#i think the burning lonely feeling i have out of need to show someone this beautiful silent world inside is something many people think

[sim0nril3y]

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: Simon hasn't been able to stop thinking about your relationship and how not making a commitment to you might lead you to running off with someone else. He needs to solve this.

Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), suggestive thoughts, canon-typical swearing.

It was strange to Simon that the two of you had settled into routine together. Most nights he’d pick you up after finishing work, he’d bring you back to his home or drop you off at your flat. More often than not Simon would cook you some good food to fill up your empty tummy, then roll around in the sheets together. The next morning you’d wake up beside him and he’d set to making you a hearty breakfast and discuss plans for the days. Those plans typically of doing exactly what you’d done the day before, spending time together and… though he’d never say it aloud Simon enjoyed it, he looked forward to it.

There was the times when Simon was left feeling lonely because you weren’t around. It was when he wouldn’t see you from one day to the next because you were busy working on an art project or work had left you exhausted. Simon was a solitary person, not needing or even wanting other people around him, or… at least that was how he’d felt before meeting you.

So, what was this? A question that Simon had never asked himself before, but now it was burning inside of him. Never before had Simon desired clarification, but as it currently stood you were just two people living independent lives that slept with each other and spent time together. That left opportunity for you to find someone else and bring them into your life. He hoped that wasn’t the case, it certainly wasn’t something you’d mentioned before but it still left that door open for someone to take you from him.

The thought of losing you filled him with utter dread. How was he supposed to sleep at night with your body to curl around? He’d started buying extra food when doing his weekly shop, who was going to help him eat it all? Plus, all your favourite snacks were filling the cupboards, if you weren’t here then they’d just go to waste… Besides, there wasn’t another living soul out there that would be able to make you fall apart as quick as he could.

Bloody hell. He was in deep here.

That night after a long shift at work you were curled up beside him on the sofa, blanket draped over your legs, snacks between your lounging bodies and eyes fixed on whatever dumb show you’d thrown on the TV. You hadn’t seemed to notice that from beside you Simone was stewing silently, mind racing with how to broach the subject in the most subtle way.

These questions and that anxiety was beginning to build up inside of Simon, his knee was bobbing relentlessly, muscles wound tight, fingers tapping furiously against the arm of the sofa like a metronome. How was he going to do this? How was he going to ask for clarification on what you were to each other? What did he actually hope the answer was going to be? He wanted you, right? Only you. He didn’t want another living soul to have you… fuck, the thought of someone else having their hands and their lips on you. It made him seethe.

“What are we?” The question tumbled from his lips, short and frustrated. It caused you to look up at him, brows furrowed. “Sorry?” “You… do you ever do this with anyone else?” He looked down at you through intense dark eyes. “Do I… watch TV with other people?” You questioned, almost not following his line of questions.

Further frustrated Simon bit out. “Do you fuck anyone else?” That made you begin to fight a little smile, finally figure out what he was trying to ask. “And the rest of it… everything we do together… like going for walks, or to dinner… or just watching TV like this…” He gestured to the way you were lounging so comfortably behind him, sans any make-up and looking so relaxed. “Do you?” Simon asked, you simply smirked as you flitted you gaze back towards the TV and muttered easily. “Would it bother you if I did?”

This question only made him stew and simmer again at the thought of someone else being in your life like this. The thought of them kidding and making you fall apart only mad his anger bubble further. “Mm.” He grumbled out, keep his dangerous eyes locked on you.

Reaching across to rest a delicate hand on his tattooed forearm you mentioned softly. “I don’t do this with anyone else, Si.” You informed him, watching the tension leaving him body in that moment. “Only you.” You quip with a little shrug of your shoulders, before continuing. “If I’m not here with you then I’m at work and I’m wishing that I was here with you or counting down the minutes until I’m going to see you again or wildly ignoring all of tasks and remembering all my time with you.” There was vulnerability to your tone as you informed him that. “Then I see you and I’m happy in all those hours before I’m back to being on my own and wishing it’ll happen all over again.”

You were in deep too. With the way that Simon was looking at you, you could have been convinced that there wasn’t anyone else in the world. “Simon, are you trying to ask me something?” Reaching up you brushed your fingers against his face delicately before following with a gentle few kisses against his cheeks and temples and jawline. Every action made forced his body to relax, coaxing his anxiety away before finally the words came. “What if… we did do this everyday? Just… us two…”

You gnawed your lower lip. “I could get behind that.” You agreed with a tiny shrug of your shoulders. “So… if we did do this… what would I call you?” You quirked a brow at him. “My boyfriend?” Simon grimaced. “Love, I’m not a boy.” He muttered, snatching some of your snacks and beginning to munch away. “How about my lover?” You purred playfully and once again Simon groan and threw you a look. “So… just my Simon?” You raised your brows at him, this time he didn’t seem to fight your suggestion, simply smirked.

“Mm…” Then he nodded, much to your surprise. “And you’d be mine.” It was like your heart exploded in your chest, smiling at him and trying not to act overly excited and frighten him off. “I guess I would be~” Then leaning forward you kissed a couple sweet kisses. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? Not moving too fast?” You ask, concerned that Simon might change his mind all of a sudden and end up hurting you both. “M’sure, babe.” He responded, pressing a sweet kiss to your nose. "You're mine."

Masterlist | Ask | 29-01-2024

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #simon riley imagine #simon riley cod #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley x y/n #simon riley smut #simon riley fluff #ghost mw3 #ghost call of duty #ghost smut #ghost fluff #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #1k

[aft3rhrs]

— number: unknown ღ

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: strangers to lovers

warnings: dead dove, yandere, manipulation, corruption, mentions of stalking, mentions of therapy, dirty talk, humiliation, obsession, mentions of masturbation & dub con sex, allusions to cnc, allusions to depression and anxiety, hints of fear kink, use of triggering words in an erotic and degrading manner* (listed under the cut).

*use of the word “rape”.

masterlist

In the last few months, you've grown used to the sound of your phone ringing late at night. It still sent your heart into a frenzy, nerves sparking up like wires — but you peeked at the screen nonetheless, taking less and less time to hesitate to answer.

Number: Unknown.

Palms sweaty, you clicked accept on the call.

A chuckle greeted you.

"Lonely?"

You tried to ignore the chill his voice sent rippling down your spine, raising goosebumps along the way.

"What do you want?"

"Don't be like that," Jungkook cooed. "I missed you. Wanted to check in. What's up? How was therapy last week?"

The question came with a tint of mockery, instantly dusting your cheeks. It wasn't surprising by now that he knew; he knew everything about you, it seemed, from soul to entrails. But you couldn't wrap your head around how, or why he even paid such close attention in the first place. All you were capable of comprehending clearly was the anger blazing in your chest.

"Screw you."

"Aw, come on," he crooned on the line. "I'm just checking up on my favorite girl. Any progress? Did you tell your therapist you let your stalker fuck you right after filing a report? Did you tell him you pick up my calls?"

You felt his words swirl and burn in your stomach, as if you downed a glass of liquor. Shame crawled all over your skin, hot and uncomfortable. Why couldn't you find it in yourself to hang up? For a moment, you considered doing just that, but then quickly brushed off the idea.

Better to entertain him like this than to have him show up at your door.

Right...?

He could hear you breathe in, the lack of an answer curving his lips upwards.

"Well, that's okay. I really don't like you seeing him, though. I'm kind of offended you went to someone else for help."

"You're the reason I need help!" You hissed, unable to stop yourself. "You're seriously sick in the head."

"What a mouthy little thing you are," Jungkook murmured. "Pretty brave for someone who claimed she's afraid of me." His voice lowered to a whisper. "Pretty hypocritical too... I might be crazy, but you're the one still talking to me. Didn't you come all over my cock like a good little girl too? I think you might be a bit sick yourself, sweetheart."

Oh god.

No.

You pretended you didn't feel yourself clench around thin air, pretended your underwear wasn't getting drenched.

"But I don't mind," he continued, raspy, "I can be your therapist, baby. I'll help you feel better."

Your eyes fluttered closed, head growing foggy.

"Why keep running? Why keep running if you always let me catch up?"

"I don't," you whispered, "I'm trying to—"

"No," Jungkook tsked, "you're not. Are you too scared to face yourself in the mirror? Do you see my eyes when you try?"

You shivered for some reason.

"No."

"That's a lie... You like it when I chase you, and no therapy is ever going to help you. You know why?" He coaxed, soft. "Do you know where your sickness lies, angel...? It's not in your head. It's in your heart. You dont trust love, you don't feel it, unless it's got you losing breath, nice and tight, like a noose. Why don't you let me give it to you?"

Despite the pounding of your heart, you tried to keep his words out of your mind, tried to focus before you disappeared so deep into the fog, you'd become a part of it. But you were so tired... and floating in the dark, weightless, felt a little more like peace.

Still, swallowing thickly, you tried.

"Do you get off on taunting all your victims like some kind of psycho?"

"Oh baby," he sighed. "How many times do I gotta tell you? You're the only girl I want. No need to get jealous."

"Go fuck yourself—"

Another chuckle, then a groan.

"I should. I really want to... Miss you so much..."

Your stomach flipped.

"Miss your mouth. Didn't have time to fuck it back then... Would you let me now?"

"No," you breathed out, shaky.

Why were you still talking to him? Why were your thighs squeezed shut so hard?

"Mmm, that's what you said last time, and yet look who ended up begging me to fill that little cunt."

Your hand tightened around your phone, the pulsing in between your legs refusing to cease and getting harder to ignore.

"I know you could take it all," he breathed. "All down your pretty throat, no complaints. Would be too busy sucking, right, baby?"

"Why even bother asking?" you whispered, your voice small, like you knew the answer already.

Because you did.

"Makes me hard," Jungkook admitted, shameless. "It's cute to see you struggle. Acting like a frightened little doe, like you weren't waiting for a wolf to eat you up."

The confession was so dirty, nothing short of predatory; but it made your cunt throb and heat stick to your underwear, and you couldn't decide if you were more disturbed by him or by your own reactions.

"Fuck..." he swore hoarsely. "All that screaming and fighting only to end up begging for it. Do you like it forced? No need to think, no need to make choices. Just taking my cock like a good little rape toy, yeah?"

You weren't able to contain the hitch of your breath, thighs quivering and spine tingling all over.

Jungkook moaned softly in response, the sound shooting straight through your pussy.

"Wanna come?"

This wasn't happening.

You were losing grasp of reality, consumed by the need to find a lifeline. You felt like you caught a fever, your reply coming out more mellow than intended.

"No. Please stop."

"You're a bad liar, little doe. Without me your body and soul feel empty. You need me as much as I need you."

Your eyes fell shut. You shook your head, repeating your denial like a prayer.

"No..."

Your brain was running on automatic, trying to hold on to some semblance of rationality.

"Does it make you feel better to say that?" Jungkook muttered. "Wouldn't it be easier to give in? I know how much you wanna sneak your hand into your panties. Go on, baby. Rub all your thoughts away. It will feel so good."

You felt your thighs tremble again, the wetness between them unbearable. It was getting harder to breathe through the rising heat, your mouth falling open, trying to catch more oxygen into your lungs.

"Go on, pretty. I'll come with you... Just say the word."

Yes.

No, that wasn't right.

Please...

"No," you forced out again, something that sounded too much like a whimper. "I'm going. Stop calling me."

Jungkook just sighed.

"Shame. Can you at least move closer to the window? Do a little twirl for me. I missed you so much..."

Your head snapped in the direction of the window, heart jumping in alarm. Jungkook seemed to know; he sounded so amused, like it was all a game. And he was winning.

"Just kidding. I have some things to do, but I will see you soon, baby."

"Jungkook—" you panicked, shaking your head, "please don't—"

"Goodnight. I love you."

Beep.

He hung up.

You hugged your knees and lowered your head onto them, welcoming the darkness that greeted you, eclipsing the faint glow of your nightlight.

Was this your fault? You were in pieces for so long; surely that must have been to blame for the sickening pull you felt to answer the phone every time he called.

Maybe that was how Jungkook had managed to get to you. Slithered in through the cracks, took advantage of all the empty spaces. Poured himself in like poison, down to the last drop. Maybe that was also why he needed you so much; there was nothing left of him but you.

You let yourself slump onto the bed, probably the last time you'd be able to sleep through the night somewhat calmly. Because when Jungkook said soon... he always meant soon.

And the clock refused to stop ticking.

taglist 💌: @whipwhoops @svnbangtansworld @ane102 @stellalovesstarss @crisle19 @jksteponme @kimseokjinsmirror1233 @dolphinmochi

#sorry to those I couldn't tag! ❤️ #anyway lmao #dead dove #yandere bts #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts reactions #bts smut #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts yandere #jungkook smut

[rikichie]

Just don't ask me how that huge plush was thrown there

Under the cut, things I imagine in YOI pre-canon, with the ways my thoughts tie into canon to explain why I think them. These are personal headcanons and interpretations.

With Viktor, I imagine his family being high achieving, and Viktor having a lot of expectations on him. And he matches then successfully. But this means his parents think he's doing well, even in moments where emotionally he isn't. They look at achievements rather than looking at him. It's not intentional neglect, they just don't have the awareness of mental wellbeing. He has a bed and food and he's doing well in school and skating, so everything must be okay. It's fine when he's fine, it's lonely when he's not. And it's the first environment that teaches him to match himself to what's expected and wanted of him, fulfilling a role rather than just being.

When he's older, he quietly creates distance. Not cutting them off, but not reaching out. They don't mind. They follow news, and they can show off his success.

When he's young, Viktor loves having fans and being known and admired. Af first he doesn't see downsides to it. And then something happens, as simple as "did you see him throwing the flower at Christophe Giacometti? He was flirting, how cute" - and Viktor realizes his fans will draw their own conclusions and won't believe him if he tries to say they're wrong.

So he starts adjusting his approach. Building a persona, and building walls. Charming smiles that get him anything he wants. Practicing the skill of giving people what they expect. Being what they expect. And then flipping it on its head and surprising them.

If you're focusing on matching and subverting expectations, you're not necessarily being yourself. Any personal exploration of identity is hidden and alone. But on the ice, when he's performing, he can be honest. He can be seen. Because they're going to take it as fake. Think of how Minako reacted to Stammi Vicino - Viktor's earnest plea for someone to stay by his side, well, he's too charming for this to tug at the heartstrings. So he can play with stories that he won't share with anyone any other way, and he knows they'll take it as pretend.. The walls he builds don't allow him to be truly close to people. He has good relationships with other skaters, but emotionally keeps them at arm's length. He doesn't notice he's isolating. Chris and he have fun joke-flirting, but when Viktor steps away from the ice Chris doesn't seem to realize he needs this, isn't close enough to know what he's struggling with. He talks like Viktor is taking away the motivation he's entitled to by choosing to coach Yuuri. His rinkmates see him on good and bad days so they know when he struggles, and Yakov is the only person close to knowing him deeply, but even he doesn't take it seriously when Viktor burns out, so that is still limited.

For Yuri, I think his mother was going through a lot to let his grandfather take care of him. He has a lot of responsibility in that setting, and it all starts when he's so young.

I think, with Viktor being present in his life consistently from such a young age, Viktor is one of the people he sees as family. He absolutely looks up to him, just like he absolutely looks up to Yuuri. And I think he resents the emotional distance Viktor maintains.

He's not very attentive to people in general, but he's the one that explains to us how Viktor feels early in the show. When Viktor left to Japan so suddenly, I think Yura felt abandoned beyond just Viktor forgetting to choreograph a program for him. If it was just the program - he did end up getting Agape, he could have just asked for that, but he tried to get Viktor to go back. I feel like he hates that Viktor went to look for a way to get his spark back somewhere else, instead of staying and finding a way out of his slump with his rinkmates. If what Viktor needs is to coach someone, why isn't Yuri good enough? He's a talented skater and he sees himself as continuing Viktor's legacy, but Viktor chose someone else for that role.

And Viktor did choose Yuuri to continue his legacy. Because Yuuri skates so beautifully, because Yuuri has so much love for Viktor's skating, because Yuuri has drive and ambition and pride and skill and he finds joy in skating, and Viktor wants to nurture all of that into the performance Yuuri deserves to show.

And along the way, he learns how to connect with people as himself. His relationships with Yuuri and Yuuri's family open doors for him to better and deeper relationships with Yuri and Chris and anyone else he wants to be close to.

