he looked to Leon, “right, Leon?”

Leon smiled at the man as he spoke. “Of course,” and then turned his head to you, his smile falling into a small smirk without even meaning to. “I’ll take very good care of her.”

Leon would be lying if he said he wasn’t attracted to you, at least a little bit. The way your hair was long enough to frame your face perfectly, or the way your lips looked when you put your favourite gloss on them. Your clothes always seemed to fit and frame your body perfectly, allowing every curve and dip to be beautifully accentuated. But physical looks aside, Leon also loved how intelligent yet carefree you were. He loved how your personality reminded him so much of the sun—if you weren’t angry, that is. But he also loved your anger. How you made your feelings known and always spoke about what had made you so angry. Everything about you screamed to Leon that you were the most perfect person he’s ever laid his eyes upon, and every time he was around you, it only further proved to be true.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, looking anywhere but the two men in front of you. Your dad smiled and patted Leon on his shoulder before walking up to you, giving you a peck on the cheek, and bidding his farewells. As soon as the door closed behind him, the air grew thick with awkward tension. Your eyes just stared at where his body had disappeared behind the door, as if attempting to summon lasers that drop onto him from above. Leon chuckled airily and shook his head as he looked to the ground.

Your head snapped towards him, eyebrows furrowed and still angry. “What’s so funny?” you asked through gritted teeth.

“Oh, nothing, y’know…” Leon looked at you and saw what type of look you had in your eye. He shouldn’t have found it amusing, really, but he did. And he laughed again.

“Yeah, I’m sure you have soooo much to laugh about, Scott,” he cringed at the use of his middle name. “I bet this whole situation is just so funny to you.”

He nodded and puckered his lips, pretending to think for a moment. “It is, yeah. And don’t call me “Scott,” it’s weird.”

“Sure thing, Scott,” you mumbled loud enough for him to hear as you walked away, heading upstairs to do god-knows-what in your room.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A few days went by and Leon’s babysitting was still just as unbearable as the first.

Every time you’d go to leave the house, he’d interrogate you on where you were going, who you were going with, when you’d be back (because you had to be back), and if the place you were going to was known to be a safe area. The treatment made you feel like a kid again. You shouldn’t be mad at Leon for it, as he was just following the orders your dad had given him, but you were.

Today though, you had managed to slip out of the house without Leon noticing. Sure he had called you about ten times and left you numerous texts and voicemails, but you weren’t answering any of them. You’d even opted to turn your phone completely off.

Though you could barely even focus on what your friends were saying. Your mind was on you dad and why he would even do this. You knew he was protective of you, but when you turned twenty this year, he calmed down a bit. This was like a whole setback of six years.

“Babe? You okay?”

You turned to your boyfriend, Oliver, who had his arm securely wrapped around your waist, rubbing up and down your side. He had a look of concern on his face.

You smiled sweetly and placed a soft kiss to his lips. “‘Course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

One of your friends, Maeve, placed a french fry in her mouth and hummed at your question. “You looked kind of… zoned out. Like, you’re not really here right now.”

“Yeah, are you alright?” Cora, your other friend since elementary school, asked. Her brows were furrowed and she was looking across your face as if to see any hidden confessions lying underneath. She was always able to, the best out of anyone in your life.

You nodded. Sighed. And then confessed.

“Y’know that guy that my dad hired to look after me while he’s away? Well he’s been like, super overbearing. And I know it’s just because my dad told him what to do and all, but it’s still so fucking annoying. Can’t even leave the house without getting attacked with questions. And it’s—”

“Well isn’t this a surprise.”

You didn’t even have to look behind you to know who it was. Unfortunately, you were pretty well acquainted with the voice by now. How in the hell did he find you? Did he put a damn tracker on you that you were unaware of or something?

“Your dad wants you back home. C’mon.”

Your friends all sighed, Oliver squeezed your waist tighter as if to keep you seated. You turned your head to look at Leon. He had an irritated glint in his eyes, yet his kept his voice surprisingly calm.

“Are you serious? You’re taking me away from my friends now?” You complained, placing a hand on your boyfriend’s one on your side. Leon noticed it and almost let out a laugh.

“It’s not me, it’s your dad,” he said simply. “Now let’s go.”

Groaning, you looked to your friends and apologized. They all looked at you with their own apologetic gazes but said their goodbyes. And you took Oliver’s face in your hands and kissed him warmly. “Love you.”

He smiled. “I love you, too.”

As soon as you got inside the house, with Leon not too far behind you, you kicked your shoes off and headed for the stairs. However, his voice sternly called you back down.

“D’you know how worried he was?” His angry glare had stayed since you got into the car with him. Etched onto his face like a tattoo the entire time. “How worried I was?”

“Do you know how annoying it is to have you practically sit on me every damn day?! To have you watch my every move?”

“I’m following orders.”

“I’m so fucking sick of that excuse.”

Leon scoffed and shook his head, averting his gaze to the ground as he placed his hands on his hips. He honestly didn’t know what to say. And neither did you. You two had argued about this every day since he first arrived. And every time it would end the same way: you storming up to your room after yelling your throat raw, not to be heard or seen of again until you need to be let out of the house.

Let out. Like you were a fucking dog.

With a roll of your eyes, you turned on your heels and headed up the stairs, making sure to have your frustration shown through your heavy steps.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Hours went by as you scrolled aimlessly on your phone. You had already finished a book and got caught up on your favourite show, and you were now realizing just how thirsty you were. You checked the time on your phone, the big white numbers that read 3:27AM stared back at you. You weren’t even sure how you weren’t tired yet.

With a sigh, you rolled from your bed, bare feet hitting the cold floor with little pit-pats every time you took a step. The hallways were dark and quiet, the only light was from your phone’s flashlight as you made your way around the very familiar corners of the house. Being out of the comfort of your warm blankets made you realize just how cold you were in only an oversized t-shirt and a pair of your favourite wine coloured lacy underwear. But you didn’t care much to make your way back to your room as you were now approaching the kitchen.

The kitchen that you noticed was lit up. Turning off your mobile flashlight, you stepped closer to the kitchen cautiously and slowly. Once you saw Leon leaning against the counter, you calmed down, but your anger started to bubble up again at the same time. You weren’t sure how that was possible. He looked up at you, eyes lifting from the glass he had in his hands, and then he tilted his entire head up to look at you properly.

His eyes nearly widen when he takes in your clothes—or lack thereof. Your plush thighs on full display and your obvious lack of a bra had his head spinning. God, he was so weird. For imagining what your tits would look like out of the confines of your shirt, but at the same time he didn’t have to do much thinking. The cold made your nipples hard, and they poked through the shirt. He had to look away and hope that you didn’t notice his lingering gaze.

He cleared his throat. “What’re you doin’ up?”

You dismissed his question entirely, taking note of his glass and the liquid in it. Alcohol, of course. You reached into the cabinet to grab a glass, causing your shirt to rise up to your lower belly. Leon blinked. “Isn’t it bad to drink on the job?”

“Honestly, I think a drink or two kinda helps with your attitude.”

Again, you dismissed him. Leon knew now was probably the best time to say what he had been thinking since your last argument, the words he had been trying to come up with since getting the anger out of him. But even then, he’s not great at this. So it’s not going to be ideal.

He sighed through his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. “Look, I’m uh— I’m sorry about earlier,” you stopped breathing. “But you have to understand that I’m just doing what your dad told me to do—”

“—Bullshit.”

Leon blinked, unintentionally giving you the silence you needed to continue.

“Last time I checked, my dad’s not even here. You don’t have to do everything he says because he’s not here to reprimand you if you don’t. So I like I said earlier, when you were giving that same, shitty excuse, I’m sick of hearing it.”

Maybe he hadn’t chosen the best words to say, and maybe he shouldn’t be the judge of his own character in this situation, but fuck, he didn’t think he was being that much of an asshole. He could be, but he wasn’t.

“I’m trying to apologize here could you—”

“—No, because it’s just gonna be that same stupid excuse—”

Leon stopped listening then. You rambled on and on and perhaps it may have felt good for you to get things off your chest, and you probably did need it considering who your father was, it’s just that Leon couldn’t, for the life of him, get the image of your pretty lips wrapped around his cock out of his head. No matter how hard he tried.

Leon was a man of self-control. He prided himself on that, in fact. He was able to remain calm in tough situations, he kept his cool when someone was pissing him off. But you. You were a whole other story. A walking pile of anger that wouldn’t dissipate. Your attitude was sickening and the thought of being in a room with you for more than ten minutes was repugnant to him. Yet all he was thinking about right now was stuffing your mouth full. Keeping you from talking for two fucking seconds.

He couldn’t stand it anymore. The echoey sound of your voice raging on as he zoned out with the vulgar image in his mind, the vulgar image being just that; an image.

He wanted it to be a reality.

He needed it to be.

Within seconds Leon was in front of you, roughly grabbing your waist with one hand and a fistful of your hair in the other. His lips were on yours before you could even comprehend what was going on. The taste of alcohol on his tongue and the overwhelming feeling of him took over your mind. Like a dark storm that hovered over the bright fields of good decisions and common sense. It rained down faster than it ever had, and now, all you could think about was Leon.

All the anger, all the detest, it lingered and mixed with need. For Leon, it was the same. The feeling of your chest pressed against his upper abdomen drove him insane. He could feel your pert nipples through both your shirts. He wanted to ravish you right then and there.

His hand on your waist travelled lower to your ass, groping the flesh harshly.

“‘M so—fucking—tired—of—your—attitude,” his sentence was broken into single words because neither of you could keep your mouths apart for long.

Until he finally managed to part from you. Your mouth, at least. Because your neck was the next place to get attacked. He placed wet, open-mouthed kisses from your pulse point to the base of your neck and trailed his tongue across your jawline.

“Leon,” he ignored you. “Leon—”

“—Shut up.” With two of his hands on your shoulders, you were on your knees within a blink of an eye, looking up at him as he looked down at you. The cold smirk he held on his face sent shivers up your spine. “Gonna fill your mouth, fuck the attitude outta you.”

Leon pushed down his sweatpants and boxers swiftly, revealing his hard cock. He grabbed it at the base, tapping his red, leaky tip on your lips, prompting you to open your mouth. Once you did, he didn’t give you time to take things slow as he shoved his cock into your mouth all at once. His tip hit the back of your throat and made you gag momentarily.

He groaned loudly at the feeling and made a makeshift ponytail with his hand at the back of your head, moving your head and using your mouth to his liking.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Y’got such a perfect little mouth. Shame you use more to talk than to do this.”

Tears brimmed your eyes, falling over and running down your flushed cheeks. The noises that were made were obscene but it only spurred you on. You could feel the wetness pooling in your panties pretty quickly.

You could tell Leon was getting close eventually. His breaths picked up and small little whimpers fell over his lips. His cock twitched in your mouth and you prepared yourself to take his cum down your throat, but he pulled you off of him before that could happen.

“‘M gonna fuck you now,” he groaned. “Gonna ruin this little cunt, yeah?”

He lifted you up off your knees before bending you over the counter. You heard a ripping noise and you knew he just ripped your damn underwear off. You wanted to be mad at him for that, but you found the words you were going to say leaving your head when he ran his cock up and down your slit, rubbing briefly against your clit.

Then he pushed in, fully sheathing himself within you in one thrust. You screamed out, the pain and the pleasure mixing together to create something so intoxicating. He was kind this time though, and stayed still so you could adjust to his thick size.

Before long, you were pushing back against him as a way to signal him to move, and of course he obliged. He began a brutal pace right away, completely forgetting to build up to it.

“You feel so good, baby. So fucking good f’me,” he breathed, delivering a hard smack to your ass and watching the red hand print form in its wake. You yelped at the action.

You loved how he was rougher with you. It’s what you wanted from Oliver in bed, and you’d even brought it up to him, but he was heavily against it. He was too soft with you, but Leon, the only thing soft about him were his words. It was a good balance that had you reeling.

Moan after moan and whine after whine left your mouth as you neared your release embarrassingly quickly. It was almost like Leon knew (he did), because his thrusts got deeper, rougher. The tip of cock reached your cervix and within seconds you were clamping down on him, walls spasming and body shaking uncontrollably.

“There y’go, sweets. Feels good, huh?” He was after his own release now, which wasn’t that far behind. His hips moved quickly and his hands were harshly gripping your hips, sure to leave bruises there by the morning. “I’m so close, baby. Gonna milk me dry, huh? Gonna have me cum in you? Fill you up? Yeah. Yeah, ‘m gonna fill you up nice and full. Send you t’bed with my cum still dripping outta you.”

“Please! P-Please, Leon. Need it s’bad.”

He stayed true to his word. His orgasm crashed through him like a wave, he spilled into you as he shoved himself as deep as he could go. He’s never came as much as he did then, or moaned the way he did. When he pulled out, hissing from the sensitivity, his spend mixed with yours pooled out of you almost immediately, dripping onto the floor.

With a soft chuckle and a shake of his head, he grabbed some paper towel and wet it to clean you up. When he ran it over your cunt, you jolted slightly.

“Just cleanin’ you up, hun. Don’t worry,” he grimaced at your ripped underwear on the floor, now puzzled as to what to put on you, before his mind went to his boxers that sat next to the ripped underwear.

