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tongue-like-a-razor · 4 months

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Less Talk | Part IX

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

A/N: It's been a minute, y'all! I've missed my Less Talk crew! Second last chapter, here we go!

Summary: Jake can't stand Bradley's best friend. What's more, he's probably in love with her, which really pisses him off.

CW: Swearing, smut, angst, fluff, you might dislike me when this is over

Masterlist | Part I

“Jake!” you call as you run after him out of the restaurant. “Jake, wait!”

But Jake doesn’t stop. He can’t.

The moment Mustang utters the words ‘we’re engaged’, he goes numb. Bradley says something that he can’t quite hear or doesn��t want to comprehend. The crowd starts cheering and closing in. And he sees your eyes, wide with alarm as you try to keep him in your line of sight despite the moving bodies between you.

And then he’s gone. Shoving his way through the well-wishers as he makes for the door. But he’s only halfway to his truck when he hears your voice. And as he pulls aggressively on the handle, he perceives your approaching footsteps; you’re running.

He lets out an aggravated sigh and turns to look at you without a word. You jog toward him, stopping just short of his bumper, and then you move forward slowly, as though you’re afraid he might bolt.

“It’s not true,” you blurt out, your words slurring into one another because you’re trying to get them out so quickly.

Jake gawks at you, not know what to believe anymore.

“I promise you,” you say. “It’s over.”

Jake furrows his brows, staring at you incredulously. “I don’t think he knows that.”

You let out a shaky breath and sink your teeth into your bottom lip to keep it from trembling. “He will.”

Jake watches you with contempt. “So, he doesn’t yet.”

Your eyes sparkle in the afternoon sun but you blink away the tears, conveniently averting your gaze. Jake sets his jaw; he isn’t falling for the innocent act.

“I can’t help you,” he says levelly. “Because I don’t know what’s going on.” He bangs a fist on the hood of his truck and then takes a step toward you. “Because you won’t tell me anything!”

You nod, catching a couple of tears with the tip of your index finger. You don’t let any of them fall and you manage to compose yourself before your emotions get out of hand. “I don’t need your help,” you whisper, looking at the dirt caked into the treads of his tire rather than up at his face.

“Fine,” he replies. Although it’s not fine. Nothing is fine. He, certainly, is not fine. “Then I don’t need to be here.”

“Fine.” You shrug, obstinately avoiding eye contact.

Your apathetic tone irks Jake, but he’s not about to let you witness just how much you affect him. He tucks his hands into the pockets of his jeans before balling them up into fists. There’s only one piece of information he absolutely needs to know. The rest can probably wait. “Are you gonna marry him?” he asks, a little more forcefully than he anticipates.

You meet his gaze finally – guiltily – but don’t respond.

Jake says nothing more. He opens the door to his truck and gets in, and you don’t stop him. He turns over the engine and waits for you to step out of the way before he backs out swiftly and floors it out of the lot.

…

The sound of your voice jolts him awake. He sits up straight in his bed, listening intently, wondering if he’d dreamt it. But then your laughter carries up to the second floor. Jake closes his eyes. You must be in the kitchen with Bradley.

Jake hasn’t seen you in two weeks; hasn’t wanted to. Seeing you has only ever caused him pain. Even before he realized he liked you, your presence had always seemed to shift him out of orbit. Your stupid quips and endless debates, the judgmental look in your eye whenever Jake tried to stand his ground. It got worse when it finally occurred to him that he enjoyed that sort of abuse.

Jake runs his hands over his face, trying to tune you out. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss the arguments. You’re the only person who’s ever really put him in his place. And how he’s loved putting you in yours.

Jake gets out of bed with a sigh, pausing at the closed door of his bedroom to listen. It isn’t eavesdropping if he’s not actually interested in the topic of conversation; all he wants is to hear your voice.

“I swear I will never drink drip coffee again,” you announce with conviction.

Jake holds back a laugh, leaning his head into the doorframe.

“It’s basically sewer water by comparison,” you continue.

Jake snorts.

“Have another croissant,” you urge.

“You brought enough to feed a squadron,” he hears Bradley retort. “I’m not eating them all.”

You go quiet for a moment, saying something Jake can’t quite make out. He pushes off the frame and shuffles into the bathroom. He’s still pissed, and no amount of baked goods will convince him to go downstairs. He’s not ready for that. And, if all goes to plan, he’ll just slowly get over you and never have to see you again.

Once he’s out of the shower, Jake towel dries his hair and then quickly pats down his body. He listens for signs of conversation, but the house is quiet now. You and Bradley must have left.

“Bradshaw?” he calls, just in case.

No answer.

He heads down to start a pot of coffee before getting dressed but, when he enters the kitchen, you are the first thing he sees. You look up from where you're sitting at his table and yelp – because he’s butt naked – leaping out of your seat and covering your eyes with your hands, promptly turning away.

“What the fuck, Seresin!” you scream.

Jake jumps behind the counter. “What?” he shouts. “What the fuck, yourself! What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see you!” you screech. “But, like, not so much of you!”

Jake cringes, still in shock from the encounter. He grabs a throw blanket off the couch and wraps it around his waist. “Why didn’t you answer when I called down?” he yells, his temples pounding as if his head is housing a goddamn woodpecker.

“You called for Bradley!”

Jake shakes his head. “Are you kidding me?”

“Why are you running around naked?” you squeal, still turned away and holding your hands over your eyes.

“I thought I was home alone! You don’t walk around naked in your own home?” Jake cries in outrage. He’s not about to let you win this fight.

“Uh, sometimes, I guess,” you admit.

Jake, who’s about to retort to whatever argument you make, falls silent. He stares at your back, trying very hard not to picture what that particular scenario might look like. He gulps. “Well, alright, then,” he says. He steps away from the counter, the blanket securely tied at his hips, and walks around tentatively. “You can look now,” he says wearily.

Hesitantly, you turn to face him, although you avoid looking directly at him. “You’re still not wearing a shirt,” you say pointedly, keeping a hand up to block the view.

Jake grimaces. “Is it too exhilarating for you, princess?” he bites back.

You drop your hand and finally look at him – albeit with a scowl. You narrow your eyes irritably. “Get over yourself.”

Jake shrugs. “You can always return the favor,” he suggests, gesturing at your baby tee that’s hugging your curves just right.

You roll your eyes and make your way toward the counter, purposefully walking around the table – which is the longer route – to avoid getting too close to Jake. He watches you levelly. “Why did you want to see me?” he asks sourly.

You glance up at him, still frowning, and push a bakery box across the counter toward him. “I brought you breakfast.”

Jake doesn’t smile; one breakfast two weeks down the road isn’t going to magically repair the damage you’ve done. “Why?”

You gulp. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Jake lets out an irritable sigh and drops his gaze. “I’ve got nothing to say to you,” he responds moodily.

You reach further down the counter and drag a paper cup into view. “I got you a coffee, too,” you add, as though this might tip the scales in your favor. “Americano.”

Jake, who is dying for some caffeine, responds with, “I’m not thirsty.”

You exhale sharply. “Don’t be a baby.”

He fixes you with a scathing look. “Don’t be a nuisance.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Am I bothering you?”

Jake scoffs. “Well, for starters, you’re still here.” He walks over to the refrigerator and takes out a carton of eggs. “You hungry?” he asks grumpily.

You turn to face him as he sets a bowl down on the counter and starts cracking eggs. He’s right next to you now so he can see you seething out of the corner of his eye.

“I brought you breakfast!” you cry in outrage.

Jake starts to whisk the eggs without looking at you. “I don’t want that, I want this.” He glances over at you at this point and adds spitefully, “We all have to make difficult choices from time to time.”

“For fuck’s sake, Jake!” you exclaim, pulling the bowl out from under his nose. Half-beaten egg splashes onto the counter.

Jake tosses his whisk into the sink and takes a step away from the counter. He releases a quick breath and sets his jaw; but he still can’t look at you. “What is your problem?” he says in a low voice, keeping his eyes on a random chip in the paint of one of his kitchen cupboards.

“What’s my problem?” you screech.

He can tell that you’re getting worked up and it’s taking all his energy to keep his cool. He clenches his teeth and rolls his shoulders, trying to relax the tension in his muscles.

“You’re so mad at me that you won’t even drink my coffee?” you yell, the bowl of raw egg still in your hands.

Jake stares harder at the paint chip because he’s on the verge of completely flying off the handle. But he could only devote so much of his attention to negligible bullshit until he finally breaks. Agitatedly, he meets your gaze and bellows, “I’M SO MAD AT YOU, I CAN’T EVEN LOOK AT YOU!”

Your mouth falls open at his words and you blink at him in shock. After a moment, you look away, silently replacing the bowl on the counter. You’re chewing on your lip as you do this, your gaze lingering on the bowl even after you’ve released it from your grasp, like you’re reluctant to let it go.

Jake briefly closes his eyes. You’re not facing him, so you don’t witness the fleeting display of regret that steals over his features. He doesn’t want to hurt you in a way that makes you go quiet. He wants you to react – loudly, obnoxiously, passionately. He wants you to yell back. Because that’s how he knows you’re okay.

“I’ll go,” you say, tucking your hands into the back pockets of your shorts. You glance up at him, meeting his gaze with a resigned sort of look.

He nods. As much as he might've missed this kind of heated warfare, the lingering hostility is not in anyone’s best interest. “There’s an idea,” he says sarcastically, still keeping a safe distance away from where you’re standing by the counter.

Your mouth falls agape again. “Excuse me?”

He doesn’t want you to go. He doesn’t want you to go. But, if you do, he wants you to leave angry; not sad. So, he provokes you. “And take your crazy with you,” he says, gesturing toward the front door with his entire arm.

You let out an indignant scoff that turns into a sort of cry. “What did you call me?” you shriek, stepping up to him aggressively.

Jake glances down at you, squaring his jaw to keep from smirking. “What’s the politically correct word for completely unhinged?”

Your eyes go wide and, for a split second, he thinks you might actually hit him. But you’re not one for physical violence; you can strike below the belt with your words. “As if you give a damn about offending an already stigmatized group of people,” you retort.

Jake narrows his eyes. “At least I give a damn about the people I actually know.”

You let out a derisive laugh. “Oh yeah? So much so that you’re practically shoving me out the door?” you yell.

Jake rolls his eyes. “No one’s kicking you out,” he says gruffly, walking past you back to the counter. “Just stop taking my eggs away and we’re gravy.”

You fold your arms grumpily and stand there in his kitchen, fuming.

He looks over his shoulder at you. “What?” he says.

“You don’t like croissants?” you ask crossly, as if he’s gravely insulted you by opting for scrambled eggs.

Jake sighs. He reaches for the box of pastries on his counter and throws open the lid. He grabs a croissant irritably and brings it to his mouth, taking a large bite. “Happy?” he asks, chewing.

You watch him impassively. “You’re ridiculous,” you say.

“You’re ridiculous!” he yells. “You’re pissed because I won’t eat your damn food?”

Your eyes suddenly well up with tears. “I’m pissed because – because” – you suck in your cheeks defiantly, as if you’re not prepared to elaborate.

Jake swallows uncomfortably; he doesn’t like the idea of being responsible for making you cry.

You shake your head and sniffle. “I’m not mad!” you shout. “I came here to make up with you!”

Jake tosses the croissant onto the counter and it lands in the spilt yolk from earlier. He ignores this and steps toward you. “Why?” he yells back.

“Why what?” you scream as he approaches.

“Why make up with me?” he presses.

You stare at him angrily. “What do you mean? We were friends!”

Jake shrugs. “We weren’t close.”

You scoff. “You’re a fucking liar.”

“I don’t want to be your friend,” Jake says levelly, then he adds, raising the volume of his voice as if the conversation could stand to get any louder. “I never wanted to be your friend!” You go quiet for a moment, your tears subsiding as you take in his words. But he doesn’t give you a chance to mull them over. “You’re a fucking nightmare!” he continues emphatically, taking another step.

You lift your face as he draws nearer, glaring at him unblinkingly. You don’t back away; you stay put, even as he towers over you.

Jake grimaces in a way that conveys disgruntlement and despair in equal measure. He lets out an uneven sigh, his eyes skimming over your face. “You’re a pain in the ass,” he says, much quieter now, as he meets your gaze.

You stay perfectly still, as if his immense frame looming over your body is completely insignificant compared to your ruthless glower. In all fairness, you’re probably right. “I hate you,” you whisper.

Jake nods with a slight smirk. “Likewise.”

The thrill of riling you scorches his veins, but he’ll be damned if anger is the only thing he can make you feel. He wants you so desperately, he can hardly think straight.

You’re scowling at him but all he can see is the fire in your eyes, fierce and unrelenting, daring him to make another move. Jake is game – enthusiastically, to boot. He’s mad, sure. But, truth be told, you could be engaged to fifty men – none of them him – and he’d still want to fuck you. Hell, this only makes things easier; no fucking strings, just fucking sex.

He slides an arm behind your waist and pulls you forward abruptly. You gasp as if you weren’t expecting it. But with the way you’ve been staring him down, there is no way you didn’t see this coming.

He waits a moment, anyway, allowing you the opportunity to give him a smack for being overly presumptuous. But the animosity on your face has already been replaced with a kind of cautious curiosity. You’re very still, staring up at him sympathetically, because you know – you know – what he wants. Because you want it too.

Jake lifts his free hand up to the side of your neck, sliding it up through your hair to cup the back of your head and gently pull you forward. This is exactly the kind of situation he was meaning to avoid. But the warning bells are fleeting, and his lips are on top of yours before he can stop himself.

You push into him slightly – almost imperceptibly, except he perceives it – and instantly this kiss becomes the single most thrilling experience of his life. He moves in, absorbing your body in a rushed, impatient embrace, and you mold against him, closer than you’ve ever been before.

He can feel the soft fabric of your shirt rubbing against his skin but all that he truly registers is how your tits are compressing into his chest. He kisses you harder, stifling an entire anthology of dirty words that suddenly materializes on the tip of his tongue. There aren’t enough terms in the English language to fully express the way he craves to handle every inch of you, anyway.

You withdraw, at this point, to breathlessly exclaim, “You think you’re not a pain in the ass?”