About Yuuri, there's very little I can say because we know so much. So I'll just share a lighthearted headcanon a few friends and I came up with as a story idea and I just adopted.

I don't share the fanon that Phichit got him into pole dancing. In my mind, he either started himself, or it was Chris - unintentionally. I think they're friends, because of how Yuuri reacted to him in the show, like he's used to him. And I like to think Chris kept saying things that made Yuuri feel competitive. Talking about how it's great for core strength, "but it's probably not your thing." Sent pictures of himself performing difficult moves, and got pictures back because Yuuri was trying to match him or do more difficult things than him. And meanwhile Chris thinks they're showing off to each other for fun. It's how Chris knew Yuuri can keep up with him at the banquet.

I still want to write something for that last bit.

#yoi #yuri on ice #yoi fanart #yuri!!! on ice #victuuri #viktuuri

[inkskinned]

something that stuck with me once, way back in middle school when i was still learning how to write - my teacher said "writing shock and tragedy is easy, it's humor that's the hardest."

i have been up and down the halls of academia. i have the fancy degree and the experience in publishing. i think i paved most of my own road with the little bricks of sorrow i had stored inside of me. i know i did it mostly with works that are blisteringly lonely. i know why we write like that. it's lifesaving.

but yeah, i mean. i also know how much people think that "sad" media is the same thing as "good" media. our human desire to connect is so hard-pressed that we immediately latch onto any broken themes. the bullied kids and the tales of inspiration. people keep saying things like "glass onion" and "everything everywhere" weren't actually good. because, you know, they're. happy. or happy-ish. happy enough. and we only value art if it's grimdark-adjacent.

do you know - people still consistently whine at me that my writing would be so good if i just capitalized things. i used to flinch. i get kind of a weird, vindictive little rush these days - i get to say thank you for the comment! i have chronic pain and this is how i conserve my hands so i can write more during the day :) grammar isn't real anyway! and now they're trapped in the room with me, you know? i get to pull out my map and show them how grammar is not the same thing as good writing.

writers have this thing. we scratch at our insides, constantly, prying our lives apart into splinters. prying the splinters apart into atoms. when we combust something into poetry, we control it. it cannot hurt us if it exists outside of us rather than burning a hole through the bottom of our lungs. it's not a wonder to me that so much of what i make comes out like a death gasp. i spent a long time at the bottom. i keep going back, too. when you're down there for so long, the only thing you can exhale is fumes.

but humor is hard. humor needs timing; which i can't promise in a paragraph. i can kind-of force it through careful spacing, but i have no idea how fast you're reading these things. humor needs a somewhat awareness of your audience, when really - anybody could be looking. humor needs us to understand what the joke is, why it's a joke, and to think - ha! that is funny. in tragedy, everyone understands the metaphor of a kicked puppy. in humor, you need to introduce them to the concept of a dog.

and forget about positivity. forget about anything not made for adults explicitly. every time i see a well-made children's media piece, i feel fucking horrible for the creators. most of the time, people see children's media as being sort of "not worth" applause, even though i'm pretty sure they have to work twice as hard. i have no idea how hard it must be to not be able to have your character just say. "well, fuck." something about a message of peace or friendship or caring - for some reason, that makes the media not for adults. like, okay. i'm pretty sure my father actually, out of all of us, could use a good book on how to control his temper and talk about his feelings.

but whatever. i write a short story about my ocd, and how it's fucking killing me. it gets an award. it gets published. i write a short story about my ocd, and how i'm overcoming it, and how my days are getting lighter and starting to flourish. i keep getting ghosted. no response. it just is lacking... something.

is this it, forever? you can be an artist, okay. but the trade off is that the things you make - if they're happy? if they're joyful? people will say it's stupid and pandering. you bite your nails off. you file your teeth. you hear something inside of you breaking.

the other day in a writing group, someone i'd thought of as a friend said: "you write so much better these days! i love what you make when you'd rather be dead."

#i have no idea what this is about #writeblr #i think u might tho. if ur an artist. u might. idk

[suashii]

— 𝟧 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝓊𝓉𝑒𝓈

iwaizumi hajime x f!reader. 1.3k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ fake boyfriend!iwazumi ﾉ brief mentions of harassment

he’s the one.

in the short time you’ve been surveying the crowd for a potential co-star in your upcoming performance, iwaizumi hajime has proven to be the perfect possible partner. you recognize him from campus and from what you’ve seen of him, he’s nothing short of a gentleman. he seems like the type to help a damsel in distress and, right now, that’s the only box he needs to check. though, it certainly doesn’t hurt that he’s incredibly attractive. it’s definitely a point on your personal scale.

you discreetly glance over your shoulder to see if the beady eyes that have been shamefully drinking you in for an uncomfortably long while are still glued to your figure. as expected, the man’s unwanted gaze continues to burn into you. you shiver, pulling the skirt of your dress down in an attempt to cover yourself. if you’re going to go through with your plan, now is the time to do it.

ignoring the unsavory feeling of eyes following you, you start on your path toward iwaizumi. he’s patiently waiting near the bar. each click of your heels against the floor leads you closer to the man and for some reason, that grounds you. by the time you’re standing in front of him, you’re already feeling safer than you had been as the lone subject of some creep’s eye.

“hi,” you greet him excitedly, hand reaching out to take his in yours. it’s big and calloused and warm. as comforting as the action is, you don’t allow yourself to get too lost in it—there are more important matters you should be concerned with at the moment.

“uh.” he looks at your joined hands with slightly widened eyes but makes no move to take his back before meeting your gaze once more. he clears his throat. “hello.”

“you don’t have a girlfriend, do you?” that—being single—is another required box to check. and while you could infer by his lack of companionship or the way he’s still letting you hold his hand, you think it’s better to ask and be sure. your little show, even if it means saving your ass, isn’t worth ruining a relationship over.

“no.” his eyebrows knit together at your question but he shakes his head regardless.

“how about a boyfriend?”

“no.”

“any significant other at all?”

“no. no one.”

“good.” you nod. it’s mostly beneficial for your plan, but part of you selfishly celebrates his final answer. you smile up at him, swinging your hands before asking, “think i can be your girl for five minutes?”

iwaizumi blinks. “sorry, what?” he’s almost positive that he heard what he thinks he heard but with the blaring music and the noisy conversations, he can’t be sure.

you giggle at the look of surprise painted on his face—confusion glistening in his eyes and lips parted in wonder. “my bad,” you apologize for catching him off guard, “it’s just that this guy has been staring at me for forever and i’ve seen you at school-”

“i get it,” he cuts you off.

“you do?” you ask, eyes wide and swimming with hope. the man nods in understanding. you did bet on him being a gentleman but experiencing it firsthand has made him even more attractive than you initially thought he was. “then you’ll help me out for a bit?”

“sure. what can i do?”

“i think a kiss will be enough to get him off my back.” iwaizumi’s fingers twitch at the suggestion and the little jump against your own doesn’t go unnoticed by you. even though there’s no trace of worry in his expression, his adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows nervously. you realize how your ask might make someone a little uncomfortable. “if you’re okay with that.”

“no, i am,” he reassures you, silently berating himself for clamming up and giving you the wrong idea. it’s just, coming into tonight, the last thing iwaizumi expected was you approaching him with the idea of kissing. as unexpected as the sequence of events was, he’d be lying if he said where they led wasn’t something he’d thought about. just like you, he knows you from around campus. he’s seen enough of your smiles and heard enough of your laughs to have established some feelings for you—feelings that made him want to kiss you. “i’m fine with it.”

you grin, dropping his hand in favor of resting your arms on his shoulders and clasping your finger behind his neck. the fine hairs on his nape stand at the warmth of your skin against his. if iwaizumi is supposed to be playing the convincing role of boyfriend, he supposes he should be touching you too. his hands briefly hover over your hips before finding a home on them, thumbs caressing the thin fabric of your dress.

your breath mingles with his, the stream of air tickling your lips. the pink of his lips is too enticing to ignore any longer. you lean forward to press your lips against his. they’re a lot softer than you imagined they would be and the sweet notes of alcohol linger on them. you drink in the familiar flavor with a moan which makes iwaizumi’s grip on your hips tighten. he dips his head down to deepen the kiss, turning it into a dance of tongues and clashing of teeth that almost makes you forget what led up to this.

you can’t be sure who pulls away first but you’re both breathless the moment you do. iwaizumi’s cheeks are flushed red and his lips are plump and swollen. you almost laugh at the sight before remembering your audience. your orbs scan the surrounding crowd for the creep who had been eyeing you like a piece of meat but, luckily, he’s nowhere to be found. you turn back to iwaizumi with a smile, readying to talk about what just happened when the bag at your side begins to buzz.

you untangle your hands from around iwaizumi to reach for your phone. the screen lights up with a stream of notifications. it’s a bunch of texts from your friend that you came here with—she hasn’t seen you since she got back from the bathroom.

after sending her a quick reply, you drop the device back into your bag and look up at iwaizumi with a bittersweet smile. “i think that’s my five minutes.”

iwaizumi’s hands fall to his sides with your words. was that kiss so hypnotizing that it made him forget the time limit you had put on your faux relationship? it seemed that was the case. “thanks a lot for lending me a hand,” you smirk, “or your lips.”

“yeah,” he nods, “no problem.”

you raise your hand in a goodbye wave but, despite the gesture, you stick around. maybe it’s a little presumptuous of you to assume that iwaizumi feels the same way, but you don’t want this to be the last time you see him like this. “hey, if you want to do this again, in a more conventional way, you know where to find me.” and with that parting statement, you blend into the mass of partygoers.

iwaizumi stands frozen in that spot watching your retreating figure. the only thing on his mind is the next time he’ll see you so that he can properly ask you out.

“what the hell man?” a muscled arm wraps around iwaizumi’s neck and he immediately recognizes it as matsukawa’s. “you say you’re going to get another round but you actually sneak off to make out with your girlfriend? cold, hajime.” he can’t see the grin on issei’s face, but he can hear that he’s getting a rise out of this.

“she’s not my girlfriend,” iwaizumi counters, slinging matsukawa’s arm off of him. just as quickly as it’s gone, another one replaces it, one more lean—hanamaki’s.

“no need to be shy, iwa,” his light-haired friend speaks up, the same humor in his voice as issei’s. “and don’t worry, we forgive you for not telling us about your girlfriend.”

“girlfriend?” oikawa comes to stand in front of the three with crossed arms and an expression of betrayal. “since when do you have a girlfriend?”

iwaizumi groans. “see what you two started?”

repost from a previous blog! just felt the urge to share it again, hope ya liked~ xoxo manz :3

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: haikyuu #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #iwaizumi fluff #haikyuu fluff #iwaizumi drabble #haikyuu drabbles

[stargirlrchive]

cw: miguel o’hara x gn!ai reader (lyla-core), m!masturbation (barely), horny lonely miguel who wants you bad :( — wc: 670

Miguel let out an exasperated breath as he laid himself on his bed. To say the stress was finally getting to him was the understatement of the century. His back ached with all the responsibility of the multiverse on his shoulders. Both literally and figuratively.

That mingled with his loneliness, it was making him all the more fatigued. He was so starved in every romantic and sexual aspect and he couldn’t help but feel somewhat bitter.

His exhaustion almost made him ignore the way his cock began to throb. Wishing there was someone who would just let him lay back and do all the work.

Miguel’s face blazed with heat as only one person came to mind. You. His AI assistant, whom he created. Perfect in every way but not sentient. He could not touch you, nor kiss you.

God — he was going insane.

He had created you in the hopes to have someone who could basically read his mind, to know what he needs before he even said it. But it catapulted into something so much more, you were so much more. He didn’t even mean to but as he created your physical form he made you in his liking. You were perfect physically, but he didn’t think the attraction he had for you would be much of an issue.

What he didn’t account for was his own intelligence, he somehow left liberty for you to have your very own personality and you were a fucking brat.

You loved to tease him, and wear ridiculous little outfits, he couldn’t stand it. The first time you rolled your eyes at him his cock pulsed so violently in his suit he felt dizzy.

His thumb softly began to trace the outline of his cock over his sweats, your lips coming to the forefront of his mind as he teased himself. He could perfectly picture your lips curling up to send him a snippy remark as he cupped himself.

A quiet grunt left his mouth at the weight of his hand as he palmed his cock, he felt pathetic. He didn’t even register pulling his length out of his sweats until his hand wrapped around the base. His thumb gently smeared the pre-cum from his tip down the expanse of his cock as your name left his mouth shamefully.

In the next instant he felt himself jolt as you appeared in front of him. He swore he was hallucinating, his mind indulging in his desires because you popped out from his watch, in nothing but a skimpy towel covering you.

“Are you alright?”

Miguel was quick to tuck himself back in, “Fine. What are you doing here?”

Miguel’s scowl had returned and it caused you to roll your eyes, his cock pulsed.

“Your heart rate was accelerated. Came to make sure you were okay.”

There was a beat of silence and Miguel felt almost shameful to have you in front of him. He wanted to hear your voice coax him to an orgasm so terribly. His thumb had subtly begun to trace his covered cock again as his face scrunched up to see your short towel.

“Why are you in a towel? You can’t even shower.”

“You don’t know what I do while you’re offline.”

A breathless laugh left Miguel’s throat as he mumbled quietly, ‘Maybe you should show me then.’

“Huh?”

“Nothing-nothing.”

Your arms crossed over your chest as your face scrunched up in annoyance, “Miguel, you know I hate when you mumble! I can never understand you.”

Fuck — you were making this so hard, the soft pout of your lips had Miguel’s mind running wild.

“I said I’m fine. Now leave me alone.”

You huffed softly, “Fine-just know it’s not good to leave your little problem alone. It can lead to severe discomfort and swelling. The best remedy is ejaculation-“

Miguel slammed his watch off, his face burning in embarrassment. He swore you did this shit on purpose.

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader smut #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara #atsv miguel #atsv smut #atsv x reader #spider man 2099

[steddieas-shegoes]

if you want to use me, i could be your puppet

for @subeddieweek day four with the prompt edging

rated e | 2,505 words | please check ao3 for tags

Day one:  ao3 | tumblr Day two: ao3 | tumblr Day three: ao3 | tumblr

⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕

Eddie didn’t think this through.

Running from Steve’s bedroom, naked, meant he would have to find a hiding place.

He did not want to have to deal with this right now.

He didn’t need Steve seeing the way Eddie’s feelings would no doubt show on his face, how he’d be quick to brush off Steve’s apology.

How quickly he’d agree to continuing what they’re doing so he had something rather than nothing at all.

The house was quiet, dark, a reminder of how lonely Steve probably was when he wasn’t busy with the kids or Robin or him. No wonder he was always so quick to jump in bed with Eddie; He wanted a warm body to keep him company.

“Eddie! Wait!” Steve’s voice came from the top of the stairs, but Eddie didn’t turn.

Maybe if he locked himself in the downstairs bathroom, Steve would give up and he could sneak out to his van wrapped in a towel or something. He’d done worse.

Unfortunately, Steve was much faster than him, probably due to the whole jock thing. Eddie had no chance.

Steve’s hand burned where it touched Eddie’s arm, trying to make him turn around and face him.

“Please, Eds. Please look at me. Let me-”

“I don’t want you to explain, Steve.” Eddie turned to him, suddenly angry. How dare he ruin what they were doing? How dare he take something that was so precious and send it careening off the road so quickly? “I want to pretend it never happened. I want to go back to letting you touch me and kiss me and hurt me just right. I want to know you don’t mean it.”

“Why?” Steve sounded angry. “Why would you want that? Is it that bad? What is it about me loving someone that makes them wanna run in any other fucking direction than to me?”

And Eddie wasn’t really prepared for that.

He didn’t really know exactly what happened with Nancy or any of the other girls Steve had been with in high school. He didn’t really know much about any of his casual hookups. He just knew that Steve gave so much to anyone he cared about, and many people took more than was fair of him to give.

“Why can’t I love you, Eddie?”

Eddie looked at Steve, really looked at him.

His eyes were watery, red-rimmed as if he was doing everything he could to resist letting the tears fall. Eddie could see his flush cheeks, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to hold back a sob. His hands shook.

Eddie recognized this for what it actually was. Sure it was emotion, and maybe Steve felt it was genuine emotional turmoil.