He carried you back to your bed after he got you cleaned up, redressed, and gave you some water. You sleepily smiled up at him with your head on your pillow. “For an asshole, you really know how to make a woman feel good.”

He reciprocated your smile, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear and placing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Get some sleep, angel.”

☆ — © saintlulls, 2023 - don’t repost, translate, copy, or claim.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy smut #resident evil #resident evil 2 #resident evil 2 remake #re2 #re2r #re2 remake #resident evil smut #smut #cherry *ੈ✩‧₊˚ saintlulls #saintlulls

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huevobuevo · 5 months

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ive fuckingggg HAD IT . i am going to talk about gegg qsmp because idk why but charlie slimecicle made one of the best representations of age regression ive seen in media and i am NOT joking.

so i dont rlly post alot about the qsmp on my blog, thus i wouldn't be surprised if this post goes unnoticed or ignored by a vast majority of my friends & followers. for those of you who ARE reading this with no prior experience with the QSMP lemme just quickly summarize some much needed background knowledge.

(Quackity Voice) The QSMP Is The Worlds First Multi-lingual Minecraft Server; it hosts a wide variety of twitch streamers who speak English, Spanish, Portuguese, and French. the beginning plotline of the server (which is where Gegg came into existence) follows the various players as they are grouped into pairs to care for a dragon egg. The main ones that will be talked about today are Tilin, Quackity's egg, and Juanaflippa, Slimecicle & ElMariana's egg. The eggs are, of course, played by anonymous admins, who have given these eggs their own unique personalitys despite only communicating through signs and emotes. The players have quickly imprinted on their respective eggs, as expected, and have gone on to view these eggs as their own children. The rules were simple - each egg had two lives and two lives ONLY. each day the eggs have tasks for the streamers to complete ON STREAM or else the egg could die of starvation & neglect (points at Trump, Maximus & DanTDM's egg).

i will be referring to Slimecicles character in the QSMP as Charlie or Slime for better coherency. from now on i will be referring to the characters, not the streamers.

Slimecicle and Mariana were not the best parents to Juanaflippa, but it was clear that they truly and deeply cared for their daughter. They supported her transition and, especially in Slimes case, did everything they could to make sure their daughter was safe. Juanaflippa had lost her second life due to an accident, which caused Slime to loose his shit and go on a murderous rampage to try and get the literal Minecraft Jesus Christ of Nazareth to come back and revive his daughter (she came back after a court case. long story.)

Basically Juanaflippa was loved, and she loved her parents back- but there was someone else she cared for the most in the whole wide world

Tilin, who Slime offered to take care of once her father had to log off game. There was another accident, and Tilin was caught in the crossfire between Charlie and a few mobs at night. She was on her second life, meaning that Charlie had officially ended his daughters best friend right infront of her eyes. Distraught and ashamed, Charlie ran off into self-isolation and left Juanaflippa in the care of Mariana and their friend Roier. During his "Eggxile" while he was trying to find a way to bring back Tilin, Charlie learnt that Mariana killed Juanaflippa AGAIN. Instead of going on another tirade Charlie just lost it.

He's now carrying the deaths of two children on his mind, isolating himself from what little friends he had on the main island. During his initial stay on the island there were only English and Spanish players, but when the French and Brazilian players arrived he still spent a majority of his time in isolation. Charlie wasn't apart of a good chunk of the main island lore for a long, long time, and pretty soon it began to feel like he was completely, and utterly, alone. He attended a wedding and a few parties, but it was visible how outcasted he was from all the new events and connections. He had regular breakdowns and pretty soon began to believe that Juanaflippa wasn't dead, she was just... somewhere else. He was gonna get her back. He did it once, he'll do it again. Fuck, he couldn't even bring himself to attend her own funeral, and even when he was allowed one final goodbye with his dead daughter Charlie still refused to accept the fact that Juanaflippa was never gonna come back home. He built a campfire on the beach of his Eggxile house with three chairs- one for him, one for his wife (who hadn't logged on in months), and one for Flippa.

TL;DR q!slime is going the fuck through it.

Later on Quackity decided to get Charlie in on a plan to try and steal from other peoples houses. They both lost their families, so it seemed only fair to Quackity that they ruin other people's lives as well. Basically Charlie had to pretend to be Quackity's NEW egg so that he can get close with the other eggs and fuck shit up.

Charlie liked it. Charlie... REALLY liked it, actually. His egg name was Gegg, and without knowing it he began to age regress.

Im calling Gegg a form of Age Regression because not only is Charlie mentally AND physically becoming a child, but through Gegg Charlie is allowed the freedom to escape his grief and explore what it means to be a "child" who was loved unconditionally. On the last Gegg stream Slime referred to the little goopy guy as something that lives inside of him. Gegg takes over him and he just looses himself in the act. He's not just playing a character called Gegg, he IS Gegg.

In the very first stream as Gegg he expressed his desire to learn what having a family was like- a common reason most people have for regressing. When "regressed" to this state Charlie/Gegg is constantly acting as a young child and actually enjoys it! He LOVED being Gegg! Even if it got too far in the end, Gegg was allowed to be open about his wants & emotions. Charlie was pushed back into the lives of the other players and fully reconnected with several people again for the first time since his self-imposed isolation. He gained new friends, too, once Gegg was introduced to the Brazilian and French players.

In turn the players never made any effort to expose Charlie's regression. while at the beginning there was some distrust & confusion over Charlie's sudden egg act it never went farther then a few subtle jokes at Geggs "true" identity (commenting on his backflips, which is something Charlie was known for). Aside from Wilbur, everybody treated Gegg as any other egg-child. He was cared for, his tasks would be completed on occasion, and the French+Brazilian players ESPECIALLY loved him! They supported Charlie's regression since at this point they began to realize how much shit he has been through since the deaths of Tilin and Flippa. Not only that, but the eggs as well played along with Gegg's coping mechanism; Leonarda (FoolishGamers + Vegetta777's egg) was one of the first to try and adopt Gegg as their own baby, while Chayanne (Philza+MissaSinfonia's egg) & Tallulah (Wilbur Soot's egg) acted as his "Geggsiblings" (even though Tallulah sorta got a bit rude to him during their second encounter, im guessing due to a new admin who wasn't around during Tallulah & Gegg's first interaction),

Infact, one of the best scenes of the Gegg Arc was during an interaction between Gegg & Bobby. Bobby was Roier & JaidenAnimation's egg, and he was also close to Juanaflippa & Tilin. The two kids talked through signs, where Bobby confessed that he held a grudge against Slime for what he did. Gegg said that he had every right to be upset, the poor boy had lost two of his closest friends after all. But then Bobby did something that shocked Charlie- he forgave him. he told Gegg to tell that "green guy" that he shouldn't be hard on himself anymore, both of them needed to move on already. Not only was Bobby a child, but he was one of the main eggs Quackity wanted Gegg to kill off first. Bobby was the reason why Gegg existed, the reason why Charlie was given the chance to heal from his trauma, and now he is telling Charlie to his face that its ok to forgive himself for the deaths of Tilin and Flippa.

Bobby knows who Gegg is, everybody does, which is why they treat Gegg with the same amount of love that every other egg gets.

Age Regression has frequently been misunderstood, and very rarely does it get the proper representation that it deserves. It is a very "taboo" form of coping, which is unfortunate due to how common it actually is. Most people feel uncomfortable with the image of grown adults acting as toddlers in diapers, and lump it together with the whole Age Play/DDLG ordeal- yet they fail to take into account what age regressors are ACTUALLY like. while it is something that just about anyone can do, the type of regression I will be talking about stems from people who seek refuge from traumatic events usually in their childhood. It can be voluntary or involuntary, and is a way for people to explore & reevaluate what it means to be a child. it is just that- a trauma response, one that im sure many of you participate in but are too scared to discuss it due to the stigma around it. Children who have experienced abuse regress, Teenagers who struggle with mental health regress, Adults with severe PTSD regress, and yet it is such a misunderstood part of the healing process that is practically unaccounted for in media. There is little to nothing on age regression representation that delivers it in a respectful, honest manner, due to this stigma, which only serves to push it further into the shadows of mental health discourse.

So to see age regression be used on a fucking minecraft server of all places in such a healthy light is so refreshing to see. While ironic at first, Charlie showcased age regression as something that shouldn't be shunned. It actively aided him through a dark period in his life and showed that he deserves a second chance. After Gegg canonically "died" Charlie returned to the island for his birthday and was finally ready to move on from Flippa & Tilins death (and then, yakno, the whole Codeflippa Arc happened)

TL;DR #2 Charlie Slimecicle's Character In The QSMP Age Regresses As A Way To Cope From The Deaths Of Two Eggs & Oh My God It Was Actually Really Fucking Emotional

#thanks for reading again hoooly fuck #slimecicle #q!slimecicle #charlie slimecicle #q!charlie #qsmp #gegg #qsmp gegg #gegg qsmp #qsmp slimecicle #qsmp charlie slimecicle #there will be a cold day in hell if i dont properly tag my fucking posts

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gretavanlace · 4 months

Text

Sugar II (part 7)

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, angst, cheating, choking (barely, and only if you squint) fingering, etc

Hello lovelies! I hope everyone has had a wonderful holiday season and a very merry Christmas (if you celebrate). So sorry for the wait, but I trust you’ll understand…things get so crazy this time of year! Please excuse any mistakes you find, I did some under the weather editing. Xoxo love you all ❤️

True to his word, he was knocking at your metaphorical door the second their brief intermission allowed, and now you find yourself trudging along beside him through a nearly deserted parking lot outside the town cinema that is conveniently attached to the mall.

The mall sees little action these days as it is - throw in the fact that it’s early afternoon smack dab in the middle of the week and you’ve got yourself a recipe for isolation.

Which was exactly the plan all along. It’s a small town, and questions are the last thing you need.

When he’d pulled up in his rental, some luxury sedan with sleek black paint and deeply tinted windows, you couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of you. How out of place he looked…he would’ve seemed more at home on a tricycle.

Now, after a hug that felt too intimate in the unforgiving glare of the sun, he holds the door open for you, ushering you inside, ever the gentleman, when his phone begins to hum in his pocket.

“Here,” a credit card, black and heavier than standard plastic, slips into your palm as he nods towards the popcorn and candy, “Go wear it out.”

“Trying to get rid of me, Kiszka?” You tease, leaning in conspiratorially, “Am I your dirty little secret?”

With a roll of his eyes, he shuts you down. “Dirty? Yes. Secret? Not so much.”

He tilts his phone to display Josh’s name trilling across the screen. “You’re welcome to say hello, if you’d like. But I honestly detest the thought of sharing you right now. Sounds torturous.”

Your eyes travel over him like he’s a fucking meal. Linen pants cuffed lazily at the ankles to display scuffed and worn boots. Light blue button up, barely buttoned and hardly hiding the softness of his stomach, which you long to gnash your teeth into. Coins and medallions clink about against his chest, locks curling like ribbons along the shoulders of his midnight onyx blazer…no, on this you two can agree, you’d rather not share him either.

“Don’t let him talk so long that I have to miss you.” You smile with a wink that sizzles the blood in his veins as he watches you make your way over to the concession stand.

In keeping with yet another promise, he stands beside you before the popcorn has even been buttered, ready to follow you into whichever darkened room you’ll be inhabiting together for the next couple of hours.

When you fold into your seats, you find yourselves utterly alone.

A half an hour in, and you’re deeply regretting your choice. Something more PG would have been a lifesaver. You should have opted for something animated, for christ’s sake.

Watching them twist through the sheets, his hands dipped into her waist as she rocks above him in the gorgeous, cinematic lighting would normally have no more than a minute effect on you…especially given how little you’ve paid attention to the actual plot.

But he’s so near. You can feel the warmth of his body heat. You can smell that woodsy hint that lilts through his aura, paired with the ghostly remnants of a cigarette he’d swear he never smoked. If you leaned in just a fraction of an inch, your lips could play against the corner of his jaw. And again, you’re alone, so alone, in the cool darkness of this deserted theater.

Watching them this way with him so close has your heart banging about in the cage of your chest like a bird, stunned and frightened. Intense. Inescapable.

It’s the middle of the afternoon. The sun is beating down upon smoldering asphalt just outside these walls, bathing this town, in which you’ve built a life, in blinding light. Outside, it’s just another Wednesday…but here, with him next to you, quiet and concentrating on the two strangers making love on screen, you could be a thousand miles away. An alternate reality where in which only you walk the earth - Jake’s hand in yours as he strolls along beside you.

“Care to share what you’re thinking so hard about?” His question hushes out, though there is no one else around to hear it, but his eyes remain fixed ahead.

“I’m not thinking about anything.” You bristle gently…he knows you far too well for it to ever feel fair.

“I am.” His head tilts towards yours, but still he watches on. “Would you like it if I shared, instead?”

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you that it’s rude to talk at the movies?” You tease, simply to avoid whatever you know to be coming, “You really are spending too much time with Josh.”

A thought seems to suddenly occur to him, flickering a nearly visible lightbulb above his head. “Do you ever miss the way it used to be? With Josh? Before I came along and fucked everything up?”

His hand, which has been linked loosely with yours since the lights went down, offers a tiny squeeze. A reassurance that whatever the truth is, it will be alright to say it.