Jake pulls you back with a mild roll of the eyes. “Shut up,” he mutters, kissing the corner of your mouth as you scoff in outrage.

“Don’t tell me to shut up!” you retort between the pecks he layers over your lips.

Jake grins against your mouth. “Shut up,” he repeats, dragging you backward as he steers you toward the staircase.

You let out a muffled – but distinctly indignant – cry. “Make me!” you exclaim as he stoops to wrap his hands around your thighs and lift you off the ground.

“I’m fucking trying,” he replies, closing his mouth around yours once he's picked you up.

Strategically speaking, making out while carrying someone up a flight of stairs is efficient. In practice, however, it’s a complicated task. Several times, Jake veers into one of the railings or nearly trips over his own feet. By the time he’s reached the second floor, his legs are tangled in the blanket he had wrapped around his torso, and the blanket itself is on the verge of unravelling. But Jake ignores the obstacles and resolutely marches you right into his bedroom.

He throws you unceremoniously onto the bed and retightens the blanket around his hips as though he means to keep it on. He looks down, pausing for a second to watch you catch your breath. Not because he thinks you might unexpectedly have a change of heart, but because he wants to savor the moment. He takes your legs and unhurriedly pulls you closer to where he stands. “You’re awful quiet,” he notes with a smirk, his fingers winding up the sides of your thighs.

You gulp with a relatively stoic expression for someone who’s about to be railed. “You told me to shut up,” you deadpan.

Jake raises his eyebrows. “You listened?”

You bite into your lips, nodding slowly, and Jake’s heart damn near somersaults right out of his body. For once, you want to give up the reins.

He reaches up underneath the fringed hem of your shorts, grabbing your ass and tugging you forward. “What, no instructions?” he says, his hands lingering on your butt cheeks because he’s waited oh so long to squeeze that flesh. The way your eyes half-close tells him you don’t necessarily mind.

“You need instructions?” you say in a breathy but still detectably mocking tone.

Jake chuckles. “Whether or not I need them isn’t likely to stop you.”

“I can do a post hoc analysis,” you say as one of his hands finally moves upward, bunching your shirt at your ribs to expose your stomach.

Jake grins at your words. “Hot.” So much for dirty talk. Apparently, the plan is to have sarcastic sex.

Your lips spread into a wry smile, and you reach up to the blanket tied around his waist to pull him on top of you. “Stop talking, Seresin,” you whisper.

“Hey, that’s my line,” he says, bracing himself on his forearm at the side of your head. He stares into your eyes, wondering if he could really go through with it. How much does he really need to understand the complexities of your situation with Mustang? Isn’t it enough that you’re clearly hot for Jake? Isn’t it enough to just fuck and forget that you’re technically taken?

You’re watching him back, probably wondering the exact same thing. Isn’t it enough?

The truth is, every single moment spent in your presence is enough for Jake. And he was a fool to think that he could ever stay away.

He glides his hand up your abdomen, feeling your breath hitch underneath his fingertips every time he lets them linger for a moment atop your skin. Does Mustang know that you like it slow? That you want to feel the rush of anticipation? Jake is willing to bet that Mustang only goes one speed.

Jake traces the curve of your ribs, his exploration leading him eventually to the swell of your breasts. Your bare breasts. How he hadn’t noticed that you’d been braless downstairs bemuses him. He must’ve been too preoccupied with his own wardrobe to thoroughly examine yours.

His hand seizes for a moment as he gets used to the idea of touching you. Of feeling your chest flare into the palm of his hand every time you take a breath. Then, he wraps his fingers around your ribcage, his thumb grazing the side of your tit as he moves you upward on the bed.

“You comfortable?” he asks after repositioning you.

You nod, your eyes still locked on his like you’re trying to see right through to his soul. When his thumb sweeps underneath your breast, you let out a whimper that disturbs the air between your mouth and his. And there’s a dizzying note of desperation in your voice that paralyzes Jake.

He drops his head into the crook of your neck, wondering how long before he’s completely lost himself in you. Wondering if that ship’s sailed. Wondering if Mustang has ever felt like he’s drowning and soaring all at once. If he’s ever been this gone. If you’ve ever moaned like that for him.

“Fuck,” he mutters against your skin, realizing that he’s lost the upper hand. That he’s going to need a moment to recuperate. That there’s a debilitating weakness in his limbs that’s an extension of his weakness for you, and he can hardly hold himself up any longer.

He breathes heavily into your neck, his lips catching on your collarbone as his fingers skim across your nipple. You let out a breathy whine that vibrates his very core. You like being teased. Figures.

Jake drives his pelvis into your side, seeking a split second of relief. The blanket around his torso is a mess of twisted, sticky fabric that’s now pressing into your bare skin, hopefully arousing you. You move your leg up and down, stroking him through the fleece with your thigh, and Jake groans, spreading his fingers over your tit and finally giving it a squeeze.

You release a soft moan and Jake brings his lips to your other nipple, grazing his teeth over the thin cotton of your shirt. It’s not that he can’t be bothered to remove your clothes, rather, he very well might not survive the spectacle. So, he sucks on your nipple right through the fabric while continuing to massage your other breast, pressing himself closer and closer.

This is all that he could ask for, really. You, in his bed, at long last talked out. And yet, he can’t help himself; conversing with you has become second nature and, without even thinking, he mutters, “This doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

You let out a laugh that morphs into a soft cry as Jake pinches your nipple.

“Wouldn’t want you getting the wrong idea,” he continues, smirking against your neck.

Your chuckle pleases him. “Maybe if I weren’t such a pain in the ass.”

Jake squeezes his eyes shut, cringing slightly as he nuzzles his head under your chin. “Maybe,” he agrees, dragging your t-shirt upward. He lifts his head and meets your gaze as you raise your arms, letting him remove it. “Maybe if you didn’t hate me,” he adds, somewhat hoarsely because you’re half naked now and he’s understandably distracted.

You bring your arms back down and slide your hands unhurriedly up his chest, linking your fingers behind his neck. “And you me,” you remind him gently.

Jake lets himself take you in for a moment, his eyes slipping southward before he looks back at you with a smirk. “At least the feeling’s mutual,” he says, slowly lowering himself until his lips meet yours.

You open your mouth, bathing Jake in your hot breath as you kiss him, and he reciprocates the gesture eagerly. Urgently. His hand is suddenly gripping your leg, sliding up the inside of your thigh. You’re moaning before he’s even reached the summit, tearing viciously at his lips with your teeth. Your fingers are twisting into his hair as you pull yourself into him, breathless and impatient.

Jake unbuttons your shorts with a couple of fingers and is hastily pushing them over your hips as your breathy gasps warm his ear. “What is it, princess?” he whispers, suddenly slowing his pace. He kicks your shorts off your ankles and places his hand on your inner thigh where he gently strokes your tender skin. He grins wickedly. “What can I do for you?”

“Jake!” you whimper desperately, shimmying yourself down to meet his hand.

Jake obliges, sliding his fingers up between your legs. He’s not about to make you beg for it when he can barely keep it together himself. Another time, maybe. Assuming there will be one. He’d like to hear you ask for it. Tell him exactly what you want, sparing no detail. He wants you to talk dirty to him. Talk, talk, talk.

But instead of talking, you reach out and grab him by the waist. You blink up at him silently and maneuver his hips until he’s right over top of you. Then, without taking your eyes off his face, you unravel the blanket that’s somehow still wrapped around him and shove it aside.

Jake has never in his life made love. He’s fucked, sure. He’s had plenty relations. And this time is no different. Except, he’s feeling something pure amidst the lewd temptation driving his corpus. It’s a buoyancy that’s both nauseating and distressingly pleasant and it radiates outward from his chest, nearly overriding his ever-present desire to make – fuck you silly.

And then, as Jake slides slowly inside you, you cling frantically to his neck and utter a shaky, monosyllabic nonword that is the epitome of less talk.

And Jake is suddenly making love.

…

“Y/N came earlier today,” Bradley says to Jake that evening, casually popping open a can of beer.

Jake lifts his eyes and looks over at his friend with a straight face. “She did,” he confirms.

“Oh.” Bradley nods. “She caught you, then.”

Jake stares at him mutely before turning away and clicking the kettle on the counter. “You could say that.”

Bradley nods, taking a gulp of beer. “She told you, then?”

Jake freezes with his hand on his mug. The only thing he seems to recall you saying is not something you would have also said to your best friend. “Told me what?” he says, slowly turning to face Bradley.

The latter furrows his brows. “Did you guys talk?”

Jake watches Bradley curiously. “Tons,” he responds. “You know how she never shuts up.”

Bradley narrows his eyes suspiciously. “You did see her, right?”

“I did,” Jake says confidently because he, indeed, saw you. All of you.

“Weird,” Bradley says. “She said she was hanging back so she could tell you too.”

“Tell me what, Bradshaw?” Jake asks impatiently, forgetting about the boiling kettle as he walks toward the table with an empty mug in his hand.

Bradley sets down his beer and leans back in his chair uneasily. “That she’s leaving.”

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thatsdemko · 1 year

Text

match point - c.leclerc

masterlist

requested: n

parings: Charles leclerc x gasly!fem!reader

warnings: nsfw + not intended for minors + mentions of nudity + mentions of oral (f receiving)

a/n: it needed to be done.. feedback is always appreciated xx

《 the following content is not intended for minors. 》

“you don’t even like tennis.”

he’s right, you don’t. but there’s something about the Monegasque man that you’ve been seeing, walk out his bedroom in a cream colored suit and matching drawstring pants, with a white button up that just makes you want to scream.

so yes, you’re fighting your disliking for the sport of tennis by wearing a loose midi sundress that hugs your curves and chest in the right places, it’s payback in some way. because when you walked out your room he nearly fell out of his chair, he couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

“excuse me,” he makes an excuse to touch your leg, his finger tips brushing your bare skin as he pretends to adjust the knots of his tennis shoes. you roll your eyes under your sunglasses turning back to the match.

he’s situated between your brother, Pierre, and you with kika on the other end. the four of you watch the game, but there’s two of you that aren’t that interested in the rally back and forth. his hand keeps making dangerous placements on your leg, you’re sure your brother will catch one of them soon enough, but right now he’s engulfed in explaining the match to his girlfriend.

“did you have to do this to me?” he leans closer to your seat, he can see that you’re fighting to look away, but your eyes keep darting back between him and the match in front of you.

“I could say the same to you.” you whisper resting your hand on arm of the seat, his fingers give yours a squeeze, the metal that dresses his fingers are burning against your palms. you’d rather have that hand somewhere much more dangerous.

he scoffs moving his mouth closer to your ear so it’s just you that hears him, now that your brother is back to paying attention, “you’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

before you can get a word in he’s turning to Pierre, he wants to switch seats, says there’s a glare from the sun that’s reflecting off his suit and the two men switch leaving you to sit with your brother and kika to sit with Charles.

“what’s his problem?”

“I wish I knew.”

—

your seats have been upgraded, you’re now sitting next to kika right behind Charles. every so often he turns to tell your brother some gossip he knows about the tennis players, he knows how to reel you in, if you’re anything like Pierre, in which you are, you’ll tune in to any gossip.

“yeah I heard he some girl told him he just wasn’t big enough.”

“that’s disgusting, Charles.” you scoff shaking your head trying to turn back to the game, but you catch those green eyes staring at you. his sunglasses are tipped down the edge of his nose.

“cherie, I’m not talking to you.” he sasses before flipping back around instantly switching his language to Italian with joris. the two men laugh at whatever it was he said, you curse yourself for not taking the time to learn the language.

“does he hate you or what?” kika whispers, she’s seen the whole thing go down. the way he stared at you when you came out of your bedroom, the brief hand touching, etc. she’s seen it all go down and she knows something is up, but you won’t admit it here. not with Pierre around.

“I don’t even know what I did.” you say it loud enough for him to hear you. you know he wants to turn around, tell you what it is you’re doing to him and make you pay the punishment. it’s too bad this is too public of a place.

“must be a misunderstanding? I’m sure Pierre can get him to apologize.”

—

he does apologize, but it’s in private with a kiss. he says his behavior was uncalled for and he shouldn’t have snapped.

“I forgive you, but you don’t need to make me look like a fool in front of my brother and your family.” you lightly smack his arm, and he nods getting up off his bed where you lay still in your sundress.

“I think the sun burnt me good.” you say checking the tan lines of the spaghetti straps from your dress. you stand correct when you see the redness versus the pale thin lines.

“want me to take care of it?” he says with a playful smirk that only sends you laughing, butterflies warm his stomach watching your head tilt back. he could’ve sworn if you asked him years ago if he’d ever date you, it would be a hard no. now here you are all grown messing with his feelings in that sundress.

“I want you to take care of me,” you say motioning for him to move closer to the bed, he does so with no hesitation. you move your dress up your thigh revealing that all day you’ve sat with nothing on underneath, “such a shame you never got a taste.”

he’s sputtering to find words, his face flushes red in nervousness and slight embarrassment, he’s so kicking himself for his behavior to you publicly, “let me make it up to you?”

“well I don’t have all day.” you roll your eyes watching him climb onto the bed, his hands roll your sundress up your thighs exposing the bareness down there, he can’t believe all day long you were like this. what a fool he was.

he pushes your thighs open, the moisture glistening in the light, he wonders how long you’ve been like this. his index finger traces your folds gently, he watches your body twitch under his touch as you begin to relax against the mattress.

“I want you in me.” you demand, you don’t even care how or what he does, just something to take this edge off that you’ve been dealing with all day. he knows how to end this mess he’s started, so he allows his head to dip down in between your thighs his tongue laps your folds. the moisture that’s created down there tastes good against his lips, it’s sweet and earthy.

your finger tips find his long messy brown hair, you allow the groans and grunts to escape, there’s nobody in his house but the two of you.

his tongue nudges your entrance, it’s tight but he’s able to make room for himself, you nearly choke on his name feeling his tongue inside you.

he’s slow, each spot his tongue discovers he takes his time hearing his name grow louder out your lips. he loves it from you, the way your hands tug his hair and the incoherent stutters that come for you, he’s the best at knowing how to make you feel good.

