#so honestly i just need a break from trying to fight so hard against it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kissatoru · 7 months

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★ ₊˚ PUNISHMENT

content. bratty sub!satoru, afab!satoru, amab!reader, dom!reader, dom/sub dynamics, restraints, pussyjob, that good old praise-degradation combo, thigh-fucking, pet names (doll, darling, sweetheart), fingering, squirting, oral (f! receiving), overstimuation

wc. 2.4k

satoru loves punishments.

overstimulation, edging, spanking... they all wear the same thin veil of the word ‘punishment’ but to satoru they are anything but. he knows that he shouldn’t be trying to get punished on purpose, but who can blame him when your punishments are always so sweet? you always give him what he wants in the end, which is what you both want, really. that’s why he’s never worried when you threaten to ‘teach him a lesson’ or other such things, because the truth is they never taught him anything except that he loves punishments.

well, until now, that is.

because now he’s on his back, wrists secured to the headboard by handcuffs and legs bent all the way up his torso. his head thrashes in different directions, unable to decide whether to look down at the cock sliding between his folds, hoping that he might be able to will it inside of him with his quivering lip and puppy dog eyes or sheer force of will, or squeeze his eyes shut to avoid the sight of you being so close yet so purposely far from where you wants you.

“ohh my god, please,” satoru whines, yanking on the cuffs and trying to move his hips up. “please, just– fuck, just put it in!”

you scoff and dig your nails into the pale flesh of his thighs. “don’t forget what got you here in the first place, slut,” you snarl. “you’re only getting as much as i want you to get and nothing more.”

satoru flops his head back, milky white hair sticking in sweat-slick swirls on his forehead. “i know, i’m sorry! i really am, okay?” he mumbles, kneading his pink lips together to fight back a moan, or maybe a sob. “i promise i won’t do it again, just–” a sharp inhale, followed by a soft keen. “just please put it in. i need it... so bad.”

“you should have thought about that before letting that fan flirt with you,” you say, almost laughing. “honestly, you’re so fucking shameless sometimes, ‘toru. you think i don’t know you do that shit on purpose? you really think i believe you when you say you won’t do it again?”

he smirks, as if your questions are a challenge, and opens his mouth to answer — he really doesn’t know when to quit, you think, or maybe he does, and he just enjoys pushing you that bit further anyway — but you let go of one of his legs and seal his lips shut behind your palm before he can speak.

“i know you don’t. i know you just think i’ll play along with your little games as long as you keep giving me the same boring apology and a few pretty crocodile tears.” you lean in close to him, at the same time, pushing your hips forward and grazing satoru’s clit, making him moan into your hand. “but i’m not in the mood to play anymore, satoru.” you watch as his expression morphs from dazed to alert, how it falters and his eyes tremble like ripples through water at your dark tone. “i want to make you mean your promises and sorry’s,” you say quietly, your hand sliding down his jaw to rest around his neck as a warning, “i want to give you something to really cry about.”

and then you’re shutting the gap between you with a hard kiss, full of tongue and desperation, so passionate and addictive that it’s nothing short of evil how you break it in mere seconds, leaving behind a breathless, pouty satoru. you just smile at him and drive your hips slowly forward, the movement smooth and easy with satoru’s slick.

you set a pace that’s just enough to tilt him in the general direction of pleasure, but never quite bring him there. the head of your cock bumps against the underside of satoru’s clit on almost every thrust and all he can do is cry out, his back arching weakly and his arms pulling taut in the air against the handcuffs that bind him, at the fleeting spark of euphoria that zaps through him. it’s good yet not nearly enough to get him any closer to cumming, and bucking his hips up in search of that spark is not only useless, but surely pathetic, if the way your cruel gaze glints is any indication.

his thighs can only twitch in your grasp like a scared animal; inward, outward, like they can’t decide whether they want to close or spread wider for you. you don’t really give him a choice though; you just bend both of those long legs of his further back, so he’s gently angled toward the ceiling, and each tantalising slide of your cock through his rosy, wet lips causes the head to catch against his entrance. a few times, it even nudges inside for a single blissful second, and satoru chokes, but never manages to let out anything more before that second is over and that brief feeling of his walls stretching around you vanishes, like a too-good-to-be-true mirage in a neverending desert.

satoru’s mind and body go numb with the endlessness of it all. he begs and wails for a while, but those moments of fruitless pleading have long passed. now, he is all quiet pants and throaty moans that grow louder with every small wave of flickering ecstasy. damp stains paint the pillows a darker shade on either side of satoru’s face, where he’s been tucking away his drool and tear-soaked face. he feels like a toy, an object for your pleasure, and he’d love it if it wasn’t for the fact that he isn’t getting anything from it.

suddenly, you grab his knees and hoist them over your shoulder, which abruptly snaps your pliant boyfriend out of his trance. his head turns to look at you, the haze clearing up, now replaced with hope and an eager desire twinkling in his owlish blue eyes.

“don’t get too excited now, sweetheart,” you say, smirking and patting the side of his ass. “squeeze your thighs together, alright? nice and tight.”

and despite everything, despite all you’ve put him through already, satoru still manages to find the courage, the audacity to grin right then, toothy and daring and insufferable. “and if i do, will you finally put that cock to some use and fuck–”

you pinch his clit and immediately, his words melt into nonsense and his thighs clamp shut around your hand.

“there you go.” you hum and push your cock through a small gap between his full thighs, which is easy enough with how drenched both you and him are. “good boy. keep them together f’me, just like that, that’s perfect.”

satoru lets out a breathy whimper as you start to fuck his thighs. he grows delirious with every thrust, the way your length rubs across his swollen clit ever so slightly. he’s so pent up at this point that it might be enough to make him cum, he thinks, but as you keep going, increasing your pace and the grip around his legs, he only ever gets as far as halfway. he’s wet and hot and shaking but by the time you’re cumming, satoru is closer to tears than he is to an orgasm.

your hands tighten around satoru’s legs for a moment, as your high seizes your body and the last of your cum sputters across his belly, before finally loosening and letting go. his legs drop and fall open, giving you a perfect view of satoru’s messy pussy and the little puddle on the sheets under it. beneath your heavy gaze, it seems to pulse and blush, and satoru’s legs attempt to shut and hide it, but with a single push they’re falling back down and staying there, likely too weak to try again. it almost makes you hard again.