“Never.” And that really is the honesty of it all. “I miss the way things were when it was the three of us sometimes…but I think that’s really only because I miss you. I miss him too. But so differently. And I miss Sam and Danny. I miss…” you fall silent, searching for words that won’t come, and finally settle upon, “everything.”

“You don’t have to.” He is still refusing to look at you, though your eyes are heating his cheek with the intensity of your gaze in the dark. “You don’t have to miss anything, anymore. You can come home, baby. You should come home. I want you to come home. I need you to—” his throat catches, and you watch his lips fold in against the vulnerability.

“I am home.” You argue, wishing you could take it back the second you’ve whispered it into existence.

“Why?” Finally, finally, he turns to catch your eye. “Because of him? I’m so sick of hearing about him it isn’t even funny. And not just because I’m jealous - which I most certainly fucking am - but because it’s such bullshit.”

Trying your hardest, you muster a bit of astonished annoyance, though you feel none of it “My life is bullshit?”

His response is matter of fact as he turns his attention back to the couple still feigning ecstasy before you “Yes, it is.”

“That’s real nice, Jake.” Now your irritation feels a bit more concrete. How dare he so nonchalantly sit here in the dark and try to poke holes in what you’ve cultivated in his absence? “What isn’t bullshit, then? Our pretend life that you choose to live inside? Or the one from years ago that you can’t let go of?”

Another squeeze of your hand comes tender and comforting, “I’ll let that slide because I know you don’t mean to be hurtful…and because I know you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared,” you pull away and begin to miss his touch instantly. “I just…I have a fucking life, Jacob. And you seem hell bent on ruining it.”

“Okay,” he nods, turning in to nudge your nose with his own. “Take me home then, Sugar. Parade me through your life. Introduce me to Mr. Wonderful. Show me where you sleep. Where you watch TV with him at night. Where you take your baths, floating in the bubbles until you’re pruny and half-drunk on wine. Show me your backyard. Show me the walls he fucks you up against while you don’t think of me. Show me where you hide away from him at night to whisper sweet things to me…and not so sweet things. Let me meet your cat.”

His mouth is so close to yours you can faintly taste his minty toothpaste, “I don’t have a cat.”

“Alright,” he grins, sly as a snake, cheeks sweeping against yours as they perk with his smile, warm and soft “then just take me home and show me your pussy.”

It’s crass and ridiculous, and you know he’s said it simply to make you laugh…it works.

“So this is it, huh?” He leans forward, peering at your house through the windshield as you coast into the driveway. “No porch. No garden. But I’m going to wager there’s a welcome mat.”

His eyes cut over to you, a wickedly adorable gleam dancing about in them, “There is, isn’t there? How fucking quaint.”

How does he remember that you hate welcome mats? That you find them to be untruthful somehow, because certainly not everyone is welcome…some who find themselves at your doorstep should just go away. And how has he guessed that you do, in fact, have one? That he brought one home not long after you moved in and you hadn’t had the heart to tell him to throw it out?

Once more, you’re reminded of Jake’s uncanny ability to peer inside your head, but you refuse to stoke the fires of his ego. “You promised to behave, Jacob.”

He pops his door open and climbs out with a lazy stretch, “Oh, c’mon pretty girl, don’t tell me you believed that.”

Hand slipping from the steering wheel, you steel yourself with a steadying breath. This was a bad idea. A horrible choice. A disaster gearing up to wreak havoc…but here you are, leading the way with Jake strolling along behind you, taking in the suburban elements of your neighborhood with his hands buried casually in his pockets.

He always looks as though he has nowhere to be and all day to get there. It’s calming. Soothing. Like the invisible hand of a beloved caretaker reminding you that there is time enough to breathe. No reason to rush, it says…that gentle air about him. I don’t mind waiting. Take your time.

As you fit your key into the deadbolt, he resumes his antics, “When will Mr. Wonderful return from sea? Is there a widow’s walk where we might watch for him together on this dreadful day of pining?”

Voice warbling and pitched low, he reaches up and tugs a lock of your hair, goading you like a drunken, English pirate.

“Shut up, Oliver, or I’ll go inside and lock the door behind me.” The hinges squeak open…no turning back now.

“No, you won’t.” He scoffs, laughing lightly at his own nonsense. “Seriously, do I get to size up the competition today?”

You welcome him in, slightly dizzy at the sight of him sauntering inside…you’ve imagined him here so many times. Longed for his penchant for filling up space, fat and full, with his greater than life presence.

He makes you feel small in the most wonderful way; you are bird cupped safe and sound in his palms as he holds you close to his chest, protecting you from the world.

And maybe you should tell him these things…the way he makes you feel. His eyes would turn soft, he might touch your face with his tender fingertips and sigh your name into the room like a wisp of a breeze.

But a glance at the mantel, and the framed picture perched there, sends a tiny rush of guilt surging through your veins and you shake the moment off and instead opt for a stern…

“No, you won’t be sizing anything up today, Jake,” you move about the room to keep his eyes on you rather than in the direction of the mantel. “I’m not sadistic enough to subject him to your gleeful nastiness.”

He laughs like he’s never loved anything more, tipping his head back to expose his gorgeous throat…you yearn to bite it. “Gleeful nastiness? Sugar, you wound me.”

Rather than stride across the room to sink your teeth into him, you cross your arms, disgruntled and annoyed. “You’d have way too much fun being an asshole, and he’d be far too nice to put you in your place.”

That darkens his eyes, and you almost regret it. Almost. “Put me in my place? Are you choosing sides, sweetheart? Because it sounds an awful lot like you are.”

“Maybe I am.”

He’s moving toward you now, and you should back away, you know you should. Instead, your feet shuffle forward.

“Pretend your heart lies with him all you want,” he sweeps his lips over the apple of your cheek, “but I know better, and so do you.”

“Kiss me.” You bite your lip against the plea a second too late.

Those warm eyes of his, like coffee stirred with a splash of cream, flick down at your mouth and back to meet your gaze, and then his answer comes simply and with finality, “No.”

“No?” You’re incredulous, and admittedly stung by his rejection.

“No.” He reiterates, stepping away from you as your hands drop uselessly from his shoulders to your sides. “Take me on the tour, pretty girl. Show me this wonderful life of yours. I simply cannot wait.”

The “tour” he was so eager for is winding down as you steer him down the hall hurriedly, hoping he’ll ignore the door that is cracked and streaming light into the hallway.

Of course, he doesn’t. “What’s the rush, baby?” He smiles, feigning confusion, “What prize hides behind this one? Is this your bedroom?”

Suddenly, there is no space left between your bodies, and his is radiating a possessive heat as he backs you up into the room, guiding you along with a sure and steady arm wrapped around your waist.

“Is this where Mr. Wonderful fucks my girl?”

“Jake,” you’re protesting, but your fingers have curled into his shirt, thumb toying with one of the buttons that has likely never known what it’s like to be fastened. “Stop talking about it.”

He tilts his head in mock confusion, “Why? You like sex, I like sex, let’s talk about it, yeah? Oh, this is it right here, isn’t it? Look at this great big beautiful bed. Did you make it yourself this morning? Are the sheets clean?”

His mouth is at your throat now, licking and sucking between his terrible taunting questions. “If I laid you down right now, would I smell you on them? Would I smell him?”

“Jake, shut up,” you snap, but you’re pulling his lips in closer, hands fisting loosely in his hair.

You expect him to toss you down on the bed. To crawl on top of you. To grab you. To fuck you. To own you on the bed in some misguided show of territorial dominance.

And you expect to let him.

You expect to fight to be on top so that his hair will rest upon your pillow…so tonight you might drift away into a peaceful slumber gifted by the scent of him blurring your senses.

Instead, you find yourself pressed up against the wall, “I won’t have you in that fucking bed, even though I could, if I felt so inclined. I can tell you want it.” He sizes you up while grinding his cock into you with a delicious rhythm that’s got your breath panting out in tiny puffs already. “You do, don’t you, baby? You want me to fuck you in that bed. You want me all over the sheets he sleeps in.”

You’re ashamed, so fucking ashamed…but it’s true.

He’ll go, and you’ll miss him so terribly, and in some sick and horrifically twisted way you want him to spill on to the sheets, to leave his fingerprints on every surface. To lick across the bathroom mirror. To use your hairbrush so that there might be a strand or two of his silken waves left behind. You want him to drink from the milk carton and lounge about on the furniture. To lose the remote between the couch cushions. To tilt all the pictures uneven with his careless touch. You want him everywhere…to leave behind tiny remnants of himself once he’s gone, little pieces to ease your aching heart.

“Tell me, sugar.” He fucks himself against you with quick rolls of his hips until you’re praying his name. “Tell me the truth, baby. Tell me where you want me to give you my cock. I’m so hard for you, sweetheart.”

“In our bed,” it’s a rush of desperation as you clutch at him, dragging him closer to you…but it still isn’t enough, you wish you could crawl inside him. “Fuck me in our bed. Make me cum in our bad. Make me say your name in our bed. Please, jakey, please,”

Ignoring your disgraceful display, he continues to rock into you, gasping into the crook of your neck while his breathless moans tickle their way into your ear, “Does he make you cum in that bed? Does he take care of your pretty cunt the way I do? Does he make you shake and beg for terrible things? Hmm? Are you a good girl for him in that bed? Look at it.”

You shake your head back and forth against the wall, thrusting wildly to meet him. He’s right, he’s so fucking hard.

His palm wraps around your throat, squeezing at the sides, directing your line of sight. “I said fucking look at it. I want your eyes on that bed when I make you cum. I’m gonna make it mine without laying a goddamn finger on it. My bed, and my girl with her pretty wet pussy that belongs to me.”

“Inside,” it’s a rasping, shaking plea, and it should embarrass you and cast your eyes downward in shame…but it doesn’t. You’ve always wanted him this badly, and he knows it as inherently as he remembers the walls of his childhood home. “I need you inside, need your cock.”

“That’s it, fuck doll…” there is a filthy smirk evident in his tone, though his face is once again buried against your neck, “Beg for my cock. Tell me how badly you need it. Ask real sweet, sugar…be my very good girl.”

Your bodies writhe together feverishly until you feel like you might catch fire and burn away into ashes that will singe against his tongue like scorching want “Please, Jakey…please. I think about you all the time. I can’t clear my head, it’s always so full of you. Fuck me, fuck me, please please please…”

A painfully ragged groan rumbles out of him as his mouth, eager and starved, sucks against your throat, “Not gonna fuck you here. Not in this room where you let him touch you, not in this house where you let him love you.”

“Outside,” your teeth clench around the word until your jaw is screaming as loudly as the ache between your legs. “Take me out back, fuck me there…”

At last, his face, so beautifully flushed and dew-kissed, emerges from the crook of your neck, “You want me to take you outside and slide you onto my cock all wet and pretty? Want to let your neighbors hear what a whore you are for me? Let them hear how wet I make your gorgeous cunt? Hmm? Let them hear you whine my fucking name?”

“I don’t care what they hear…” you’re nearly mewling with need, clawing at his shoulders, clutching at his shirt, nearing your end, but so desperate to run from it because you want so much more. You don’t want this to be over without him slipped inside you, hard and hot.

“Look at me.” The insistence in his tone leaves no room for argument and your eyes flutter open to lock in on his.

A breathy, “You’re so beautiful,” trips off your tongue - a reflex that couldn’t be helped if you tried. He’s an evil, diabolical doctor banging a tiny hammer just below your knee cap.

A slow, languid blink is the only indication he gives that he’s even heard you. “You know my face, sugar?”

It’s the most absurd question that has ever been asked of you. Of course you know his face. Sometimes, it seems like you know nothing but his face.

Those sleepy eyes, that seem to see more than anyone has ever seen, down the deep and winding halls within you. His plush lips, full and pink, cruelly perfect, with a Cupid’s bow to rival the angel’s even if you stacked them all together. Rounded tip of his nose, different now, but still constantly luring your kiss. His jaw, so strong at times, so soft at others, but always begging for your tongue to trail along its path…his brow, his eyelashes, the way locks of hair display it all like a gilded edged frame adorning a wall in some ancient, European museum.

Yes, you know his face. You will always know his face. He is true north on your compass. He is the only direction in which your heart will ever willingly travel.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak even as your hips rock against him.

“Good girl,” he presses the softest kiss to your mouth, “I want your eyes on that bed when you cum, but I want my face in your heart, and my name on your pretty pink tongue. We’re gonna fucking erase him, aren’t we?”

Suddenly, you wonder who he means? Does he mean this new rival, who really isn’t his rival at all? Or does he mean Josh, even after all this time? Does he even know which? Do you?

“No, baby…” your voice is but a whimper, and it tugs a growl out of his lungs that makes you weaker still, “I don’t want to cum like this. I need you inside of me. Make me feel good, Jakey…make me whole.”

“Not here,” he shakes his head sternly and you shrink away from his scolding, head resting against the cool wall. “Never here. Not in this house. I hate this fucking house. I want to burn it down and salt the goddamn earth.”

“Give me more,” your fingers are tearing and pulling at him frantically. You need so much from him always, you need his everything.

“I’ll give you more,” his voice sounds feral, grinding and growling like sandpaper…like he is lost and stumbling along far away from himself, as he jerks you away from the wall and slams you up onto your vanity.