“r-right there,” you whisper it’s not even close to your clit, but the spot feels so damn good you’re fighting with letting yourself come. he’s got a punishment for you, and if you know him well, you know you’ll have to hold off. he hasn’t even gotten to the good part.

he hums against you, you’re sputtering once more, he feels your legs shaking the bed, you’re trying to fight your intuition. your body is on the verge of coming, and when that tip of his tongue, barely, hits your clit it all comes pouring out.

he pulls away, getting a look at you. your chest visibly rising and falling, sweat glimmering across your forehead, and hair all over the mattress, “you’re such a good girl for me.” he moves up your body, lips beginning to trail up your chest all the way to your lips.

“you always know how to take care of me.” you say, he rolls off the bed and you watch the suit jacket fly off, he tosses it in the hamper and you watch him unbutton his top, you lick your lips feeling that same warmth come back. it seems to never go away with him.

“on your knees, gasly, we aren’t finished just yet.” you do as he demands, he complied to your wishes, it’s time for you to do the same.

his pants and boxers are casted off to the side, his finger tips push your chin upwards to face him, “did you know this is my favorite view of you?”

you just roll your eyes ever so badly wanting to flip him off, but you just take his tip in your mouth and begin to swirl your tongue around, doing everything he likes.

it’s his turn to be a mess. his legs shake, finger tips knot your perfectly done hair, your name rolls off his tongue while he begs for more. it’s so easy to get him like this.

“y-y/n,” his breathing is heavy, chest rising and falling this is the best he’s ever had, and if he could write home about it and scream about it at the top of his lungs he would.

it’s not much longer that you keep swirling your tongue until your mouth is met with his earthy cum. when you finally pull away you catch a glimpse of yourself in his mirror, your hair looks like a rats nest.

he helps you up from your knees, pressing sweet kisses to your knuckles,“come on, amour let’s shower. we still have dinner with your brother to make.”

“then dessert?” you ask bitting your bottom lip brushing some of the hairs that stuck to his sweaty forehead. he nods pressing a kiss to your lips.

“then dessert.”

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nanamistiee · 3 months

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‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ jujutsu high!suguru as your boyfriend head canons ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

✧ suguru got that mf DAWG in him. trust me. satoru and shoko would never believe it, but when you two are alone? suguru's got GAME. he's a sweet talker and he knows exactly how to compliment you and say the right things to get a flush going on your pretty lil face. he's whispering in your ear and complimenting something small like your lipstick or your eyeshadow but doubling down and telling you you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen.... let's be real he's doing this CONSTANTLY.

✧ suguru is a spontaneous yet observant lover. he loves nothing more than to sneak up on you & hug you from behind, kissing your neck, your hair, etc. he's picking you up, spinning you around -- anything. after you two get out of your classes he's 100% taking your hand and dragging you out to your favorite revolving sushi place in tokyo. or he's taking you shopping bc he noticed you needed a new pair of shoes. or he's taking you anywhere like a lil boba shop just to brighten your day. he's very in tune to your emotions and it's something he prides himself on.

✧ at the end of the day, suguru is also practically one of the girlies. he's pretty much the best boyfriend you could ever ask for because he loves gossiping as much as you and shoko do. hell, you three probably make it a habit to go out to lunch and gossip about all the weird people you guys don't like, or even shit talk how stupid gojo can be sometimes. it's all in good fun, of course. but, god, it makes a huge difference when your boyfriend can get along with all of your friends. shoko wants to get her nails done but you also want to spend time with geto? hell, he'll come too, no shame. catch him getting a pedicure gossipping the absolute hell out of your classmates.

✧ suguru is also protective of you and your feelings. of course, he's always looking out for you when you're sparring your other classmates (god forbid you ever have to fight gojo, i think he'd go absolutely insane and intervene bc gojo can be A Lot) but he's also the type of boyfriend to be pretty protective of your feelings and your reputation, too. if he's talking to satoru about you, i just know satoru's gotta make an "eewwww you guys are so lovey dovey" type comment. if satoru says anything about you, your mans is defending you. suguru is a true ride or die and he's gotta make sure everybody knows that !

✧ his love languages are definitely a healthy mix of gift giving and quality time. he loooves showing up to your study sessions with a coffee/tea for you or even a pretty bouquet of flowers to make you smile, but, god does he love just being with you. even if you're sitting in silence because you're too focused on studying, he loves just sitting across from you, watching you intently and wondering how the hell he got so lucky.

✧ he'd rather die than admit it, but, god, suguru babies the absolute hell out of you. principal tells you two to spar together? he's going so easy on you it's unreal. it's not that he doesn't doubt your abilities, but he can't mess up your pretty makeup and hair !!! you spar another student?? he's immediately running over to you and checking you out over and over again to make sure you're okay. god forbid you say smth like your ankle hurts b/c he's refusing to let you walk anywhere for the next 3-5 business days. don't even think about sneezing anywhere near this man.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen imagines #suguru geto #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto headcanons #suguru geto imagines #geto x reader #geto x y/n

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lizzaneia-elizalde · 8 months

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Yandere! Stereotypical! Emo x Stereotypical! Popular bitch! Reader

Okay, so this is a songfic... NSFW at it's most, a lime at it's least.

Not the songfic that has lyrics on them, but fics that are heavily inspired by songs. And this time, it's Emo Boy by Ayesha Erotica.

I'm not that knowledgable with Emos to be fair... I'm only doing it in a way where the fic reads like a stereotypical late 90's and early 20's teen flick! I think. I hope.

Also, the bitch here means someone who sleeps around quite a lot, and not the mean type. Just wanna put that out there.

So, I do apologize if I offended someone ಥ‿ಥ

Like any song fic, I recommend listening to Emo Boy while reading.

Yandere! Emo name: Ashton

TW: stereotypical Emo, stereotypical popular bitch

Ashton always had a fascination with the Emo lifestyle. He loved the music associated with it, especially the people indulging in the lifestyle. He loved how emotional and in tune they are with their emotions and is not afraid to show who they are.

When the got the opportunity to study senior high school in a small yet lively town, he knew he had to grab it.

And when he finally got out of the grasps of his conservative family, he felt free.

No more people calling him demon worshipper, finally (although, now that he thinks about it, aren't the goths the one being called demon worshippers?)

So with black skinny jeans, long, dark black hair that covered his eyes, rings, piercings, chains, sneakers, and a graphic tee shirt, he knew he was ready.

But what he didn't expect was being ostracized by being Emo.

But then, don't people like him always get bullied?

With a grumble while sitting on his chair, all alone, he gripped his pen while in the middle of writing a poem.

"Nobody understands me." Ashton muttered, his dark eyes a stormy grey.

This school he's in is filled with stereotypes, he just realized. Mean Jocks and Cheerleaders, two faced popular bitches, pushover nerds, slobbery otakus, social outcasts... He wonders if his life is a real life teen flick.

So rather than dive into the complicated social hierarchy, he just sits in his seat, reading and listening to MCR and P!ATD just like a true stereotype.

His life filled with such deep melancholy as he trudged in this hormone filled prison that he calls a school.

Hmm. He should write that in his journal.

But then he woke up in his bedroom, his hair having a cowlick he can't put down.

Okay... That's weird.

Then, when he tried to tease and straighten his hair, it won't budge, forcing him to let it stay wavy/curly and covet his eyes just like that.

Then, his favorite graphic tee was eaten by rats...

And his sneakers were accidentally bleached...

Then, as if the day was mocking him, it was really sunny and hot, smiling and cooking him in his dark ensemble.

"What the fuck..."

He suddenly felt a foreboding dread inside of him.

When he got in the school and sat down at his seat at the back, he heard whispers of a new person transferring to this school.

The talk of the town, y/n, was now being speculated which clique they will belong in.

And when they rolled in a pink rover, the school crowd knew they're going to be in the popular rich kids.

Immediately, you integrated into the clique like it was a natural thing to do.

With your quite the revealing clothes, your bimbo/himbo like personality, and your knack for bedding people if you wanted, you got into the social hierarchy just like that. Labeled as the slut, you paraded around the school with that title with your newfound friends.

Trendy, social, quite the airhead, yet charming in your own right, and such a seductive figure too. Nobody can resist your charms.

Not even Ashton.

He tried to fight back the attraction he had with you, and your fashionable pink fit, and fluttery eyelashes.

But he can't.

The hierarchy said no, and his brain also says no.

Yet his heart sings yes.

And he always follows his feelings and his heart.

It was small efforts at first. Poems, love letters filled with such romantic words.

All slipped in your locker, in a cute pink envelop and a sweet sampaguita smell on it.

You knew who it was from, and you loved it.

"Are you really interested in that Emo boy in the HUMSS department?" One of your friends asked, sipping on a disguised flask of alcohol.

You and your friends are in the rooftop, hanging out and skipping classes. Gossip flies out of your mouths and recent "relationships."

"Yeah I am. He's cute and funny... And him being soooo in touch with his emotions is soooo hot." You said, a typical valley accent on your tone.

You twirled your hair and bit your lip, a hot feeling in your body.

You really don't know why you're so attracted to him.

"I just really want to see and feel how good in bed he is." You nonchalantly added, fanning yourself a bit.

Your other friends grimaced a bit.

"... Really? But he's so..."

"Dark."

"Weird."

"And so complicated with his words."

"He's also always alone and listens to those sad emo bands."

You huffed and cocked your hips to the side.

"Hey! He's emotional and deep!" You rolled your eyes. "Besides, I just want to fuck him. I mean, I haven't been with an emo boy."

You thought back to how Ashton walks away from you in those tightest skinny jeans, his ass round and his legs toned.

You wondered really as to why you're so... Desperate to fuck him. Because most of the time, other people are the ones who want to fuck you.

Frustration welled up inside you as you groaned.

"Yeah I truly wonder why myself." You grumbled.

You grabbed the letter from your back pocket, reading Ashton's poem for you.

I burn for you. Your lips so tantalizing, So pillowy and so sacred. It's something I, so lowly am I, Cannot dream of locking with mine. I do not need to know if you're the devil, Tantalizing as you are, Or the deity you claim to be in my dreams, Bringing retribution to my dark and dreary life. Your body so tempting, I want to embrace and bury myself within you. I want to claim and mark you as my own, My bleeding heart corrupting your alluring self. But I know I can't. So I only look at you with starry eyes, As you shine the most beautiful in a pedestal that I molded in your visage.

You understood the poem a bit, and it irritated you.

"What do you mean you'll not pursue me?!" You yelled, gripping the letter. "I can't believe he'll confess like this and not... Go for me?!"

Your friends chuckled and read the poem and was surprised to see how whimsical this confession of lusty attraction is.

"Wow... Okay, I give you my blessing to bed him." One of your friends said and you rolled your eyes and snatching the poem away from him.

"I know. And I'm trying." You spat out. "I need a stress reliever. Let's go shopping."

What you didn't know is that Ashton is listening to your confession, and is fighting the urge to take you then and there.

He smirked and tried to calm his fast beating heart as he slowly unbuckled his pants, lust filling him as he continued to replay your confession of wanting to fuck him.

Maybe next poem will be an invitation to his house.

The sound of bed creaking filled the dark room, along with the pants and moans of two people indulging in the desire of flesh.

"Hmm fuck... Ashton..."

"Y/n you're so tight..."

You moaned as Ashton continued to thrust inside of you, his throat audibly clearing as sweat trickled down his throat.

Your eyes trailed down his body, loving the feeling of being under this man.

The hot and damp air encased the two of you, giving a secure and secret paradise, away from the prying eyes.

"Harder Ashton!" Your raspy voice demanded, gripping his arm as he pushed your thighs to the sides of your torso, bending your back as he went deeper, faster, and harder.

"God you make me feral..." Ashton groaned out, feeling your walls squeeze around him stubbornly, not wanting to let go as he pushed you into a mating press in an animalistic need to bury himself deep within you.

The bed creaked violently, accompanying the orchestra of your moans and groans as you both desperately reached your high, and when he spilled inside of you, you knew that you wanted more.

So you kissed him on the lips deeply, interlocking your tongue with his as you both worked into getting into it again.

Yet, as Ashton smirked and gripped your thigh once more, ready to go, a stray perfume bottle rolled under the bed from the movement, a label on the bottle printed "love potion" on it.

A sweet smell of sampaguita permeating as a drop fell on the floor, glowing.

So if you don't get it, Ashton sprays the love potion on the poems he gives you, making you irrationally desperate for him as he is for you xx.

#yandere boyfriend #yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere writing #male yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic #yandere drabbles #lizzaneiaelizalde

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angelltheninth · 1 year

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BLLK Boys + Walking You Home From a Date

Pairing: Yoichi Isagi, Bachira Meguru, Sae Itoshi, Rin Itoshi, Hyoma Chigiri, Kunigami Rensuke, Mikage Reo, Nagi Seishiro x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, dating, established relationship, hand-holding, kissing, sharing clothes, hugs, flirting, teasing

A/N: I don't ever remember being so into a sports anime before. These guys are something else I tell you. Reblogs and comments are much appreciated, also make sure you have your community settings set to show all!

Isagi is a pure and honest to god gentleman at all times. He's got one hand in his pocket and one out, just in case you wanna take it at any point. His smile is shy and sometimes he averts his eyes from yours, a little pink blush dusting his cheeks. He doesn't mind the comfy silence but he doesn't let it go on for too long, instead wanting to hear about how much fun you had and if there's anywhere special you'd like to go next.

Bachira never stops being a bundle of energy on your date, he's always talking. He talks a lot with his hands too, making big gestures and always reaching for your hand to hold, especially when walking you home if it's dark out. Can get pretty loud when talking so might turn some head towards the two of you as you walk but quiets down when he's in front of your house, winking at you before offering you a kiss and asking about the next date.

Sae shares his jacket with you as a sign of affection. miles at you often when you're alone but not in public. Actually he keeps a little distance from you in public because he's always on the lookout for fans or news reporters following the two of you. This is why he will bring most dates to your house instead of going out, there he can just focus on you and you alone. He can kiss you all he wants without worrying it's gonna be on the front page the next day.

Rin is pretty nonchalant about the whole thing. He has his hand over yours but he doesn't say much on the way to your place. Happy to let you sleep when he walks you to your door but also doesn't mind going inside and having a drink or two with you. Likes to squeeze your hand every now and again because you make the cutest noises when he does, it's one of the few silent ways he likes to fluster you. shares his jacket with you as a sign of affection.