“should’ve been inside,” satoru grumbles.

you roll your eyes. “could have, ‘toru. not should, could,” you correct. “i could have fucked you and came inside, had you not been such a fucking brat.” you emphasise your words with a light, playful flick to his inner thigh.

satoru ignores you and pouts, not meeting your eyes. “you’re mean,” he says under his breath, but the blush spilling from his cheeks to his neck says that he might not be complaining.

you chuckle and lean over him, running your hands up his thighs. “only when you’re bad, darling,” you whisper, trailing kisses up his ribs and nuzzling the soft skin. for a moment, you don’t say anything else. just lay there, listening to satoru’s still rabbit-fast heartbeat.

“though i suppose,” you say, one hand sliding up to his chest, “you’ve been quite good at taking your punishment...”

electricity runs down to satoru’s core and his breath catches in his throat. he doesn’t dare to say anything, in case you change your mind.

you sit up, and your eyes are on him as you drag your fingers through the ropes of cum painted on his abdomen, collecting it and leaving satoru’s muscles trembling in suspense. he watches you pull away your fingers while your other hand tugs on his folds. the cool air on his warm cunt makes it twitch. you languidly wipe your cum on it and spread it, down to his hole. the movement and its implications are enough to have satoru’s breathing stutter and his legs jump.

his head tosses back when you finally slip a finger inside him. you start pumping quickly after and he moans in time with your steady pace. a second digit soon joins the first, and satoru begins to aid your motions with his own, rolling his hips down, gasping, desperate, frantic.

“slow down, baby,” you coo, but satoru doesn’t listen, too lost in the throes of his pleasure, and only bucks his hips more violently. your other hand grabs and presses it into the mattress, but when that doesn’t stop him, you pull your fingers out entirely.

“nooo, no, no,” satoru cries. “i was close, please, hurry! put them back in, please–”

“just because i’m being nice, doesn’t mean you can ignore me,” you interrupt. “it would be a shame if after all this, you didn’t get to cum, don’t you think, ‘toru?”

the realisation seems to materialise in his eyes and he rushes to nod his head.

you hum. “then be good and listen.” and with that, your fingers are sliding back into him. he keens when you move them, trembling from head to toe with the effort of staying still. it’s slow, at first, but increasing in pace. it doesn’t take long at all for satoru to return to where he was, that teetering edge, the one weakness, the one thing that can break the strongest sorcerer in the world.

his pale skin and even paler hair both shimmer with sweat like moonlight while his feathery white lashes sit on his flushed cheeks like freshly fallen snow. lips the same shade as his cheeks part around melodic notes that flow as if in an endless song.

“so pretty,” you whisper in awe, but satoru doesn’t process the praise, too focused on wanting to cum.

“i’m close, i’m close! please, don’t stop, please!” he begs, his voice all high and strained. he’s always been loud in bed, but he’s most vocal in moments like this one, where he’s finally given what he’s been starved of and wanting since the beginning.

you smile and curl your fingers, bullying that tender spot inside him with short, harsh rubs, in rapid succession of every pump. the cuffs jingle and clink. your arched fingertips squelch in his pussy while your thumb massages his clit. one, two, a few more harsh circles later and he’s squirting all over your hand. his body tenses like a bow string and shakes with the force of his orgasm. a few last spurts of fluid gush out his pussy before he finally collapses on the bed, panting and boneless.

while he floats down from his high, you keep yourself occupied with his pussy, sliding your drenched fingers in and out of his abused hole and watching how it clenches around the digits, like it’s still hungry for more.

the heel of satoru’s foot finds your chest, digging into it, albeit not very strongly. “ngh, st– stop... s’too much,” he mumbles.

“yeah but you like it when it’s too much, don’t you?” you tease, pressing down on that puffy bump inside him and making his weak leg spasm in the air for a moment before falling on top of your shoulder.

a sinister idea flares up in your mind.

you raise him up by his knees and throw his legs over your shoulders, his body almost vertical.

satoru blinks and frowns at you sluggishly. “what are you–”

he gasps, so suddenly that you’d think he had the wind knocked out of him — because your lips are latching onto him and your tongue is lapping up all of his and what’s left of your juices. his ankles lock around the back of your head and his moans wobble like they can barely make it out of his chest in one piece.

“ahh, fuck, wait, wait– please, it’s– ahh, stop, stop, i can’t–”

when you don’t hear the word, the one that would actually stop all this, should he really want it, you continue to eat him out like a man starved. you weave your tongue through his folds, over his throbbing clit, dipping into his still-oozing hole. satoru ruts against your mouth as best he can in this position, completely betraying his own pleas. he doesn’t even realise he’s crying from the pleasure-pain until your voice is vibrating through him — a slurred, “eyes on me, doll,” — and all he sees when he opens his eyes is a wavering blur and a silhouette that sharpens and reveals more of your features the more he blinks.

he cums almost instantly after your dark gaze comes into focus, slightly less violently than before, but still enough that he goes limp and completely motionless, save for the involuntary spasms that pass through him every so often. you set him down tenderly. his chest rises and falls and as you’re unlocking the cuffs around his wrists, he’s smiling to himself with all the energy he has left, because despite how hard you try to change it, to ‘teach him a lesson’...

satoru still loves his punishments.

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confused-wanderer · 9 months

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Batman and superman are their opposite personalities in civilian form.

.. so this gives us a perfect opportunity for the most disastrously chaotic dynamic (and love square) EVER.

ESPECIALLY if they don’t know the others true identities, or even they did and are just being lil shits anyways

Give me:

grumpy skeptical Clark to Bruce’s sunshine playboy persona.

Clark *trying to down as many aspirins as he can, half tempted to throw himself into the sun* : Bruce we needed to surround the enemy, not SEDUCE them!

Bruce *currently on his way to a dinner wearing the most seductive outfit known to man* : Well, you know the saying. We can’t gatekeep or manslaughter our way out of it. Girlboss it is.

Clark: Bruce you are going on a date with a STRAIGHT MAN

Bruce: Give me five minutes and then I’ll let you hear him scream my name

*horrified Clark noises*

==================================

Brooding and detective Batman meeting lie-detector and very effective investigator journalist Clark Kent

Batman: Tell me where the bombs are Riddler!

Riddler *currently tied up* : Hehe you’ll never find them~

Clark: Mind if I record this session Mr. Riddler?

Batman:

Riddler:

Clark:

Riddler: Who the hell-

Batman: .. Kent. How’d you even get here?

Clark: Irrelevant questions. *waves recorder* so..?