Tiny bottles and tubes tumble and spill to the floor, but rather than care, you reach back and blindly sweep the rest away to make room for whatever is about to happen.

“I’ll give you fucking more,” he bites into your throat as though he wants to swallow you down and carry you around inside him. “I’ll give you fucking anything if you’ll just let me. Let me, sugar…fuck, please baby.”

“Just…” you can’t finish your thought…can’t find your mental footing while vibrating with such desperation, so you don’t even try. Instead, you begin fumbling with his belt, but he shoves your hands away.

“I told you,” he grabs hold of your face, a firm yet shaking hand tight around your chin, “Not here. Stop.”

On your fingers march, fighting with leather and metal until his voice, soft and mournful now, guides you out of the haze, “Not here, sugar. Not here.”

Everything slows in a blink, as if fate has adjusted the playback speed, and you find yourself watching with bated, yet quieting breaths as he pops the button on your jeans and lowers the zipper, eyes on your face all the while.

He slips his fingers in slowly, carefully…you are precious and deserving of his care, and he wants you to have it.

“Lean back,” he soothes, the heel of his palm grinding softly against your clit, “Let me take care of my girl.”

You’re prepared to whine and barter, but he shakes his head the moment your lips part.

“Shh, settle down, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” free hand now petting at your face, he offers you the gentlest smile. “You’re so wet, sugar. So warm.”

“Jake,” you’re rocking up to meet him now, slipping into the breathtaking haze of bliss he saves just for you.

“What, pretty girl?” God, the way he’s speaking to you…each word dripping with adoration and awe. Drenched in lust. Positively soaked in love. “Does it feel good?”

“So good,” your eyes are drifting closed now as you wade deeper into the tepid pool of your Jakey. You want to stay forever, to sink into his swirling blue waters until you’re forced to suck him into your lungs and drown.

“Eyes open.” The demand is soft and delicate, like lace drawn across your flushed skin.

You recall his earlier instruction and cast your heated stare at the bed you share with a man you could never exist for the way you live and breathe for Jake, but he shakes his head, “I was wrong…I don’t want that. Look at me, sugar. Right here, look at me.”

How could you ever want to look at anything else? Your gaze locks with his, and in reward, he curls his searching fingers and drags a high pitched moan off the tip of your tongue.

“Good girl, baby…” he nods, dropping his forehead to meet yours “So pretty. Silky little pussy wrapped up snug and tight around me like she never wants me to leave.”

“Don’t,” you’re writhing and grabbing at him now, crawling closer and closer to the edge, “Don’t leave me, Jake.”

His hand trails down from your face to cover your heart, “Is that coming from here, too?”

Watching him like this, your chest feels like it could easily cave in…like it could crumple in on itself - a balled up scrap of cheap aluminum foil crushed inside a fist. He is a sonnet come to life. A haunting song, living and breathing, watching you like you are love incarnate.

Of course it’s coming from your heart. It’s coming from your soul…or perhaps from the soul the two of you sometimes seem to share.

“I don’t know why I keep fighting this,” strangely, tears are burning in your eyes as the white hot band of pleasure stretches tighter still in your belly, “You’re all I want. You’re all I’ve ever fucking wanted,”

Satisfied, the air sighs out of his lungs as his fingers crook just perfectly and unravel you with a jolt. It is such a lazy, undulating ribbon of pleasure, unwinding through your veins like slow heat as you gasp and hush his name.

“Just like that, baby,” he coaxes, sounding far away. “Nice and slow…just like that. Shh, I’m right here. I’ve got you, sugar, I’ve got you.”

Your eyes never stray from his, even when the intensity you find in them threatens to crack your chest wide open, and when you finally come down, that’s how you both stay for so long you can almost believe the rest of the world has fallen away.

When his fingers twitch and you shiver with overstimulation, it breaks the spell and he pulls back… reluctantly sliding slowly from the cashmere grip of your cunt, only to suck those two fingers into his mouth with a muted groan of content.

“Pack a bag, sugar…” his hands cup your cheeks, fingers slick against your face as his nose tips up to meet yours, “Or don’t. We’ll go shopping and I’ll buy you anything and everything you’ve ever needed. Whatever you want, pretty girl…it’s yours.”

“I—“ you can’t seem to think straight.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he’s teasing now, with a barely there smirk taunting his lips, “Let me steal you away and take you home where you belong. I’ll write pretty songs for you, and make love to you every morning until the sun is so envious of us it resents having to rise. Let me build you a house. Let me till a garden for my girl.”

At last, you find your voice, “I have to do this the right way, Jake. His heart deserves care. I don’t want to hurt him any more than I have to. I’m the bad guy, here.”

“No,” that soft, hidden away smile of his clutches at your heart. “I think I’m the bad guy here. I just can’t find a shit to give.”

You’ve righted your disheveled selves and are now attempting to right all the other wrongs, with you stretched out on the rug watching as Jake picks up the tiny bottles and jars that litter the floor, asking after each one…

“Highlighter? What the hell does this do? Are you a book report?” And “How many lip glosses do you even need, sugar? You only have two lips.”

…before carefully placing said product back on the vanity - when, way ahead of schedule, the garage door rumbles to life.

Your heart lurches painfully in your chest, but on his end, Jake’s eyes light up with menacing delight, “Well, what do you know, babe? It seems our dear captain has returned.”

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @gretasmokerising @thelvnternskeeper @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @paintmyhouse @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordie-gvf-admin @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake @gretavangroupie

#greta van fleet #greta van fleet smut #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van smut #greta van fic #fanfic #gvf fic #jake gvf #josh kiszka #jake kiskza #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fanfic #josh kiskza smut #gvf one shot #gvf smut #gvf imagine

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lexischococoveredblueberries · 4 months

Text

˚୨୧⋆yes, & i love you｡˚ ⋆— pt 2

velvet x FEM!reader

• one shot

• fluff

• light angst

after an overwhelming confession between your “situation-ship” with velvet, both of you take a break from being close. in the midst of your healing, velvet begins to come to a realization that — absolutely nothing is the same without you. frustrated and still deeply in love, in advance of deranged texts from a velvet that hates admitting her feelings, you as always attend a performance of hers that goes terribly wrong.

the girls heart seems to ease by your awaited attention — and yours seems to tense by the threat of trust. will she make up, or live by her same fears?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。. ・.

VELVETS POV.

four months.

it had been four months since the incident between

me and her. was i counting? i didn’t know, i just

knew. the time that passed was slow, very utterly

slow, and each performance that came and went

i mourned knowing that there would be no smiles or

mutual shrieks of excitement backstage. and really, i

genuinely tried not to think of it — to think of her. the

more i pondered about her , the further i felt guilt and

vomit creep up my throat , and it didn’t matter what i

was doing in the moment.

i couldn’t act this this. i shouldn’t blame this on

myself, guilt and uncertainty can’t be the first thing

on my mind or something anyone could read off my

face. pretending to not care is my best bet, only

seeing her as a stylist and maybe a planner would

keep my career safe and drama-free.

my hands wrapped around a cup of orange pekoe

tea, my heart seemed to twist to the pit of my

stomach.

oh, but how the thought of her voice and hands had

me in a trance. oh, how it hurt.

nails gritting on the mug, my fingertips burned and i

jerked them away, spilling a small amount of the hot

fluid on my white vanity. grimacing, i scurried to find

a cloth.

the door to the dressing room then opened, and

there stood y/n, watching as i was searching. i looked

to her for a moment , only a moment, because god

forbid any longer i would start saying shit i’m not

supposed to.

clipboard in hand, she walked over to the vanity and

pulled a tissue from her pocket, beginning to wipe up

the spilt tea that would’ve started to stain if left any

longer. i watched her as she didn’t say a word, just

cleaning with a straight face. oh, don’t stare, velvet.

don’t feel.

she threw the tissue in the garbage can and looked to

me. straightening my posture, i brushed my hair out

of my face. “thank you.” i mumbled, beginning to

take clips and bobby pins out of my hair. the tension

and every physical shift of our bodies was

unbearable, like we were made of rust trying not to

make any sound. it was gross and unnerving and a

lump formed in my throat. sitting at the vanity chair

once more, the routine began.

y/n took my hair apart, running her fingers gently

through the curls and dried gel. she took micellar

water to my face delicately with cotton pads i closed

my eyes as this proceeded, though every cell in my

body told me to open them and begin a

conversation. but that wasn’t right.

everything felt out of place. shit. why? why couldn’t

things be normal? why was this a big deal?

not even realizing my discomfort , i let out a

strangled sound in my throat which caused her to

stop and look at me in the mirror. “you alright?”

am i alright no i’m not alright god i just want to apologize and hold your hand and be okay and be with you and be girls god god help me i’m sorry don’t hate me do i talk too much oh oh could you sm —

“yes.” i blurted and stood up quickly , grabbing

everything and attempting to keep my composure. i

didn’t look at her twice before darting straight out of

the room and stumbling down the stairs. the tears

were hot and flowing , cursing to myself silently for

being so pathetic.

i was my own worst enemy.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・

YOUR (2ND) POV.

you were aggravated by velvets behaviour. was she

ignoring you or trying to get your attention? being

smart or clueless? definitely not clueless. she was

smarter than that. you hated how you couldn’t tell

with her sometimes. but that’s exactly what drew you

to her — you could never guess. but of course you

didn’t let yourself get too wound up, it had been

almost 5 months since then, and you were so close

to being completely over it. over her.

or, well, that’s what you were trying to get yourself to

believe.

you arrived home around midnight after the

performance, in every way exhausted. once through

your door and in the kitchen, you went to pour

yourself a glass of red wine. you didn’t drink, at all

really, the bottle had been a gift , but right now you

needed something. after a long swig, you stared out

the living room window for a moment. then your

phone buzzed. multiple times.

picking it up, the bright light making you squint in

the darkness of your kitchen, you seen velvets name.

your heart skipped a beat as desperate messages

popped up;

“i miss yiu y/n.”

“everythimg hurrs without you”

“i can’t llook at f/c wiyhout feeling sick”

“i don’t know i hate feekings”

“thid sucks”

“will you tajk to me i’m sorry”

“i wqs wtong please don’t hate me”

her typos seemed to pull at your heart strings, you

opened the messages to look at them, but put your

phone down. you poured another glass. honestly,

what did she want you to say? oh, it’s no problem vel,

it’s not like you tore my veins out and tied them in a

bow then proceeded to wish i was someone different

then steal my oxygen with a kiss. nope. not at all.

a few minutes passed, and your phone began to ring.

now slightly panicked, you saw velvets name and

contact photo pop up. it was a picture paparazzi had

taken of you two that floated around on the internet,

which was you two smiling and laughing at a public

park that — you remembered, — you had dragged

her to so she could connect with something other

than a camera and makeup. she hated the photo

because she was in her “disguise clothing”, but she

looked as pure as ever.

you shook the memory from your thoughts and

picked up the phone after letting it ring a little and

brought the phone to your ear. you said nothing, only

waiting for her.

“don’t. don’t do that.” you heard a broken voice at the

other end of the call. you paused before answering.

she was definitely crying.

“do what?” you asked monotonously.

“not… answering me. as my — stylist, you should

almost always answer wh —“

“cut the shit velvet.” you snapped but didn’t raise

your voice. you bit your lip and you heard her

whimper quietly.

“i’m really trying.” she whispers that seemed to dart

straight to your heart. “y-you know that i am. this

shit is just — ugh,” she was talking about her

feelings. you felt that same pain in your heart from all

those months ago.

“velvet,” you started, leaning against your fridge and

deeply breathing. “i don’t want to hear this over a

phone. what you did hurt, i don’t know what i can

and can’t believe.” you choked slightly at the end of

your sentence. she was silent, but you heard her

sniffle. your voice lowering right above a whisper,

“if you really want this velvet; say it to my face. look

me in my eye and tell me what you want.” you

asserted.

you heard nothing but distant shaky breathing for a

moment. “goodnight, y/n. we’ll talk tomorrow.” the

like clicked.

you stood there a little while, gazing in the distance.

maybe that was the closure you needed.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・

the next day…

and so the routine began again. getting ready in the

morning, drive to work, getting velvet and veneer

ready for todays performance… nothing new. and

shockingly, seeing velvet didn’t hurt as much as you

thought it would. you felt good about that. now

putting their makeup away , veneer and velvet were

talking.

“vel, are you sure you’ll be okay? you look exhausted.

maybe you should sit just this one out…” veneer said

cautiously.

“no, ven, im fine.” she claimed , lazily putting her

boots on.

“okay, but, you did tell me one time to always prevent

you from performing if you seemed unwell even if

you refused , so —“

“veneer can you just shut the fuck up? i - just - god

please. please.“ she growled , her voice softening

near the end of her sentence. both you and veneer

jumped slightly, and he looked shocked and

slightly hurt. he said nothing, and velvet got up and

left the room. you looked to him who continued to

linger his gaze out the door. he looked at you.