Chigiri links his arm through yours when he's walking you home after a date. He always has his hair in a ponytail but when he's feeling flustered from your flirting he will undo the tie and hide his face. He doesn't like being flustered in public. But when he has you at the front door he has no issue pressing you against it and kissing you breathless.

Kunigami gets very shy when he's walking you home. He looks like a brute sometimes due to his large frame but he's a soft boy in reality. His hand always hovers over yours and he gets the biggest smile on his face when you accept and intertwine your fingers with his. You kissing him on the cheek as a thank you for a good time has him so energetic he can play against a whole team by himself.

Reo comes from money so he's used to people buzzing around him. Because of that it's a little annoying to have people whispering at the two of you when he walks you home. He's had to learn to tune them out and focus only on you, which is a much prettier thing to look at in his humble opinion. Often buys you a small gift at the end of every date, something that you can put on a shelf or something that you can wear to always have a little of him with you.

Nagi doesn't take you on dates often, instead he'd much rather spend time at home with you, cuddling and kissing and relaxing. But when he does and he has to walk you home you can see the change in his demeanor, he's more alert, he's hanging onto your every word, he's constantly rubbing his hand against your shoulder and pulling you more into him when you pass by someone who snickers at you.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #yoichi isagi x reader #bachira meguru x reader #sae itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x reader #hyoma chigiri x reader #kunigami rensuke x reader #mikage reo x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #blue lock fluff #blue lock imagines #blue lock headcanons #bllk fluff #bllk imagines #bllk headcanons #x reader #x female reader

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h0rnyauth0r · 1 year

Text

having no thoughts, head empty, just thinking about ghost fucking you while you have your radio tuned into graves’ station, who has a thing for you <333

if you’re not at least 16 pls dni, idc if you read but i don’t want you interacting!

tws: choking, outdoor sex, technically phone sex i suppose?, unprotected sex, cumming inside, reader has a vagina and is called a girl

the tension between the two of you had snapped like a rubberband. so quickly, and yet at the same time agonizingly slow. while everyone else spends their time worrying about the mission at hand and killing the bastard, ghost has his hand grasping onto your throat in a deathgrip as his hips slam into your ass.

he has you bent over on a slab of concrete out in the open, radio pressed and against your mouth as you let out struggled gasps and moans. he’s smirking underneath his mask as your walls clench around his cock, knowing that graves is likely fuming in jealousy.

his little crush on you was embarrassing, and hearing you cream on his enemy’s dick makes it worse. that sends ghost into a frenzy as his hand on your throat moves down to your clit, rubbing fast and hard circles into it.

he notices that you’re stifling noises the slightest bit, anger bubbling up as he stops moving. “go on then, scream. make him know who fucks you this good.” he growls out, thrusting particularly hard against you.

you feel so close to cumming, but it all crashes down when his fingers leave your throbbing bud. you cry out in annoyance. “p-please!” you feel tears welling up in your eyes.

“please what? what should i do? go on.” he says smugly, moving his hips the slightest amount in an attempt to tease you.

you clench your eyes shut, “fuck me. god, ghost. i want you to make me cum on your cock.” you feel your face heat up knowing that there’s more than just a few men who can hear you.

“good girl.” he whispers in your ear, quickly returning to his previous movements. this time, however, he pushes you deeper into the concrete and his fingers abuse at your clit harder than before.

your orgasm approaches rather quickly, loud moans and occasional screeches of pleasure escaping your sore throat as he fucks into you so good.

you feel his hand that grasps onto the radio also grab at your throat, squeezing and pulling your head back for his eyes to meet yours. his eyes bore into yours, and you fight the urge to close your eyes to look away from him.

he knows he’s ruining you when your eyes roll back and your pussy clenches around him tightly and you gasp out his codename with nails digging into the concrete.

your orgasm feels euphoric as he keeps rubbing your clit well past the end, his choking making the pleasure almost dizzying as you forget where you are and what’s happening.

your walls keep spasming around him as his thrust become sloppier, indication that he’s going to cum soon. in this moment, you want his cum inside of you so badly that it’s making you drool.

he almost cums just from the lewd sight, tits out and bouncing and your eyes watery as you stare at him like you’re about to pass out. he allows his fingers to squeeze a bit harder, an odd choking and moaning sound struggling to escape your throat.

he lets out what sounds like a mix of a grunt and a groan as you feel his cum fill your pussy up, and the feeling alone makes you cum for the second time against him.

his thrusts slowly stop and he releases your throat, noticing how hot you look with his fingerprints bruising your neck. he doesn’t pull out for a minute as he catches his breath but once he does the radio picks up with sound.

“ghost, you’re a dead man.” it’s graves talking, and he simply shuts the radio off.

your legs feel like jelly in the moment as you turn around and sit on the rough concrete, having your pants as a blanket so your ass doesn’t rub on it. you look at the large man in front of you, watching as he tucks his cock away into his pants.

he looks back up at you and moves closer to you, ducking down to your height and staring into your eyes. “you’re okay?” he asks gruffly.

you nod slowly, grabbing onto your panties and sliding them onto your sore body. “that was interesting.” is all you say, feeling him lift you and help you put on your gear.

after you’re dressed, you get ready to head back to where everyone else is but he grabs onto your wrist and stops you. “wait.” he says to you quietly, the sound of fabric moving filling your ears..

you turn towards him and feel his lips on yours, kissing you roughly as his hands dig into your hips. after he pulls away from you, he pushes his mask back down and smacks your ass roughly.

“be careful. we have a lot ahead of us, yeah?”

it’s not much, but it makes you smile. he doesn’t need to say he cares about you, but he shows it in such an obvious manner.

***

note: i haven’t written smut in a while so i’m sorry if it’s not good <3 thanks for reading!

#cod #call of duty smut #ghost smut #cod smut #smut #ghost x reader #ghost x reader smut #x reader #female reader #fanfic #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley

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blues824 · 5 months

Note

Hi friend! Can I request Leona with prompt #2?

You requested: Dancing in the Snow

Leona Kingscholar

“Herbivore, why the hell did you drag me out here?! It’s cold as hell!” He shouted, throwing a glare at you as you held his hand and dragged him outside of Ramshackle.

“Because the snow is pretty and I want to dance!” You exclaimed with a smile.

The lion let out a groan of exhaustion. You both could have danced inside… where it was warm and cozy… where he finally got comfortable on the threadbare couch inside your living room with you in his lap.

Eventually, you turned around and faced him, and he was going to go for your hands when you quickly pulled them away.

“You have to ask, sir,” You stuck your tongue out at him, and he rolled his eyes before deciding to indulge you.

He bowed to you, and when he rose, he extended his right hand to you.

“Would you give me the pleasure of having this dance?” He asked, a tad irked and with a bit of a forced smile.

Noting his annoyance, you let out a laugh before nodding and putting your gloved hand in his.

“I will.” You suddenly felt yourself being pulled into Leona’s chest. You looked to see him smirking, fangs showing and everything. He was looking at you like you were his prey, and a shiver that was not caused by the cold rang through your body.

He then started to lead, quickly placing his left hand on your waist and giving it a squeeze, joining your left hand with his right. It started off rather quick, making you feel a tad rushed and you hurriedly put your right hand on his shoulder so that you could follow along.

The moments stood still as you both twirled in the snowfall, snow crunching under your feet. His smirk disappeared and it was replaced by something more genuine. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it wasn’t quite a neutral face either. You both just peered into each other’s eyes.

Music wasn’t present, but it was almost as though there was with how in-tune you both were. You were stepping to an unvoiced melody.

Both of you could see your breath in the cold air, and the cloud of hot air was mixing with each other because your faces were getting closer and closer. Your eyes closed, lips brushing with the Housewarden…

“Y/N, WHERE’S THE TUNA??” Grim called from inside. You were startled, to say the least, and quickly pulled away. Leona let out a growl and pulled you back in to kiss you.

Against your lips, he whispered, “Ignore him. You wanted this, now I’m going to get what I want.” Then he silenced any back-talk you had by kissing you again, somehow managing to make it more passionate before letting you go to tend to Grim.

Maybe dancing with you wasn’t so bad…

#twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst wonderland #leona #twst leona x reader #twst leona #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar #leona x reader #twst leona kingscholar x reader #twst leona kingscholar

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gretavanlace · 5 months

Text

Blank

Josh Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, dirty talk, discussion of poor self image/shaky mental health, praise, degradation, dumbification, impact play (spanking), etc

You’re standing in front of the floor length mirror when Josh’s voice finds you…turning this way and that with your t-shirt pulled tight around your belly and a frown furrowing your brow.

“The movie’s ready, baby.” There’s a smile in his tone, and a dramatic flare, as there so often is, as he leans against the door jamb. “And I made the popcorn on the stove like you like. None of that microwaved bullshit for my darling doll.”

You’d like to find your excitement in order to match his own - movie night is his favorite night of the week. Often, it turns into several nights a week, in keeping with his passion for film and curling up snug and warm with you on the couch.

And normally, you look forward to it as well, but tonight…

Well, tonight you’d just as soon crawl into bed alone and in the dark. How else will you ever manage to tune out all those poisonous thoughts hissing through your mind? Obsidian. Ominous. Hateful.

“What are you doing, babe?” There is concern in his query. He knows you far too well.

Dropping your shirt as if it’s white hot, you slip away from the mirror, praying he’ll let the matter drop. Though, you hope in vain. You know him far too well, too. “Nothing. C’mon, whatever masterpiece you’ve selected isn’t going to watch itself.”

He steps into the room and you suppress a sigh of defeat. “Waterloo Bridge.” He clarifies, studying you intently. “And you’re a shitty liar. What’s wrong?”

“I said it’s nothing, Josh,” there’s a touch too much venom in your tone, but sometimes you wish he didn’t see so damn much. Sometimes you wish you could skate around things with him.

“And that’s a lie,” he points out, sidling up behind you when you turn away. “Do we lie to one another?”

“No.” You concede quietly as his arms cradle you from behind.

“So, would you like to try again?” His embrace is soft, but it makes you feel safe and protected all the same. He has this way about him - he is love and light, sunshine and smiles, gentle poetry…but something lies hidden away behind it all, something only you get to see, and it makes for the most deliciously dark and menacing aura when it comes out to play.

“I just,” now you’re stammering like a child caught with a crayon in her hand and scribbles on the wall.

His lips move along the nape of your neck, brushing over your skin and the whispers of hair that have fallen from your bun, “You just, what?”

“I had lunch with my sister today.” You offer meekly. Can’t he ever just leave things alone? Can’t he ever just let you curl up with your self-loathing?

“Yes,” he nods, now pecking at the curve of your jaw, “And I adore you for not making me come along…she’s exhausting.”

“I know.” His palms are now running along beneath your shirt, circling your belly with tender possessiveness…it’s soothing and filled up full of love, but you wish his hands would land somewhere a little more flattering “But she’s also truthful. She thinks I should start going to the gym with her, and she’s right.”

He stills behind you instantly, and you can feel him shaking his head, though you’ve closed your eyes against the embarrassment of it all.

Eager to fill the room up with words rather than your own vulnerability, you rush on “She’s is, though. Right, I mean. I’ve put on weight, and the older I get, the harder it will be to take off. Obviously, I’ve never been small, but��“

He cuts you off with a loose palm around your throat and a snapped, “Stop.” Breathed in your ear.

“Josh,” Christ, you want to melt into the floor, “I love you for always being so sweet, but I,”

You haven’t the chance to finish your thought and his grip is tightening, “I said, stop.”

A joke will quench the fire burning in your cheeks, “C’mon, what if I got all adorable and tiny like your little hippy girls in the crowd? I—“

A sharp pinch to the curve of your hip shocks you into silence, which he promptly fills. “Don’t say things like that. You’re fucking beautiful. Soft and warm. I want to nestle my face right here,” his hand is splayed out wide across your belly again, “and right here,” his touch drops to find the dimples in your thighs, “for the rest of my life. If we get to choose our heaven, you will be mine. Gorgeous, perfect girl.”

Now you’re struggling to squirm out of his insistent embrace. You feel too seen. And though you know he is nothing if not sincere, always…those lovely words of his, they feel like untruths.

“Josh,” you snap, a little too harshly, “let’s just go watch the movie, okay?”

But it’s too late, he has spotted the quiver at your bottom lip.

“Hey,” he spins you around to face him and you know it’s useless to shut him out at this point. “What’s going on up here, hmm?” He taps your temple gently, “Is it getting loud?”

You know he means those intrusive thoughts that plague you when the love and admiration he beams in your direction isn’t enough. He knows the way they scream and yell at you no matter how badly he’d love to quiet them for good.

Ashamed, you stare down at his t-shirt, toying with the cotton between your fidgeting fingers, “Maybe a little,” you hush.

His fist tucks under your chin, tilting your face upward, but still, you refuse his gaze. “You need it, baby?”

Voice soft and leading, he lures you out of your bashfulness just enough for you to find the bravery to blink up at him with the tiniest of nods.

“Yeah?” He sounds so unlike himself - but also, exactly like himself. “You need me to make it go away? Wipe that wild mind until you’re as blank as you are pretty?”

Josh is small, and he has never shied away from that, but in these moments, he feels larger than life…looming like a God sent to bring you peace. “Can you, please?’

With a taunting flick of your nipple, he switches on. “Well, how could I ever say no to such a sweet girl? You sound like honey when you say please.”

The warmth of his body, so near to yours, is suddenly missing, but you’re feeling a little too meek to glance up to see where he’s gone…opting to stare at your thumbnail in earnest instead, resisting the urge to pick your cuticle.

“Come on, doll,” his voice comes hushed as a siren’s secret song floating through a cove “Miss you already.”

You feel unworthy of this. Of him. Of all the tiny ways he loves you just right. How he has memorized you in and out. The way he looks at you like he could happily stare forever. How he understands even when he doesn’t quite understand…how he took your heart and turned it round and round until he had mapped out every inch. How he dives inside your mind every day and does the same, no matter how tragic and treacherous it can be to wade through those waters.