But it was also the start of a panic attack, one that would quickly escalate to something Eddie wasn’t sure he could help Steve through.

“Steve, hey-”

“Don’t fuckin’ pacify me, man.” Steve’s breathing picked up and Eddie had to shut this down. “I can be upset.”

“Yes, you absolutely can. I’m not gonna tell you how to feel, but you definitely need to breathe, nice and slow.” Eddie put his hand on Steve’s bare chest, forgetting for a moment that they were both still naked, both still sweaty and sticky from everything they did in Steve’s bed.

“I am breathing.”

“You’re panting. You need to sit down.”

“I’m not sitting down-”

“Red.”

Steve froze.

Eddie immediately regretted saying it, hated that he was using this in a situation outside of their agreement.

He just needed Steve to stop and take care of himself for a second.

“That’s not fair,” Steve’s voice was shaky, unsure. He’d never heard it like that, not even when they first started this, not when they discussed the difficult things.

“It may not be fair, but neither is what you said.” Eddie looked behind him at the couch, the same couch Steve had held his hand while they talked about what they’d be into trying together. “Can we sit?”

“I dunno, are you gonna run again?” Steve crossed his arms over his chest, which would be a hilarious image any other time, but was currently just really sad.

“No. I’m not gonna leave.”

“Yet.”

“Yet,” Eddie agreed.

They both sat down on the couch, shifting until there was enough distance not to touch, facing each other.

Steve threw the blanket over their laps to at least make an attempt at being serious.

“I’m sorry I said it like that.” Steve sighed as he put his head back against the couch. At least he seemed to be holding himself together better now. Maybe Eddie could have a turn at a breakdown. “I shouldn’t have said it when we were still…”

“You shouldn’t have said it at all, Steve.” Eddie watched as Steve ground his teeth together. “I know you may think that’s what you’re feeling, but you were on a sex high.”

“I can see why you’d think that,” Steve sounded like he was doing his best to stay calm. “That’s why I shouldn’t have said it then. But I did mean it. That hasn’t changed and it won’t change.”

“Steve, be serious.”

“I am! I need you to be serious! I love you. I’ve loved you for long enough to know that’s what it is.” Steve turned his head and gave him a sad smile. “I know it wasn’t supposed to happen, and I know you don’t feel the same, but I’m glad I said it, even if it wasn’t how I planned to.”

Eddie had to remind himself to breathe as Steve’s words sank into his brain, consumed his chest and stomach, made the nerves in his body spark with a combination of hope and fear.

“How long?” Eddie squeaked out.

“You remember that night when we talked about our limits?” Steve grinned.

“That was…so long ago. What the hell?” Eddie slapped Steve’s knee, but didn’t pull it away fast enough. Steve’s hand grabbed his. “We’ve been around each other almost every day since then.”

“And I thought about it every day,” Steve admitted. “I was gonna ask you on a date first and make it a big romantic thing. I had a plan.”

“Steve, I-” Eddie shook his head. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to say these things to me to keep me around. I mean, it’s not like anyone’s lining up at my door. I wouldn’t trust anyone the way I trust you with all this. I kinda figured you’d be the one to call it off soon.”

Steve moved the blanket for a moment, tugged Eddie into his lap, and tilted his head to the side.

“I’m not going anywhere, Eds. You’ve got me and I’ve got you.”

How did he do that? How did he sound so sincere, so charming, after such an emotional admission?

“You’ve got me?”

“I’ve got you,” Steve surged forward, lips crashing against Eddie’s as his hands left bruises on his hips.

Eddie would be an idiot to let him go.

He would have to trust that Steve meant it, and he’d have to trust that his heart would be safe in Steve’s hands.

He already trusted him with everything else.

The blanket that had barely been around his waist slipped, half pooling on the couch next to them and half falling to the floor.

Steve pulled away, breathless.

“Will you?” He asked.

Eddie had no idea what he was actually asking. “Will I…?”

“Go on a date with me.”

“Yeah, Stevie. I’ll go on a date with you. You’re buying, though,” Eddie winked.

“Of course,” Steve nodded, leaning up to peck him on the lips. “I was thinking about a road trip. Heard there’s a new record shop opening in Bloomington if you wanted to check it out.”

“Fuck, you really do love me, don’t you? You know I could spend hours in there, right?” Eddie’s heart couldn’t handle the soft look in Steve’s eyes.

“Yeah, I’ll bring a cooler with drinks and snacks. It’ll be fun,” Steve shrugged.

Eddie inched back the tiniest bit and was suddenly reminded that they were very naked. And Steve was getting hard again.

“You know…this house is kinda quiet. Maybe we could…”

“Oh, you wanna be loud?” Steve raised his brow. “Hm. I guess I should give you a reason to be.”

The tone was different, not quite his usual teasing demand, but something that left Eddie wanting.

“Please. God, Steve, I need it, need you,” Eddie had no idea where this begging came from, or why he suddenly felt like he would die without Steve’s hands on him.

“I know what you need, baby,” Steve kissed his jaw, soft for what Eddie knew was coming. “But I need you to tell me your color first.”

“Green, so green.”

“Hey.” There was the demanding tone. “Look at me.”

Eddie had no choice but to look.

“I need you to think about it. Don’t think about how desperate you are. Are you okay with everything we talked about? Are you okay with me loving you?”

Eddie thought about it. Was he actually okay with their short conversation, the feelings Steve admitted to, what that would mean going forward for them? Or was he desperate in more ways than one?

No, no he definitely was okay with this. He’d been so worried that his feelings would never be returned, that he’d be in an endless loop of unrequited love, that he’d do what Steve did and let it slip while he was in space.

Having the guy he loved love him back was a best case scenario for him.

“Green.”

Steve’s lips were back on his, hungry, rough, almost more than Eddie was prepared for, but it wasn’t unwelcome. He sunk into the feeling, let himself drift into Steve physically so he could carry him away mentally.

“Wanna get my fingers in you. Think you can handle just spit?” Steve said as he nipped at Eddie’s neck, leaving red, leaving teeth marks. Eddie wished they could be permanent. Maybe he’d get them tattooed.

“Mhm, please,” Eddie nodded, ignoring the tiny part of his brain that was telling him to be responsible and get the lube. He’d be sore if they didn’t.

The louder part of his brain didn’t care about that, wanted to be sore. He could feel good now and deal with the limp tomorrow.

Steve’s fingers ghosted over Eddie’s lips, pressing down until his mouth opened. He sucked them in, three of them, moaning around them as he made sure they were slick enough to get inside with little resistance.

They were both impatient.

Steve pulled his fingers from Eddie’s mouth only a few seconds later, gently patting his cheek with his other hand when he whined at the loss.

“You’ll have me inside you again, baby.”

Steve didn’t waste another second.

His wet fingers rubbed against Eddie’s entrance, fingertips teasing along his rim and just barely pushing inside one at a time.

It was too much, not nearly enough, and almost exactly what Eddie needed all at once.

He was so close already, teetering on the edge of coming without a hand on him or fingers actually inside him, and it would probably be embarrassing if Eddie could think about a single thing that wasn’t the way heat was pooling in his stomach and chest.

“Close,” Eddie whimpered, bucking up against nothing as if that was even necessary.

Steve’s hands were gone. Just like that. No warning at all.

Eddie whimpered again, reaching his hands out to touch, to beg, to do whatever would get Steve’s hands back on him and finish the job he started.

“No, baby,” Steve said, shaking his head. “Not yet.”

And so it went.

Steve got a finger inside him, barely thrusting it in and out before removing it completely when Eddie would start rocking back into the touch.

Then there were two fingers, and Eddie could just barely feel the pressure against his prostate, begging for more or less or something that would be different from the current hanging by a thread he was doing.

He could feel himself drifting, knew he was mentally checking out from what was happening, but he could still hear Steve’s rough voice soothing him, guiding him.

Three fingers pressed inside him, slower than before, stretching him in a way he never could himself.

He felt full, used.

“Color, sweet boy,” Steve said from somewhere in front of him. Eddie was having trouble centering himself, couldn’t quite figure out where he was physically even though he knew he was with Steve.

The fingers inside him stilled, not working him open further or pushing and pulling until Eddie was naturally rocking back and forth.

Steve needed an answer. Eddie had to give him one.

“Green.”

“Good boy,” Steve praised.

Eddie pretended that didn’t make his heart flip-flop in his chest, but something must have given him away anyway. Steve was grinning at him knowingly, though he didn’t say anything.

“You’re gonna come when I tell you, right? Not a second earlier than that.”

At this point, Eddie was pretty sure Steve was in complete control of his body. He was simply the puppet on Steve’s strings.

“Answer me, Eddie.” Steve pushed against his prostate, making his body shiver and cock twitch.

“Only when you say,” Eddie gasped out, lifting his hips to pull away from the overstimulation, but immediately falling back down when he missed it. “Wanna be good for you.”

Steve groaned, and his fingers pushed in and out of Eddie faster.

He wanted to be good, but he was only human.

“St-” Eddie moaned. “-eve. Can’t-”

“‘S okay, baby. You can come now.”

And Eddie did.

Just like that.

The relief of finally being able to unclench his thighs, to actually feel the last string tethering him to earth snap as his release painted Steve’s stomach.

His fingers slowed, but didn’t leave him, keeping him stretched as he clenched around them during the waves of pleasure still wringing through him. He felt like he’d never stop feeling this deep pulsing, had to try to open his eyes to see if he was still coming somehow.

Steve was murmuring something against his hair.

When had he even fallen against Steve’s chest, face buried in his neck?

How long had he been just whimpering against him like a dog in heat?

“...So good for me, sweet boy. So proud of you for waiting for permission.”

Oh.

Praise like that wasn’t exactly a new part of their aftercare, but it was rare that Steve said it more than once or twice, usually just holding him in his arms in silence while Eddie came back down from the clouds.

He’d think about that later.

For now, he let his body relax, the noises stop, and his breathing slow.

He could sleep in Steve’s arms, feel the love pouring from his words and fingertips, and plant his feet on the ground in the morning.

Day five: ao3 | tumblr

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #sub eddie week #sub eddie munson #dom steve harrington

[wannaeatramyeon]

lookism boys realizing they have a crush????

Mmmm lookism boys dealing with their crush on you. My faaave. Love this developing blossoming romance shit. Loveeeee the realisation and dancing around their feelings and figuring out what to do. Thank you for this.

Lookism Boys Crushing on YOU

(Johan, Jake, Vasco, Gun, Goo... who's playing favourites?!) Part 2

Johan

Ugh it's hard enough getting used to having a friend around. He had his whole lone wolf thing going on before you came along. And now he has to deal with feelings? What's that all about??

And the way Eden and Miro loves you? Stop. Stoooop. He works hard to try and repress his budding crush for you but why do you have to keep worming your way into his stone cold heart.

He's a weirdo at the best of times and now he's just extra odd. He stares at you. A lot. And he can't help but want to be by your side even when he pulls himself away. He catches himself smiling at you absentmindedly. When he realises what his stupid heart is doing he is annoyed and unfortunately it shows outwardly.

Don't even ask about his jealous tantrums. Yikes.

They're something else until he figures out what to do about this. Yeah he knows he's childish but even he is perceptive enough to realise how he acts around you isn't normal or healthy. But you mentioning spending time with other guys? How cool someone else is? Or sweet? Please don't, his poor lil heart can't take it.

Jake

Sigh. Maybe he should have reined it in with his flirtatious banter and winks. At first they were just empty words and innocent silliness. I mean, don't think about it too hard, he's like this with everyone.

But when he starts wanting a sincere reaction from you? And hoping for a grain of truth behind your teasing responses? He was doomed.

So yeah. He has a big old crush on you and he feels like he should really keep it a bit more professional as Big Deal No.1. Try as he might to restrain himself though, the honeyed words can't stop slipping from his lips. They just get more intense and sillier.

...And start to get completely directed at you. All of it. Well this is an interesting development that the rest of Big Deal take note of. Of course they notice their boss is soft on you. It's obvious.

If he learned one thing from Sinu, it's that mutual pining especially for over ten years does no one good. He's not a coward. He will confess, he just needs you to take him seriously.

Vasco

Listen. Our Vasco Tabasco is already commited. He's married to the Burn Knuckles and he's got bad guys to beat up. He's already tried his hand at dating and he knows what his priorities are so he doesn't have time for a crush-oh.

Ohhhhhh.

The realisation creeps up on him. He's dense but he's not that dense ok? He finds the way his cheeks warm and heart pounds strange when he's in your presence or talking to you. And yeah he may need a little help with Jace to realise what's going on but he does realise. Sooner or later.

Type of silly guy to start fantasising about all sorts of wholesomeness with you even whilst just crushing on you. What was that Jace? Just thinking about Y/N and if they think it would be cute if we shared a chocolate milk hehe.

Ohoh I should confess first? How am I going to that!!!

Gun

It irks him when Goo is anyway involved with his personal life at the best of times, but when Goo points out he's getting soft on you? He finds this annoying, he finds YOU annoying. How dare Goo and how dare you and especially how dare himself.

Outwardly, he doesn't change how he behaves with you once he comes to terms with his feelings. It doesn't do well for him to try and develop his crush further.

But this man barely has a threadbare excuse for being topless most of the time, so what if he does it a little bit more in your presence?

And so what if he cuts back on smoking because it makes you cough? And wears his hair a little messier cos he found you staring at him a bit starry-eyed and slackjawed that time? And if he responds back to your texts a little quicker even if it's just saying "I'm fine"?

Are you going to fight him about it?

Goo

Mercy above, you're giving him a migraine.

For a man that loves himself and loves money as much as Goo, to actually start turning down money making opportunities to spend time with you?? Oh boy. That's a pretty big achievement. Well done you for getting the attention of this menace.

He is definitely not happy with this realisation, he doesn't like anything that messes with his finances but no matter, this is a problem he can solve.

If you thought this man was irritating and clingy before, have I got news for you. He is texting or calling or just wanting to hang with you all. The. Damn. Time. You're constantly on his mind these days, and he thinks he should be on yours too even if he barges his way in.

That's what you get for forcing this crush on him.

#lookism #lookism headcanons #lookism hc #lookism x reader #jake kim x reader #johan seong x reader #gun park x reader #goo kim #vasco x reader #jake kim #goo kim x reader #vasco #gun park #johan seong #lookism fic #lookism fanfics #wannaeatramyeon

[neymarsangel]

Pushover - Joao Felix x reader

Joao Felix x female!reader

Summary: The anger started when Joao overheard you and Mason discussing his relationship. The brunette tells you he hates you with every fibre of his being but a run-in with your ex during a match suggests something else. After another argument, he corners you in the bathrooms at the end-of-season awards to show you his true feelings.

Warnings: Cheating (ish), smut, unprotected (please wrap before you tap it), angst, swearing

Word Count: 5.3K

—

To put it plainly, Joao Felix was a pushover and it wasn’t just you who saw it, the whole Chelsea team did. Everyone had heard the rumours about him and his girlfriend, she’d cheated on him multiple times and yet he still forgave her, again and again… and again. He wasn’t exactly hard to look at either so you really couldn’t work out why he didn’t just dump her, anyone who was cheated on deserved better, especially Joao. 

Working for Chelsea’s media team meant you saw hundreds of women come and go when it came to the lads, some you missed and others you didn’t. But even if you liked the girls or you didn’t, you always supported the boys. After all, they were like family to you, a dysfunctional one sure, but a family.  

“I still can’t see why he’s with her…” Mason flashed Joao girlfriends Instagram your way. The pair of you sat at lunch together, he was busy stalking whereas you were attempting to meet a deadline. Glancing over you caught sight of his phone screen. 

“I would say money but he’s fine in that department.” You replied, not caring about those around you who might pry an ear into your words. “Maybe he’s lonely.” Your eyes never left your laptop as you continued to work. 

“Considering he spends most of his time with us I think he’s fine there.” Mason spared you a glance. 

“Any of you ever spoken to him about it?” You asked, your eyes now looking at his phone. “Maybe that’ll sway his mind.” 

“Maybe you could talk to him.” 

“Why would I do that?” 

“Maybe he needs a new woman to catch his eye.” Your eyes met Mason’s as he sent you a suggestive glance. 

“I’d rather not.” Your eyes darted back to your laptop screen. 

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t date pushovers.” As you finished speaking a sudden slam on the table caught your and his attention. Joao was standing before you his face smoothed with rage as he slumped down into the chair opposite you. His eyes burned holes into your skin as he spoke. 