“can you figure something out with her? it sort of

feels like, i lost her.” he said in a concerned tone. you

said nothing, only slightly nodding to try and ease

his mind. sighing, he walked out the door as well. you

followed after a moment of pondering and headed

towards the entrance of the pit.

awaiting for the siblings near the left center crowd,

you started to wonder if velvet would actually be

okay during the performance. you obviously knew

why she was off, but there’s no way she would let

that affect her image. you hoped.

then it was showtime, and you watched as they

presented flawlessly as always. but there was

still something wrong with her. she wasn’t as

smiley and proud like she usually was in front of

her fans, she was smiling, but she almost looked sick.

you bit your lip and didn’t take your eyes off of that

stage. not even half way through the song, that

terrible fear commenced.

“shit.” you said out loud.

velvet seemed to lose balance as she followed the

choreography and her words mashed up. veneer

glanced at her with an obvious worried expression as

he tried to continue , but she was so off that it was

nearly impossible. she seemed to choke on her words

and she just completely stopped dancing, making

eye contact with you. the audience began to turn to

whispered and audible gasps. you could tell she

felt the eyes on her at how she looked around like

she commuted a crime, and before you knew it she

ran backstage. some people began yelling or booing,

veneer trying to speak through his mic to reassure

them that they just needed to take five.

you bolted to that backstage.

security guards and producers were gathered around

a certain spot, where you could make out velvet on

the ground , crying and yelling about something.

pushing through them, she spotted you through her

tears and swatted away people’s hands that tried to

help her.

“no, go, go ! “ she stood up taking in sharp, deep

breaths. looking to you, she tried to yell at the

security guards that wouldn’t lay off. “no! i want —

y/n, y/n take me .. home, i can’t —“

you were nearly instantly by her side, wrapping an

arm around her and taking her through the back exit

— at the same time yelling at producers to call off the

show. once you two were out, she had calmed down

a little as you let her lean against the wall. no words

were spoken as you removed your jacket and

wrapped it around her shoulders , and eventually led

her to your car. her in your passenger seat and you in

the drivers, you looked to her.

“was that about last night?” you asked, your voice

breaking the threatening silence. she looked down at

her lap. “that was about … everything.” she spoke

softly , almost too soft for you to hear. looking

forward, you started the car and left the premises.

the clock read 9:53 PM as you hit the highway.

“am i taking your way or the rest of the highway to

your house?” you asked. she looked to you.

“your place.” she answered. heart fluttering, you

glanced at her. “mine?”

“yeah. we should.. talk.”

and when you did arrive to your house, you both got

out of the car and headed inside, holding open the

door for her in silence. she kept your jacket on, and

you made your way to the kitchen, preparing her tea

that you bought specifically for her. out of nowhere,

you felt something on your shoulder blade and a

hand wrapped around your arm. velvet stood there

with you, more silence, as you made her tea.

quiet was important with her, you found. she was

very voluble and it was hard to have a gentle moment

with her, but recently you noticed she allowed

things to be silent. you didn’t complain.

you turned around to face her and she stepped back

from you, taking the tea you offered, but she just

put it on the counter. you didn’t care, all you cared

about was looking into her eyes. you began;

“what did you want to talk about?”

velvet gulped and shook her head. “y/n. honestly,

everything is so.. terrible. terrible without you. and

god i hate to admit that i’m struggling to live

without someone but it’s so true and — this is so

unfamiliar. it’s almost angering but it’s also sweet

but sickening and … and —“ she looked up at you

with wet eyes, her hands extended towards you.

“that kiss.. that kiss was real. and i know i said that

stupid idiotic comment that was very untrue because

i was scared and i was scared of our l-love but now

it’s…” she trailed off, looking to the side. “oh it’s just

so.. you’re so..” she looked back at you, hands

reverting back to near her chest. “it’s just..can

we..?” her head slowly nodding, you didn’t waste

another second to back her up against your counter

and kiss her firmly.

you took her hands that bundled near her heart and

brought them to your face, letting her ease her

palms on your red cheeks. your own hands

held her waist gently as your lips basically

locked on one another, a smooth rhythm comme-

ncing between you two. you felt her tears fall

and hit your cheeks again, and the connection

was reborn. this is what you needed — what she

needed. her hands traveled up to your hair as she

tangled them in it, yours pulling her closer to you.

smiling against her lips, she let out a quiet sob

inside her throat.

pulling away, you planted a few more kisses to her

jaw and neck, running your hands up her back.

her breathing steadied after a minute and you

both looked at each other.

“i don’t want to leave,” she whispered, her glossy

she’s peering up at you.

“don’t.” you replied, wiping her tears with your

thumb. “stay the night, let us love eachother. veneer

will understand.”

she nodded and smiled a smile you haven’t seen in

awhile; which automatically triggered another gentle

kiss. a brief moment passed and you broke it.

“we’re girls, and that’s okay.” you reminded her.

strands of her beautiful green locks stuck to her

wet face. velvet nodded and took your hands,

cupping them on her face.

“the hell was i thinking, i don’t want a man. who

wants a man?” she joked, having you both laugh.

“hm, your brother.” you responded and she snickered

loudly, dropping her head.

“god i love you, y/n.” she said , looking back up. your

stomach churned.

“and i love you, velvet.”

not another word was spoken as you both rested in

your bed, holding each other and sharing long,

intimate kisses as if trying to makeup for the time

you lost.

it was definitely worth the wait.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆

a/n: AHH CHRISTMAS !!! merry chrysler and happy holidays to my beloved fellow mutuals 💋 i had fun writing this whilst listening to waiting room on repeat ..!!! anyway MWAH ily guys eat up

#trolls #trolls band together #trolls veneer #velvet and veneer #veneer x reader #fluff #oneshot #trolls 3 #trolls fandom #trolls fanfic #trolls velvet #velvet x reader #velvet trolls #one shot #fem reader #light angst

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lurkingshan · 24 days

Note

Every time I see a Wedding Impossible GIFs on my dash I keep thinking that when it's over I'd love to read your take on what went wrong with this show. In a form of a very spiteful rant preferably.

(the show probably doesn't deserve too much of your time but I am just very VERY curious and had to share)

WELL! I was considering just letting this show go quietly into the night, but I will take this excuse to do a good rant instead.

*cracks knuckles*

You asked what went wrong with this show, but truly, nothing went right with it. From top to bottom, it's an utter waste of a good premise and a total destruction of the rare opportunity to get some positive queer rep into a het kdrama for a broader audience than will ever be reached by a ql. Let me list the most glaring problems:

They made Do Han a supporting character in his own narrative. Do Han, his sexuality, his desire and need to hide who he is to protect himself, and his desperate plan to avoid a life he doesn't want is the core of the story. Despite that, the story treats him like a minor supporting character with limited screen time and virtually no interiority or character development that made any sense.

The relationships were poorly written and the bonds were not believable. Ah Jeong was meant to be Do Han's ride or die bestie, but nothing in their scenes together or her behavior towards him suggested this was actually true. They seemed more like acquaintances who were friendly enough but had no real loyalty to each other, or even like she was a random actress he hired to play his wife. And Ji Han and Do Han had no brotherly bond or affection to speak of; their relationship consisted entirely of Ji Han throwing tantrums and demanding things for no reason other than he wants them, and Do Han trying to avoid being forced into them.

The leads were terrible people and the show did not realize that. Do Han's brother and best friend entered into a romance while she was engaged to Do Han. Ji Han thought it was a real relationship and did not seem to feel any guilt about pursuing his brother's lover. Ah Jeong was under a contract she agreed to as both his best friend and as a job to protect him and did not seem to care that she was breaking her commitment and threatening his safety. They gallivanted around flaunting their relationship in public with no regard for Do Han or his reputation whatsoever. And the show tried to convince me that Do Han was the selfish one in this scenario for the great sin of being gay and not just fucking off and getting out of the way of their relationship. Ji Han and Ah Jeong were never held accountable for what they did to him; instead we got to watch many scenes of Do Han being shamed and berated. Anyone who contributed to the writing and depiction of this can get fucked.

Every element of the story was poorly written and the resolutions were either unearned or so badly set up that they fell flat anyway. Do Han was being harassed and stalked and the story only barely cared about this. The family drama was boring and the grandpa character was a mess of contradictions who changed on a dime depending on the demands of the plot. There was no chemistry to speak of between the leads. The romance was utterly unbelievable and developed so poorly that it was impossible to care about whether these two assholes got together. The show used romcom tropes randomly to fill time even if they didn't fit. The final episode was stuffed with cameos by actors with personal connections to the cast and crew in the hopes it would distract us from what an unsatisfying conclusion it was, and the whole thing ended on a bizarre wedding gag that didn't work at all. The only good part was Do Han coming out on his own terms and leaving to go live his own life in New York, but the way they framed that was so gross I couldn't even enjoy it.

Most importantly, the messages of this show were deeply, unforgivably homophobic. This story went out of its way to tell us over and over again that Do Han is a selfish coward for being closeted, that his sexuality is a burden for his loved ones, that his family and friends are the real victims for having to deal with him, and that he was the one in the wrong for trying to protect himself. At no point was he allowed to get truly angry at the way his family and friends were treating him; he remained benevolent and shouldered the guilt and blame for everything, despite doing absolutely nothing except try to live an authentic life. At every turn the show depicted his siblings and grandfather and friend being hateful and/or careless with him, but then told us it was Do Han's fault for being who he is. They wanted us to blame the gay character and sympathize with a brother who resented him for not being the straight business leader he wanted him to be, and a friend who betrayed him without a second thought. The show argued passionately that the lies Do Han told to protect himself were the real problem, not the homophobia and hatred and rejection he faced every day of his life. It was an abysmal and offensive message and exactly the opposite of what a responsible piece of media would be trying to communicate.

I don't know if the people who made this show are actively malicious or just deeply incompetent, but they had no business telling a story involving a queer character if they were going to do it like this.

#if it's not already super clear #i do NOT recommend watching this #wedding impossible #kdrama #shan answers

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forever-rogue · 9 months

Note

Hello there Bee, your writing for Miguel O'Hara was perfect, thank you so much for it 🫂

I was wondering if you could do one where he's so deeply in love with her but doesn't want to tell her because he's afraid of being rejected, he wants to protect her so they always go to missions together until one day she gets hurt and because he's afraid of loosing her, he finally tells her how he's been feeling for a long time

Thank you so much c:

AN | It’s been a minute but here we are with some more grumpy x sunshine! I hope you enjoy 🥰

Warnings | Nondescript mentions of violence, Language

Pairing | Miguel x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 3k

Masterlist | Main, Spider-Man

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Inhale. Exhale.

That's what you kept repeating to yourself as you approached the front doors to the Spider Headquarters. Your heart beat around your chest but you tried to push away all your worries and insecurities.

Well - the one major worry you had anyway. Most things didn't scare you anymore, you were well past that point in your life. It was one singular person that made you nervous. Miguel O'Hara.

The man that appeared to hate you more than anything or anyone else. You weren't even sure what you had done to bring on the hatred but it had appeared slowly at first and then all at once. Now you just tried to avoid him as much as you could, but in the event that you were faced with him, you tried to be as kind as possible. There was no reason to be mean, right? You hoped that one day Miguel might get that memo as well.

When you got inside, you looked around and tried to see if anything seemed out of place or…if there was some sort of chaos. But it all seemed utterly normal so you walked towards your little desk area.

"Hey there!" You startled at the sound of Peter's bright and happy voice, spinning around in your chair to find him watching you with an overly cheery smile, "how're you today?"

"I'm just peachy, Pete. What's going on?" The man's face flushed and you knew immediately that something was going on. He was so easy to read despite his best efforts.

"Umm…well," he waved his hands around for a moment, stammering nervous as you just stared at him, "well, I don't…your day might get worse."

"Oh?" You leaned back in your chair as you raised an eyebrow at him, "and just why is that? What do you know that I don't?"

"You're supposed to be partnered with…Miguel today," he said it so quickly that you almost didn't catch it. But the name stood out so clearly that you were immediately able to figure out what was going on, "just so you know, you know?"

"How do you know that?"

"Word spreads fast around here," he volunteered lamely, as you sighed at him, "and ugh, it might be my fault."

"What?!" He was afraid of exactly this reaction and flinched slightly, "Peter - why?"

"I have to be home today," he cleared his throat, "big family thing with MJ and Mayday. So…you know."

"Fine," you pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration, "fine. Only because I love your wife and daughter as much if not more than you."

"I am so sorry," he grimaced, "I'll make it up to you somehow."

"It's…it's fine," you swallowed the lump in your throat. It did suck…but you'd live and would just be as kind as usual. And it would be over before you knew it, "this is going to be…fantastic."

“Just don’t kill each other and it should all be fine,” Peter kept taking a few steps back, creating a further distance between the two of you, “and then we can all resume our normal programming next week!”

“I don’t hate him,” your voice softened as a frown tugged down the corners of your mouth. You truly didn’t hate him and you hated the idea that people would think you did. You always tried to treat everyone with the same kindness and you were known for being a ray of sunshine, “I think… I think he might hate me.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Peter shrugged slightly as you sighed lightly, “he’s just that way with everyone. He’s a huge douche, you know that.”

“As much as I appreciate your opinions Parker,” both of you froze at the sound of his voice. He sounded just as annoyed and frustrated as ever, “I believe you were supposed to leave already to get back to your wife and daughter, no?”