When you had stumbled upon this, it had been by accident really. A harsh crack of his palm against the globe of your ass by way of quieting you when you’d argued with his stuttering praises as he pushed into you over and over from behind. Your brain had short circuited in the most welcomed and stunning way. That stinging impact, the shock of it, the tangible pain, had left no room for cruel thoughts…your mind was muffled up like lavender cotton with nothing but Josh and what he saw fit to give.

Most times, he loves you hard enough just by being himself. Golden, shimmering aura, grinning heart, sure and tender hands…but sometimes you need this from him - and he is always willing to oblige. You hold the key that turns all his locks, and he would sink into a bed of hot coals for a nap if you thought to ask it of him.

With a clipped call of your name, he’s got you hustling across the room to fold yourself shyly over his knee at the foot of the bed.

“That’s perfect, baby.” He coos down at you, palm stroking over the backs of your thighs before bunching your t-shirt up around your waist. “Gonna make it all go away, aren’t I? Is that what you need? You need me to take it all away?”

“Please.” You sound pathetic, but already it’s a sweeter sort of shame. One you can name. One you can love.

His fingers tuck under the cotton of your panties, hooking at the soft lace that adorns the edges, straightening them as though he’s adjusting the ribbon on a present he’s waited a very long time to receive.

“If I had to guess,” he hums, a little like the kindest bully you’ve ever known, “I’d wager your pretty pussy’s feeling lonely already. Maybe a little whiny. Maybe starting to swell…” his hands continue to pet at your ass, your thighs, your hips, “I love that, you know? Watching how puffy and swollen you get. It’s adorable…and fucking sexy. Your body begs without a sound.”

Your grip is twisting into the blanket beneath you now as your cheek nuzzles against the downy softness “Josh…”

“Quiet,” he bestows a single, much too delicate smack in the wrong place. It’s too far off to the side for your liking, and he knows it. “We’ll get there. You’re gonna listen first.”

An obedient nod tugs yet another delicious hum of approval from him and you squirm lightly under his hands, thrumming with pleasure at the sound of his validation.

“You’re alright, baby…” he’s being so gentle. Too gentle. But you would lie here beneath his hands and his gaze for all of eternity if that’s what would suit him. “My poor thing just needs it, doesn’t she? Busy little head needs to just leave…” a soft swat lands upon your cheek just below the waist, “her…” another, “alone,” and another.

“Harder, Josh…” it’s a piteous plea, one that pairs nicely with the honeyed, condescending melodies drifting off his tongue.

“Tell me what you’d like me to do to you.” He’s coaxing so kindly, but you know what lurks below that shiny surface. “Say the words, my darling doll. Say the words.”

With a deep, centering breath, you find the calm in your storm by way of his scent…eucalyptus and bergamot…woodsy hint of lemon soap lingering beneath. You find strength in his presence, and love there, too.

“Spank me.” It pants out of you like an urgent prayer. “Make it stop.”

As if in punctuation to your begging, he lands a harsh, loud, cracking strike against the fat of your ass. It comes quickly, shaking your equilibrium though this is exactly what you’ve been imploring him for.

“Fuck!” The curse pushes out of your lungs, long and grateful. Blindsided and aching.

Another blow lands in exactly the same place, setting the flesh there on fire. “Yeah? Fuck?” He taunts, “That’s a good fucking doll…you just take it.”

“More,” you’re rocking around, blissful at the pain and the twitching of his hard cock beneath you.

He begins laying into you without restraint, blow after blow raining down on you like merciful salvation. Your brain is numb now - quiet, hazy and clouded with his perfect wrath.

Tears are streaking like fire down your cheeks, a graven image of mother Mary sobbing blood in a candlelit room of worship come to life. He is your alter. He is your God.

“That’s my girl,” his accolades stutter out between smack after smack until he pauses to jerk your legs apart. “You’re dripping all over me. Baby needs it right here, too?” There is his touch, love and reverence woven into the very fingerprints nudging at your covered entrance. “Dirty little cunt needs a spanking, too, doesn’t she?”

Embarrassingly, a mumbled, indecipherable sound croaks out of you, and your entire body flushes hot with an indignity you happen to relish.

“What was that?” He sounds like sex…like he’s thinking with his throbbing cock - but if your mind’s eye could see straight, you would know better. He is careful and controlled in these moments. Never losing sight of himself, never risking a move too far. “Aw, poor doll is just a dumb little baby, now? Spanked all quiet and wet? I like that, beautiful. I like that very much. No thoughts, right? Shh, no thoughts.”

Again, you manage merely a sound, a murmuring of his name no one but yourself could ever transcribe.

A violent strike buries its way into your covered folds. You jolt and cry out, writhing against his thighs, fighting for more.

You want him inside in any capacity. Fingers, tongue, cock..it matters not, just inside. That’s the only word you seem to know in this moment - inside, inside, inside. But with another sound slap against your cunt, it explodes through your nerve endings like a wire kicking up sparks and skittering against desolate, lonely pavement. You’re climaxing hard and fast, releasing all over the fleece covering his thighs, thrusting against nothing, mourning the heat of his impact though it was there for but a breath.

“Yes!” It wails out of you, warbling and wild…teeth clenched and grinding, body wound so tightly your muscles will protest and complain later.

There will come a time tonight where you’ll long for a way to thank him. For a way to call his name and cradle his face and express your absolute gratitude for this blank slate he molds your mind into…for the way he takes all the ugly and chases it right out of your orbit…

But for now, you fall limp and spent against him. Breathing heavily and deeply. Drawing oxygen way down into your chest that no longer feels so tight. And for now he’ll hear no talk of reciprocation, for now he continues to cater to you with devotion in his touch and a worshipful cast in his gaze as he slips away to draw you a bath.

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stellar-skyy · 7 months

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OLDER SIBLING HCS: MONDSTADT EDITION. (PART ONE) - Platonic Jean, Rosaria, Lisa, Sucrose, Eula & reader

i. SUMMARY: Mondstadt characters with a younger sibling. ii. CONTENT WARNINGS: Implied death in Rosaria's part, mentions of food/eating in Jean's part. iii. NOTES: Fluff, slight angst, gn!reader, they/them pronouns used, 2.4k words. iv. A/N: i actually read rosaria's and eula's backstory for this, and wow... give my girls a break. i wanted to include everyone in here, before realizing how long it would get, so here is a part one for mondstadt girls! stay tuned for the rest of the nations (and maybe tell me who you want to see next?)

JEAN

Okay let’s be honest, while Jean is an amazing big sister while she’s there, she is rarely… there.

It isn’t out of a wilful neglect, it’s rather that as the Acting Grand Master, her schedule is so tightly packed that she barely has time to breathe, let alone taking time off for personal reasons.

When she does manage to squeeze in room for you, it is usually a short slot of time between her usual tasks. Kaeya, noticing how desperate she was in rearranging her schedule to spend time with her sibling, did her the favour of crossing off some of her tasks and handing them away to other Knights.

(When she found out it was Kaeya who was messing with her schedule, she gave him a stern talking-to. She was secretly pleased that she got to spend more time with you… even if it meant chasing down some poor subordinates to make sure her jobs actually got done properly.)

Windrise is the first place that Jean likes to take you. If it’s a warm day out, she’ll pack a picnic and spread it underneath the shade of the trees. There, she’ll tell you stories; about Vennessa, about the origins of the Gunnhildr Clan, about her own adventures during her early years as a knight.

Sometimes she will reminisce with you about when you were a kid, clinging to her arm. She’ll tell you about how as soon as you learned to walk, you would follow her around like a little duckling, one tiny fist clutching the hem of her jacket. When you got a little older, you joined her in her preparation to become a proper noble, sitting beside her in etiquette lessons and observing from the sidelines during her knightly training. Even if the lessons were painfully dull, she’d always try and keep you entertained with little games to pass the time—or as much as she could without your mother staring in disapproval.

By the time she’s done with her stories, the day would have already almost finished.

It’s pleasant; peaceful in the way that one can’t grasp the flow of time until hours have past and the two of you are curled up on a picnic blanket under a sky full of stars.

She takes you for meals at Good Hunter too, letting you order whatever is on the menu. If there isn’t anything there to your liking (or if you’re just not feeling up for it that day) she is quick to whisk you home and cook you something herself.

It’s calming for her, when she’s able to direct all her focus into one manageable task like putting together a meal. She likes pizza best—a simple, delicious meal that she can put together with minimal effort and something she can easily share with her sibling.

When the day ends, and she must go home, she’ll give you a tight hug and kiss the top of your head, with a promise that you’ll spend the day together again soon.

ROSARIA

No. 1 protective sister right here.

Like, good luck to anyone who even thinks of hurting you. Their graves are already dug by the time they turn your way.

She made a promise, after all: no matter what happened, she would protect you.

It was first made when she was only a young girl, holding an even younger child in her arms. She brought you closer, squeezing her eyes shut and whispering the words into your hair. You were far too young to realise what the words truly meant, but you would come to learn their meaning as you got a little bit older and the remote village you both called home was massacred.

The bandits that took her in were apprehensive about the tiny child clinging to her leg. After all, it’s one thing to teach a little girl how to become a crook, let alone a literal toddler. But Rosaria refused to part with you, baring her teeth and yelling and screaming at anyone who even dared to suggest leaving you behind.

Your role was their errand person, mostly. While Rosaria made sure you were seen as the smaller and feebler of the pair, letting you drift away to the shadows of the crew, she also passed on everything she learned: lockpicking, thievery, and most importantly combat.

The bandits taught her how to fight, and she taught you. It was a compromise; keeping their contact with you minimal while also teaching you the skills you needed to survive in your new life.

(Even if you rarely got to use your newfound skills. Anyone who even tried to cause you trouble were swiftly taken care of by Rosaria.)

In her eyes she was doing you a favour; if you were treated as weak and insignificant, they would forget about you. And if they forgot about you, they were less likely to hurt you.

It was a blessing from Lord Barbatos himself when the group of bandits was taken down by the Knights of Favonius, and you were both swept away from the life of bloodshed and carnage that you had spent your entire childhood surrounded by. When you faced the Grand Master, you were considered young enough and inexperienced enough to be pardoned, while Rosaria began rehabilitation via the Church of Favonius.

These days, your lives are far less hectic than your youth.

During her free time (or rather the time spent slacking off on her duties) Rosaria slips away from the Church and sweeps you away for a day of bonding. If you need more clothes, she’ll drag you to every store in Mondstadt looking for something that fits you just right. It’s a sweet gesture, even if she brutally critiques your fashion choices. It’s out of love, I swear.

She also likes to just sit quietly with you, comfortably existing next to each other.

Rosaria isn’t big on affection, but whenever she knows you won’t see each other for a long period of time, she’ll embrace you tightly and murmur a promise into your hair just like when you were kids.

“No matter what, no one will ever hurt you.”

LISA

When it comes to her loved ones, Lisa is a big fan of pet names, particularly the overly sappy ones.

Sweetheart, cutie, love—no matter who it is, anyone who is close to Lisa has probably been called at least one term of endearment in their life.

But while she has a variety of names for her favourite people, she has a habit of mentally assigning each person a different nickname that is exclusive for them.

Jean is her darling. The traveller is her cutie. Razor is her sweetie. You’re the only one to end up with two names.

There’s her most frequent one, dear.

“Oh, would you pass me that book, dear?”

If she’s feeling particularly affectionate, she’ll switch it to precious.

“(Name), my precious, are you feeling alright?”

Either way, there’s always a light teasing and subtle edge of fondness to her words when she talks to you.

Good luck if you ever try going to her for romantic advice. She may give the most wonderful, effective guidance in the world, but it will be accompanied with heavy teasing and not-so-subtle prompts to divulge more details about your love life.

Even if you’re not interested in romance, she still finds ways to tease you.

Rest assured that despite her tormenting, she knows when to step back. She’s always been perceptive of other’s emotions, so as soon as she notices you getting upset at her words, she is already smoothly shifting the conversation to something more comfortable.

When you’re tired, she’ll let you take a nap in the library, either resting your head on your arms at her desk or curled up on one of the couches in the library. After chuckling at you (and making a mental note to tease you later about falling asleep so abruptly), she will fetch a blanket and tuck it over your shoulders.

Archons help anyone who even tries to wake you up. The library patrons learned to fear the wrath of the librarian a long time ago, and anyone who dares to disturb your peace will face the pain of Electro.

You become slightly feared in general, if only by being so closely affiliated with such an intimidating woman. If Lisa manages to get you to help track down some books, it only takes one threat of calling her to get the person to panic and hurriedly accept the late fee.

Lisa is thoroughly pleased with your work when you return, and might even treat you to some Sticky Honey Roast from Good Hunter if you’re lucky.

Overall, Lisa is a great sister. She adores her sibling more than anything, and that is what counts.

SUCROSE

Sucrose is such a sweet big sister!

She’s not the best at comforting others, but she is an amazing listener. Come to her with any of your worries, and she’ll nod along and consider your words carefully, only interrupting to suggest a solution to whatever is going on in your life.

She’s also willing to just give you a hug while you work through whatever emotions that you’re dealing with.

Speaking of which, Sucrose is a 10/10 hugger.

She will squeeze you just the right amount and rub circles into your back while she murmurs comforting words. Hugging her feels so safe and warm, like in her arms you’re sheltered from anything that could hurt you.

If you show even the slightest interest in her work, she will be thrilled. It only takes one question, a simple ‘what are you doing?’ to get her to vibrate with excitement and ask eagerly if you want to hear about her work.

She gets very rambly in her explanations but give her a little patience and she’ll go through her process, step by step. She’s more than willing to have you observe her experiments, and even participate in them if you’re confident enough to.

Sucrose is very insistent on you taking good care of yourself. She knows the detrimental effects a lack of sleep can have on a person’s health, so she makes sure you get a good rest every night, and lightly scolds you for staying up too late. On nights when you can’t sleep, she’ll make you a soothing cup of tea, and tell you stories to lull you into a slumber.

When you were younger, she would tell you all kinds of stories. With just her words, she could weave epic tales and colourful worlds, all from her own imagination. As she grew older and began her interest in alchemy, she strove to create a wonderland of her own, and make the fairy tales you loved become a reality.

Her research still has a long way to go, but rest assured she will keep going, to make your stories a reality.

EULA

Just like Rosaria, Eula is the sister who would not let anything happen to her sibling.