Riddler: Sure..tell the public I’m going to paint the walls red-

Clark *in investigative journalist mode* : So which devastating rock bottom led you to lose your mind and pursue this as a career?

Riddler:

Riddler: hey wait hang on this is a fulfilling career!

Clark *raising a judgemental eyebrow*: So.. you fighting a man dressed as a bat, with that atrocious outfit you must’ve gotten from hell and riddles that you’ll give him the answer to anyway.. this is fulfilling?

Riddler *voice breaking* : .. yes?

*questioning and judgemental silence*

Few hours later

Red Robin: .. why is Riddler crying and why does he also have a career counselling book in his hand?

Batman *just as surprised and kind of disturbed at how methodical and impressive Clark was in breaking down Riddlers plan based on evidence and connecting the dots* : Honestly I thought he was here for me and he started ignoring me so out of concern for his safety I demanded he paid attention

Red robin: And?

Batman: and he said “oh you don’t want me to pay attention to you” and showed me.. a lot of details and screenshots I don’t know how he got his hands on

Red robin:

Batman: Riddler also then attempted to escape and Clark just.. punched him so hard Riddler still doesn’t know which universe he’s in..

Red robin: well it could’ve been worse.. Clark could’ve pulled out a gun

Batman: .. he has a flamethrower

Red Robin: IM SORRY WHAT

Batman: .. and he told me we should work together sometimes, and I gave him few crime stories and plots to help raise awareness for the public and stop them.

Red robin:

Batman: also he gave me a therapy card.

=========

Give me ray of sunshine and leader Superman with no sense of self preservation Bruce Wayne

Superman: Good evening Mr. Wayne, there’s a credible threat against you so I’ll be on the lookout for today-

Bruce *sidling upto him* : .. damn.. when I said send your hottest stripper you did deliver..

Superman *beet red* : Im not the stripper sir!

Bruce: Really?

Superman *furious nodding*

Bruce: okay then.. hey listen, I’ve been learning about important dates in history lately.. do you wanna be one of them?

Superman. Exe has stopped functioning

Later

Superman: Mr. Wayne there’s a blackout and the building is under attack! Evacuate!

Bruce *running with gunshots behind* : Are you outside? You’re invulnerable right? Nothing can hurt you? Not even gunpowder or explosives?!

Superman *touched and pleasantly surprised* : yes.. so you don’t have to worry about me Mr. Wayn-

*glass breaks and Superman catches the dark mass falling in the air*

Superman: See? You’re safe-

*realises he’s holding a huge bomb about to detonate*

One explosion later

Superman: … you threw a bomb at me

Bruce: What?? You said you were invulnerable! I didn’t know what else to do with it??

Superman: So you didn’t think to tell me? Not even a warning?

Bruce: Listen that bomb was hot but compared to how smoking hot you were I didn’t think it ever stood a change

Superman: Mr. Wayne, listen. You should’ve atleast yelled or said something so I could’ve gotten it away in time. What if I hadn’t?

Bruce: I did! I yelled GET READY FOR A BLOWJOB

Superman:

Bruce:

Superman:

Bruce: ?? Did I do something wrong?

========

And obviously.. the usual golden retriever Superman x black cat Batman that we all know and love so I’m just going to leave it at:

Batman: Someone is going to die.

Superman: Of fun!

Batman: Sure if you consider burning to death fun

Superman:

Superman: Oh come on be a little optimistic! We must have hope! We will persevere!

Batman: we are literally being held hostages by aliens

Superman: ..listen okay, let me do the talking. We just gotta de-escalate the situation

Alien: You intruders! You will never get our superior defender systems-

Batman *done with this bullshit* : I already hacked into it twenty days ago and found all of your identities, families and now have full control over your systems of defends and weapons. If I wanted to hurt somebody.. I would’ve done so already.

Alien *tries to punch him, gets headbutted instead*

Alien *chuckles* : You have a thick skull Batman..

Batman:

Superman *frantic whispering*: Dontsayitdontsayitdontsayitdontsayit-

Batman: .. atleast mines protecting a brain. Wish I could say the same for yours

Superman *heavy sigh*

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zeltqz · 1 year

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blackout (nsfw)

In which eren and his ex reconcile during a power outage.

The abrupt knocking on his dorm door startled Eren slightly. He removes his headphones, sliding them down his neck, groaning as he heads towards his front door. He has to use his phone flashlight because there was a power shortage in the university tonight.

The announcement said that the outage would last the entire night and the head of school “advised” everyone to use the lack of phones, tv etc to their advantage and get a good night’s rest.

Nobody listened of course. But Eren was still confused as to who could be knocking on his door this late. His friends were out for the weekend, renting out a rental to stay at but Eren declined the invite, wanting to study for his exams instead.

The last person he’d expect to see knocking at his door at 10PM was you. He opens the door and greets you with his usual charismatic smile, despite the situation being totally awkward. “Hey……what are you doing here?”

You clench your jaw and close your eyes, as if the question were about to ask was physically painful to ask. Technically it was, but you had no other choice. “...May I sleep over tonight?”

Eren brings a hand up, cupping his ear and asks you to repeat. You glare, telling him to knock it off.

Despite being broken up for almost two months, Eren still won’t ever miss an opportunity to tease you for literally anything. He crosses his arms, leaning against the doorframe, “Why do you wanna sleep at mine?”

“Well—you’re the only person I know in this block…so.”

“Hm, or you could just sleep at your own place?”

You look down and scratch your arm, raking your nails along the skin. Eren notices the subtle action, but doesn’t comment on it—only now realising how nervous you look right now.

It’s honestly out of character for you, usually someone that has such a bold mouth, especially around Eren, not afraid to speak your mind and call him out on his bullshit.

The most Eren has seen from you since the break up was the occasional glare and whenever he does see you smile, it’s not directed at him. So to see you acting this way feels vulnerable almost.

“This is so embarrassing,” A nervous smile graces your lips as you fiddle with your fingers. “Don’t repeat this to anyone—and don’t laugh when I tell you.” There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips, already ready to laugh. “Seriously Eren, or I’ll break your toe.”

He chuckles, nodding his head, waiting for you to reveal your super top secret.

You exhale through your mouth, almost snapping your fingers with how hard you’re gripping onto them right now. “Hey…” Eren reaches out and grabs your hands, separating them from each other before he has to take you to the hospital. “Seriously, what's up? You’re sorta scarin’ me.”