“Uhh, yup…that’s…gotta go!” he looked between the two of you before offering you a small grimace and turning to basically sprint away. You bit the inside of your cheek before turning your attention to the man in question.

“Miguel, I-”

“Get suited up,” he didn’t even spare you an actual glance. He merely caught your eye before turning around to leave again, “we’re leaving in twenty. We’ve got a job to do.”

“Miguel.”

“Don’t be late,” he was already walking away again and all you could do was sigh, “or I will leave with you.”

Yeah, okay, cool, cool, cool. This apparently was going to be the absolute worst; part of you was almost tempted to be late just so you wouldn’t have to go. You weren’t feeling very welcome but at the same time, your duties were important and you weren’t about to let him go alone.

“Well then,” you attempted to psych yourself up, “let’s do this…and get it over with.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Miguel had been silent, to the point of it being almost eerie, besides giving you some instructions and directions. You'd tried to make some small talk at the start but the only responses you received were grunts or scoffs. It had definitely deflated your mood and after a while you gave up and remained silent.

"Hey," Miguel waved his hand in front of your face as you snapped back into attention. You hadn't realized you'd spaced out so much, "are you even paying attention?"

"Y-yeah…yes," you offered him a tight smile as he hung his head with a heavy sigh, "sorry. Could you just run that by me again?"

"I need you to focus," he caught your eye and there was a dangerous glint to him that caused you to swallow thickly, "otherwise I'll send you right back and this is the last time you'll get to go on a mission."

"That's not fair!" You hadn't meant to sound like a petulant child, but at least you hadn't also stomped your foot. His jaw twitched as he glared at you, "you've never said that to anyone-"

"Morales."

"He's a child," you ran a hand through your hair in exasperation, "this isn't fair, Miguel and you know that. Why do you hate me so much?"

If you'd been looking at his face you'd have noticed the way his face fell momentarily. You swallowed the lump in your throat and tried to control the squeaking and stop the tears that threatened to well up.

"You're also so mean to me!" Alright. Maybe you were already sounding hysterical but it was a lot of emotions at once, "its always me! I try to be nice, Miguel. I don't like not being nice, it's just…not in my nature. But you make it so hard. A-and I'm not asking for anything spectacular, just a hello once a while or at least don't totally ignore me when I'm talking to you!"

“Are you finished?” his tone was the same as it always was: cold and calm and calculated. You tried to blink away the burning of your eyes.

“No,” you put your hands on your hips and stared him down, “if you’re going to be mean to me or act like I’m the worst thing in the world, can you at least tell me what I did to offend you so much? I mean - why even have me working with you and the rest of the team if you don’t trust me or think I’m worthy of being here! If I’m such a horrible person, just cut me loose and let me go so you never have to see me again!”

By the time you were done, angry tears had run down your cheeks which you hastily brushed away. You felt like you had just put your heart and feelings on the line and he didn’t seem phased. He looked at you with a raised eyebrow before sighing heavily, “if you’re done, we’ve got some bad guys to catch.”

“Y-you’re not even going to say anything to what I just said?” your lip trembled with effort not to cry further. He’d already turned his back to you and started to walk away. Only this time, you didn’t run after him to catch up, “fine! You know what? I quit! Do this yourself!”

You didn’t even wait for a response before turning on your heel and walking in the other direction. You were already out of sight by the time Miguel turned around and realized that you’d been serious. He ran a hand over his face in exasperation before stomping after you, muttering under his breath. He hadn’t wanted this at all; especially because this meant that he couldn’t keep any eye on you.

“Hey!” you’d been walking around for a bit when you finally heard the angry voice. Your shoulders stiffened when you realized that Miguel had found you. Instead of giving him the satisfaction of falling back to him, you kept walking with your head held high. But then you felt a harsh hand wrap your bicep and pull you back.

“What the f-”

“Finally,” oh. That voice definitely wasn’t Miguel. You slowly turned around and found yourself with…well, the bad guy. He looked at you with a wicked smile that caused goosebumps to well up all over your skin, “I’ve been looking for you, little Spider. Only I was hoping you’d be with that big, dumb guy.”

“Listen buddy,” you tried to pull out of his iron grasp to no avail, “I’m already having a shitty day and I don’t need you making it worse. The big dumb guy isn’t around, it’s just me unfortunately. And I recommend you let me go before I make you regret your decision.”

“You’re so funny,” he leaned closer so he was almost face to face with you. He smelled terrible and looked even worse; the worst realization of all was that he was a murderer…and you were alone with him, “you really think you could stop me all by yourself? So cute.”

He reached out and ran his hand along your jaw, instantly making you feel disgusting and gross. Your heart started beating rapidly and you willed yourself to regain your muster and strength. It should have been so easy to overpower him, but he was surprisingly strong. That was one of the worst things about dealing with other powered beings…someone always had the upper hand.

“Let me go,” you hissed through gritted teeth.

“Why don’t we make a deal?” he took your jaw harshly in his hand turned your face to his, “help me catch Miguel O’Hara and I’ll let you go.”

“Nope,” you might not have been in the Miguel fanclub at this point but you weren’t about to betray him or put anyone else at risk. You figured that the longer you were able to stall, it might give Miguel more time to get to you and take him. You’d never hear the end of it, but it was better than nothing, “sorry buddy.”

“Bitch!” he let go and pushed you back before striking you across the face, causing you to stumble and trip over your feet. You feel onto your backside with a groan before touching your stinging face, “it could have been so easy! We both want the same thing - to get rid of the Spider!”

“I don’t want to get rid of him,” you tried to scramble to your feet as he loomed over you but your hope was quickly starting to dissipate, “he-he’s fine! The only person I want to get rid of you is you!”

“Too bad,” he cackled before shrugging his shoulders, “I hate to break the news to you, but you’re not getting rid of me. I’ll be getting rid of you…and eventually that big idiot will come looking for you and then I’ll have him too. A two or one deal - can you imagine? What a dream!”

“Hate to break it to you,” your hands before getting scraped up as you tried to pull yourself out of his reach, “but he’s not going to come looking for me. He doesn’t care that much.”

“Don’t kid yourself,” you couldn’t hold back the scream that escaped your lips as he stepped on your ankle and crushed it under his boot, “you’re a pretty face, that’s enough for most men to come running. It’s almost a shame to kill you but-”

The next thing you heard was a sickening crack before the pressure on your ankle was gone. You opened your eyes and looked around the alley, only to find your would-be murderer on the ground and bleeding. A choked up sound escaped your lips as you looked up to find Miguel standing over you.

You prepared yourself for him to begin yelling but, to your immense surprise, it never came. Instead you watched dumbly as he bent down and scooped into your arms and stood back up with you clutched to his chest.

He studied you for a moment before tenderly wiping away the little bit of blood that had trickled down from the corner of your mouth. You had never realized that he could actually have such a gente touch.

For a few moments he walked in silence before letting a heavy sigh and shaking his head, “I don’t hate you. I never did.”

Your brow furrowed in surprise but you remained silent. Your head felt foggy and you weren’t sure you wanted to push anything just yet. All you wanted to do was go home and get some rest.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A few days had passed since the incident with Miguel and you felt well recovered, except for the faint bruising that remained on your face. Really, though, that was the least of your worries. Ever since then, you’d been trying your best to avoid Miguel, while continuing to be surprised that he hadn’t booted you from the team yet.

“Hey,” you froze at the sound of his voice and turned around to find Miguel standing at the edge of your cubicle space. You swallowed thickly before squeaking out a response that made you cringe internally, “can we talk?”

“Umm…yes?” you looked at him and waited for him to make the next move. He turned and motioned for you to follow him. It felt like some sort of walk of shame as you trailed after him like a puppy. He didn’t stop, ignoring the whispers and titters from the other Spider-People as he beelined for his office. You kept your gaze trained on your feet and almost ran into him when he suddenly stopped, “oof.”

“Sorry,” you’d never heard him apologize before. Odd. He closed the door behind and leaned against it, “listen, I think we need to clear some things up.”

“We do?”

“Mhmm,” this time he found it difficult to look in your eyes as you hopped up and sat at the edge of his desk, swinging your legs, “I just…I don’t want you to think that I hate you know or ever hated you. It’s never been like that.”

“Could have fooled me,” you shrugged slightly, already having made peace with his dislike of you.

“I know, I…fuck,” he ran a hand over his face in exasperation, “It was supposed to be easier this way.”

“What way?”

“If you hated me,” he finally managed to get out as you blinked at him owlishly, “then it would have made it easier for him to keep my distance.”

“But I don’t hate you,” you shook your head, “I don’t hate anyone…and I could never hate you.”

“Even now?” he chuckled harshly, “when you definitely should?”

“Even now,” you confirmed you heard his small exhale of relief, “now I just…I guess I’m just confused as to how you do feel about me.”

“When you left me and I couldn’t find you and then…when you’d been hurt…I thought…” he trailed off, clearly at a loss for words. You let his words sink in and tried to process the meaning behind him, “I didn’t know what I would do if anything had happened to you. All I could think about was beating that bastard to a bloody pulp.”

“Oh,” the gears were definitely turning as you came closer and closer to your conclusion. And then it hit you all at once and your entire face turned warm. You looked over at Miguel and could see that his cheeks were a darkened pink, “oh.”

“Umm…yeah,” he scratched at the back of his neck nervously before nodding slightly, “I just never know what to do or say. I-I’ve never been good with words. Keeping people at a distance makes things easier. If there’s no attachment then there’s no room or heartbreak.”

“I understand that,” you agreed softly, “but that’s no way to live.”

“I’m starting to see that,” he allowed himself to meet your eye and the two of you exchanged shy smiles, “so I guess I just wanted to say sorry.”

“Is that all you wanted to say?” you felt a little bolder now, nerves buzzing with everyone he had said and things that were left unspoken.

“No,” he agreed, “but it’s a good starting point, I think.”

“Yeah,” you nodded softly, “I think so too.”

“Cool,” he ran a hand through his hair nervously, “cool. Listen, I…want to do this right. So can I umm, do you want to-”

“Yes,” you slid off the desk and almost skipped over to him, “I’d love to.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara one shot #spider man 2099 #oscar isaac #spider-man

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yourheart-inmyhands · 7 months

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hi! I really like the last post, so here am I with another idea after my 3 cup of coffee before 12 pm

what if, by pure shear luck and celestia only knows how, reader escape the other Archons and go back to Fontaine, there furina is like "I hear your prayers! so you are now locked with me!" but she is shocked because reader is hugging her and saying "thank you! please dont let them take me!", plot twist, fontaine reader is a devoted follower of focalors (yeah they are that crazy) and have a hydro vision.

How do you think the yandere Archons would react, hearing reader is happy with the hydro archon?

I imagine Neuvillette having migraines more often, because the reader encourages and applauds Furina's scenes lol

Thank you!

i love when people request continuations of other pieces, i think it's fun to continue on with the story :D

Warning: this post contain yandere-themes, including manipulation, lying, mentions of violence, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Yandere!Venti would be utterly distraught, ready to wage another Archon war with Furina simply for this. He can’t just storm into Fontaine and demand for you back, as much as he’d like to, but he can send someone else to do it for him. Someone like a devoted follower of his.

Venti smiles in amusement, watching as the faint color of the Anemo element overtakes the citizens' eyes. While he wasn’t entirely welcomed in Fontaine, the crazy Hydro Archon being willing to fight him on the spot, he could certainly infiltrate their borders using a beloved devotee of his. With his presence ingrained so deeply in this man’s mind, he could use merely a few words to make the man move as he pleased. And so, with enough mindless zombies sent to Fontaine to retrieve you at any cost, he figures you’ll be returning home one way or another.

Yandere!Zhongli would prefer to keep things civil, wanting to spare violence is necessary. Those days are behind him, he claims, meeting with Neuvillette. Dragon to Dragon, Zhongli politely requests the return of his beloved. You’re sick, he claims, having accidentally ingested a small dose of poison that made you delusional, and he’s so sorry to have bothered Neuvillette with your presence.

Zhongli is so calm and polite, meeting at the entrance to Fontaine with Neuvillette as they discuss your current status like the civil dragons they are. Ever the worried lover, Zhongli explains how he had brought you to Sumeru for a vacation when you had gotten a bit turned around, eating a plant you shouldn’t have. This led to you going a little crazy, seeing things and claiming to hear the ‘Archons’ speaking to you. If Neuvillette wouldn’t mind, Zhongli just wishes to pop in for a moment to collect you and then the both of you will be on your merry ways. Out of both Furina and his hairs.

Yandere!Raiden would wait for nothing, storming through Fontaine as if it were her region. She doesn’t even care to ask permission or anything, simply throwing open the doors to the Court of Fontaine, pointing her weapon directly up at Furina. In a calm, steady voice she demands the return of her beloved.

It was a startling moment to all involved, the sudden movement of the doors being flung open, the shouts of guards in the hall as they tried to stop the Raiden Shogun from entering. It was fruitless though, the sharpened end of her signature weapon steady in her grip as it aimed towards Neuvillette. She wasn’t here to play around and any form of non-compliance would be met with either the end of her weapon or the promise of her return in the form of war. She doesn’t mess around when it comes to her beloved, her eternity. If Neuvillette and Furina won’t hand you over willingly, then she’ll simply tear the nation apart piece by piece as she searches for you herself, determined to not leave without you.