She won’t stand for anyone acting snobbishly towards you for your Lawrence heritage. When it comes to herself, she doesn’t care what others have to say about her. She accepted their distrust of her a long time ago, and their words do not affect her anymore.

But her sibling? Her precious, innocent baby sibling? Who has never done anything wrong in their entire life? Who doesn’t deserve a single one of the hostile remarks that they face simply for their lineage.

That simply will not slide.

She knows what it is like to be a social pariah—she was forced to become one ever since she was born into an aristocratic family—but she despises the fact that you have to go through the same thing. It only fuels her desire for vengeance, seeing someone who she knows is a good person being ostracised for no reason. She can’t help but wonder, ‘Why wasn’t I enough? If you must make someone your martyr, then why couldn’t you have settled with only hating me? Why do you have to drag another innocent person into it?’

She is well aware that her demeanour causes others to distrust her more, but at least it makes you look more palatable in comparison. Maybe if they do see her as the worst of you both, they’ll see you as a perfectly respectable person, rather than simply a Lawrence. Besides, she doesn’t owe anyone any kindness, not when none was shown to her.

Other than being a bit overprotective, Eula also adores teaching her sibling new things.

It started with bladework—an essential skill, as she called it. According to her, everyone should have at least one weapon they’re proficient in, and for you she chose swords. Catalysts were always too finicky for her, she’d never been fond of long-distance weapons like bows, and both claymores and polearms were too heavy for you at that age, so swords were the best option.

Soon enough, you were as skilled in Favonius Bladework as any knight. She was rather proud of how quickly you picked up the skill.

The one thing she is most enthusiastic for you to learn is dancing. I think if you asked her to teach you, she would have trouble hiding just how excited she is.

Despite having an open distaste for aristocratic traditions, the Dance of Sacrifice is one that she will always cherish. It is the one custom that feels close to her, and one that she only shares with the most important of people.

So of course she will share it with you.

Eula may act aloof and cold most of the time, but if you surprise her with a hug, she will simply melt. Physical affection (affection in general, actually) wasn’t given freely in your house growing up, so whenever she gets it, Eula doesn’t quite know how to react, other than embracing you back tightly.

(That privilege of being able to come that close to her without asking is strictly only tolerated by you. Anyone else, and she would have sworn vengeance ten times over.)

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

#✒️ — writing #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #platonic genshin impact x reader #platonic x reader #platonic genshin x reader #jean x reader #lisa x reader #sucrose x reader #rosaria x reader #eula x reader #platonic jean x reader #platonic lisa x reader #platonic sucrose x reader #platonic rosaria x reader #platonic eula x reader

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glader13 · 6 months

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Chasing Memories of You (part 2)

Part 1

He first saw your family and Gwen, pausing some distance away from them. They were sitting in lawn chairs, eating some light snacks and drinking. Your grave was surrounded by vibrant flowers and letters. Miguel watched your loved ones with confusion and slight anger, how are they able to smile as if it’s all right?

Miguel continued to watch, gripping the bouquet as he was unable to move, his throat tightened, he hasn’t visited since your funeral. He blamed his absence on work, on running the Spider-Society, but would visit your grave in his own way. He would put himself through hell each night by watching files of you. Peter and Jess, hell, even Lyla, has told him that visiting here would heal him. But healing means letting you go, and he can never do such a thing. He would rather chase the memories of you, and hold them forever.

“Finally you visit me,” he heard your voice, “Been a long time love.”

Miguel’s throat tightened again as he felt the ghost of your lips, of your hands. He even smelled your perfume in the wind. “Querida,” he whispered, “I miss you so much.” But you didn’t respond, and he felt more broken than ever.

“Hello,” Miguel said, trying his best to smile, “I hope I’m not too late.”

Your mother smiles, jumping up and hugging Miguel. He keeps his hands by his side, his eyes only focusing on your grave, a place that he wouldn’t think to have seen so soon. He imagined your voice again, laughing at how he didn’t want to hug your mother. He slowly hugged her back, her perfume twisting Miguel’s heart. He knew the smell, even the name, instantly. Bringing him back to date nights and close sessions back at HQ, when he drowned in you.

Miguel waved at your Peter and Gwen, who both smiled. Miguel took a seat in the lawn chair next to your mother, in front of him on a small table were snacks and pictures of you. The bouquet felt heavy in his hands, as he wished for a bottle of alcohol, or that he wasted himself last night. Miguel mindlessly listened to Gwen talk about a recent run-in with a villain, but he just stared, his mind traveling to when he lost you. An attack on Nueva York, from multiple villains, took you from him. And that he wasn’t there to help you. If only he had taken care of Green Goblin, if only he had been aware of the area, then you would be here. Everything seemed miles away as he slipped into the waters of his memories, the inky hands pulling him down.

“Miguel!” You stumbled over to him.

He immediately removed his mask, his face tight with worry as he ran to you in the smoky warehouse. You nearly collapsed in his arms, finally closing your eyes briefly. Miguel removed your hand from your side, his heart twisting seeing red coating your hand.

“What happened?” He asked.

“Green Goblin,” you muttered, feeling the front area of your stomach, before checking the wound, at least it wasn’t too deep, “I didn’t know that they’re annoying in any universe.”

Miguel, smiled softly, happy that he got here in time, “Where is he?”

You motioned to a pile of rubble, “Underneath that, and he’s tied up.”

“Alright, go outside with the others, I’ll meet you after I deal with him,” he kissed the top of your head.

“Wait, let me go with you,” you said, “I need to tell you something. The thing from this morning.”

“Amor, can it please wait?” Miguel said as you trailed behind him, “I just want to be fully …”

You stopped walking, feeling your stomach drop. You tuned out Miguel’s voice, only becoming aware of your surroundings. You spun around, not being able to see very well in the hazy air. Your strained vision was telling you nothing was there, but your body was telling you to be prepared. You rushed past him, his voice calling you sounded like you were underwater, distant and muffled.

You saw the rubble was moved, and more frighteningly, your webbing was in pieces. Shit, you thought, as Miguel brought out Lyla to scan the warehouse. Miguel placed you behind him, as he walked through the building, following a marker that Lyla found. He then motioned for you to go to the other side of it, so you’ll be able to corner him.

“Now,” Miguel’s voice was in your ear, but your webs almost hit Miguel as you narrowly escaped his.

“What the hell? You almost hit me,” you said, to which he replied, “You almost hit me”.

You both walked to the source of the beacon, seeing that it was a piece of the Green Goblin’s suit on the floor. That’s when you felt the same dread in your stomach again, looking through the smoke, trying to get a good look at the high ceiling you saw a flash of green. It faded in and out, kind of like a timer.

Timer.

“Miguel, Miguel,” Gwen brought him back to reality, “We were sharing our favorite moments with y/n and we wanted to know if you wanted to share.”

He looked at everyone around him, feeling cut off from oxygen as his chest tightened. He didn’t think about you sober, it hurts too much. He let out a shaky breath, the bouquet stabbing his hand as he squeezed it. Favorite memory of you? It’s impossible to name one, especially when he has a file dedicated to you. The sun felt too hot, as he was put into a box, facing your ghost. “I don’t have a favorite,” he smiles, finding the courage to talk, “Any moment with her is my favorite memory. But it was for Gabi’s recital, I couldn’t make it there to help her get ready, so y/n did. She sent me pictures documenting the process and seeing Gabi’s smile throughout was heaven itself.” At the recital when he saw you, his breath was gone, as he felt something akin to love. Miguel got up, kneeling in front of your grave, resting his head on it, his mind wandering back to when he lost you, locking him in a prison.

You got Miguel out of the way in time, of course you did. Miguel didn’t sense the bomb, he wasn’t even aware of it. The world erupted in a fiery green light and heat. You hit your head first, before feeling a sharp pain in your stomach, causing your heart to stop. No, no no, you thought as you tried to get up, but it only made everything worse. You could barely breathe as you tried to call out to Miguel, his body just feet away from you.

You looked around you and saw that you were in your puddle of blood. Even near your head, was a puddle of it, you finally looked in front of you and saw a piece of metal, it could have been a pipe, jagged and protruding from your abdomen. You tried calling him again, the pain unbearable, mixing with the heat of the fire.

You watched his unconscious body, willing him to get up. But it was hard to stay awake, as you watched him you felt your mind slip away from you to a place where you weren’t Spider-Woman, and Miguel was just him. Gabi would be there, and your little one would be there too. You weakly placed your hand on your stomach, tears falling on your face, you didn’t even get to see them grow. You won’t even get the chance to tell Miguel.

“Miggy,” you whispered, “I’m sorry that I didn’t get to tell you,” each word you spoke was pulling you down, away from this world, you felt your heart failing with each beat, “I … love you.”

You knew that he couldn’t hear you, but at least you said it. You heard Peter B through your watch, but you couldn’t answer everything, everyone was faded. A part of the warehouse came crashing down causing the flames to come closer to you and Miguel. Please get up, you thought. You tried to shoot a web at him, but it landed inches away from him. You tried to call him again, but his name was lost in a cough that burned your throat and caused more blood to trickle out.

So you called his name one last time, which used all the strength that you had left.

He felt the heat first. Then he heard the gnashing of the flames before he heard you. Your panicked, but weakened voice, that was eaten by the fire. He jumped up, calling out for you, if he’s still here that means you are too. Miguel turned on your location, only to realize that you were right behind him, he began to run toward you only to stop. He felt like puking seeing the pipe protrude from your stomach, he fell next to you immediately checking your pulse.

“Not you baby,” he says, checking your neck for a pulse after he felt nothing from your wrists, “Please, I’m here now. Come on, fight baby,” he kept on looking at your face, fighting the same helplessness when Gabi died, “I can’t lose you too.”

His nose became overwhelmed with the sickening metallic smell, it permeated his brain, creating a memory that he knew he’d never be able to forget. Blood, your blood was everywhere. As much as he tried to stop it, it kept flowing. It got on his suit, on his hands. Each passing moment was causing him to become more helpless.

“Lyla!” He called for her, “Lyla!”

“What? I’m here-“ her voice trailed off seeing your body.

“I need you to go to HQ, tell the doctor to get the room ready, Lyla,” Miguel brought her out of her trance, “Go find a doctor at HQ.”

“Her pulse is dangerously low, Miguel,” Lyla said, “Going to HQ-“

“I don’t care how low it is, she has one so that means there’s a chance. I’m sorry baby, but I need to do this,” he kissed your hot skin, before pulling out the pipe. You weakly groaned, your eyes lazily finding Miguel.

He didn’t know whether the stinging of his eyes was caused by the smoke, or the pain etched on your face, in your eyes. Your eyes never left his, begging for him to relieve you of this pain. But, he couldn’t let you go, he won’t let you go. You began to move your lips, but Miguel gently hushed you, telling you to save your strength. He slowly picked you up, his hope draining feeling the back of your head was also coated in blood.

“Don’t worry, it’s going to be okay,” he kissed away your tears, “We’re going to get you healed up.”

Miguel smiled, despite seeing the light slowly ebb from you. His heart grew colder feeling you grow heavier with each moment. The same thing happened with Gabi right before … He held you closer to him, he can’t be alone, you were the last thing protecting him. Protecting him from something inside of him, something that would have devoured him after Gabi died. You were always protecting me, he thought bitterly. He walked past the ambulance and police officers and opened a portal to HQ.

“Miggy,” your voice was barely a whisper, “I need to tell you.”

He ran through the halls of HQ, yelling at other spiders to get out of the way, he almost didn’t hear you, until you weakly touched his face. You couldn’t hold your hand there for long, leaving bloody fingerprints.

“Yes, mi amor,” he looked around, trying to find the damn medical room, “I told you not to talk, you need to save your strength,” where is it?

“I’m not going to make it,” the confession caused more pain in Miguel to swell, causing you to cry, “I’m sorry-“

“Don’t … don’t talk like that,” Miguel began to move again, his eyes blurry, “We’re almost there,” he kissed you with trembling lips, “Then you can tell me as you heal at home.”

“I’m not going home my love,” you leaned closer to him, despite his heart beating erratically, it calmed you, being in his arms calmed you. You didn’t want to be alone.

You looked up, seeing his fragile eyes desperately looking at you as if trying to commit your face to memory. You shakily cleaned his face, your breathing becoming more shallow. You tried to hide your wheezing as you talked, “I’m … I was pregnant. I didn’t know how to tell you, I didn’t want to upset you.”

Even in your final moments, you were still trying to protect him. He kissed your lips, hating how cold they were, “You … you could never do that.”

You smiled, snuggling up to him. Miguel kept on making his way to the medical room, just a few more seconds, you can give him a few more seconds. He didn’t dwell on the pregnancy news, he’ll deal with it after you heal. He’ll help you with your grief of losing your child. He’ll be there like you were there for him.

“I love you, Miguel,” the words stopped his heart, stealing it, “I love you so much,” you said forcing him to look at you, “You … made me feel so lucky, so perfect. You made me being Spider-Woman feel so easy. Miggy, I love you, deeply, detrimentally. It’ll be okay.”

But how? You’re leaving him, going somewhere that he can’t follow. He shuddered, not being able to hold his tears anymore. He kissed your lips, dying at feeling yours turn into the same sweet smile that you had when you first kissed him. Full of promise, but now it felt empty. It won’t be okay, but he’ll pretend that it will be, just for you. He’ll be strong, just for your peace of mind.

“I fucking love you,” he kissed you again, “You’re the best thing that I’ve been blessed with,” another kiss, “Your love is so precious, I would do it all again,” he kissed your lips, failing to notice that you had left him, his words the lullaby to sending you off.

“I’m here,” Miguel placed you on the operating table, “Save her please, she doesn’t have much time.”

The doctor quickly ran a scan, before stopping. He checked your pulse in multiple areas, before doing another scan, this time shaking his head. Miguel watched all of this unfold, the room becoming blurred. He didn’t feel the doctor’s hand on his shoulder, his words of condolences sounded miles away. Gone? He got you here in time, you were breathing in his arms. You can’t be gone.

Miguel stumbled over to you, as if drunk, mumbling querida. Not believing the doctor, he held your wrist checking for a pulse, then he placed his ear on your chest. He could have sworn that your hand would lazily get tangled in his hair, that he would hear your heart fighting. But, instead, all he did was strain his ears, pushing his enhanced hearing to the brink to just hear a single beat.