“I’m—I’m sorta…scared of the dark.” You divert your gaze past Eren’s face, finding a sudden interest in the wall instead.

Feeling a little bit relieved it wasn’t something genuinely upsetting and your nervous behavior was only a result of your phobia, he brings a hand up to his mouth, splaying it across his mouth in an obvious attempt to try and stiffen the laughter bubbling in his throat.

“Eren! I wasn’t lying when I said I’d break your toe.” You poke your finger at his chest.

“What if I just blindfold you? What will you do then?” He leans forward to tease you before you shove him away from you, creating a reasonable distance between you two.

You stare up at him for a second, fighting the mental battle in your brain to slap his stupid face. The only thing stopping you from doing so is the fact you currently need refuge in his dorm because you’re too afraid to go back to your own.

“Can I stay with you? Just for tonight, please?” You repeat, voice much softer and gentle. His eyes softened for a moment, remembering the other times you’ve spoken to him in that tone was during the happy moments in your relationship.

He ignores the weird feeling and sudden urge of uncomfortable memories racing through his head and simply steps aside to let you inside. It’s just as dark in his house as it is at your place but due to him having more windows in his place, the darkness isn’t as uncomfortable as your own.

“Did you eat anything today?” Eren asks, digging through his fridge ready to make you something to eat till he remembers that the stove wouldn’t be working anyway.

“Yeah, I ate like a sandwich for lunch, that’s about it.”

“I have some marshmallows left over from last night if you want some?”

“Marshmellows?” Your laugh is right behind him and he almost jumps a little, not expecting you to be that close.

“Yeah, uh, Armin got high for the first time and craved marshmallows so—”

“That’s cute.” You smile to yourself, picturing Armin high, “how—um, how is he by the way? Mikasa too?”

Ever since you broke up with Eren, you barely spoke to them despite seeing them almost on a daily basis throughout your two year relationship.

It was hard not being able to talk to Mikasa for the first couple weeks after the breakup. You’d been going to her for advice because she was the most honest person you’d ever met. She won’t be afraid to tell you what she’s thinking, almost being straight up with you, not caring if the truth hurts your feelings.

Her words did hurt, yes, but it was better than being told lies.

Armin was like your best friend. He was so helpful and whenever Eren fucked up and you both got into an arguement or a disagreement, giving the two of you the best of advice that always got you back together.

“They’re good, yeah.” Eren hands you the bag of marshmellows and you follow behind him as he walks over to the couch in his living room.

You take a seat on the far edge of the couch, wanting to create some space between you two. Propping your legs up to sit cross legged with the packet between your legs, you struggle to find the opening due to the darkness.

Eren laughs when he hears the packet scrunching around, a clear indication that you’re struggling. “Need help?”

“No—I don’t.”

Eren shifts a bit closer and you freeze when his thigh brushes against your knee. “Give it here.” You hesitate before complying, handing the box, using what small light your eyes can produce to see him fiddle with it for a moment, then finding the opening easily.

He digs his hand through, pulling out a handful of marshmallows for himself before handing the packet back to you. “Thank you.”

The two of you sit and bask in the silence of the room. You try to chew extra slowly, not wanting to make any unnecessary chewing sounds by eating it too fast.

Eren seems to notice and he snorts into his hand.

You glance towards him, sending him a look that he can’t see because of two reasons in particular.

One: it’s dark as shit.

Two: his gaze is directed towards his phone.

From what you can see, his brightness is low, but his hands are typing at his keyboard so he must be texting someone. The nosiness inside you builds up and you use the lack of light in the room to your advantage, leaning in slightly just to see who’s he’s texting.

Not that it matters anyway. He can text whoever he wants, you don’t care.

But reading the name, you realise it’s a girl’s name and a part of you instantly regret looking. You’re not even sure why it’s bothering this much, but you shift away from him and divert your attention back onto the candy.

Chewing the soft candy, you silently pray for the power to come back on before tomorrow morning. Being stuck inside with him was driving you literally insane.

Eren looks up from his phone minutes later, shifting to rest his head on the couch's backrest. He lazily turns his head to face you. “You’ve been hella silent, you alright?”

“‘M fine.” You feel a little sick stuffing your face full of this many marshmallows and the taste is starting to piss you off. Closing the packet, you hand it back to Earen.

He simply looks at it, then raises a brow gently, “What?”

“I’m not hungry no more.”

Eren nods, taking the box from you then leaning to the side to put it on the other edge of the couch. He sinks back into the couch, bringing out his phone again.

You can’t help the way your face tightens up, can’t help the press of your lips together as you watch him divert his attention back to that fucking phone.

A sudden wave of fatigue hits you at that very moment and you hope the marshmallows were laced because that way you could blame your next actions on marijuana.

You lift his hands up from were they were seated on his lap to free up space, ignoring the confused look on his face when you shift on the couch to lay your head down there.

Despite the fact that there’s cushions right next to you, something just possesses you to do that. Eren uses one hand to type, subconsciously drumming his fingers along the side of your head, scratching at your scalp gently in a way he used to.

Maybe it was just muscle memory for him, but he remembers your special spots, the way you tilt your head back to lean further into his embrace.

Eren looks down at you on his lap, he can’t see what facial expression you’re wearing because of the way you’re facing, but from the low hum of your voice, he can tell you enjoy it. “You tired?”

“ Exhausted .” You sigh, shifting onto your back so you could look up at his face. “Why do you still remember that spot?” You groan when he scratches that spot near your baby hairs.

“How could I ever forget?” He laughs, cautious not to mess up your hair because he knows how much you hate that. “You still got that hair-pulling kink, huh?”

You instantly sit the second he reminds you of that awful moment when he tugged on your hair a little harshly and you moaned. He never let you live that down. “Don’t ever bring that up again.” You point your finger in his face, threatening to poke him in the eye.

He laughs and pushes your hand away from his face. “Okay, I won’t. Just lay back down.” He uses the grip on your hair to push you back down onto his lap but you shake your head and resist, sitting beside him instead.

“I missed you.” He says after a short moment.

Those words make your throat tighten up. You swear you could feel your heartbeat hammering in your chest, a thump booming against your ear drums. You’d never think three words would affect you this much.

You look away, unable to look him in the eye, not ready to see if his expression was just as soft as his voice.

You weren’t sure how you felt. The breakup was mutual. Ended on good terms, but you couldn’t help but hate him for how much he affected you. He was on your mind for a good two months after the break up.