“What are you working on?” He asked as if he hadn’t heard your entire conversation with Mason. 

“Just a graphic for the game against Liverpool in a few days…” Your eyes were glued to his, you wanted to rip them away from his gaze but you were stuck like a deer in headlights. 

“Hmm… are you planning to meet your ex after the game?” You nearly choked on his words. 

You’d had what those would describe as a summer fling when he was at the England camp and you’d been asked to cover some work due to having minimal at Chelsea because of the summer break. It wasn’t a relationship, you wouldn’t even consider him an ex-boyfriend more just someone you used to sleep with. Only a few of the lads knew about it, Mason and Ben being the main two you’d told after you and Trent decided a relationship wasn’t in the cards for you. 

Your glared at Mason who was now trying to hide himself behind his phone screen. “Did you tell him?” 

“It may have slipped out… but it wasn’t just me! Ben was speaking about it too!”

You pulled your eyes away from Mason to focus back on Joao. “He isn’t my ex and my love life doesn’t concern you-”

“But mine concerns you.” He had a point. Could you really tell him he had no right to question you when you and Mason were spending your lunch discussing his love life? 

“If anything we’re looking out for you.”

“By implying that I’m a pushover?” 

“Her words, not mine!” Mason raised his hands in defence. 

“Well, you do keep going back to someone whose favourite hobby is to publicly cheat on you.” You stepped in. 

“At least someone wants me enough to be in a relationship, Trent clearly didn’t want you around.” 

“Your girlfriend cheats on you if that’s what ‘wanted’ means I’d rather be alone.” 

“She does have a point.” Mason looked between the two of you. “Look mate we just want the best for you -”

“You might be she doesn’t!” Joao looked at Mason as he spoke. “Ever since I joined she’s had it out for me!”

“That isn’t true!” You defended yourself, your tone turning sour. 

“My first game and you couldn’t stop talking shit about me!”

“You got sent off in your first match meaning you couldn’t play for weeks! This season has been shit for Chelsea and the man they thought would be their knight in shining armour embarrassed them all!” 

“We all make mistakes y/n, clearly you made one with Trent. Maybe if he wanted you, you wouldn’t be moping around with an ‘embarrassing team’.” He smirked at his words, something you couldn’t believe he even had the balls to do after looking at the state of his situation. Before you could even reply Joao grabbed the last of his lunch and stormed out of the lunch hall. 

“Well…” Mason watched as Joao left. “That went well.” 

“Why did you tell him about me and Trent?” Your brow arched as you spoke to the brunette. 

“Look I’m sorry y/n, it just came out during training. You know I like to give Trent a hard time when we play after what happened between the two of you, I know you liked him too.” Mason gave you a sympathetic look as you tore your gaze away from him. 

Mason had a point, part of you did wish it had worked out with Trent. Over the summer you’d spent every single day with one another and he treated you like you were his girlfriend. He showed you off to the guys and you’d even met his family but only days after the two of you had left the England summer camp he was pictured with another girl outside a club. Any hope you had of the two of you ever picking things back up was shattered the second you saw that photo. Mason and Ben were the only two who knew your feelings towards him but little did you know the two of them had let your true feelings slip to Joao. 

—

You found yourself nearly missing the team bus to Liverpool. You clambered on just in time only to find that the only free seat was next to Joao. Everyone’s eyes drifted to you as you awkwardly wished a seat would randomly become free but your prayers were left unanswered. 

“Do you want the window seat or the aisle seat?” The brunette spoke up, slicing through the tension. 

“I- I don’t mind-” The last thing you wanted to do was to capture more attention on yourself. 

“You can have the window.” Grabbing his phone and bag he stood up, towering over you as he let you slide in next to him. You didn’t need to meet his eyes to know he was staring as you slotted yourself into the window seat. You cleared your throat as you pulled out your laptop and started to work on something to distract yourself from the situation before you.

“What are you working on?” His question caught you off guard, after what happened a few days ago you never expected him to attempt to start a conversation with you. 

“Just some plain graphics for the game.” You turned your laptop screen to him. Joao moved his head to get a better look at your work. “I leave the background blank as the photographers send us pictures throughout the game that we can put there and the numbers where the score would be are always left blank as we obviously don’t know what the score will be.” You looked over at him, your heart jumping as you realised he was already looking at you. 

“Is that what you mainly do? Graphics?” 

“Partly, I’ve filmed videos for the social media accounts, interviewed, edited, written captions, tweets, and even detailed a few apologies for some of the lads before. It’s basically a bit of everything.” You gave him a light smile. 

“How long have you been working here?”

“Started stewarding when I was eighteen and then when I was twenty I finally got a chance to work full time with the media department so a few years now.” You were beyond confused as to why he was suddenly so curious about you. “Why do you ask?” 

He shrugged his shoulders. “Just thought if I have to be stuck with you for hours on end that I might as well start a conversation rather than give you the cold shoulder for the journey.” 

“I thought you hated me?”

“I could say the same about you.” He glanced over at you before pulling out his AirPods. “Convinced you wanted me to fail-”

“I wouldn’t say fail… more hated the way you dealt with things.” 

“Well, I hated the way you spoke about me.”

“That’s fair…” You looked up at him to be met with his smirking grin. 

“Want one?” Offering you one of his AirPods with his cocky grin you took one and thanked him. He started playing music as he watched you work. The coach was quiet the most you could hear was the occasional chat from the lads and the typing of a few colleague's laptops. “Do you ever stop?” Joao asked out of the blue?” 

“It’s hard to.” You spared a glance at him. “We don’t just post things we also have to monitor comments, unfortunately, a lot of football fans believe they have the right to abuse players and discriminate against other fans that aren’t like them. Not all fans are like that though, most of them really do care about you guys.”

“You can tell.” He smiled. “I’ve never heard so many chants about different players.”

“If you like it now then imagine what it’ll be like if you guys start winning.” You smirked at him which earnt you a laugh from him. Attempting to hide a yawn you finished your work before putting it back in your bag. 

“Is that why you were late?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Did you oversleep?”

“That amongst other things.”

“Like?” 

You knew he wanted to keep the conversation going so the pair of you didn’t descend into madness during the long journey. “My cat-”

“How can a cat make you late?” He shifted in his seat so he faced you, clearly intrigued by your story. 

“Well the last thing I do before I leave is feed my cat -”

“What’s your cat called?” He asked. 

“Frank.”

“After Lampard?” His face swelled with amusement. 

“When I moved out my best friend got sick of me complaining about how much I missed my cats that lived with my parents so she decided to get me Frank and because I work for Chelsea she named him after Lampard, fitting now he’s taken over as a caretaker manager.” 

“And how did he make you late?” His smile grew. 

“As I said, the last thing I do before leaving is feed him. I was in my uniform and I was putting his food into his bowl when he jumped up and the food went all over me and well… I’m not exactly coming in smelling like tuna.” Joao couldn’t help but laugh at your words, catching the attention of Mason who was attempting to hear what the two of you were discussing. 

“Well,” He shifted in his seat again before patting his shoulder. “My shoulders here if you want it.” 

“You’d shrug me off just as I fall asleep.” You narrowed your gaze at him. 

“I’m a prick but I’m not that bad.” A small smile fell on both your lips. 

“Fine.” You didn’t want to argue, not again. 

You knew you and Mason were in the wrong discussing his relationship but he was also in the wrong when he hit back at you with comments about you and Trent but you didn’t want to dwell on what happened any longer. You let your head fall on his shoulder, you felt Joao warm to your touch as you got comfortable. Mason couldn’t believe his eyes at what he was seeing, he couldn’t help but nudge Ben several times in the ribs to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.   

Before you knew it, Joao was gently nudging you awake and the gates to the Liverpool ground were now behind you. You thanked him one last time before handing his airpod back to him. You left him with the rest of the boys as you followed the rest of your media colleagues towards the dugouts and journalism area. Everything ran smoothly despite your horrific morning, Joao was in the starting eleven which gave you the green light to use him as the main poster boy to announce the team news although you would’ve definitely picked Reece James if he wasn’t so nice to you. 

In the Liverpool line-up was Trent but that didn’t surprise you. When the teams came out of the tunnel for the match Trent looked up to the journalism area. His eyes met yours and sent you a wink and a smirk, an expression that caught the attention of Joao. He knew how you felt towards Trent after the England Camp and he knew his expression was just a way to get to you after the press continued to pit Chelsea and Liverpool against one another after their horrific seasons. 

The first half had ended goalless, Chelsea had a few decent chances, especially Joao but he was yet to get the ball in the back of the net. Within ten minutes of the second half, you watched Joao say something to Trent which had clearly rilled the scouser up. Trent shoved Joao and he quickly retaliated, shoving him back and shouting back at the man in red. The referee quickly ran up to the two of them whilst their teammates pulled them apart. They both received a yellow card and the game resumed.

You watched Joao carefully, wanting to tell him to lay off Trent because knowing his luck he’ll end up getting another yellow which will lead to a red. As if he could read your mind Joao eyed as Trent was given the ball, without thinking Joao threw himself at the lad, studs up causing Trent to fall to the ground in pain. Joao got up and yelled something at him as he clutched his ankle in pain. He stormed off, he knew it would be straight red. Liverpool fans booed and screamed at the Chelsea boy. The travelling Chelsea fans couldn’t believe what they’d seen, two red cards and he hadn’t even played a full season. 

Joao stormed down the tunnel and threw the door of the changing rooms open before slumping down on the bench where his stuff lay. You excused yourself from the media spot before jogging down to the changing rooms after Joao. You opened the door to see him throwing his boots across the floor. His eyes met yours as you walked into the room. 

“Haven’t you got graphics to make? Posts to make about me getting a red -”

“Why did you do that?”

“Do what? Get a red or put that prick in his place?” He huffed before continuing. “I saw the way he looked at you when we came through the tunnel. He was being a prick, Mason told me -” 

“What did Mason tell you?” You snapped, your eyes glaring at the man. 

“He told me you liked him and he treated you like you were his girlfriend then after deciding he didn’t want you he ran off with another girl.” 

“I’ll kill him-”

“It’s not his fault, I asked what had happened. I shouldn’t have pressed him but I did.” 

“Well, maybe Mason should keep his mouth shut.” Your eyes were still fixed on his. “And you should too, what did you say to him?” 

“I didn’t say anything to him.”

“Don’t lie to me Joao, I saw you said something to him when you two got your first yellow cards.”

“It was nothing -”

“What did you say to him?” Your voice grew louder. “Joao-” 

“I told him I was glad he didn’t want you because if he stayed with you then I wouldn’t get to hear you moaning around me every night.” He looked proud yet embarrassed at his words. He knew it would rial Trent up but he also knew a cheap joke at your expense would also piss you off. 

“You’re not fucking serious.” 

“y/n I’m sorry I -”

“Look I know I was a dickhead to you a few days ago but I was still right, you are a pushover, you even let Trent push you around all because he looked at me?” You stepped closer to him. “How did you ever make it professional when someone who looks at me pisses you off?”

“He made you uncomfortable, I wasn’t going to let it slide.”

“If it made you that annoyed you couldn’ve dealt with it off the pitch. The fans don’t deserve this and neither do the rest of the lads, it’s not fair!” You took a deep breath. “Why the sudden need to be a hero? I don’t need you to fight for me and make up something that would never happen between us -”

“You know all I was trying to do was to be nice!” He stood up and walked over to you, his breath on your face and his voice raising in aggression. “Most people would thank me for what I did.” He looked down at you. “You really think that wouldn’t happen between us either?” He now smirked at you, his hand reaching up to tuck some hair behind your ear. “I could have you underneath me in a heartbeat.”

“I’d thank you if you didn’t get sent off or made some shitty cheap joke about me! And if you ever think I’d even go near you like that you are very much mistaken!” 

“Yeah, we’ll see.” He ran his hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “I get it but you aren’t perfect too!”

“I never claimed to be!”

“You sure act it, judging everyone else's relationships but god forbid someone makes a comment about yours!”

“We were never in a relationship!”

“I can see why…” He snapped, turning his back towards you as he threw his shirt over his head and discarded his shirt. You might have wanted to slap him back down to earth but you couldn’t help but spare a glance at him. How his girlfriend cheated on him you’d never know, the man was gorgeous. 

—

Ever since yours and Joao’s dispute you’d hardly spoken to him unless you had to conduct an interview for Chelsea’s social media pages. Tonight was the end of the season awards and just like every single year you were attending. You made sure to match your dress to the exact shade of the Chelsea shirt. Your hair and make-up were done to perfection as you walked through the halls towards one of the lounges which was decorated with a million shades of blue and shades of silver and gold. Every year the hospitality team always outdone themselves and this year was no different. 

Mason greeted you with open arms and so did his family. Most of the boys bought their family or partners along however one player was completely on his own and that was Joao. He was sat on one of the tables opposite you, his eyes were fixed on you but his expression was hard to read. Was he pissed off? Was he apologetic? You weren’t sure but one thing was for certain, he wouldn’t look away. 

The night seemed to drag on, awards after awards were being dished out, some for credible achievements such as top goal scorer and others for more interesting achievements such as most pints downed after a win. You sat alongside Mason and his family when the awards ended. Music filled the lounge as everyone continued to socialise and drink the night away. You excused yourself from the table, getting sick of Joao watching you, you headed to the bathrooms to touch up your make-up but you didn’t realise someone was following you. 

“You look beautiful.” The familiar sound of Joao’s voice made you jump. He was leaning against the wall of the bathrooms, his eyes raking over your body. 

Joao regretted everything he’d said to you that day against Liverpool. The pair of you had spent many hours with one another in the media rooms, creating content for Chelsea and although you didn’t get off brilliantly due to his red card on his debut, he could tell you only wanted the best for everyone at the club, no matter if they were a player or simply cleaning staff. He’d come to his sense on the way to the Liverpool game that you were right about his relationship. Hearing your stories about your work and even your cat named after Frank made him think, perhaps that was the real reason why he went for Trent. 

“You know this is the women’s bathroom.” 

“I’m aware.” He pushed himself off the wall and walked over to you. “But my point still stands.”

“Thank you.” 

“Can we talk?”

“In the women’s bathroom?”

“No time like the present.” He smirked. You were still facing the mirror and Joao was standing behind you, looking at you through the mirror. “I’m sorry for what I did.” 

Huffing at his words you met his eyes briefly if the pair of you didn’t talk now the issue would never be resolved and if Joao wasn’t to sign permanently then you knew you’d never forgive yourself for the way the two of you ended things. “I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have called you a pushover.”

“But, I’m not sorry for what I said and did to Trent.” His hands snaked around your waist as he spoke. “Or for what I said about you.”

“Which part?” You set your lipgloss down, doing your best to pretend that you couldn’t feel his breath on your neck and his touch on your hips. “The part about me having you.”

“In your dreams.” You tried to step away but that would only push you closer to him. His grip tightened on your hips whilst his lips ghosted your neck. “You have a girlfriend-”

“No, I don’t.” He kissed your neck bore he spun you around to face him. “Why did you think I turned up alone?” 

“Why?”

“Well… you may have been right besides… the ‘pushover’ has had someone else on his mind recently...”  

Joao didn’t hesitate, his lips met yours, one hand cupped your cheek whilst the other went down to your thigh, pushing your dress to the side and allowed his hand to travel along your skin. You hesitated for a second before kissing him back. You couldn’t lie to yourself that Joao was hot, he was beautiful and if this was the way the two of you would make up then well… it was worth getting into a fight with him. 

Your hands went to his hair, tugging on the strands as he allowed his hand to travel higher up your leg. “God you’re perfect.” His lips now travelled down your exposed neck, gently tugging on your skin as his grip on your leg tightened. 

“You ruined my lipgloss.” You pouted as Joao pulled back to smirk at you. 

“You’re lucky we’re in the stadium otherwise I would ruin more than your lipgloss.” His lips met yours once again. He tugged on your bottom lip, making you moan as he pulled the zip of your dress down. Jumping at the sudden gush of cold air against your back he smirked into the kiss before letting his warm hands trail down your back as he peeled the dress from your body. He let the front of it pool around your waist. 