He fell to the ground, clutching your cold hand. It was a strangled cry, broken. It was foreign to him as if coming out of someone else’s mouth. He sobbed against your hand, struggling to breathe, to fight the hole of darkness that he had thought he defeated. His mind collapsed as he repeated your name, hoping that you would respond to it.

But you didn’t. You never will again.

Miguel stood up, somehow finding the strength too as everything was hurting. His hands hovered over you, as if afraid to touch you. His mind was a desolate place, refusing to accept that you were gone.

Miguel rested his head against the grass, silently crying. He wished to be in the security of your arms, arms that were always open to him, treating him with kindness. He needed your love, it was ineffable, divine. So tender, that no one can copy it, it had only your DNA in it and it undid him, tearing apart his soul in the most pleasurable way. He would do anything to have you back, destroy other universes just to hear you laugh, to breathe.

“I’m sorry, so sorry that I don’t visit you often. But I can’t visit you. I can’t breathe when I’m here, I feel as if I'm being crushed. But I miss you, amor,” he breathes, almost holding his breath for your usual response, “Everything hurts without you, I don’t even feel like me. I need you to rescue me.”

“If I could find you again, I would, so we can do this all over again.”

A/N: Sorry that this was long, but I was inspired to write after watching my friend play the newest Spiderman game. There's still more to come.

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damiansgoodgirll · 8 months

Note

can you do damian priest x reader where they traveling to another state by car to smackdown and he gives her the passenger princess treatment and takes her to Dunkin for breakfast

this is me everytime my best friend is driving

for those who don’t know (you all should know this but) lemonade and renaissance are beyoncé’s album, i’m telling you this for the plot lol.

damian priest x reader

renaissance

“oh no, no, no not renaissance again y/n…” damian told you before you could let the first song of the album start “we just finished lemonade and if i hear beyoncé’s voice once again i’m gonna explode” he joked but there was a little bit of seriousness in his voice.

when you first started tagging along with damian you two were just friends so you never said anything about his music taste, you two would just simple listen to his music and have a normal conversation while driving towards your next destination.

you weren’t a car fan, the opposite, you hated long hours, sat in a seat where you couldn’t even move but damian helped you make car rides a little bit easy but he also knew how impatient you would get if you were sat in the same spot for more than two hours.

so sometimes he would just turn off the music to have a deeper conversation with you, in order to distract you.

not now though, the two of you were dating and he just grew used to your car routine.

he knew you weren’t a huge fan of his music so, from time to time, he would let you pick some of your favorite artists so you wouldn’t feel left out.

but it became more of your music than his own and he had no idea how to stop it. you wouldn’t let him change music, whether it was beyoncé or rihanna, he wasn’t a pop fan but you pretended you didn’t know so you could just sing to your fav tunes.

“pretty please?” you asked him.

“no…three more hours and i won’t be spending them listening to beyoncé…” he said.

“but it’s renaissance…” you said.

“just a little bit of rock and metal…i need them. i need my energy back” he said, his eyes not leaving the road.

it was raining outside and the music helped you cheering you up. you were sat in the passenger seat for already two hours and you knew you wouldn’t be arriving soon, you couldn’t handle it if you didn’t have your music.

“renaissance would give you so much energy if you only give it a chance!” you said hoping he would let you pick the music, again.

“no, it just give me headaches…” he said.

now you were mad.

“fine…i’ll be sleeping if you need me so don’t bother to call me” you said before lowering the hood of your hoodie over your eyes and nose so you wouldn’t be watching the road, and damian.

he simply laughed at your reaction.

before you could close your eyes you heard beyoncé’s voice and you immediately jumped on your seat.

“you were acting like a baby…” he teased you.

“but you love it” you teased him back.

“no i don’t but i rather see you happy than all pouty and mad like a toddler” he said and you smiled, knowing that in one way or another, you would get what you want.

“don’t act like you don’t like renaissance…i see you singing the songs too!” you caught him by surprise.

“i really don’t know what you’re talking about…” he whispered.

you simply laughed at him, trying to adjust yourself in your seat. you were really uncomfortable and damian noticed it too. his hand went to slowly massage your thigh in a calm way, trying to ease you down.

“my ass is becoming flat…” you said and he laughed.

“i doubt it…we’re gonna stop in a few minutes, you need to eat something since you were too tired complaining this morning and you skipped breakfast…” he teased you once again.

“i wasn’t complaining, i was just tired….” you whispered back. his bombastic side eye made you laugh “don’t look at me like that, i’m not lying…”

“sure…anyway, there’s a dunkin in twenty minutes, we’re gonna stop so your majesty could talk a walk and drink all the caffeine she needs” he made you laugh.

once you’ve arrived at your favorite place, you jumped out of the car and went straight into the shop, ordering probably too many sweets and coffee.

“who’s gonna eat all of that?” damian teased you once you received your order. his hands moving to your hips, almost teasing you.

“me because i can’t believe we still have three hours, i’m gonna get so bored even if we go through the whole beyoncé’s discography”

“yup, you better eat because i’m not listening to lemonade once again” he joked before you two moved to the car.

he gently opened the door for you and went back into the driver seat. his hand was back on your thigh and that made you smile even more.

in the end, driving with damian wasn’t that bad, if you were the one deciding tho.

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threadsun · 9 months

Text

Anonymous Asks: "prompt: Elias gets an erection, and his darling offers to help him with it. Taylor, who is listening, by proxy gets aroused by the whole thing and starts groan in y/n's ear"

Content: blowjob, handjob, masturbation, JOI, dubcon, Elias doesn't know Taylor is listening, praise kink

“There’s no need to be ashamed, Elias.”

“Ashamed? I… I’m not ashamed, I simply… i-it’s unbefitting of a gentleman to keep books like that just laying haphazardly around his rooms!”

You’d never thought you’d see a ghost get flustered. But a darker shade of blue rises up from the collar of Elias’ shirt, and he fidgets as your fingers run across the spines of his raunchy romance novels. Well, raunchy for Victorian times, at least. It’s still cute, the way he squirms a little in place. You can see a tent forming in the little sliver of pants you can see before his legs trail off into a wisp.

“Hey,” you approach him slowly, like a wild horse. “It’s okay to enjoy these things. To want to feel good.”

“What the hell are you doing in there, bud?” Taylor’s voice shrieks in your ear, even as your own dips to a sultry purr. “You’re meant to be getting information, not screwing a ghost!”

“Ack!” Elias jumps a bit as your hand comes to rest on his chest, other hand slipping down to cup him gently. “D-dearest, wouldn’t you rather wait for our wedding night?”

“Oh, but you need relief now.” You give a sympathetic sigh, slowly palming him as he melts into your touch. “It’s okay, we won’t consummate properly. I’ll just help you feel better~”

Elias lets you push him back to sit on the bed, watching with wide eyes and parted lips as you get on your knees before him. Taylor is shouting in your ear piece, but you tune him out. How could he possibly expect you to turn down the opportunity to suck off a ghost? Especially when a soft graze of your hands against his pants seems to simply melt them away, his hard cock bobbing in front of you.

“I suppose… i-it can’t hurt. To, uh… know more about each other b-before we wed…” Elias concedes, hands nervously gripping the bed sheets.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Taylor huffs into the ear piece and you wince a bit at the sharp sound. “I’m still here, you know! Listening to everything!”

“Just relax and enjoy yourself,” Your hand soothes across Elias’ thigh, but you’re talking to Taylor just as much. “It’s not shameful to want this…”

“I-I don’t…” Taylor’s protests are weak, faltering. “It’s not like I’ve thought about this before…”

“Good boy,” Elias hums at the praise, and Taylor gives a whimpering little breath in your ear. “Just relax. Let it happen.”

Your lips brush over the head of Elias’ cock and he gasps, hands gripping the sheets tighter. Taylor can hear every sordid detail. The wet sound of you taking Elias’ cock into your mouth. Your soft moan at the taste. Elias’ gasped oaths and desperate whimpers. Each one sends a rush of heat straight to his cock.

“Fuck.” Taylor hopes his voice sounds reluctant, but it comes out more like a needy groan. “Fine, I guess we’re doing this.”

The sound of his zipper is music to your ears. You can practically see him, fishing his cock out from his boxers, that cute red blush on his face. You can hear him panting, the slick sounds of him stroking himself to the sound of you sucking Elias’ cock. The two men make the most gorgeous noises for you. Moans, whimpers, groans, whines… Your name comes from both of them in breathy whispers and desperate mewls.

You pull away from Elias’ cock, hand taking over where your mouth left off. “Good boy, you’re doing so well for me~”

“A-ah, this feels… transcendent!” Elias’ voice is so breathy, so blissful.

“F-fuck, buddy, you can’t say stuff like that!” Taylor gasps out, moans muffled by what you can only assume is his fist.

You take Elias’ hand, guiding it up his shirt to gently tease at his nipples. “There you go, touch yourself for me, baby.”

Elias bites his lip and arches into his own touch, fingers tweaking lightly at his nipples. You want desperately to kiss and bite at his chest, but you don’t want to overwhelm him too much on his first go. You can still hear Taylor touching himself, panting and whining in your ear. You can only imagine how much lovelier those sounds will be when you get him like this in person…

“This is just a taste of what we can do together. I promise there’ll be so much more~” Your voice is a low purr, lips leaving kisses along Elias’ thighs as you stroke his shaft. “Once we’re together, we can do this properly.”

“I’d like that a lot…” Elias breathes out, stroking your cheek reverently.

“A-ah… please… I need you…” Taylor’s voice cracks, and you can imagine his eyes squeezing shut, a few tears of pleasure slipping out.

“Good boy. Can you cum for me? Do you think you can do that?”

Your hand works Elias’ cock faster, and you can hear Taylor picking up the pace on the other end, trying desperately to match what he can hear of yours. You know he’s imagining it’s your hand wrapped around him. Imagining it’s your fingers shoved in his mouth to muffle his cries instead of his own. You’ll make it up to him later. For now you need your boys to cum for you.

“There we go,” you praise them both as you feel Elias’ cum drip over your hands and hear Taylor give a low moan of your name. “Good, so good for me…”

Both of them give shaky little sounds of pleasure as they come down from their orgasms. It feels nice, knowing you’ve pleasured them both at the same time. You absentmindedly lick Elias’ cum from your hand, grinning up at him when he blushes and hides his face. It’s cute, how repressed they both are. You can’t wait to undo them.

#the groom of gallagher mansion #elias gallagher #taylor potts #elias gallagher x reader x taylor potts #gn!reader #18+ only #sunshine

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lilimalia · 1 year

Text

IRREPARABLE LIES // alhaitham

SYNOPSIS... how does one live, knowing the man you so loved, no longer lays by your side, be it noon, evening, or dawn.

CHARACTERS... alhaitham (al-haitham?), kaveh,

DISCLAIMERS... angst, kaveh x reader, rebound (?), toxic relationship, fem reader, angst/no comfort, cheating , implies alcoholism, unhealthy coping (alcohol)

BARISTA'S INTEL... the banner art is so pretty omg, hanfu alhaitham when?!

TAG LIST... @nightrayseishina , @hiqhkey

CAFE TUNE... Let Me Down Slowly // Alex Benjamin !

How are you supposed to feel? Knowing how the Grand Scribe spends his nights.

Nights spent out at Lambad's Tavern, drunk and surrounded by his friends. His table full of cocktails, voice raised above the rest, smirk lacing his reddened complexion.

Sometimes you wonder, what brought you to the conclusion he was the man of your dreams?

Countless of nights you lay in bed, listening to the scribe- your husband- walk slowly into the shared house you so laid in... He never lays be your side anymore does he.

His footsteps always fall flat, just in front of door...

Perhaps it isn't as bad. At least, your husband lays asleep and drifts to bed easily... Much different from the architect that shares your home.

Kaveh, the Kshahrewar man, the architect that represented his Darshan. Was as different from your husband, as opposites can get. Loud and boisterous, expressive and rowdy, and certainly... Intriguing.

Perhaps you are not at fault... For the occasional glance towards that man. And his silky hair, pulled back messily by red crimson pins. And maybe, just maybe, it isn't your fault the two of you go out at night, sometimes, and talk by the trees of Sumeru.

Maybe it isn't your fault the two of you sneak out every once and a while, to run away into the comfort of the canopies, whispering away about the life you two live...

Just maybe... It isn't your fault the architect you live with... Is so stunning in your eyes.

Alhaitham knows nothing about it. He’s sure.

And who is he to tell him? Tell that pitiful man that he, Kaveh, has fallen deep into the living wings of your warmth.

Who is he, the man that you seek comfort in, to tell that distasteful scribe, that his wife no longer knows where her loyalties lie.

Maybe it’s because he’s fallen so deep into this… this charade of emotions. How is it that he’s fallen so deep in love with a women he knows is bound to a man who shows her nothing of her worth.

Kaveh knows, he knows. Alhaitham could never appreciate you the way he does. The way he knows where to place his warm hands against your cheek. Knows where to trail them so you shiver under his touch. Kaveh knows, what he’s doing, is vile. In no manner nor world, should it be accepted.

But your worth every piece of karma

He wants to ask for you too love him. Love him like no other. He wants to wake up, wake up to you by his side. Hearing your voice whispering up to his ear like a symphony.

Instead of having to listen to the cries of a broken heart.

He loves you. He thinks.

Or rather-

He knows.

And he’s okay with that. He’s okay with betraying the bastard of his roommate.

Because no man, nor debt. Could ever replace the life you’ve given to his body.

So as he sits next to you. Hidden under velvet night sky of Sumeru, tucked away under the lush canopies of the trees. He’s saying in his heads chanting it over and over,

“I love you. I love you more then anyone could ever.”

“Alhaitham?”

He hears you call his name.

He grunts in reply.

“We… should divorce. It’s, for the best…”

And suddenly his whole world is shattered.

“Wh-What?”

“Divorce… We should divorce.”

His heart feels heavy. His head is pounding. From the alcohol? Or from your words? He can’t tell.

Right now, he’s murmuring under his breath, hoping, praying you’ve just made a mistake. Praying that those disgusting words, evaporating from you like steam, are a facade. A lie.