Whenever you saw him in public, at the back of your classes, in the cafeteria—your eyes naturally gravitated towards him, like some sort of impulsive reflex.

Two fingers hook onto your chin, turning your face towards him. Your gaze is still looking down, now your eyes are staring at his lap instead of your own. “Can you look at me?”

Call yourself crazy, but you swear you could detect a slight hint of desperation in his voice, masked off as nonchalance. You shake your head almost too quickly, removing his fingers from your chin. “Don’t try to reel me back in, Eren. It’s over, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember.” How could I forget? Eren misses when just moments ago, you were willing to fall down that memory train. It’s awkwardly silent now as the two of you sit there. “You still tired?”

“Yeah.” You slide off the couch, dusting off your clothes. “Could I take a shower and…sleep over if the power doesn’t come back tonight?”

Eren can’t help the way his mind wanders back to your naked body, even in the darkness of the room, he can still see your figure perfectly, outlining and blending in with the shadows.

“Eren?”

He blinks twice, realising he hadn’t answered your question yet. “Yeah?”

“I asked if I could sleep over if the power doesn’t come back on.”

“Yeah, sure. I don’t mind.”

The confirmation was all you needed to get out of this tense awkward situation. You made your way down the hallway, hands out around you to touch any surrounding objects that might be blocking your path.

He watches you, eyes half lidded, lips curling up into a mischievous smirk as he hears your footsteps half at the end of the hallway, phobia of the dark coming into high gear when you realise he wasn’t accompanying you to the bathroom like you’d hoped.

The footsteps start up again and before he knows it, you’re back in front of him in record time, tugging at the hem of his shirt while looking down at the floor, embarrassed that it has to come to this. You mumble something under your breath, voice sort of meek and shy, one that you used to use on him back when you were dating and you needed something.

“Hm, what’s the matter, baby?” He faux pouts, grabbing your hand tugging on his shirt and pulling it away from him.

“Could—” You pause, thinking of a right way to word your sentence without indirectly stroking his ego, “May you please accompany me to the bathroom?”

“You’re such a baby,” he states, playfully wrapping his arms around your shoulder, tugging you close to his chest in the process as he proceeds to lead you down the hallway to his bathroom. “Want me to stay in the bathroom while you shower too?”

“No, you perv.” You push him away from you and enter the bathroom. Halfway through taking off your pants, you realise you didn’t have any pyjamas. You would have brought some too but wanted to save the humiliation in case Eren didn’t allow you inside.

You wander over to the shower, turning it on for a couple seconds and running your fingers through the shower head water. It’s cold. “...Hey Eren, how long does it take for the water to turn hot?”

“The shower’s been pretty janky lately, I think Mikasa broke it actually. Anyway, you gotta jiggle the thingy and push.”

“...What?” You blink at the wall for a couple seconds, trying to understand what the ‘ thingy ’ you’re supposed to jiggle is. You laugh to yourself, wondering why you even thought Eren was a reliable source for information.

Eren, who was just about to lay down on his bed, sighs and stands up. The bathroom door opens abruptly and you yelp and scream in surprise. “Eren?! Ever heard of knocking!?”

“Shut up, nothing I haven’t seen before. Oh wait, I can’t see shit.”

You roll your eyes at his horrible attempt at a joke. Your cheeks heat up at the realisation of the first part of his sentence, mind automatically registering all the mind blowing astronomical sex the both of you used to have.

“Okay, whatever, just jiggle the ‘thingy’ and let me take a shower.” Before you could step aside and let Eren do all the jingling, his chest is against your back, his hands holding your wrists firmly to guide you on how to fix the showers.

Your face feels hot as he’s telling you the instructions, hands pressing into yours as he pushes the—to be fair you have no clue what you’re currently pushing because one, its dark and you can’t see jackshit, and two, you can’t focus on anything because of how close he is right now.

His voice is going in one ear and out the other, your mind nodding and humming ‘mhm’ despite you not understanding anything. Eventually you snap out of it and actually focus on what he’s saying.

You lean forward a little bit to jiggle the knob whilst the other feels the temperature of the water, waiting for it to turn hot.

“‘Kay, now push in.” You do as he instructs and the hot water almost burns your hand.

“Ow, shit!” You pull back abruptly, bumping back into Eren whilst flinging your hand to try and air dry it.

Eren’s hands land on your waist to steady you. “You good?”

“Yeah, just burnt the shit out of my hand, fuck.” It stings whenever you apply pressure to it and it’s making you squirm.

Unbeknownst to Eren, he has no clue that you’re currently naked in front of him until he digs his fingers harder into your waist to steady you.

“Stop moving, wait, c’mere—” He tries not to focus on your ass currently pressing back on his dick and leads you towards the sink to run your hand under cold water. “You’re so stupid sometimes.”

“Says you! Who even showers at that temperature, who do you think you are?” You elbow him in the ribs, basking in his choked laughter.

“I thought girls love hot showers?”

“Oh, so you intentionally made it super hot to get girls? Never thought you’d stoop that low Eren—ow!” You yelp when he switches taps, turning the cold one off and the hot one on. “You’re such a dick!”

“Just to you.” He leans down to whisper it in your ear before getting elbows in the ribs again.

“Now get out, you tormented me enough, I need to shower.”

“If you need company—” Your vision is blinded when he covers both your eyes with hands, “just call for me, kay?”

“Eren, get out.” You elbow him once more in order for him to get the message to leave. You don’t hop in the shower till you hear the door shut. With your newfound knowledge on how to work his mystery shower, you hop inside.

Eren lays down on his bed, enjoying the darkness in the room as his mind wanders. He can practically hear his heart pounding through his chest and eardrums. To confirm his suspicions, he places a hand down on his heart.

“Fucking hell.” He groans into his pillow, hating how his heart is currently beating fast as if he’d just ran a marathon, simply because he got to touch your waist. He’s acting like a goddamn virgin and he needs to accept the fact that you two are over.

The water stops running and he’s too deep into his thoughts to hear you call his name, asking for spare clothes. It’s not until you open the bathroom door, padding towards him with wet feet and a towel on, then he looks up.

“Eren, I said I need clean clothes.”

Thanks to the window inside his bedroom, the darkness is alleviated slightly, making it very obvious you’re in just a towel. “Can’t you just wear this to sleep?” He tugs on the tip of your towel, tugging it slightly whilst rubbing the soft material between his thumb and index finger.