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fatuismooches · 6 months

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FOR THE HARBINGERS

Reader telling them "I love you", and they either smile, fluster or say ilyt BUT reader is like " no you don't understand ". Grabs them by the shoulder, looks them dead straight in the eye and says it slowly once again. " I. Love. You." And proceed to say the most devoted, loving words about them and how reader is so in love, loyal and just. UGHHHH

Take it easy! Just bask into this idea, hope you don't stress over answering a bunch of (my 😭) asks!! Mwah mwah 💕💕 /p

OH I AM MORE THAN BASKING INTO THIS BECAUSE IT IS SO REAL!!!! We love a reader who is completely and utterly in love with their Harbingers <3 Pierro and Capitano are the ones who stay silent as you go on a whole tangent about how much you love them. Pierro retains his usual serious look, but you're so caught up with your words you may not notice how his face turns softer at your blatant declarations of devotion. Sure, he has a mountain of work to catch up on, but what kind of lover would he be if he didn't let his love rant their feelings out to him? He's not the most verbal or physically affectionate, but that doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate it. I imagine he's been betrayed and such in the past, you know with Celestia and Khaenri'ah and all, so he deeply appreciates your words. Capitano... well, you can never really see his expression with that big helmet of his, so it's a bit hard to tell what he's thinking but don't worry!! His heart is beating quicker than usual and his mind is racing as to what to reply with!! Since when did you become so romantic and affectionate? He hasn't read enough romance advice books to respond properly yet! So Capitano just... pats your head and thanks you so sincerely it makes you giggle. He attempts to formally respond to your feelings via writing but he can't find the right words, unfortunately.

Dottore (that's who you're here for, I know) merely bursts into a laugh. No, he's not laughing at you, but he simply finds it a bit amusing. The idea of true devotion, of genuine loyalty, of real love... he still toys with those concepts a bit. He does feel these things toward you, but he won't verbalize them. Yet you don't seem to care about admitting those feelings toward him in the slightest... in fact, it seems like you jump at the chance to tell him how much you adore him... it's a bit funny to Dottore. Of course, he won't ever stop you, he does enjoy being worshipped and loved by you. Akademiya Zandik, on the other hand, would probably fight you off and then storm away to hide his blushing cheeks. How dare you say such idiotic things to him and how dare you make his heart thump hard at such stupid words. Pantalone too, except it's less of a laugh and more of a few chuckles. He's the kind of person to smile and nod at everything you say, completely enamored by you. He'll stop you in the middle and ask you to elaborate on a specific part and you happily do, he's stroking his own ego at this point but how can you blame him? His darling is being far too cute for him not to want to tease them a bit!

Columbina and Childe are very excited and blushy over it. They adore it when you're so open with them! Columbina's smile is even larger than usual as she hums in agreement with everything you're saying. Yes, please keep adoring her like this. She loves hearing about how much you love her. She's quite open with her feelings toward you too, so to hear it reciprocated so plainly? Pure bliss for her! Childe too is similar, you can literally see how he lights up and a faint blush spreads across his cheeks when you flatter him with such praise. But not for too long, because he'll pick you up and tease you ten times harder. Trying to get on his good side, hmm? Well, he'll have you know he loves you far more than you ever cold. Occasionally, he gets worried about whether it's right to be with you since he's in the Fatui, so these kinds of messages are secretly quite reassuring to him.

Arlecchino and Signora are very elegant and smooth about it. They watch you with a knowing smile, hands tracing over your collarbone and up to your neck and chin... a finger combing through your hair. Arlecchino is still a quiet and reserved woman, she still doesn't say much after your confession, but she is very pleased. Kisses you and gives you a sincere thank you. In her line of work, it's not often she find someone as loyally passionate as you are. Much less someone she loves to the deepest depths of her heart. She knows that you'll never betray or stab her in the back, and she shall never do that to you either. Signora is more smug and teasing about it. Oh? You truly love her that much? How about you show her it too? She ends up flustering you despite you being the one throwing all these sweet words at you. She truly loves being pampered by you, she needs it after all with all of the heartache she went through with her last lover, who she was abruptly cut off from.

Scaramouche and Sandrone short circuit for a few moments before springing back to life, stuttering and berating you for such stupidity and hurriedly breaking free from your grip. They can't deal with such loving words being directed towards them, especially unprompted. Scaramouche's expression is one that you have imprinted in your memory, the uncharacteristic redness and slack jaw, before he becomes his usual Scara self and launches into a long speech about how clingy and strange you were and that you should never do that ever again lest he actually get mad (this is a plea for you to confess all of that again, despite his adamant protest... you know he loves being loved, a feeling that always seemed to slip away from him. He's hesitant about it but he can't deny the rush of his "heart" when he hears your sincere words.) Sandrone's face is just blank. Blank like a robot. She opens her mouth to speak and then closes it, and then opens it again but she's at a loss for words. She finally gets out a half-hearted insult and ends up stuttering halfway through, so that's already not a good look for her. It seems even her usual bad attitude can't keep up when assaulted with such genuine affection...

And... Papanella can get a little platonic kiss on the cheek while you thank him for being the best grandad.

#smooches talks #moots: kai <3 #harbingers love notes <3 #giving them all a little kiss....#and giving u a great big hug kai <33 devouring your ideas for all my meals

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abiiors · 6 months

Text

red lines - pt. 1 ║// matty healy x reader

a/n: i want you to read this very very carefully: i am pro-choice and i will always be pro-choice. and this is a work of fiction. also feel the need to add that this is more a collection of small vignettes??? ugh idk, hope you enjoy regardless cw: *deep breath* angst, pregnancy, mentions of abortion, mentions of vomit, (and other pregnancy symptoms), crying (so much of it my god) and arguments, mentions of smoking, illness, hospitals, panic attacks, reader has a good relationship with her mother so i guess that's a cw too, (most definitely inaccurate) descriptions of birth. wc: 4.6k

two red lines is all it takes to ruin a perfect life.

two red lines repeated twice on two different tests that stare back at you from the counter—innocent and white and damning. the bathroom is utterly still, save for the tap dripping one drop every seven seconds. you would know, you counted it, used those seven seconds to ground you and stop you from spiraling into another panic attack for the three minutes it took to get those two red lines.

pregnant.

with two more weeks left on tour by matty’s side.

gingerly you wrap them in toilet paper, make sure they’re safe and secure and nothing’s peeking out. you throw it in the bin, looking at it with a deadness on your face that you feel deep inside. then you call the reception and ask them to take out the trash.

matty isn’t here. he’s on stage, serenading thousands of people who hang on to every single word he says, looking at him with all the love and adoration in the world. matty, your matty, who belongs as much to you as he does to the people, the fans. you should have been there too but there was the migraine and the nausea that wouldn’t go away. so you told him you would just sleep it off tonight.

have an amazing night, babe. break a leg. and then a sweet kiss and a promise to see him tomorrow.

and then the two red lines.

every time you blink you see them flash in front of you—like a promise or a warning. or maybe even a sentence.

pregnant.

a baby.

a cause for happiness and celebration.

and the conversation from a week ago that lingers in your mind, echoes inside your skull as if those words are the only ones you remember.

i’m just not ready love, he says, not now. maybe not for another year or two. i don’t know, babies are a lot of work. and i am a lot of work.

i love you, he says, kissing you deeply and tasting his own cum on your lips. i love you but a baby right now is a hard no.

nothing in particular spurred this conversation really—just the two of you, naked, and tangled up in the sheets, his hand caressing your lower stomach and you letting yourself daydream. who knew the daydream was indeed reality? and now here you are, head in your hands—partly from the migraine, partly from the anxiety—waiting for him to be back.

he will change his mind, you know it. matty loves you, and this baby is half you, half him. he will come around and you will be there to soothe his worries. you know he will hear the baby’s heartbeat and fall in love.

you know he will treat them like the most precious thing in the whole world.

the thought makes you smile and the door creaks open.

“pregnant,” he looks at you warily, “what do you mean pregnant?”

the small smile on your face fades away. “pregnant with a baby, matty. what other kind of pregnant is there?”

you wonder if you meant to joke, if he will break character and laugh and everything will be okay again. maybe you just caught him by surprise, this is just a blip. in two more minutes, he will smile and drop down to his knees and kiss your still-flat stomach. he’ll say hello to them. tell them he loves them and then tell you how much he loves you, kissing you gently and pulling you into him.

you can already feel his feather-light touch on your skin. his mouth lingering on your lower stomach on his way down.

matty stills in place.

“no…”

one word, it’s small and broken and so unlike him that you almost do a double-take.

“what do you mean no?”

“i can’t okay?” his voice rises, “i told you i can’t!”

you can sense the agitation he feels, his hammering heartbeat and the shallowness of his breaths. his hands runs through his hair, spilling the curls everywhere.

“you’re on the pill.”

“i think…” you hedge, tears gathering in your eyes, “i think i missed a day.”

he snaps his head up to look at you. when matty first came back to the room, he looked happy and giddy—cheeks pink and hair stuck to his forehead from the sweat. now he looks grey and listless. like all the colour’s been zapped out of him.

“you missed a day,” he repeats.

“matty, please…”

but matty is already turning around and storming off to the balcony. through the glass you watch him light a cigarette with shaky hands, taking a deep drag before he tips his head back and blows it out. another drag, another blow. eyes closed. breathing that slowly goes from rapid to normal once again.

five minutes later, only the stub remains and matty is back in the room.

“i can’t,” he says firmly. “i told you i wasn’t ready.”

it sounds final. like a death knell. instictively your hand covers your stomach.

“i won’t,” you shake your head and the tears fall rapidly, first down your cheeks then your chin and onto your chest. “i won’t get rid of it.”

matty stares at you quietly, you stare back. it seems you’re at an impasse.

twenty minutes later, you pack your bags.

london is greyer than it has ever been, especially from your new flat so far away from the hustle and bustle of the city. not that you’ve had much time to get acquainted with the new area after being bent over the toilet for days on end, retching and heaving until there’s nothing left inside you. a hollowness so deep that no amount of food or water will fill it.

so you eat strictly for the baby. pre-natal vitamins and supplements and a nutritious breakfast that you throw right back up. but you try. all for the sake of the tiny clump of cells dependent on you. the image of the two red lines has long been replaced with a grainy black and white rectangle. every time you close your eyes, you see the screen lit up with an image of your little bean, moving around. in some far back corner of your mind, you think they look happy.

at night you curl up on your cold bed, phone in hand, the baby’s heartbeat playing on repeat. it used to be his, your brain reminds you painfully. back when you slept all cuddled up with him. head on his chest, his soothing heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

you mother is worried about you. she calls at least thrice a day to make sure you ate every meal and took every pill. she comes every sunday to stock you fridge full of vegetables and fruits and make sure you have enough ginger and peppermint tea. sundays, begrudgingly, become your favourite. your mother, once again, becomes your best friend.

but you can’t let her move in. can’t let her be a constant presence and drive you crazy and unearth him every chance she gets. so like clockwork, at 6 pm, you usher her out the door, tell her you need privacy and quiet and solitude. like every single time, she promises she’ll be back next sunday.

and every single time she keeps her word.

one day you wake up to a change—a small one, really, but a change regardless. barely even noticeable at first. it’s your top that doesn’t reach all the way down. maybe it shrunk in the wash, you think. then the full length mirror reminds you of the reality. and the tiny little bump that’s seemingly grown overnight.

your little bean. suddenly so real. so tangible. so present.

“hello, little one,” you coo at your stomach, feeling a little silly at first. there’s no reply, of course, just the sounds of morning traffic coming in from the open window. but your eyes stay trained on the bump. “you weren’t so noticeable last night.”

nothing happens. no movement (of course, not. they’re too small for that.), no one appreciating the change with you. matty who should have been here to witness this…

matty who isn’t here to witness this.

emotions swirl in your head so fast that it’s dizzying. this time there’s no tears falling one by one. there’s the sobs that come all of a sudden and the floodgates that open in the blink of an eye but he is not here to hold you or pull you into his chest when you gasp and gasp for a breath that never comes.

in a panic you dial the first number you can find in your contacts, gasping and yelling out broken sentences and panicking at whoever’s picked up. it’s 8 am on a wednesday, whoever you called must be utterly bewildered. yet when you can focus enough, you realise it’s a man’s voice replying. a familiar voice. shocked and equally panicked and asking you if you’re okay again and again.

you pull the phone away from your ear and look at the screen. at adam’s name flashing on it.

the first contact on your list. one starting with an a.

“fuck,” you mumble. “sorry, i’m okay. i’m fine.” and then you hang up, and rock yourself back and forth on the ground until your breaths resemble something normal.

fifteen minutes later, there’s pounding at your front door and the bell rings incessantly. in your gut you know it’s adam. and it’s confirmed when his voice floats through the door.

“open the door,” he urges. “i need to know you’re okay.”

and so you pull yourself back up, harshly wipe away the tears and unlock the front door.

it’s only been a month since you last saw adam but he looks different. his hair’s grown out, his dark circles are gone and in spite of the worried look on his face, he looks happier somehow. healthier.

being back home with the love of your life and your baby will do that to you.

“you look well,” you croak out and then clear your throat. adam doesn’t take the bait.