His fists are clenched. He realizes.

“A- And why so?”

He manages to stammer.

Because right now, he’s to focused on glaring at you, your complexion staring right back at him. And he’s watching as you bite your bottom lip, uncomfortably shifting behind the counter.

“I don’t… I don’t love you anymore…”

Suddenly, he’s jumped from his chair, rushing towards you.

But.

You’ve flinched.

His hands and just inches away from clasping your cheeks.

And you’ve flinched.

“What have I done wrong? Please my lov- [Y/n] we can talk about this…”

“You’ve let yourself lose Alhaitham. That is all there is to talk about.”

He catches it. The shake in your voice as you back away from his arms, extended outwards. And touch just close enough to touch your cheeks.

“Please… please don’t do this. It was the Tavern visits wasn’t it my dear? I’ll be a better man… I promise!”

He’s trying to tell himself.

“Please… please don’t call me that. It sounds wrong.”

“Wrong? Wrong?… How? How so? I’m right here please [Y/n]. We can talk it out…”

His voice is cracking as well, his complexion cracking.

He sees it. He sees his usual stone cold face cracking. The cracks rigid and unusually noticeable against his face.

His mirror is breaking.

“I’m sorry. I really am. But I just…”

“Please [Y/n]. Please. I'll give you anything!... What is it you want? What would I need to give for you to stay??”

“Nothing Alhaitham.”

“You can’t give me anything.”

And suddenly.

He realizes. Your eyes no longer show shine in front of him. How you no longer love him.

SPECIAL BREWS...

Kshahrewar // one of the six darshans of the Akademiya, primarily the Darshan for technology

BARISTAS INQUIREMENT... part II?? This might have been half effort... But surprise! I'm back!

word count. 883

Tag List Form !

banner credits: @iron

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pomplalamoose · 4 months

Text

Mistletoe Misery

modern day AU / Dilf!Luke x reader

summary: Luke has spent an entire evening thinking about catching you, the reader, under the mistletoe; will he be successful?

(based on this request)

A/N: the way I STRUGGLED with this is unreal💀 but if just one person out there likes it, it'd more than up make up for it. Happy holidays, lovely people🫶🏻

From his place next to his nephew Luke has a great view of the entrance to the kitchen over which proudly dangles the mistletoe.

And although he is surrounded by family and loved ones, his main focus is on you; bustling from one room to the other you carry glasses and plates or cleaning rags, diligently helping to clean up the big dining table.

Again and again you pass under the mistletoe, engage in small talk, let yourself be whirled around to the jolly tunes of old Christmas songs and all of it without glancing his way even once.

With barely concealed frustration he watches as you run into his brother in law for what feels like the fourth or fifth time this evening.

"Keep your father from kissing everything in his vicinity, would you?"

He didn't mean for it to come out as harsh as it did and grimaces apologetically when Ben looks up at him in slight bewilderment.

"It's just an old tradition, uncle Luke.", he says. "I don't think mom minds terribly."

Luke sighs and swallows a grumbled retort, instead returning his attention back to you.

No, he isn't worried about Leia's relationship but very much about you falling for someone else.

Surely he, won't, can't be the focus of your attraction for long?

If he isn't mistaken, and he doubts he is, pretty much every member of his entire family was able to catch you under the mistletoe to receive one of your kisses or to gift one to you.

Except for him.

He can't suppress a longing sigh.

You're making for such a beautiful picture tonight.

Mesmerized he watches as you gracefully swipe your hair to the side and out of your face, your beautiful earrings catching the light.

Their gleam flashes across the room like a little beacon, beckoning him closer, drawing him in.

The earrings HE gifted you.

HE should be the one in Han's place making you laugh, HE should be the one close to you.

And it's not as if he hasn't tried, as if he didn't put in any effort to reach out.

He did and yet, somehow, you managed to slip away, evaded his grasp every single time as if you were nothing more than a lovely play of his imagination.

***

You like your friend's family, you really do, and especially with one of their uncles, Han, you get along splendidly.

He's funny, although primarily unintentionally so because of how full he is of himself, and carries himself with an ease that's contagious.

Most importantly though he does an incredible job distracting you from the fact that Luke and you haven't exchanged a single word for the entirety of the evening.

From time to time you can feel his eyes on you but nothing more and, as a result, you've been growing increasingly fidgety and nervous.

He knows something is up, must have noticed how you're going out of your way to avoid any interaction with him.

Oh, if only it weren't for that damned mistletoe, there would be no problem at all.

You weren't this concerned when it was first brought in, so sure that its only serving purpose was meant to be a final touch to the decorations.

How nice of your friend's relatives to bring something along!

Though rather quickly you realized how very very wrong that assumption was and immediately started panicking.

How, in all the worlds, were you supposed to handle a kiss from Luke?!

If he would even want to kiss you, that is, whispered a nasty little voice of self doubt in your head, promptly introducing you to a whole new world of worries.

What if he rejected you?

All of a sudden it didn't matter that he had known about your feelings towards him for a while now, that you spent a lovely few weeks preparing for the holidays together.

It didn't matter that his gift was singlehandedly the most beautiful thing you had ever laid your eyes upon and which surely must have cost him a fortune.

He may have grown fond of you, yes, of that you can be relatively sure now, but how are you supposed to know if there's more to it than that?

If his feelings go beyond those a father has for their child?

Are you supposed to find out under the mistletoe? In front of everybody?

What if you were to share a kiss and it meant nothing to him but everything to you?

What if he'd leave you there, with weak knees and a flushing face, like nothing happened?

No.

Not tonight; not on a night that is meant to be joyous and light hearted.

***

Later, as the last guests are saying their goodbyes on the steps in front of the house, you are carefully making your way into the kitchen, hoping not to catch anybody's attention.

You'll have to come out of there eventually, you know, and sooner than later, but for now you're safe.

Surely, in all of this confusion of jackets and shoes and presents and hugs, nobody will think to take a look in here, not when they're already halfway out of the door.

Admittedly your feeling of relief is very nearly one of pride as well.

With the family's department the mistletoe has lost its power and you emerged on the other side victorious.

You did it! No awkward swooning, no hurtful rejection, no forced closeness, no unanswered questions; your little plan worked.

Happily humming to yourself you begin storing away the dishes, when you hear foot steps behind you.

Your friend! Great, you could definitely use a helping hand amidst this chaos and-

With a request already on your lips you turn around but all that leaves you is a squeak when instead you come face to face with the one person you've been trying so hard to evade.

Just barely fast enough to tighten your grasp on the expensive porcelain plate you were holding, you manage to save it from shattering on the floor in thousands of pieces.

Hoping to mask your fright with indignation, you angrily look up at Luke and are about to speak when he cuts across the room towards you, forcing you to retreat until your back hits the sink with a dull thump.

"Luke-", you start in surprise but he's quick to stun you into silence with how he leans forward to place his arms on either side of you, effectively caging you in.

Clearly pleased about having caught you so off guard he chuckles and tilts his head to get a better look at your facial expression.

"Playing hide and seek, little mouse?", Luke whispers close to your ear, his voice excitingly rough.

A shiver runs down your spine.

He's so close you can feel his hot breath on your face.

So easy; it'd be so easy to raise yourself on your toes and then-

Your heart stops when he parts his sensual lips, your knees buckling beneath you.

Is this really happening? Will he-

"Come on.", he demands.

Taking your wrist he leads a bewildered you across the room, leaving you no choice but to quickly follow behind.

Before you have a chance to speak, to ask, to do anything, he stops and turns, swiftly pulling you closer.

It's quiet for a few seconds as his shockingly blue eyes bore into yours in a way that makes your poor heart stutter and your breath halt; then his gaze and grip soften.

And suddenly he seems upset, agitated.

"I missed your company tonight.", he says, speaking much gentler now. "I had hoped to spend more of it in your presence. With you."

"Oh..."

Your answer is more of a sigh than a word, really, but you are capable of nothing more.

This isn't what you expected.

Luke's hands are still holding on to you, before slowly, oh so slowly, they move to brush your hair aside.

Carefully he tucks it behind your ears and finally he's able to take a proper look at his gifts framing your face.

He smiles a sad smile.

"It's okay. There's just-", he sighs, needs to close his eyes, to gather himself, "there is something I still wish to do, before...before I can let you go."

"W-what...?"

It's like the time around you slows to a halt when he angles your face towards his and leans forward.

As his lips touch yours, light like a feather, barely even there, your questions dies in your throat.

And at last you spot the mistletoe directly above your heads.

The kiss doesn't last long, in fact it's over before it even started, before you can even think to close your eyes.

Yet he doesn't let go.

Breathing heavily he looks down at you like in a trance, like he can't believe what he just did.

His thumbs brush roughly over your cheeks again and again and you feel his other fingers flexing at the nape of your neck, holding on tight, like he's afraid you'll vanish if he isn't attentive enough.

"Merry Christmas."

#luke skywalker #luke skywalker x reader #luke skywalker x you #luke star wars #dilf luke #dilf luke skywalker #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars a new hope #star wars empire strikes back #star wars return of the jedi #fanfic #star wars x reader #star wars x you

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russolover · 1 year

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16, 38, 41 please! love your writing!

Exhausted

Thank you sm I appreciate it! I hope you like it :)

16. “You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”, 38. “can we go home yet?”, 41. “you need some sleep”

It was the last few weeks before the big game, you and your team mates, were slightly going to extremes during training. A few weeks before the big game also meant only a few more weeks until the World Cup. It was understandable that every player wanted to be on that wold cup squad.

You glanced around the pitch, seeing Jen do sprints with Gio and Katherine which made you chuckle. From the side of your eye you also saw a particular blonde heading into your direction.

“Are you alright?”

Leah asked you as you were sitting on the ground drinking from your flask.

"Yeah just thinking"

You replied quickly. Leah sat down next to you before she could say something again.

"Its about Less isn't it?"

Her ability to know what's going on with her teammates always stunned you.

"It's just so confusing.. one minute we're all over each other and the next she's pushing me away- I don't get it"

Leah looked at you sympathetically and squeezed your shoulder.

“it’s probably the stress.. the whole World Cup squad thing and the big game.. you know how focused Alessia gets”

You kept staring into the directions of your teammates.

“She’s putting to much pressure on herself”

You whispered while fiddling with your flask.

“You should try to talk to her, invite her over for dinner and tell her how you feel or you could bring her to training at this point no one would be surprised”

She remarked with a smirk which you chuckled at. Flashbacks of last months party reminded you of the moment where Leah caught you and the Italian making out in the bathroom

“Come on I know no one’s going to use the bathroom on the second floor”

You whispered into alessias ear while pulling her softly into your direction. She only chuckled at this and let you lead the way upstairs. Once you both were upstairs the blonde pulled you in by your collar. Rather aggressive, some might say. You traced you lips down her neck, marking every step while the girl in front of you was a moaning mess.

“Don’t stop Y/n”

“I’m not planni-

“OH MY GOD”

You heard someone scream. Once you tuned your head four big eyes were directed at you and the blonde.

"Hey Leah.. Jordan what's up?"

You replied in a high pitched tone while still having your arms around the blonde.

“I’ll text her to come over tonight”

You thanked the blonde beside you before going back into the training facility.

After a few hours you go back to your place, deciding a cozy evening for you and Alessia would be nice since you didn’t had that in a while. You realised how quiet the blonde was when she came by that night, her usually bubbly demeanour was no where to be seen right now.

“Less?”

You spoke softly not to startle the blond next to you.

She didn't responded but turned her head so she was looking at you. You realised how exhausted she looked by the dark circles around her eyes.

"You look tired.. have you been sleeping properly?"

"I'm just stressed Y/n.. the next few weeks are going to be so much"

She whispered while resting her head on your shoulder. You didn't want to stress her out even more by asking about whatever you two had going on right now, so you decided to not bring it up for now.

“You need some sleep”

She wasn't protesting when you carried the blonde to your bed. Once she hit the covers she fell asleep immediately.

The next few weeks went by fast and you saw yourself standing on the pitch with Vic opposite of you waiting for the ref to blow the whistle to start the game.

It was Man U vs. Arsenal. The girl you've been having an on/off relationship with being on the opposite team. You kept glancing at her since you haven't talked to her in two weeks, but she didn't look in your direction. Even from a distance you could see how exhausted she was, the once ocean blue eyes looked tired.

After a strong fist half arsenal was up 1:0, but that didn't mean the game was anywhere near to being over. The second half went on with an equaliser from tooney. At the 70th minute you could see how Less started to slow down, not kicking the ball properly she just got form Maya. You knew what was about to happen and immediately ran into her direction. The Italian fainted directly into your arms before she could've hit the ground. Both teams surrounding you two and the medicals taking her immediately off the pitch once they got to her.

After what felt like the longest 20 minutes of your life you made your way to the medical room. You saw the blondes eyes lit up once she saw you walking through the door.

"Y/n"

She whispered your name while you walked to her bedside.

"What happened out there?"

You asked her gently while sitting down next to her.

"I dont know"

She mumbled while avoiding eye contact.

"Less..You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes."

"You're such a donut"

She laughed. The first genuine laugh you've heard from her in weeks, you knew by the scrunching of her nose and the crinkle around her eyes. There was a minute of silence afterwards before she started talking again.

"I'm sorry for ignoring you the last weeks, I put all my attention on football and that wasn't right"

She said regretfully. You smiled softly at her before pulling her into a hug.

"Well.. I know how much this means to you-"

"But that doesn't ma-"

"It's okay Less, honestly, I forgive you"

You cupped her cheeks and placed a sweet kiss on her lips. The Italian pulled you back in for a more passionate kiss before you two had to stop for oxygen. She smiled at you while softly caressing your nape. Those were the moments you missed the past few weeks and you were finally happy that you could have them again.

"Can we go home yet?"

The blonde asked right as the doctor came into the room.

"You can, but Alessia take care of yourself you were dehydrated and by the dark eyes I can tell you haven't been sleeping"

The doctor responded, while you took notes in your head to always have an extra water bottle with you from now on.

"I'll take care of it and I think I will sleep better from now on"

She said while looking at you with a soft smile.

#alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #woso fanfics #woso soccer #woso masterlist #fanfic #lionesses #engwnt #woso community #lgbtq #alessia russo imagine

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