“Stop…you perv.” You tug his hands off, “Give me clean clothes.”

“My clothes won’t fit yo—wait, gimme a spin.”

You raise your head to shoot him a withering glare, then decide the only way you’re going to get clothed is by doing as he says, so you comply, giving him a slight 360.

“Yeah, they definitely won’t fit you.”

“Shut up, give me the clothes. I’ll manage.” You rub your wet shoulders with your palms as you watch him retreat over to his closest, then before you know it—or before you could dodge it, a plain black t-shirt is being thrown at your face.

“Thank you.” You say with a blank face, trying to hide the fact that you’re never going to give him the shirt back.

Ever .

It smells way too good.

Using the darkness to your advantage, you strip the towel off almost immediately and quickly change into the shirt. “I need pants.”

“You definitely don’t.”

“Eren.”

He clicks his tongue at the stern tone of your voice and tosses a pair of shorts in your direction. It falls somewhere on the floor and you kick around to feel for it, then put them on. You climb onto the bed, making sure to sit at the far end of it to create some distance between you both.

You hear Eren’s footsteps pad around the room, then the sound of the door opening. “Hey wait, where are you going?”

“Downstairs?” He says it like it was obvious, “I’m sleeping on the couch.”

“No.”

No? Eren tilts his head confused, “What?”

“No, I mean…stay—” you pat the spot on the bed next to you, “please?”

Fuck, how could he resist that?

He climbs onto the bed next to you. You’re both facing opposite directions and a cold draft might’ve slapped you in the fact with the sudden coldness in the room.

Eren’s a little shocked when he feels your body press up against his own, but doesn’t complain. Why would he? He wraps his bicep around your body, pulling you towards him.

You’re grateful for the darkness for once as you smile into the pillow at the feeling of his hands tracing shapes into your stomach, as if to help you relax and get to sleep.

His fingers test the waters, seeing how far he can take this before you snap at him, dipping his fingers even lower, brushing against the waistband of the shorts he lended you, a single finger dipping inside.

Eren waits for you to snap at him, or nudge him with your elbow, telling him to knock it off…but it doesn’t come. Maybe you’ve fallen asleep?

He keeps his hands there for a moment, retreating after around thirty seconds of leaving it there, not wanting to touch you while you’re asleep.

Your hand darts out to stop him before he could fully remove his fingers from your shorts. “Don’t tease me like that, Yeager.”

“Oh? You want it?” He’s pressing up against you again, not shy in how close he can get to you this time. He enters his hand inside your shorts to realise you’re not even wearing panties.

These shorts officially became his favourite pair of shorts.

Your grip on the pillow tightens when he brushes your folds with a rough yet gentle touch, placing his chin on your shoulder so he can hear the way your breathing speeds up.

Biting back a moan, your fingers dig intoo the fabric of the pillow when he rubs your clit in smooth circles. “F—fuck—”

“Hm, you like that? You want more?” He whispers directly into your ear, breath hot and ready by your eardrum, tickling you.

“Y-yes please—fuck—” Your erratic breathing turns into soft moans when he dips a single finger inside, stroking against your walls.

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

“...Kiss me, please.” You manage to choke out when he curls his finger inside you.

Using his spare hand, he grips onto your chin and pulls your head back so he can slot his mouth against yours. You almost crack your neck with how far you’re leaning back in order to kiss him, but you don’t care.

He smiles because he knows you’re just as desperate for this as he is. He pulls away from the kiss, moving hair out of your face and watches the way your eyes linger a little too long on his lips.

“Staring won’t solve anything y’know?” He mutters the words against your lips, piercing green eyes staring into your own as if he’s hypnotising you to initiate the kiss this time.

He looks down at the sheets where his hands are moving inside you, making sure he curls his fingers just the right way to have you clinging to his shoulders, wrapping your arms around him tighter as you melt against him.

“I missed you s’much—” You mumble as you tip forward to kiss him, which takes no effort at all, not when he’s already ready and waiting for you.

His lips are soft and plump, the way they always were. He moves with confidence, moulding your lips so consistently against yours, licking into your mouth with the surety of someone who knows how to make people into putty with his kisses alone.

He laughs when you squirm, melting into the pillow, dragging him down with you, subconsciously spreading your legs wider to give him room to slot himself between.

“I fucking knew it.”

“Knew what?” You peck him, looking up at him in confusion.

“Knew you wanted me all along,” he presses a kiss to your cheek, all wet and messy, “Knew that whole angry ex girlfriend thing was just a faux,” he sloppily sucks your neck, making obnoxious noises and lifting your his shirt up along the way.

You run hot all over, angry that he saw right through your act. “Shut up.”

“You embarrassed?” He bites the skin above your breast and you moan, hand holding up the shirt high enough to give him more access. “Shy cause I saw right through you—”

He groans when you tug his hair as a response, trying to get him to shut up. “If you keep talking, I will leave—”

“And go where? Hm?” He runs his nose against yours, brushing it ever so slightly. You curl your lip up in annoyance, hating how he got you beat right now. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, bending down to kiss you again, trailing his lips down the length of your jaw, nipping and sucking along your throat recklessly.

You bunch his hair up to avoid it falling onto his face as he marks up your chest, sucking along your breasts with ease. He reaches your nipples and tugs on it with his teeth before looking up at you with a sheepish smile. “Did that hurt?”

“No.”

“Still no pain tolerance I see.” He licks a nipple, sucking on it ever so gently.

“It’s been like two months since we broke up, ‘Ren.” You look down and wonder if he’s even listening to you right now, mind elsewhere as he licks down your stomach, slowly making his way between your legs.

“Didja sleep with anyone else?” He sounds breathless when he speaks, as if kissing you is the equivalent to exercise right now. With how fast his heart is pumping right now, he might as well be working out.

“I don’t see how that's your business.”

“You did, didn’t you?” He looks back down at your stomach, pressing open mouthed kisses to your skin. His grip on your thighs tighten with your silence as a dead giveaway. “Well how was it then?”

You decide to just tell him the truth, knowing that you staying silent with fuel into his ego regardless. “It wasn’t good.”

“Mmm, and why is that?” He spreads your legs wider, sucking on the fat there all the whilst maintaining eye contact with you.

He knows the answer, and you know he knows the answer. With a sigh, you begin, “...because they couldn’t make me cum.”

He snickers against your thighs, digging crescent shaped moons into your skin. “And who could make you cum?”