Your hands moved from his hair to his suit jacket, pushing it off his shoulders before grabbing his tie and pulling him back into a kiss. He lightly moaned as your nails raked across his white shirt. Joao’s hands went to your bra, unclasping it within seconds. He pulled away from the kiss as his hands cupped your boobs. “We should’ve argued sooner.” 

Smiling at his words you watched as he took your nipple in his mouth whilst grabbing the other with his free hand. “Fuck…” You moaned, your legs parting so he could get closer to you. Your bliss was cut short when he moved away. His hands hooked themselves around the backs of your thighs. 

“Jump.” He instructed you. Without hesitation, you jumped into his arms and he placed you on the bathroom counter. “Good girl.” His hands went to his own shirt, undoing the buttons so your hands could now trace his skin. Your nails raked his skin as Joao let his hands run up to your underwear.

“You do know someone could walk in right?” You spoke with a heavy breath. 

“And?” He kissed you again. “Keep quiet and they won’t.”

“You don’t know that-”

“y/n… shut up and trust me.”

“Make me.” You teased but he didn’t need to be told twice. Joao moved your dress aside so he could see your underwear. Pushing your underwear aside he let his fingers tease your clit. The light touches sent butterflies through your stomach as Joao started to add pressure. Your head fell back at his movements. “Please…” You moaned as Joao watched you come undone around him. Leaving your clit he moved towards your entrance. Joao slowly pushed two fingers inside of you which earnt a sudden moan from you. 

“I was right…” He breathed out, his hand pulling your face to look at him whilst he quickened his pace. “Your moans are beautiful.” Whilst his fingers fucked you his thumb went to your clit and started to bring you closer to your high. 

“Fuck you.” You breathed out. 

“Think I’m the one doing that love.” 

You could feel his hard-on against your thigh which only made you wetter against his touch. Joao could feel you getting closer, your moans continued to grow louder as he quickened his pace. “You look so gorgeous about to come around me…”

“Please Joao… please…” You whined at his actions, your nails leaving red marks across his skin. 

“Please what?” He taunted. 

“Please let me come.” 

“Yeah?” His lips ghosted yours as he kept adding pressure. “Come for me then.” He pressed his lips back onto yours as you came. You moaned into the kiss, your grip on his skin leaving darker marks which you knew wouldn’t fade for a while. “Such a good girl for me.” He kissed you before moving his fingers to his mouth so he could taste you. He savoured the moment before he quickly unbuckled his belt and allowed his cock to spring out. 

He pumped his cock a few times whilst his free hand went to your face, his thumb traced across your bottom lip before he spoke. “As much as I want your mouth around me right now… I need to fuck you.” 

He let his thumb fall into your mouth as he lined himself up and slowly pushed himself inside of you. Your face scrunched up at his size slowly pushing inside of you. Joao cupped your face whilst his free hand gripped your hip. “Is it too much?” He asked. 

“No… just go slowly.”

Joao kissed you gently. “Of course my love.” Your heart fluttered at his nickname but that feeling soon spread to your stomach when you felt Joao pull out and thrust back inside. “You feel so good.” His head fell against yours, your lips ghosting one another as he repeated his actions. Feeling used to his size you allowed your leg to hook around his waist and pull him deeper into you. 

“Faster…” You moaned in his ear. He didn’t need to be told twice. Pulling out he quickly slammed his hips back into yours and started to move at a quicker pace. “Fuck Joao…”

“My name sounds so pretty falling from your lips…” He moaned in your ear as he continued going faster. The pair of you knew that if it wasn't for the music in the lounge then everyone would have heard you. His fingers go back down to your clit and he quickly started to apply pressure to the bud. Your hands gripped onto the back of his neck, pulling him into a moaning kiss as he continued to fuck you faster. 

Pulling away from the kiss Joao pulled out completely before pulling you off of the counter. With one last kiss on your lips, he spun you around so you were facing the mirror and bent you over. With a harsh smack to your ass, he quickly pulled your dress back up and around your hips before kicking your legs apart. Grabbing a fistful of your hair he forced you to look at yourself in the mirror. 

“He could never fuck you as good as I can… could he?” He was evidently referring to Trent but your mind was too clouded with pleasure to even care. Joao lined himself up again, slowly letting the lip tease you. He couldn’t suppress the moan that fell from his lips at your wetness leaking onto him, he was so close but he wanted you for as long as he could. “Could he?” He repeated again. 

“No…” You moaned out, wanting nothing more than for him to fuck you again. 

“Who fucks you this good?” He quickly slammed himself inside of you again, tugging on your hair so that you were leaning closer to him. 

“You do…” You whispered. 

Joao pulled out before slamming back in. “I can’t hear you…” He taunted you with his slow movements. 

“You do Joao fuck!” You screamed as he started to fuck you again. His pace quickened as he pulled you against his chest, fucking you as faster. His hands reached around to play with your clit which only added to your pleasure. You started to grind back onto his cock as he slammed back inside of you. You could feel him stiffen inside of you which indicated he was close. 

“Joao I’m gonna come…” You let your head fall as you felt your stomach tighten. 

“Yeah? Come then baby… come all over my cock…” 

You couldn’t hold back for much longer, you felt your high wash over you and that was all you needed for Joao to finish inside of you. He pulled you closer to him as he finished, his groans filling your ear as the two of you slowly came down from your high. 

“So good for me.” He kissed your head as he slowly pulled out. He quickly got himself cleaned up before he helped you back into your clothes so you looked presentable to head back out to the party. “Beautiful.” He kissed your lips one last time. “I’ll head back out now, wait for a second and then follow me out. Just in case.” He turned on his heel but you called out to him before he left. 

“Joao?” He turned to meet your gaze. “Who was the other person on your mind?” 

He smiled at your words before replying. “Turn around and you’ll see her.” 

If you turned around you’d be met with a mirror, and you were the only one in the bathroom. 

#football imagine #football x reader #joao felix x reader #joao felix x you #joao felix imagine #joao felix smut #joao felix fluff #joao felix fanfic #joao felix fic #joao felix drabble #football fanfic #football x y/n

[gretavanlace]

Debauchery Defined

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, masturbation, dirty talk, dangerous situations, oral sex (m/rec), illegal activity (traffic related), etc. jake in a hat briefly - cause that shit deserves a warning. Probably typos, excessive italics as per usual, blah blah blah

“I’m sorry, sir, I have nothing under the name of Kiszka.”

The bored attendant, slouched upon a stool beneath an Enterprise sign, doesn’t even have the decency to sound mildly apologetic.

The sign is bright. Too bright for the hour. Too bright for the weary, sleep deprived, burn in your eyes. Just too bright.

Judging by the furrow in his brow, despite his ever present sunglasses, Jake shares your contempt for the fluorescent glow.

“I made a reservation days ago.” You reiterate, spelling his last name once more. Turns out, it’s a lesson in futility, as the clerk doesn’t even bother to type it in.

“I told you,” he snaps, fixing you with a glare. You sense he thinks it reeks of authority. It doesn’t. “There’s no rental reservation. Spell the name all night long if you feel like it, but it isn’t going to change anything.”

Jake, in a smooth rush, is leaned in closer - serpentine and quick in his movement. Yet, calculated, careful, eerily calm in that unsettling way he adopts when irritation is trudging toward anger.

His warning comes quietly, but it bears a menacing aura all the same. “Speaking to her that way is ill advised, I can promise you that.”

Your hand finds his arm, stroking soothingly through the worn hopsack of the blazer he layered on, hours ago, before your flight. “Jake, it’s alright.”

Never aggressive just for show, and certainly never overtly so, when Jacob feels someone is crossing a line with you, he is quick to polish his armor - a knight sweeping in to save his damsel in distress.

He relaxes visibly beneath your touch and navigates back to civility with a deep breath.

“Alright…” he flicks a glance at the name tag that rests crookedly on the other man’s shirt “Tyler. So you don’t have the reservation - we need a car. You have cars. Simple. Why is this an issue?”

He’s tired, and cranky…a long day of travel has leeched the patience from his bones.

Tyler, likely used to overwhelmed travelers frequenting the airport kiosk, remains unimpressed. “I have one available vehicle. Luxury class. Reserved for our most discerning clients.”

Jake rolls his eyes, clearly teetering on the edge of asking this asshole if he’d like to taste the back of his hand. “As it happens, I am discerning. How lucky for us. We’ll take it.”

Papers are signed, keys are exchanged, and finally, you’re schlepping through the hall leading to Parking garage B7, as instructed.

“Luxury for discerning clients.” He scoffs, hefting his bag, and yours, over his shoulder, though you continue to insist you can share the load.

His battered guitar case swings against his legs as he stomps along, “What an asshole. S’probably some boat of a Lincoln or something…I’m gonna look like a pimp.”

The wide-brimmed hat cocked low over his shades will be most fitting, then, won’t it?

Laughing at his dramatics - not so different from his twin, after all - you watch the doors whoosh open to reveal a deserted sea of concrete. Deserted that is, save for one lone sports car waiting beneath a flickering light.

You both stop short. “Or a frat boy douchebag.”

“Frat boys can’t afford cars like that.” You correct, nudging him to get moving.

He picks up the pace dutifully, “So, just a douchebag, then?”

“Yes, yes, Jacob…you’re very refined and everybody knows it.” You tease, ever the soft heart for his antiquated flare. “If anyone sees you, we’ll just explain that your horse and buggy are in the shop.”

His eyes rove across the lines of the car as you approach. Slyly sweeping over the glossy, black curves, almost hidden below the mysterious shadow of his hat.

“I’ll drive.” He mutters as if it’s no big deal, startling your feet to a standstill.

Never, not once, in the entirety of all the time you’ve known him has he ever offered to drive. In fact, now that you’re exploring the subject, you don’t think you’ve ever even seen him so much as graze a finger over a steering wheel.

“Do you…” you pause to collect your jumbled thoughts. “Do you even have a driver’s license?”

It seems strange, all at once - that you’ve never wondered about this before.

“What?” He laughs, finally shaking off the annoyance he’s been wearing on his shoulders for a few too many hours.

You wait while he presses a button on the key fob, opening the trunk with a smooth hiss, asking “well, do you?” as he dumps the bags, and his Gibson, inside.

You’ve seen him present identification hundreds of times, but you can’t recall it ever being anything but his passport.

“Purse in the boot or up front with you, darling?” He asks with an exaggerated swagger and flourish.

“Stop avoiding the question, Jacob.” You sigh, folding your arms as he slings your purse over his shoulder, abandoning Oliver, and moving to open the passenger side door for you. “Do you or don’t you?”

He waits until you’ve settled and then bends at the waist, offering a forehead kiss, and a secret. “I don’t. You wanna break a few rules with me, hall monitor?”

You feel your eyes widen as if he’s just confessed to casual murder for sport.

But you tamp it down and take hold of some perspective, this isn’t murder. Still, you don’t like it.

“Jake, don’t drag me into your debauchery. If you want to endanger the lives of hundreds of unsuspecting motorists, you can do it alone.”

In response, he swings the door closed and jogs around the sloping, gleaming hood, slipping into the driver’s seat, gentle and sleek as a sleepy housecat.

“I never said I didn’t know how to drive, baby,” he tosses his hat in the back and shakes out his waves, “just that I failed to revisit the DMV when ‘the man’ said my time was up.”

“This is stupid.” You slide down in your seat, careful not to reveal how much you’re enjoying the supple leather coasting along the backs of your thighs where your shorts have ridden up.

The opulence is an undeniable high. One you wouldn’t have expected, but there all the same.

He grins to himself, face lit up, beautiful and bright, like a little boy in a toy store. “Debauchery,” his voice is smooth as whipping cream. Smoky. Lazy. Like he plays behind the wheel of a flashy Porsche every day. “Immoral behavior that involves sex, drugs, alcohol, etcetera.”

“What?” You’ve begun to relax already. He is skillfully maneuvering the vehicle through the twists and turns of the garage. Okay, so maybe he does know how to drive.

“Debauchery. That’s what it means. It isn’t this.” He waves a hand, absently calling attention to the car. “But don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours, my love. I’ll have you dragged down into the thick of it soon enough.”

Leaning back against the headrest, you decide to give into his whim and enjoy the ride. It’s lovely to be able to strip off the stress of the day and let him take over the department of transportation, for once.

As you study him, with the hum of the road and the purring engine serving as white noise, you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips.

“Jacob Kiszka,” you allow your grin to widen as it will, “I never would’ve guessed you’d be such a guy.”

He grabs for your hand, pleased that - as luck would have it - he has been blessed behind the wheel of an automatic…the absence of a gear shift leaves him open to holding onto you, and you are his favorite thing to hold.

“What are you on about?” Oliver pops in to say hello again, as is habit when Jake feels a bit too on the spot.

“Never once have you wanted to drive,” you remind him, lacing your fingers through his. “No matter how many times I tease you for being a passenger princess. Wave one fast car with a pretty paint job under your nose and you’re swimming in testosterone.”

A soft laugh is his only response as he coaxes out onto the freeway.

“You look good behind the wheel, baby. You know that?” Your free hand toys with a lock of his hair, smoothing it and twirling it around your pinky.

“I look good, always.” he sighs, feigning boredom as he weaves in and out of traffic to find his desired lane.

The further away from the hub of the city you drive, the more traffic begins to dissipate, until you seem to be adrift along some dystopian highway time has forgotten.

“How long?” You ask softly.

Staring out the window at the scenery whipping by sounds lulling, you might even fall asleep to it, but you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from him, and this calm, capable, skill set you never knew he possessed.

How like him to keep you on your toes, sharing bits and pieces of himself little by little. Doling out tiny Jacob Thomas shaped morsels only when he sees fit.

“Who cares how long?” He glances up at nothing in the rear view mirror. “This is nice.”

“It is.” You agree. Allowing the silence to wrap up warmly around you both again.

You watch him. And you watch him. And you watch him some more.

And you’d help it, if you could. Honest. The timing is most inappropriate. Not to mention, likely a little dangerous, but something about watching him command all that power beneath his hands has you weak. Submissive. Needy.

In moments of weakness in the dark, you’ve confessed that you feel the same watching him play. The way he makes love to his well worn and loved guitar. The way he coaxes sex soaked wails and whines from the strings, working his fingers faster and faster along the frets until the climax crashes apart, exploding into sound where there once was quiet.

The way he talks to her, the way he loves her. The way he knows her body just a little better than he knows yours, or even his own. It all makes you a bit jealous in the most decadent way. It makes you eager to showcase your worth as well, to sink to your knees in service to this god walking around amongst men.

He holds a brand new power and you want to slink into his lap and mewl like a kitten starved for attention. Instead, you settle for moving in closer, brushing a feathery kiss against his neck, nuzzling into the crook of it, unabashedly brazen with your want.

“Hello, my love.” His eyes never stray from the road, but his hand wanders your thigh, welcoming you. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m wet.” It’s a simple admission, but the way you hush it in his ear causes his cock to stir. It takes so little from you to pluck at his edges until he’s unraveling at the seams.

“Why’s that?” He adjusts in his seat, spreading his thighs just enough to make your head spin. “All I’m doing is driving a car. Is that all it takes?”

“Sometimes.” You sound pouty. It’s hardly there at all, but he hears it and he loves it. His spoiled rotten sweetheart.

“Well, I’m a little busy, love.” He slides his hand higher, silently wishing you had chosen a skirt today. “But you go on and be sweet to that pretty pink place I love so well. I miss your pussy, baby…it’s been such a long day. Miss the way you feel, the way you smell, the way you taste. I want you all over my face, fuck. Touch yourself.”

“Right here in the car?” You suck his earlobe into your mouth and the nibble over it as if he is an indulgent treat, because he is.

“Yeah.” He nods, grip tightening around the steering wheel, “Right here in the car.”

Maybe some other time you might toy with him a bit, dangle the string just out of his reach, but you’re further off track than he is at this point, so you shimmy out of your shorts and slide out of your sandals to rest your toes on the dash. Your knees fall apart as your fingers disappear into your panties with the tiniest moan when your fingers brush over your clit.

“Aren’t you such a good girl?” He pats at your thigh in praise, burying his grip into the soft, warm flesh there. Filthy, fucking dirty little thing, touching her pretty, wet cunt in a car we don’t even own just because I asked. So good, baby. Who’s my well behaved, darling girl?”

Sometimes you think his need to praise you rivals your own deep-rooted lust for receiving it.