“do you need me to take you to the hospital? call your gp?” straight to the point as always. you smile at him fondly.

“no, no i don’t. i’m okay, i promise.”

“you didn’t sound okay.”

“i meant to call my mum, adam. sorry i dialed the wrong number.”

“regardless,” he holds up a hand. “can you please talk to me. or talk to mat—”

“don’t.” the voice that comes out of you is stern. “he doesn’t want me or the baby. i will not let him talk me into an abortion.”

adam winces and rubs a hand over his face. perhaps that was harsh, you think, he’s not some evil villain. but none of it changes the outcome. in every single universe, you end up here—fresh off a panic attack in your living room, talking to your ex-boyfriend’s best friend.

“how did you know where i live?”

at that he looks a bit sheepish. “i asked you mum. not today!” he reassures hastily when your eyes widen. “don’t worry. i asked her a few days ago. i wanted to… i’ve been meaning to check up on you.”

“and you couldn’t call?” you smile at him wryly.

“no. i wanted to see you in person.”

“so you can report back to him?”

adam clicks his tongue and warmth fills your chest. he’s always been good to you, always been kind, and loved you like a little sister. you shouldn’t have cut him off like this.

“no,” he says. “so i could make sure you were okay.”

it’s a small mercy that the morning sickness eases a few days after that as your bump continues to grow. more often than not, you find yourself with a hand on your stomach, drawing small circles on it and humming to it. lately, you’ve also noticed the little flutters that linger long after you stop humming. your baby responding to you. showing you they’re there.

it’s not far before you approach the twenty week mark. the most important scan you’ll have throughout. you’ll find out the gender, you’ll find out if they’re healthy or not.

and each time you think about it, it’s like the weight of the entire world is on your shoulders.

the night before you contemplate calling your mum, nervous and panicked once again but it’s almost 11 pm. she would be deep asleep by now—she would be excited too. no need to put a damper on her mood.

then you wonder if calling adam is a good idea. but you quickly scrap it.

for the first time in months your finger hovers over the familiar name in your contacts. over the little heart that’s still next to his name that you never bothered to change.

what will he say if you called him now? will he even pick up?

are you ready enough to brave it?

the truth still remains. you want this baby, he doesn’t. the same impasse you were at months ago. if any of that had changed, he would have called you. he would have reached out… right?

so instead you do the second stupidest thing. you type up his name in google.

your stomach churns with nausea or anxiety or just impending doom while the webpage loads—slow, too slow for your liking. or maybe time has simply slowed down and you’re too much of a coward to really face the consequences of your own action.

the webpage loads. the frown on your face deepens.

nothing. rather, the last article written about him specifically is from two days after the tour ended. everything after that is either recycled news, or some silly quiz about the band. nothing about him. no pap photos, no social media activity. absolutely nothing to indicate he’s even left his house in the last few months.

you mind buzzes with all kinds of thoughts, swirls with wicked possibilities. you almost even text adam about it before the turning your phone off abruptly and chucking it to the other side of the bed.

no more temptation.

sleep is like a fickle friend—has been since the day you left the hotel room in tears. but you close your eyes and imagine your baby’s heart beating inside you in sync with yours. tomorrow, there will be a new recording to replace the older one. hopefully one that’s stronger. calmer.

when sleep drags you under around three in the morning, you dream of his hands—fingers gingerly touching your stomach, resting on all the spots that flutter with movement. gentle hands that massage your sore feet and work out the kinks in your back.

hands that you might never feel on your skin ever again.

the doctor smiles coyly and slides an envelope to your mother. it’s a little hush-hush secret, one she insisted on and begged till you relented. the gender reveal isn’t huge or flashy but you know there’s a cake waiting for you at home along with a few friends and family. and for the first time in months, you let the excitement of it wash over you.

the scan was perfect! and now you feel a bit bad for clutching your mum’s hand hard enough till she’d winced (even though she hid it quickly and smiled at you in encouragement). so now here you are, thanking the doctor and practically skipping out the room with your mum laughing in tow.

she looks lighter too, you realise, much more carefree as she gushes about her precious grandbaby and how excited she is to meet them.

“we have to buy onesies!” she squeals getting behind the wheel and you laugh.

“we will, mum, but they’re going to grow out of it in weeks so you can’t go crazy, okay?”

she dismisses this with a wave and a pfft and you can already imagine the mountain of clothes she’s going to buy over the next twenty weeks.

you nod off to the sound of your mum excitedly making plans for an elaborate baby shower, one that you’ll have to beg her to tone down, but her voice fades away soon. instead, you dream of him. your subconscious wonders what he would have been like today—maybe he’d cry out of excitement or being overwhelmed, maybe he would smile so wide his cheeks hurt. in some parallel universe the two of you would be in the baby aisle—hand in hand and cooing over tiny onesies.

in this universe, you jerk out of the daydream just as your mum parks in the driveway.

your friends and family don’t yell “surprise”, much to your relief. there are many hugs and congratulations. tears of happiness and jokes and then a delicious vanilla cake brought in front of you.

everyone waits eagerly. no one brings him up. not even you, as you sink the knife into it and cut a slice.

it’s pink. a gorgeous, pale pink. it’s a girl.

everyone cheers. your mum hugs you and you sniffle into her shoulder while laughing giddiy. a girl, your baby girl.

right then you know what you’re going to call her—you don’t need baby name lists on google or a hundred suggestions from your mother. you already know her name.

mia.

mine and mine alone.

blink and twenty weeks go down to fifteen and ten and then five. each day it seems like you only get bigger and bigger, impossibly so. your life is filled to the brim with baby stuff, inside and out. everywhere you look there’s either a pram or a crib or pregnancy books. every time you get one spare minute you’re reminded of the back aches and sore feet. the constant hunger that just does not seem to go away no matter how much you eat.

your mothers visits increase from only sundays to whole weekends to three days a week.

at first you protest—fuelled by hunger and hormones and mood swings. fuelled by the rage of a thousand burning stars as you stomp into the living room where she’s folding yet another batch of baby socks and blankets.

“you’re suffocating me!” you snap, already on the brink of tears while she looks at you like you’ve grown two heads.

“baby—”

“no! mum,” a deep breath and a few stray tears, “i’m not a baby. i’m having a baby for fucks sake.”

“language!” she scolds.

“stop it, just, please!” there’s not much you can do but stomp your foot like a petulant child. proving her point most likely. “stop acting like i need to be coddled and protected. just. stop!”

your mum looks speechless, too stunned to speak but the ball is rolling and now you cannot stop.

“i don’t need you here. i don’t need you acting like i would crumble and wither away without you. i don’t need you and i certainly don’t need him—fuck!” you gasp for a breath, choking mid-sentence.

the second those words spill out of you, you want to take them back but it’s too late. her eyes are already red-rimmed and glossy. one tear rolls down her cheek and that’s all it takes for you to break down completely.

“fuck!” you repeat. “i’m sorry, mum. i’m so sorry.” that’s the only thing you can chant until she chucks the clothes aside and wraps her arms around you, shushing you the best she can through her own tears.

for the first time in eight months you wonder about what if. and for the first time in eight months, you think about his words from that night.

maybe not for another year or two.

you’re closer now to the one year mark that you’re to that night. mia kicks your insides again—her own version of support or maybe it’s her doling out punishment for never introducing her to her dad. either way, it’s not helping. all it does is spread pain throughout your lower body as you hold onto your mum, rocking back and forth.

“it’s alright, sweetheart,” you mum whispers gently, kissing the crown of your head and cradling you like she used to when you were a kid. it makes your emotions worse. increases the ache tenfold.

“i miss him, mum,” you admit finally, in a voice so small that you might as well not have spoken. but she hears it anyway. she hears it but doesn’t interrupt. she lets you speak.

“every single day i wonder if he even gives a shit. or if he regrets leaving me, leaving us. i speak to adam and carly and i wonder if they ever tell him about me. i wonder if he even cares…”

you gulp down air, wiping your nose on the sleeve of your jumper and cuddling into her further.

“and after everything. i miss him more than anything in this world.”

there it is. the truth, finally out there, finally spilled after months of pretending to be cold and callous. you wait for her to speak, to say something that will dull the pain and release you from this torment but she never gets the chance.

because that is the moment your daughter decides to make her grand entrance.

it’s pain like you’ve never felt before.

pain and panic and unadulterated fear. she’s not supposed to be here yet. you’re only 35 weeks pregnant—nowhere near full term. what if this affects her negatively. you blame and blame—first yourself; you must have done something wrong, right? ate something wrong or not taken the right vitamins or slept the wrong fucking way. then you blame matty. if he was here, you would have never been this stressed and unhappy in the first place. everything would have been smooth-sailing.

and yet a small part of you yearns for him to be here. to brush your sweaty hair away from your forehead instead of your mother as the doctor yells at you to push.

it’s all too much, all too soon. this is not how it’s supposed to be. this is not how any of this is supposed to be.

the machines around you beep in a rhythm that’s all worng—it’s too loud and erratic and out of sync with the rest of the world. surely, that’s not how fast your heart’s beating. maybe the beeping is something else you’re unaware of. and yet your body feels hot and cold at the same time. too weak to move but pushing and contracting and tearing you apart from the inside. you’re vaguely aware of the screams that tear out of you, of gripping your mum’s hand so tightly that you worry, you’ve bruised it.

but she’s strong, stronger than you’ll ever be. she endures and passes along some of that strength to you.

“one more big push,” the doctor encourages. she’s a kind, middle-aged woman. probably someone who’s brought many babies into this world. she knows what she’s doing. but your body won’t cooperate.

all you feel is a bone deep exhaustion that tries to drag you under as your mother taps your cheek.

“a big push, baby,” she repeats. “one big push and her shoulders will be out.”

and that would almost be the end of it, right? so you nod with whatever’s left in you and breathe the way they taught you in birthing classes.

and that’s how it goes. inhale. hold. exhale. gather strength. push. all of it done to a constant stream of rather futile encouragements. until you feel like you’re bursting at the seams and coming undone. about to unravel any moment.

but then a tiny cry echoes around the room and the world comes to a standstill.

mia’s arrival changes everything in the blink of an eye.

you have no time left for self-pity; every waking moment is occupied with feedings and nappy changes and laundry. you sleep when she sleeps, you hold her close every chance you get. you sing her and cradle her and shower her with enough affection for two people. she has you and your mum. she doesn’t need anyone else.

slowly you let other friends and family visit—extremely selective and protective about who gets the priviledge but one afternoon when adam messages you know you can’t deny that to him. even when you’ve tried to keep him, and all of them by entension, at bay.

in another universe, she would have been his goddaughter. you’re sure of it.

so you let him and carly and their son visit, let them hold her and gush over her. carly instantly falls in love with her, cradling her close and trying to make her smile even though she’s just woken up. mia babbles at her and grabs her shiny necklace.

you watch them transfixed, giggling at carly’s squeals and coos until adam asks if he could speak to you alone.

“i don’t want to step over a boundary,” he starts and you know what’s coming but you let him continue. “have you thought about letting him know? that she’s already here…”

“i…” in all honesty, you had wondered if you should call him and let him know. but what if he still doesn’t care. “i didn’t. i couldn’t.”

adam’s face softens. “he’s back in london, you know? you could. you could try.”

that piques your interest. you hadn’t knows he’d left in the first place. “he’s back?”

adam takes a deep breath, eyes darting slightly and lingering on his wife as if he’s trying to steel himself. as if he has some news he’d rather not share. in the end however, maybe he chooses not to.

“yes, he’s back,” he says, trying and failing not to sound cagey. “he wasn’t until now. but if you would talk to him… just, i think you should talk to him.”

for the rest of their visit, his words linger in your mind. they stay even after the hanns leaving, promising another visit whenever you’re free next and you tell them they’re welcome any time. this time, you even mean it from the bottom of your heart.

but adam’s words come back to haunt you day after day as mia continues to grow. day after day you watch her learn about new things and figure out new stuff around her.

matty should be here. if not for him then for her. and once again you wonder about calling him.

one last chance. if he ignores this then he loses the right to his daughter forever.

so one tuesday morning, you gather the courage. you strap your baby to your chest and go downstairs to make some pancakes.

“after breakfast, darling,” you tell her, even though those words aren’t meant for her. “after breakfast we’ll call him again. maybe he will pick up. maybe he won’t.”

mia babbles when you kiss her head and flip a pancake, ignoring the worry that settles in the pit of your stomach. you’re so focused on the task at hand (rather, at ignoring the thoughts of impending doom) that you almost miss the doorbell that rings once and then again.

so focused that you have to scramble to wash your hands and rush to the door. maybe it’s your mum again, even though she wasn’t supposed to come today. it won’t be her first surprise visit, though. she misses her granddaughter far too much for that.

in a hurry you open the door, without even thinking about it twice. without even bothering to unstrap your daughter from your chest.

matty’s familiar face comes into view and for the second time in three months, the world comes to a standstill.

lemme know what you think <33

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#the 1975 #matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fic #matty healy imagine #matty healy angst #the 1975 fic #angst #minors do not interact #read the cws pls!!!#ross macdonald #george daniel #adam hann #it's very unlikely i will ever write anything like this again #so oh well here we go #matty x you #matty x reader

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