“Eren, can we not have this conversation right now?” You’re distracted momentarily when he tugs your shorts down hastily, using two fingers to spread your folds apart. Even in the dark, he can see the glistening shine of your slick and runs a finger through it, brushing your clit with the tip of his nail.

You shiver on impact, moaning when he slides his finger into your mouth, sucking on it as he lifts himself up from between your legs. He pops his finger out before slotting it inside his own mouth, enjoying the taste of your saliva mixed with your own juices.

“You’re so nasty.” You mutter watching the filthy act, hiding your embarassment by the fact it turns you on seeing how much he loves your taste.

“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it, babe.”

You hate how he can see through you so easily despite even trying. “Don’t call me babe.”

He smiles, bending down to your ear as he whispers, “My bad babe.” His tongue darts out, licking at your earlobe, enjoying how you shudder underneath him, tugging on your ear with his teeth.

“Stop it…” You push at his chest in a desperate attempt to get him away from you. He’s slowly messing with your emotions with all these nicknames and you aren’t sure if you’re even going to be together after this. “Just fuck me, please. Before I change my mind.”

“I finally got you back in my arms and you think I’m not gonna take my time?” He chuckles, sliding back down the bed and pushes your legs apart to slot himself between them. “You’re fuckin’ soaked .” He dives his finger back inside you, twisting and feeling every inch of your walls clamping down on him.

He looks fascinated, watching his finger knuckle deep between your legs, leaning forward to snake his tongue out to clean up the mess sliding down your slit the harder the fucks you.

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, hand sliding down your body to grip at his hair. He grunts when you tug at it with no regard for his pain scalp, muttering ‘ohmygod’ under your breath the longer he flicks at your clit with his tongue.

“Taking my fingers so well, babe.” He mumbles, kissing at your clit, stretching you effortlessly whilst simultaneously sliding your legs inwards to lift your lower body a little higher. “You want another?” He tickles your hole with a second finger, waiting for the go.

“Yes please.” You moan into your palm, using the tips of his hair to push his head further into your pussy. “Eren—” you pant, wiggling your hips to the side, arching your back off the mattress, body melting into the pleasure.

“Yeah?” He sucks your clit, enjoying watching you squirm underneath him. “What’s up?” He says so casually as if he’s not drinking your juices from your pussy.

“I want—mmm—please.” You know your words are not even audible right now, non translatable to his ears.

“What’s mmm?” He mocks your incoherent vocabulary and if he wasn’t the cause for your pleasure right now, you would’ve knocked him in the head with your feet.

He groans when you clench around his fingers, realising your about to cum, he pulls his fingers out, using the wetnress to rub against his red throbbing cock. You watch, hynoptised and vision hazy as he fists at his cum, squeezing precum from the tip with each stroke. Flicking your eyes up to his face, he’s watching your pussy flutter, too eager to take his cock. “You want it?”

“Yes.” You whimper, hooking your feet around his legs to pull him closer. “Please.”

“Fuck—” He groans again, rubbing his cock against your cunt. Eren slicks his cock through your folds, smiling when he sees your eyes squeeze shut upon stretch. “What? Can’t take it?” He hovers over you, holding himself up with his arms on either side of your head, “Is it too much for you?”

You shake your head, counting to five in your head before slowly opening your eyes, slightly startled because you didn’t expect him to be this close to you. “No, no—I can take it, just please don’t stop.”

His hand smacks against your thigh, relishing in your yelp as he smoothes his palm along the red sting. “Stay still, it’ll be quicker.”

“Okay.” You swallow, trying your hardest to stay completely still as he moves his hips forward, sheathing himself inside your warmth slowly.

“Shit, you feel so fucking good.” He shifts his hips, making his cock twitch inside you. You can feel it, feel every inch of him the further he sheathes himself inside.

He hooks your legs over his shoulder, sliding himself deep enough that you almost scream and grab onto the headboard of his bed. “Eren—I—” Biting your lip, you roll your eyes back, leaning further into the pillow.

There’s something about the darkness of the room that makes the experience even more sexier. He looks down at his cock disappearing between your legs and gives a soft experimental thrust just to see how you’ll react. You moan, of course, loudly. That’s always something he loved about you, how you were unable to control yourself around him, especially your volume whenever he fucked you.

“Oh my g-god.” You whisper when he starts his thrusts, hitting inside you so deep it’s overwhelming.

His grunts only turn you on more, splaying his hand out on your stomach as he fucks into you, not caring about how loud the two of you are being. He knows his fellow classmates next door are gonna yell at him in the morning for the volume but he can focus on that later.

Now? All he cares about is you. He presses down on your stomach, making sure you feel his cock driving into your walls, making sure its extra sensitive for you, just so he can hear your moans even louder.

“So—fuckin’ —tight,” he mutters, eyes straight to the sight of his dick fucking in and out of you at a rapid pace. He wishes the lights were on right now so he could see how your slick clings to his shaft. His eyes land on his phone by his pillow next to your head and grabs it without thinking, turning on the flash and shining it at the scene below him.

“Look how fuckin’ wet you are, baby.”

You use the little energy he hasn’t fucked out of your body yet to sit on your elbows, eyes narrowing in on the sight in front of you, how your slick coats his cock with each thrust. You knew you were wet, after all you could feel it and hear it, but to see it? Damn.

“Eren—I wanna cum—” You toss the phone away, both of you not caring how it tumbles to the floor, and wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him down to kiss you, “please let me cum, need it Eren, please.”

“Shit,” he licks into your mouth, wrapping his lips around your tongue and sucking obnoxiously, “Cum for me baby.”

You scream his name, voice shaking as your walls cling to him desperately, milking him for all he’s got. He buries himself deep inside you, rolling his hips ever so slightly and swears as he empties his cock in you, fucking a wet mixture of both your cum back inside you with short thrusts.

Your legs are so sensitive that they shake, twitch and spasm with each thrust he gives. “Eren—I—”

“I know baby, I know.” He kisses your forehead as he drops to your side, making sure he doesn’t fall on top of you. He wraps his arms around you, bringing you to rest on his chest. “Get some sleep, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you smile, wrapping your arms around his neck and closing your eyes before drifting off to sleep.

When the two of you wake up in the morning, the lights are back on. The ceiling fan spinning around and Eren’s desk light on and bright. You rub your eyes with the heel of your palm, lifting yourself off his chest. Eren is sleeping soundly underneath you, his eyes closed shut, lips slightly parted and nose wrinkling every now and then.