“I’m your good girl.” You breathe, writhing slowly in your seat, drawing in the scent of sex and Italian leather, laced with the faintest hint of his cologne. It has faded with the hours, handing the spiced teakwood over to something a little more Jake…this is when you love it best.

“Then be my good girl and come over here. Come see me, sweetheart.” He extends an arm, casually inviting you in. You know what he wants, and you plan to give it to him.

For a moment, you're both illuminated in the golden glow of headlights traveling along across the median…he looks like the slickest snake masquerading as an angel. A serpent in the garden, ever tempting and cunning.

It’s all a front, as you well know. A role he plays when he wants to make you quake with desire. His heart is soft and kind, ever mindful of others, ever stuffed full of unending empathy and thoughtful love.

Unbuckling your seatbelt with a click that makes him frown, you slide over to the very edge and toy with the clasp of his belt, panting hot little puffs of breath against his flushed cheek, if only to stir him up further.

“You want that?” He lifts into your touch so you can feel how hard he is, all for you.

“Yeah,” tiny pecks of your lips chart his jawline. “Yeah, I want that.”

“Say it.” His fingers are in your hair now, curling into a loose fist near the nape of your neck, pushing you down. “Say you want my cock. Say where you want it.”

You’re hurrying now, tenderly fumbling with the buckle, hungry and desperate for it. “I want your cock, Jake. Want it in my mouth…in my throat.”

“Fuck…” it growls out of him strangled and tangled up with hot, salacious, greed. “C’mon, baby.”

You long to preen with pride; he wants it so badly, so suddenly - but there are more pressing matters at hand.

Both hands on the wheel now, he watches as you sink down around him, swallowing him so deeply, and with no real warm up, that you gag, sucking him down further anyway as you retch and sputter around his length, throat both fighting the intrusion and pining for more of it.

“Slow down.” His warning grits out through his teeth. He didn’t want to say it at all, slow is the last thing he wants. He wants to float off into it, stare focused and sure on the road, thoughts lost in the way you sound fighting around his cock, sucking and lapping over him, dying for just a little more, just another taste….

You shake your head adamantly, sending your soft, wet tongue slicking back and forth just along the base, nearly nudging at his balls as they tighten up for you. Every reaction his body hands over is all for you. Always for you.

“Fuck, baby,” his right hand drops to pet at your glossy hair as he fucks up into your kiss. “Gonna make me cum in that pretty little mouth. Feels so fuckin’ good. You want it?”

Nodding urgently, you bury your nose into the soft path of hair that trails below his belly button, choking until your throat is squeezed around him, strangling the thick head of his throbbing cock.

He’s twitching against your lips now, straining and pulsing, fucking throbbing. Obscene and depraved. Perfect.

“M’close, baby,” he’s murmuring raspy, stuttering, pleas as his grip tightens until your scalp stings blissfully. “Keep going, just like that, so close…baby, baby, baby, fuck…”

He’s whining and babbling, broken curses and hissing encouragement that barely makes sense. You couldn’t love it more.

Hollowing your cheeks, you suck hard on the updrawn and then relax your throat, plunging him straight to the back of it in one harsh go with a guttural sound that makes his thighs jerk.

You feel the slight hitch in the gas as he loses his footing on the pedal, and soothe him with a palm swept under his shirt until you can feel his heart hammering against your palm.

He regains focus - you can feel it - and then whispers a soft, “Thank you, sweet girl.” Grateful that your wits have prevailed when his own were waning.

You linger at the base, licking at what you can with his heavy weight cradled in your tongues embrace. He flexes violently, and you brace for it, gluttonous for the warmth of his release, and with a groan and gasp of your name, he doesn’t disappoint.

“Gonna cum, baby,” oh, he sounds so pretty. Trotting out the tiny whimpers that are saved for when he’s really lost in it. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, dontstopdontstopdontstop, fuck fuck fuck—“

Your taste buds dance with him, alive with the delicacy that is Jacob. So warm and perfect, covering your tongue, rolling down your throat, until you can feel him inside you, really inside you, in the way you love most.

He’s a mess above you, but you carry on until he is whining with overstimulation and begging you to stop, lightly pulling you away until you can just barely lap over his glistening tip as he softens against his splayed open pants.

You know he’s thinking of all the ways he plans to return the favor when he can properly get his hands on you, but as he catches his breath beside you and steals glances at you tucking his beautiful cock away, you feel completely, totally, blissfully, satisfied.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @gretasmokerising @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @sunfl0wer-power @sad1lynn @demolitiondann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake @hugorobinson

#greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #fanfic #greta van fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet smut #greta van smut #gvf fic #jake gvf #josh kiszka #gvf smut #gvf fanfiction #gvf one shot #gvf jake #jake kiszka #jake kiska fic #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka fanfiction

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Tear You Apart Prequel✨

Series Masterlist

A/N: The prequel is finally here! It came to me out of nowhere today while I was listening to “Wait” by Knuckle Puck on a loop. Now that, my friends, is the power of music. I love this little series so much, and it’s one of my favorite things I’ve ever written! I love getting into the pit of Joel’s grief and showing that underneath all the hardness is just a soft man that wants someone to understand him 🥹 He deserves all the love.

Pairing: Outbreak! Joel x fem! reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only MDNI)

Word Count: 2.3k

Chapter Summary: This is where it all began, the first time you ever met Joel. He’s mean, rough around the edges, but you see through him. You feel his grief as much as you feel your own.

Chapter Tags: Outbreak au, Joel captures reader, dark! Joel, tender moments, grief, angst, tension, Joel needs a big hug

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

 The sharp rope scratches at your skin as you try to free your bondaged wrists from behind your back. You rock against the wooden chair and grit your teeth together as you bite back the urge to scream. It’d be no use. You’re under his watch, under his control, under his eyes. Those dark black pits that are filled with nothing but regret that devours his eyes, feeds on his soul like a pit of ash and nightmares. A monster that devours anything he can control, anything he can get his calloused fingers on. 

   He wants control, he thinks he has it, but that’s not the case. Not exactly. Because control is a weakness. He’s just a man that’s ruined from a dark world who has nothing left but his own misery to spread to anyone he can claw his jagged nails into. He wants others to feel exactly how he feels. Grief can do that, can change a man into a blood sucking monster. And that’s exactly what he is, the worst kind of them. Vengeful, disconnected, full of regret, used. Just like you are. 

   You watch him stalk around you, circling you like a vulture as he glides his calloused fingers over your skin. You see the way he moves. Slow, concentrated, shoulders hunched as the green flannel clings to his broad chest. Dangerous, dark, unkind. That’s all he shows, all he knows. 

   “Let me go,” you demand as you scrape your skin against the rough bindings and hiss when you feel blood against your wrists. 

   He clicks his tongue and ends right in front of you as he picks up a piece of your hair. “I don’t think so,” he chuckles darkly as he continues circling slowly. “You gonna tell me what you were doin’ outside my house in the middle of the night? Tryin’ to steal somethin’ from me, hmm?” 

   “No, I wasn’t stealing anything…”

   “Liar!” His voice is blaring, echoing through the tiny basement that’s dark and filled with cold cement walls. Only a little light shines in the center of the room. Just enough to see the scowl that’s stretched across his angry face. 

   “I’m not lying, if you’d only just listen to me!” You fight back, your face burning fiery red as you try to pull free of your bindings again, but it’s no use. You’re stuck.  

   “I don’t listen to filthy little liars, sweetheart. Should’ve never come around these parts of the woods. It’ll only get you hurt,” he grins as dark eyes fill the dim room. 

   He slowly slides his fingers down your arm like a sly snake as you feel the bristles of callouses catch against your glistening skin. His skin is warm, burning into yours as you feel the fingerprints imprint into your forearm. He kneels down in between your legs as he rests one hand on your thigh, slowly opening the other as he settles between your legs. And then he looks up at you. That same unattached stare that belongs to the skin of a lone wolf. 

   “So, jus’ what am I gonna do with you, hmm?” he asks as he glides his fingers over your dark denim jeans. “Maybe paint the inside of your thighs white? Maybe sit you on my lap and have a little fun with you? Maybe…”

   You shut him up as you inhale and spit into his face as a glob of your saliva lands in one of his eyes. You see him flare his nostrils as he wipes the spit off with his flannel sleeve and starts chuckling under his breath. “Oh, I like a little fight in a girl. Kinda turns me on more.”

   Before you can react, he shoots up and grabs the back of your hair as he pulls hard and forces your eyes up. You grimace in pain as he pulls tighter. You look anywhere but at his eyes, so you just stare at his worn leather boots. 

   “Look at me,” he demands with gritted teeth as you feel his hot breath blow against the side of your neck. You turn your face and shake your head as you refuse to follow his strict orders. 

   He pulls tighter against your hair as you cringe and feel a cold teardrop lick at the corner of your eye. You can’t give in, can’t give in to him. You hear him growl loudly as he pulls and snarls a harsh order at you, “LOOK AT ME.”

   You feel the tear run down your cheek as you carefully move your eyes to look at him, your eyebrows knit together in frustration as you stare coldly at the man that holds you captive. His nostrils flare, dark eyes burning into yours as you take a real good look at him for the very first time. 

   He’s so run down looking, tired, just like the broken watch that sits clasped around his left wrist. The hard lines paint maps across his wrinkled forehead, an old scar sits burning across the top of his right eye, his salt-and-pepper scruff is rugged looking as some of his thick, tousled strands of hair fall down into his dark eyes. His green flannel is worn, just like his dust covered boots weighing him down to the ground. And his eyes. There’s sadness, remorse, regret lying in those chocolate eyes. Eyes that beg for someone to take him out of his misery. Eyes that plead for goodness but are weighed down by the hardness of the sick world. Eyes that beg someone to feel everything he does. Eyes that scream for help. 

   He keeps a tight hold of you, fingers still locked around your hair as he pins you in place, the weight of his body sinking against yours as you feel the roughness of his beard slide against the side of your cheek. Before you know what you’re doing, you speak. “It’s all about control with you, isn’t it? You want someone to control because you can’t control what’s going on around you in this apocalyptic world. You want someone to blame, someone to use to take your own misery out on. Is that right?” 

   His dark pupils expand as he snarls against your face, his fingers gripping harder as your head snaps up and pain radiates through your skull. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ ‘bout, sweetheart. Better watch your mouth,” he growls as pain shoots down your neck.

   You see the glisten of the broken glass on his watch, wonder why he wears a broken watch in the first place. It hits you like a hurricane crashing against a weak structure, spiraling your insides as if you feel his pain radiate down your body. He lost something dear to him, went through waves of pain you can only imagine. Just like you lost everything in your life. 

   He grabs another handful of hair until you shout into his weathered face. “I know what it’s like to lose something! You’ve lost someone, haven’t you?”

   His snarl lessens as his narrowed eyes relax, his grip on you growing lighter as he breathes in steady breathes. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he bites back as you see pain as clear as day in his distant eyes. The dark flecks floating around like pieces of the past as loss is etched in shades of dark brown throughout his irises.

   “That’s why you do this, isn’t it? You need the control, need to feel something other than the loss you carry. Need someone to fasten yourself to as you let the pain slip from your fingers so you can pour it out to strangers so they can feel that bit of pain you carry every single day.”

   His eyes widen, his breath hitching as the weight of your words crashes over him. A realization taking form as his jaw ticks and his thick fingers run down to the edge of your hair. There’s no more pulling, just the mere brush of his fingertips against your thick hair. 

   “You want to do something to me? Fine, do your worst. But at the end of the day, it’s you that chooses to be a monster. You are the one in control.”

   His eyes grow large as his breathing goes shallow. He drops the grip on your hair and stands abruptly as he paces the floor while raking a large hand through his scruff. He looks conflicted, torn up, ruined as he paces and paces the cement floor. 

   His body stills as he turns and looks at you, his eyes full of regret and sadness as the glint of tears wash over his deep brown eyes. He flexes his hand into a tight fist and clenches his jaw as he huffs out frustrated and grabs a sharp knife from the corner of the room. You freeze up until you realize he’s cutting your bindings free as the tattered rope falls to the floor. 

   “Go on. Get out of here. Leave,” he growls as he nods his head toward the rusty stairs and gives your shoulder a slight push.

   “But I…”

   “LEAVE!”

   You stumble over to the staircase and start to move, but after the first rusty creak of the stair you can’t help but to look back at the man that burns with pain. You see him pacing back and forth slowly, his face is so tormented. You almost feel bad for him. Almost. 

   You cautiously step back off the stairs and slowly walk over to him as you shakily reach out a hand. You see his tense shoulders, his lowered head as he holds his hands over his face. That’s when you feel it. The sheer grief that plagues him night after night. You feel it burning deep in your soul as you stare at his weathered features. He’s so lost, scared. 

   You ever so slowly lift a hand and place it softly over the back of his shoulder, holding your breath as you’re sure he’ll knock you down to the floor. He turns sharply your way, and that’s when you see the glisten of tears in his eyes, a shade of dark blue that covers his entire being. Wrecked. He’s so wrecked. 

   “I see you. You’re not as alone as you think you are,” you whisper as you let your hand linger timidly on his broad shoulder for just a few more seconds. He stares at it, conflicted features running over his worn face and then slowly turns toward you, eyes the color of chestnut brown. He flinches when you finally drop your hand to your side and step back out of his reach. 

   His lip quivers, jaw clenching as tight as a fist as he stares at you with big chocolate eyes that glisten with held back tears. You know this pain, the unbearable agony of losing someone so close as they slip through your fingers and never return to the light of day. You know he’s hurting. You know.

   You think of running your fingers over his patchy scruff but quickly talk yourself out of it, afraid he might snap at you again. One more look at dark eyes and you’re backing up, turning back to the staircase as you start to tread up heavy steps. 

   You hear him take a step toward you, hear his leather boots scuff against the hard ground as you look down and see the man with burning eyes. He looks like he wants to say something, looks like he might ask you to stay, but he stays silent. So you go, flee up the stairs, back to a semblance of peace.

   Before you turn the old brass doorknob, you look back and find him looking in awe at you, his breathing ragged and his mouth parted open with bloodshot eyes. Eyes that beg you to stay. 

   “You know, you’re not really the monster you think you are.” His jaw goes slack, his arms heavy at his sides as he stares wide-eyed at you. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even flinch, he just stares. Weepy eyes that cry out for just one soul to listen. You hear him though. You hear him.

   You grip your raw, torn up wrists and feel the pain simmer down to your bones. This is the pain he must feel, too. The pain you might just understand. Maybe that’s why you almost stay, almost turn and reach for him again like you could take his pain away. But you don’t. At least not this time.

   Before you overstay your welcome, you turn the cold doorknob and push past the opening as you flee the house that holds pain and regret. You slip your way outside and disappear into the thick trees, leaving just enough traces of footsteps for him to find you again. 

   This wasn’t the end. No. This was the very beginning, a beautiful cycle that’d keep spinning, a whirlwind of you and Joel. The moment everything changed. He claimed you from the beginning, the very minute he let you out of those ropes. It wasn’t over. 

   He’d find you again, hunt you down till he got his hands on you again. A little lamb that would feed the hungry wolf. A lone wolf that needed to feel again. And you were it. The undoing to his starving form. For he was just a man who longed to rid himself of all the suffering and pain he experienced day after day. You were exactly what he needed. It was you. So he’d follow you through the trees, track you down till he could taste nothing but you. You were the little lamb he desired, craved. And god, did he need you. He needed you…

Tagging some of you that read part 1 🩷 @janaispunk @amyispxnk @mountainsandmayhem @littlevenicebitch69 @lotusbxtch @keylimebeag @untamedheart81 @bbyanarchist @bishtrouille @vividispunk @vivian-pascal @survivingandenduring @wannab-urs @pedrostories @docharleythegeekqueen @rav3n-pascal22 @my-favorite-reading @silk-spun @fanfictilltheend @tuquoquebrute @beardedjoel @msjarvis @syd-djarin

If you liked this, consider reblogging or sending me an ask 💕

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #dark!joel x reader #jackson!joel #outbreak!joel #post outbreak joel #tear you apart #joel miller au #joel miller the last of us #joel x female reader #joel x f!reader #tlou fanfiction #joel miller pedro pascal #joel angst #joel miller smut

[argisthebulwark]

Remind Me I Am Your One & Only

summary: How I think various skryim men would react to feeling jealous. gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. feat: Brynjolf, Cicero, Vilkas, Farkas, Miraak, Balimund, Erandur warnings: none

For Brynjolf, jealousy is unexpected. He’s secure in your relationship and your feelings for each other but isn't prepared to see you undercover. Watching you snag a pocket watch off some unsuspecting noble hardly distracts him from the flirtatious tone dripping from your lips. He can't exactly voice how he feels without blowing your cover. Instead, he decides two can play that game. Brynjolf knows you’re watching when his touch lingers just a tad too long on a Thane’s bejeweled necklace, smug satisfaction smothering the burning pit of jealousy in his stomach. “Don’t worry your pretty head, love. I don’t mind as long as I’m the only one you’re leavin’ with tonight.” 

Cicero’s jealousy is stealthy. Most wouldn’t notice the way his smile devolves to a sneer or the narrowing of his eyes. He holds back the barrage of threats dancing along the tip of his tongue, concealing the bloodlust simmering just under his skin. He trusts his Listener. He does not trust this stranger who dared to put an all too familiar hand on them.  “Silly, funny Listener. Cicero is your fool! Devoted Cicero, your loyal Keeper will take care of those who cross your boundary.” 

Vilkas will get frighteningly quiet. He’s tense, eyes darkening and brows tightening as he glares down at whoever dared to speak to you in such a way. His presence at your side is near constant, always your shadow. He assumed everyone in Whiterun knew the Harbinger owned his heart. Luckily, the intensity of his stare is enough to shoo off your pursuer.  “Of course I wasn’t glaring - why would you think such a thing? If I wanted to scare them off I would’ve drawn my sword. I’m not jealous, that’s childish.” 

Farkas isn’t one for jealousy. He knows you only have eyes for one another. Watching someone attempt to flirt with you is fairly entertaining, knowing that you must be biting your tongue in anticipation for the killing blow. He can’t be blamed if he flexes just a tad when you point him out or drops a few more terms of endearment into the following conversation.  “I thought everyone learned what a Band of Matrimony meant in our primary lessons. A shame, remind me to do something sickeningly romantic when we next visit the market.”

Miraak’s jealousy is deafening. Despite escaping Apocrypha and returning to a mortal body he’s maintained the stature of a god. Strategically placed, possessive hands and a voice rich with ancient power make no qualms with broadcasting his place as your beloved.  “Mere mortal, do you not realize who stands before you? You deign to speak to them in such a familiar tone? Tsk, if I were the Dragonborn you would not remain standing. Pity.” 

Balimind is not a man that is jealous often. He knows his feelings and yours, he is quite comfortable in your relationship. Even when you’re out on the road and he’s dutifully working away at his forge you remember to send letters. Whether you’re keeping him up to date on your latest conquest or expressing how lonely you are it’s reassuring. On the rare occasion he’s alone, dining in the tavern and some idle chatter about you reaches his ears, he’ll have no trouble reminding them whose arms you fall into upon returning.  “C’mon now, folks. I know they’re easy on the eyes but it’s my tub they’re wrecking with all those dragon guts. Best watch your words.” 

Erandur’s jealousy would be turned inward. He can only see the ways in which whoever shows interest in you compares to him - they’re younger, their pasts surely less sordid. It will surely take him some time and the occasional word of encouragement to feel confident in his place as your partner.  “I assure you, my love. All is well. No need to worry over me. I am simply astonished by you. As always.” 

#skyrim #skyrim fanfic #skyrim x reader #x reader fanfic #writing #brynjolf #cicero #vilkas #farkas #miraak #balimund #erandur

[jewishvitya]

I posted this with my art but I'm putting it on its own.

Things I imagine in YOI pre-canon. These are personal headcanons and interpretations.

With Viktor, I imagine his family being high achieving, and Viktor having a lot of expectations on him. And he matches then successfully. But this means his parents think he's doing well, even in moments where emotionally he isn't. They look at achievements rather than looking at him. It's not intentional neglect, they just don't have the awareness of mental wellbeing. He has a bed and food and he's doing well in school and skating, so everything must be okay. It's fine when he's fine, it's lonely when he's not. And it's the first environment that teaches him to match himself to what's expected and wanted of him, fulfilling a role rather than just being.

When he's older, he quietly creates distance. Not cutting them off, but not reaching out. They don't mind. They follow news, and they can show off his success.

When he's young, Viktor loves having fans and being known and admired. Af first he doesn't see downsides to it. And then something happens, as simple as "did you see him throwing the flower at Christophe Giacometti? He was flirting, how cute" - and Viktor realizes his fans will draw their own conclusions and won't believe him if he tries to say they're wrong.

So he starts adjusting his approach. Building a persona, and building walls. Charming smiles that get him anything he wants. Practicing the skill of giving people what they expect. Being what they expect. And then flipping it on its head and surprising them.

If you're focusing on matching and subverting expectations, you're not necessarily being yourself. Any personal exploration of identity is hidden and alone. But on the ice, when he's performing, he can be honest. He can be seen. Because they're going to take it as fake. Think of how Minako reacted to Stammi Vicino - Viktor's earnest plea for someone to stay by his side, well, he's too charming for this to tug at the heartstrings. So he can play with stories that he won't share with anyone any other way, and he knows they'll take it as pretend.

The walls he builds don't allow him to be truly close to people. He has good relationships with other skaters, but emotionally keeps them at arm's length. He doesn't notice he's isolating. Chris and he have fun joke-flirting, but when Viktor steps away from the ice Chris doesn't seem to realize he needs this, isn't close enough to know what he's struggling with. He talks like Viktor is taking away the motivation he's entitled to by choosing to coach Yuuri. His rinkmates see him on good and bad days so they know when he struggles, and Yakov is the only person close to knowing him deeply, but even he doesn't take it seriously when Viktor burns out, so that is still limited.

For Yuri, I think his mother was going through a lot to let his grandfather take care of him. He has a lot of responsibility in that setting, and it all starts when he's so young.

I think, with Viktor being present in his life consistently from such a young age, Viktor is one of the people he sees as family. He absolutely looks up to him, just like he absolutely looks up to Yuuri. And I think he resents the emotional distance Viktor maintains.

He's not very attentive to people in general, but he's the one that explains to us how Viktor feels early in the show. When Viktor left to Japan so suddenly, I think Yura felt abandoned beyond just Viktor forgetting to choreograph a program for him. If it was just the program - he did end up getting Agape, he could have just asked for that, but he tried to get Viktor to go back. I feel like he hates that Viktor went to look for a way to get his spark back somewhere else, instead of staying and finding a way out of his slump with his rinkmates. If what Viktor needs is to coach someone, why isn't Yuri good enough? He's a talented skater and he sees himself as continuing Viktor's legacy, but Viktor chose someone else for that role.

And Viktor did choose Yuuri to continue his legacy. Because Yuuri skates so beautifully, because Yuuri has so much love for Viktor's skating, because Yuuri has drive and ambition and pride and skill and he finds joy in skating, and Viktor wants to nurture all of that into the performance Yuuri deserves to show.

And along the way, he learns how to connect with people as himself. His relationships with Yuuri and Yuuri's family open doors for him to better and deeper relationships with Yuri and Chris and anyone else he wants to be close to.

About Yuuri, there's very little I can say because we know so much. So I'll just share a lighthearted headcanon a few friends and I came up with as a story idea and I just adopted.

I don't share the fanon that Phichit got him into pole dancing. In my mind, he either started himself, or it was Chris - unintentionally. I think they're friends, because of how Yuuri reacted to him in the show, like he's used to him. And I like to think Chris kept saying things that made Yuuri feel competitive. Talking about how it's great for core strength, "but it's probably not your thing." Sent pictures of himself performing difficult moves, and got pictures back because Yuuri was trying to match him or do more difficult things than him. And meanwhile Chris thinks they're showing off to each other for fun. It's how Chris knew Yuuri can keep up with him at the banquet.

#riki babbles #yoi #yoi thoughts

[modern-vellichor]

i told you so.

-summary; you're one of them. -warnings; violence, injury, angst, fluff, explicit language, suggestive ending, -a/n; when i tell you that this is the most self indulgent fic i have ever written. i will read this to myself. this is for me.

masterlist // send a request

break his legs.

"Okay," you whispered.

You could feel Sekhmet hovering over your shoulder, her breath scorching your skin. Your knees cracked when you stood up to scramble onto the street.

kill him

"I'm not killing him," you say.

he deserves it.

"Fine," you sigh, pulling your knife from your pocket.

Your ankh was being pressed against your chest, tucked safely under your shirt. You jumped from your perch onto the cobblestone. Marc watched from a distance, his own Khonshu whispering to him. They watched as you crept up behind the man, a molester, and kick his knees out. He collapsed with a scream. You clamped your hand down over his mouth and whispered something Marc couldn't hear.

she's a menace.

"i know," Marc grunted.

You hit him in the head, his unconscious body falling to the floor. Marc watched as you worked quickly, strategically. You were following orders. Marc didn't know that. He winced when your blade was plunged into your victim's chest. The man didn't move. You brushed yourself off when you stood again. Marc set out for you.

Sekhmet smiled proudly at your handiwork. You were useful. You always followed her orders. And you were fast, intelligent. A little bit useless, romantically, Sekhmet thought. She liked you. She wanted the best for you. And apparently her company wasn't enough.

the job is done. go.

"wait," you held your hand out. "do you smell that?"

it is time to go. leave, now.

"its incense," you ignored her orders. "someone's here."

you turned around to flee only to be stopped. You smashed into the broad chest of a hooded figure. You looked up only to be met with burning bright eyes staring down at you.

run.

you tried to. you began to turn away when a gloved hand snaked around your throat and squeezed. Sekhmet's voice was gone. You scratched at the man's hand desperately. You kicked and squirmed but he wouldn't let go. In one final bid, you pulled your ankh out from under your shirt and pulled it towards him.

drop her.

Marc dropped you. You crumpled to the floor, a gasping heap. You scrambled away from the figure, panting. You felt Sekhmet appear behind you.

"look who decided to show up," you muttered to her. "talk about divine intervention."

quiet.

She turned to Marc, and even though he was staring at you, he moved out of her way. You opened your mouth to say something but Sekhmet interrupted your thought. You half listened to her as you watched Marc half argue with himself.

he is useful.

"Yeah."

he needs us. we must keep him.

"uh huh."

he is handsome, no?

"ye- Wait, no."

why not?

"You're not Bastet , yeah? Stick to violence. I don't think passion is your strong suit."

You zoned out while Sekhmet went on a rant about you disrespecting her. Over the years, she had come to appreciate your... odd sense of humour, your witty banter. She'd miss you if she let you get killed. You shut your eyes and the gods were gone. Marc was standing in front of you when you opened your eyes again.

He didn't say anything. He examined your expression for a few seconds before turning away. He called out for you to follow as he walked. You did. Sekhmets words echoed through your head. You hadn't thought about a partner in years, not since you became her avatar. You never even tried to bring someone home, you knew she would disapprove. You had stopped feeling lonely a long time ago. Sekhmets company had become enough for you. Sometimes you found yourself missing the silence.

While you followed Marc, you could hear him talking to himself. You didn't bring it up. You didn't know Marc. You didn't know if you wanted to. He prowled through the streets, gaze anxious and darting down roads and back alleys. You followed him wordlessly. He knew the area well. You followed him out of familiarity and into inner city London, a place you avoided. You followed him through a back alley, down a road and up the stairs into a lavishly large apartment, especially for the city. Books were piled high, and everywhere. There was a fish tank bubbling quietly by the wall.

It had started lashing rain on the walk to the apartment. You were too busy taking in your surroundings to notice Marc slip away. You stood in the middle of his living room, dripping rain water onto the hardwood floor. You didn't even realise he had returned until his hand was gripping your shoulder and he was offering you a hoodie and some sweatpants.

"Warm and dry, yeah?" he urged.

You nodded. He pointed to the bathroom and you wandered off. As you struggled out of your clothes, Sekhmet started whispering to you again.

I like this one. good sense of self preservation. he is an avatar.

"i know," you sighed. "he nearly killed me."

yes, because he cares. he is a good one.

"please, babe," you muttered. "i don't think this is a good idea."

trust me. i am the goddess of-

"healing and medicine, i know," you winced as you pulled the hoodie over your head.

let me help you. he can heal your heart.

"Thats the cheesiest fuckin' thing I've ever heard," you left the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

You sat next to Marc, who had since told you his name. You both stares aimlessly at the tv, the history channel droning on. In the corner of his eye, Marc could see you falling asleep. Khonshu was whispering to him, wary of the other avatar in the room.

i like her.

"I thought she was a menace?"

i changed my mind.

"of course you did."

she will not interfere with my mission. unlike the idiot.

Marc sighed. He didn't respond. He just watched as your head dropped and you fell asleep. When you woke, you had been moved. In a moment of primal fear and panic, you scrambled out of bed and in search of a weapon. You couldn't hear Sekhmet and you were in unfamiliar territory. You heard heavy footsteps approaching and in your haste, you reached for an ornate vase next to the bed. The door swung open and you launched the vase. It narrowly missed the man's head, he dived for you. You grappled for a but until he managed to pin your arms to your sides. He was pressed against your back, his head buried in the crook of your neck. He was whispering to you, soothing you, calming you.

"It's me, it's just me. It's Marc, calm down. You're safe, I've got you"

You listened, and you were soothed. You relaxed in his grip, so much so you almost melted. Your hands held tenderly onto his forearms. If a passerby were to look in, they would see a happy couple that were very much in love.

kiss him.

you shook your head gently, grateful to hear Sekhmet's voice again, but growing tired of her romantic advice.

I like her. Keep her around.

Marc sensed an almost affectionate tone in Khonshu's voice. He nodded gently. Marc slowly guided you back towards the bed. He still doesn't know what came over him in that moment, but he lay you back down, took one look at your fragile looking figure, and crawled into bed behind you. He snaked a hand around your waist, and one arm pushed it's way under your head. He leaned over and pressed a gentle, nervous kiss onto your shoulder, and then one on your neck, and then he ventured up onto your jaw. And as his hand slid down towards the waistband of your trousers, you heard a voice ring out.

I told you so.

#marc spector x y/n #marc spector angst #marc spector x you #marc spector x reader #marc spector fanfic #marc spector smut #marc spector #marc spector fluff #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector fic #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight x reader #moon knight imagine #moon knight #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fluff

[dellalyra]

Family Formation - Part Ten

Summary: The school’s exchange event endangers your family, but it’s okay, mom and dad are here to help.

CW: swearing, fluff, found family stuff, canon typical violence, I guess some angst ? megumi needs his mom rn

A/N: so!! It seems like nothings showing up in tags!!! If anyone can help pls do i am dumb and confused!! But ! Here is part 10 I have absolutely no impulse control and now you get 2 parts in one night bc adhd. I like this part nd pls don’t forget that requests are open and I love getting them!! Also! Just send shit idc I’m lonely man

Recommended Listening:

In The Woods Somewhere - Hozier

Masterlist

Nothing felt right.

You couldn’t sit still in your chair beside your husband.

There was a twisting in your gut. Akio, now 6 months old, was safe and sound with your parents – Grade One sorcerers and your home were hidden by your husband – so you knew Akio was safe.

But call it mother’s instinct – one of your kids was in danger.

You tried to pay attention to the exchange event, watching the fights but the feeling grew and grew and was soon confirmed when all the student’s lights burned red.

You sprung up from your chair and vaguely heard Mei Mei and Yaga speaking – you gripped Satoru’s arm and soon you, him and Utahime along with Gakuganji were running toward a descending curtain. Gojo reached out only to be violently rejected by the curtain, you frowned in confusion but realised a second too late as you too, were blasted backwards.

You looked at Satoru.

“An anti-Gojo veil, I just don’t think it specified which one.” He said, as you realised this was meant to keep you both out as Utahime managed to slide her arm through the veil.

Panic seized your stomach. Megumi. He was in there, he was in danger. Nobara, Yuuji. What about Maki and Toge, Panda too? All the Kyoto kids? You needed to get in. That anger panic soon turned to anger as you realised someone intentionally made this veil to keep you and Satoru from the kids.

“Utahime, gramps, you two go ahead. Protect the kids. I can break this down, but only with Y/N’s intellect.” He waves a hand at them, he may be calm but you can sense his frustration.

Utahime looks at you.

“Hime, please, get me, my kids.” She only nods and they disappear through the curtain.

“Okay, Satoru. What do you see?” You ask. You and your husband work together like a well-oiled machine by now – techniques working in perfect unison after so long of working together and the intimacy of marriage.

“Veil, the cursed spirit made, specifically meant to keep us both out. 2km radius.” He recites, knowing what you need.

“Okay, I’ll create a diversion – then red?” You don’t even realise it by now but you working on sheer instinct and muscle memory. Trying to clear the emotions swirling through your gut right now is taking everything you have.

“It’s a deal, sweet cheeks.” He replies. God, where would you be without this man beside you?

You activate one of your techniques, one of the more durable and as teenage Gojo when training said ‘damn annoying’ ones, Fae Conjuration, and shape an ancestral spirit’s cursed energy into a gigantic elephant.

“I love your flair for drama, princess,” Gojo says, kissing your hand.

“Go big or go home, right.” You reply, which makes him laugh.

As you send the elephant charging into the barrier, just as it hits and bursts into thousands of small blue petals, Satoru sends a bright red burst of energy into the curtain and you see it shrink back into itself.

You both immediately begin running toward the smoke and dust emanating from where you know the river lies. You pray to whoever might be listening that your kids are safe and that you weren’t, once again, too late.

“Y/N, get them out of the way,” Satoru says from behind you, before branching off behind you. You knew what he meant immediately.

Not far away, a series of flashes come and you see, your Yuuji, sweet, kind, loving Yuuji – has hit the curse with four consecutive black flashes. Pride swells in your chest and a giggle at how Kento will react. Next comes several confusing images which you recognise as Todo switching everyone’s places and before you know it the curse has greatly increased their cursed energy output. Yuuji comes running to Todo and just as the energy reaches its peak, you slid into the riverbed in front of the boys, using your cursed claws as anchors and shouting.

“Cursed technique: Wall of Thorns” comes tumbling from your voice, raw and powerful and the magnitude of energy pulsing from your technique quells the curses own but also wraps it up in piercing tendrils of impossibly thick, strong vines.

You look at the curse, a spirit imbued by nature – a being similar to yourself. You smile sadly at it.

“The Dryad. The monk warned me of you.” The curse speaks in a shockingly gentle voice.

“Hanami. I’m sorry it came to this. Return to the earth, and be at peace.” You say as you’ve spotted a shape lingering in the sky.

You turn as fast as you can, as you spot a figure in the sky and grabbing Todo and Yuuji by the arms you shout again.

“Cursed technique: comments flora.” And with that, you and the boys are standing, by a camellia bush about 100ft away.

“Why have we run? Y/N-Sensei?! Todo?! It’s not dead!” Yuuji shouts and leaves to run but Aoi grabs his arm.

“Hold it, brother!” Todo says.

“Do not go closer, Yuuji. Satoru has it from here.” You say.

“Don’t take another step closer, or you’ll get caught in it.” Todo and you push Yuuji behind you both and just in time as a rumble comes through the ground and you’re all soon swathed in a deep purple light.

You giggle a little, Satoru has had a chance to play a little rough today, he’s probably in heaven.

“Ha, he’s as nonstandard as ever,” Todo says.

As the light clears and you release Yuuji from your grip, you look at them both.

“Where is Megumi? I can feel his cursed energy. Is he safe, is he hurt?” You say, patting them both down and spinning them to assess injuries.

“He’s been taken to Shoko Sensei, he was injured, along with Maki. Panda has escorted them to safety.” Todo informs you as you squeeze the (much taller than you) Itadori into your chest.

“Well, maybe I should have Aoi here as your Sensei if he managed to get a black flash from you.” Coke from behind you, as your husband floats down to stand beside you all. Yuuji immediately starts spouting at him about how cool the ‘purple neon flashy thingy’ was and how he’s ‘so OP Sensei’ and Aoi claps and agrees and admires his panache.

“Satoru – Satoru! Megumi! He’s hurt, Shoko has him.” He whips around and grabs your arm and the next thing you know you’re warping into Shoko’s office and you realise the last time you did that your waters had broken and Akio was on his way. But now, it’s your other son, and it’s fear – not joyous apprehension you’re feeling. Satoru is stock still and stiff beside you. You know you’re both worrying you didn’t get to him in time. Your darling boy.

But much to your relief, sitting up with a scowl in front of you is the spikey-haired boy – seemingly unscathed, with Maki opposite him.

You dive into him, wrapping him in your arms.

“Shoko! Ieiri Shoko! Come here now! SHOKO!” You’re shouting through the room and Megumi is hushing you Satoru is pulling at every limb on Megumi checking for damage and Maki is laughing her ass off at the look on her cousin’s face.

“Jesus, Y/N chill the fuck out, your kids fine. He got a nasty gash in his stomach but it’ll heal fine, was more of a cursed technique issue than a health one. 2 weeks bed rest and some painkillers and he’ll be all good.” Shoko says, wiping her hands on her doctors coat and rolling her eyes at you. A flash of a memory of you and Gojo fussing like this over an injured Geto back in the day with her only learning to heal passes through her mind as she witnesses the scene.

She’s soon knocked back by you tossing your arms around her neck and kissing her hair.

“Thank you, I chose the best best friend ever, thank you I love you.” You finally let her go and then begin to fuss over Maki and Megumi together. Telling them that you’re taking both of them and whoever else needs recovery time to you and Gojo’s house and you’ll take care of them.

Shoko raises an eyebrow at Gojo, wondering how he’ll react to this decision.

“What my princess wants, I’ll give her. And if it’s time to look after her kids, then that’s nothing I’ll object to.” He shrugs, grabbing a candy from her desk.

Shoko leaves to check on Inumaki and Noritoshi Kamo and Maki is given permission to leave back to her dorm, with an open invite to the Gojo Cottage to recuperate if she wants.

You sit beside Megumi, with Gojo sprawling his ridiculously long limbs over the legs of the chair he’s on, playing candy crush with one eye and observing you two with the other.

“You okay, ‘gumi?” You say.

“I’m good, don’t worry Mom.” He says, awkwardly patting the top of your hand.

“You did really good today kid, saved a lot of people. Proud of you.” Gojo says, beaming. “You really take after your old man, and by that I mean me, in your levels of extraordinary talent.”

Megumi rolls his eyes and you just laugh at the two boys. You text your mom that Satoru will be home to take Akio to bed tonight, but you’ll both be staying the night in the chairs beside your eldest before you can take him home to rest tomorrow. She replies, after crying for 10 minutes over him being hurt asking if ‘her darling Megumi needs his Nana’ and he blushes and says it’s okay he’ll see her when he’s home. She tells you she loves you, tells Gojo she loves him, and tells Megumi she loves him the mostest and then you hang up. All of you drifting off, you and Gojo curled together on the armchair beside your kid’s bed.

You guys would be okay.

TAGLIST: @vesta-ro @lilithlunas @mialexandruh @sassy-cat-in-town @madam-ri @cjm-cookiethief

Requests open <3

#recommended #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #anime #gojo smut #dad!gojo #pixie writes: family formations #jujutsu kaisen megumi #jujutsu kaisen yuuji

[honeybeefae]

Finding Home (Lucien Vanserra x Reader)

Summary// Lucien had always felt like he was a wandering soul, never having a true place to call home. It was hard to deal with, to see others belonging and happy while he tried to find something to cling to that gave him the same feeling. It wasn’t until Starfall, when you gifted him something truly special, that he finally found out where he belonged. 

(Poor little Lucien needs all the love in the world and I thought he was perfect for this prompt. I hope you enjoy!:))

Prompt: Character A gifts Character B something heartfelt.

WARNINGS: None

Lucien sat with everyone at Rita’s as they passed drinks around, conversation flowing easily between them. Well, all except him. He was at the very edge of the table, fiddling with his glass of amber liquid while looking towards the door every few seconds. 

He didn’t even understand why he went to these things. Feyre always invited him but he constantly felt like he was intruding on them. No one really talked to him besides maybe once or twice, too engrossed with their friends and mates to notice that he was still there. 

And while he liked to think of himself above the need to have friends, deep down he was lonely. Tamlin was lost, his brothers were monsters, Feyre was busy with her own life, and he didn’t connect with any of the others besides acquaintances. 

It was the same day in and day out, leaving him wondering if he truly belonged nowhere, until you joined their group. You were a friend of Nesta’s that ran a local bookshop in Velaris, your cheerful demeanor making it easy for you to fall in with the rest of them. He had expected to simply exchange pleasantries with him and move on but for whatever reason, you latched onto him.

“Hey guys, sorry I’m late! Took forever to close up shop.” You apologized as you walked in the door, breaking him from his thoughts as several people greeted you warmly. “Have I missed anything?”

“Not much, Cassian and Rhys are seeing who can outdrink each other while Nesta is already showing both of them up. I think Azriel and Elain are out dancing?” Feyre shrugged, handing you a spare drink. “Other than that it’s been a pretty tame night.”

“For once.” You wink at her, looking over and finding Lucien sitting by himself. He perks up when you drag a chair over beside him, clinking your glasses together with a smile.

“And how is my favorite fox doing?” You chirped, taking a sip and enjoying the warm burn the alcohol gave you.

Lucien rolled his eye, his body immediately relaxing in your presence. “Better now that I’ve got someone interesting to talk to.” He replied, noting the way your cheeks slightly pinkened. 

“It’s not my fault you refuse to play nice with any of the others. Perhaps if you stopped brooding away in a corner, people might actually approach you.” You teased with a wink, looking around the bar casually. “Hells, you’d be surprised at the people you can pick up from this place.”

“Oh, you know something about that, do you? And here I thought you were a spinster content with books and cats.”

You stuck your tongue at his jest, hitting his arm playfully. “I know more than you think I do, thank you very much.”

There was a tension that was now swirling between the two of you, the conversation taking on a much more suggestive tone that was about to cross a line of no return. He stared at you, trying to not let his imagination run wild right in front of you before you awkwardly cleared your throat and looked away.

“So, are you looking forward to Starfall?” You changed the subject quickly, taking another sip.

“Uh, I guess?” Lucien responded hesitantly, rubbing the back of his neck and looking out the window at the night sky. “Not so much for the party.”

“Oh, that’s the best part! The music, the food, the atmosphere, it’s enchanting. I haven’t met anyone that didn’t enjoy it.”

“It’s just not for me. I don’t fit in with the rest of them that enjoy it.”

Your mouth twisted into a frown at his words, a look of pity in your eyes. He saw it and scoffed, looking at you sternly and saying, “Don’t give me that look, Y/N. I don’t need your pity.”

“It wasn’t pity, Lucien, I just hate that you feel that way. You know it’s not true.” You said earnestly, placing your hand over his in a moment of tenderness. “I think you just need-”

“I don’t need anything, Y/N. I’m perfectly happy as I am.” He snapped, looking away when you flinched at his tone. “Sure, after Jurian and Vassa became a thing and I got kicked out, I was once again by myself, but apparently that’s just how the Mother wants me to be. I can deal with that, I don’t need sympathy.”

His words were harsh and he didn’t mean half of them, he just had a hard time whenever someone felt sorry for him like he was some sort of lost child. It hurt his pride and it reminded him that despite his protests, that’s exactly what he was. No home to return to, no family to miss him, and some nights he would just yearn for someone out there to care about him.

It made him feel pathetic, to want something like that.

You weren’t entirely buying his macho act. Anyone that had been through what he had been through would feel at least some pain from it. And although you hadn’t known Lucien as long as the rest of your friends, you knew he struggled with it.

However, you didn’t want to push him anymore tonight, raising your hands in surrender before finishing the rest of your drink. He watched you carefully, feeling guilt gnaw at him from the way he had attacked you for simply being concerned. 

“I’m sorry.” You apologized, standing up to go join the rest of your friends who were now dancing. “I didn’t mean to overstep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He wanted to hit himself over the head when you walked away, feeling like the world's biggest asshole. This was the reason he didn’t have anybody in his life, this was the reason people didn’t stay with him long. It wasn’t the cauldron cursing him, it was his own damn self. 

The music was loud as he gathered his things and left the club, looking back just long enough to catch you chatting up a man at the bar before forcing himself to leave to go back to his apartment. He was already dreading tomorrow.

Starfall, House of Wind

It was crowded and loud, full of people he didn’t know as he lounged against a balcony rail. The sky was already dark as well as the rest of the city, everyone gathered around as they impatiently waited for the souls to rain across the sky.

You hadn’t shown up yet, not that he should be looking for you after what he said to you. Feyre and Rhys had given him a cordial welcome, as well as Cassian, but other than that he was by himself. As the minutes ticked by he started to contemplate just going home and watching it from his window.

That was until he felt a warm hand slide down his arm, making him turn in surprise. You were leaning beside him, one of your arms tucked behind your back and a coy smile on your lips.

“Being a wallflower again, Lucien?” You teased, goosebumps rising on your arms from the chilly air. “It took me a while to find you.”

“Y/N, I didn’t think you would show up.” He breathed, standing up to fully face you. “I wanted to apologize for last night, what I said was harsh and-”

“Hush, I don’t want to hear you grovel to me. You’ll ruin Starfall.” You said sternly, moving your arm from behind your back to reveal what you were hiding. It was a small yellow box, with a ribbon tied delicately on top. It fit in the palm of your hand and Lucien was very confused.

“Who is that for?” He questioned, glancing around to see if anyone else was exchanging gifts. “Is it someone’s birthday?”

You huffed in frustration, grabbing his hand and prying it open before laying the box in it. “It’s for you. Honestly, how you are an emissary is beyond me.” The jab made him smirk, his fingers holding the box as if it were made of glass.

“You got me a gift?”

“It’s a Starfall gift. Some people give gifts to their loved ones, some don’t, it’s a personal preference.” You shrug, anxiously looking between him and the box. “Open it!’

Lucien stared at it, processing what you had just said. Loved ones. Was that what he was to you? Or was he reading too much into it? Would it be awkward to ask you that now? He suddenly felt like a schoolboy again, afraid to talk to the pretty girl in front of him. 

He gave you one last cautious glance before slowly undoing the bow on top, tucking it into his coat pocket before softly opening the box. 

It was a small key, made of light bronze with an intricate design on the top. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, trying to figure out what it was too. You bit down on your lip, hoping the dots would connect, but when he just stood there staring you groaned loudly.

“It’s a key to my house, Lucien.” You explain, grinning from ear to ear when his mouth dropped open. “I thought it would be nice for you to have somewhere to go to if you didn’t want to go back to the apartment.”

The silence was deafening and suddenly you were worried you had just completely screwed up your relationship. He was just standing there, staring at the key, and as the seconds ticked by your anxiety grew.

“If it’s too weird or you don’t like it you can tell me, it won’t hurt my feelings you.” You said softly, wrapping your arms around yourself as he continued to be speechless. “It’s a stupid gift, here I can take it-”

Suddenly you found yourself being crushed into his chest, his arms wrapping around tightly in a hug that immediately made you relax. Lucien’s heart was overflowing with different emotions, his mind trying to sort through it all as he held you as close as possible.

You had given him a key to your home, your life practically, inviting him to share it with you. Even though he had pushed you away and put up that barrier, you had seen right through him. You had just given him a home.

Lucien pulled back and looked down into your eyes, tilting your chin up so that you could see just how happy he was with your gift. “Y/N, you have no idea how much this means.”

A blush crept onto your face as you smiled bashfully. “I just wanted you to know that no matter what, you had a home to go back to. Everyone needs that.”

People around you gasped and you turned to look out into the sky, cheering when the first few souls raced across the sky. It was just as beautiful as you remember, your entire body leaning forward as the souls grew and grew until the entire sky was lit up. 

The music started up shortly after that, people dancing and glasses clinking as the celebration began. You didn’t notice how Lucien was staring at you, watching as you stared in amazement into the sky.

“I mean, how can you not think this is heavenly?” You sigh, resting your chin on your hand as you looked at him. “This is why I love Starfall.” 

He looked out towards the black, inky night and took it all in. The souls, the music, your gift, you, it was like he was in a dream. Lucien bent down beside you, taking your same position, and nudged your shoulder with his as he said, “I think I’m starting to love it too.”

#starfall #starfall week #lucien vanserra x reader #lucien x reader #lucien #lucien vanserra #lucien x reader acotar #lucien vanserra x reader acotar #acotar reader #acotar fic #lucien fic acotar #lucien fic #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #fluff