You lean forward, flicking some hair strands away from his face to get a better view. He’s so beautiful, honestly. You’ll never get tired looking at him.

His dorm door opens but you don’t hear it because your senses are all busy scanning Eren’s face from head to toe. Armin enters the room, rubbing his eyes exhaustedly, only to freeze when he sees a half naked you on top of his half naked best friend. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry!”

You turn your head to the left to see the door instantly slam shut. The noise causes Eren to wake up, sitting up abruptly and you almost fall off him. “What was that?”

“I think Armin’s back…”

Eren yawns, shrugging his shoulders and rolling his neck to the side to get rid of that morning tension. “The lights are back.”

“I can see that.”

“You’re not gonna leave?”

“What if I don’t want to leave?”

The two of you stare at each other for what seems like ages. Eren can’t help but wonder if your question has multiple implications behind it, meanwhile you wait for him to get the reference but when it looks like he’s struggling you sigh and roll your eyes. “It means I want to get back together, stupid.”

“I fucking knew it.” He grabs onto you, pinning you back down onto the bed. He kisses your forehead, rubbing his thumbs along your cheekbone. You smile up at him, leaning forward to press your forehead against his own. “This time,” he starts, brushing his thumb against your lips, “I won’t fuck up.”

“I know.” You kiss him, just a peck before pulling away. “I trust you.”

You’re about to kiss again when you hear claps from the other end of the doorway.

“Armin get the fuck out!” Eren yells.

“Sorry!! I’ll leave you two alone” Congrats, by the way!!” He yells out before hurriedly rushing out of the dorm.

Eren rolls his eyes, bringing his attention back to you. “Sorry about him.”

“It’s fine.” You run your eyes down your boyfriend's face and body, just now realising he’s shirtless. “...Wanna go for round 2?

#— aot </3 #attack on titan #aot #eren #eren yeager #eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #ex eren is so annoying #bc he won’t ever #stop teasing you #eren smut #eren yeager smut #eren jeager #eren jaeger smut #eren jeager x reader #eren yaeger imagine #eren imagines

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 7 months

Text

Love Languages Pt 5 (Final part)

Summary: Charles learns about the five types of love language and sets himself the challenge of being able to show his love all five ways. After all he loves his girlfriend without limit. So how hard can it be to make sure she feels loved in every way.

Written in order of what I see as not his love language to what is definitely his love language.

Pt 1 - Word of Affirmation

Pt 2 - Gifts

Pt 3 - Acts of Service

Pt 4 - Quality Time

Pt 5 - Physical Touch

Physical Touch

Safe to say that due to Charles slightly protective nature over y/n, physical touch is not something he has to think twice about.

Previously he’s not been so openly touchy out in public with so many eyes on them but with y/n it’s like he can’t stop himself from wanting to at least hold her in some way or touch her however her can. Sometimes it’s just standing close enough that he’s brushing his arm against hers.

They get out the car after the drive home from the airport and he nearly trips rushing to take her hand in his own.

“Don’t hurt yourself, babe.” Y/n giggles while Charles rolls his eyes and walks with her to his apartment.

By the time they get up to the apartment the tiredness from travelling from the latest race weekend has really kicked in and y/n has got a little clingy.

Charles manages to sit he on the sofa and sighs softly deciding he’ll join her once he’s gone to the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” Y/n asks peaking her head up from where she’d nuzzled down, leaving space for him as she waits for him to join her.

“Bathroom, I’ll be right back. I promise.” Charles chuckles moving back to gently cup her face and kiss her softly.

He makes as quick a job of it as possible before rushing back to her and lying down as he notices she’s put on a movie.

Settling himself half under her so she’s lying on his chest, he smiles a little as she nuzzles further into him when he starts playing with her hair gently. Careful not to tangle it as he does so.

Y/n doesn’t completely fall asleep as she seems slightly invested in the movie but as Charles his hand from playing with her hair to drawing shapes on her back, she gets a flicker of a smile on her face. Something he notes as something she is clearly a fan of.

“You’re surprisingly comfortable to lie on you know…given that your body fat percentage is like 2%.” Y/n comments quietly making Charles laugh a little.

“I will take that as a compliment.”

“It was meant as one. Can I sleep yet?”

Trying to break time zone body clocks, Charles had mentioned that they need to try and stay awake for as long as possible through the day. But it’s fairly obvious that Y/n is exhausted and this position with his light touches is only making her fight the sleep with more effort.

“We’ll finish the movie and then you can sleep.” Charles smiles leaning his head forward to kiss her softly.

They spend the next hour with her fighting off the advances of sleep while Charles continues to find ways to make it feel impossible to stay awake in this position. His small touches eventually win and y/n’s asleep before the end of the movie. But he soft or saw that coming.

Not wanting to wake her up. He manages to wiggle out from under her before picking her up and moving them both to bed.

He’s only managed to fight off the urge of sleep by keeping himself focused on y/n. Watching her relish in his touch and embrace honestly warms him to his core.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #f1 #fanfic #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x y/n #leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #formula 1 #charles #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

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bigfatbimbo · 17 days

Note

HATE SEX RIVAL LUTE idc dom reader dom lute my switch ass would be happy either way i just need need need this 🙏

Lie still, close your eyes girl, so lovely it feels so right —

Lute x reader,, 2.5 words

a/n — I literally did not mean to make this so long, I literally blacked out or something. Anyways, more Rival!Lute shit here, here, here and here. You don’t actually need to read any of those to understand what’s happening, though.

warning — heavy smut, afab but gn reader, VERY SWITCHY ROLES, dom reader but also dom Lute, scissoring, fingering, weird angsty sex, also it takes like 800 words for the sex to actually happen, honestly probably kinda cheesy

summary — After years of fighting with a sinner who’s well gifted in combat, Lute finally looses control and… well… they fuck.

The fight was close, just like always. Every move Lute made to strike was blocked gracefully by you. Her swift moves were countered by your calculated blocks, followed by your precise jabs in her direction.

Each extermination day, the dance was set in stone. You, a fowl sinner from the trenches of this mortal plane, would be in the very same place each year. Always to fight Lute, a skilled angel soldier with immense training and knowledge on the battlefield.

The odds should have been in Lutes favor, but just like last year and the year before that, they never were. It wasn’t that she lost the fights, because she would never let that happen. But it was the fact you kept up with her so well that infuriated her.

Her strikes became tougher, the growl in her voice unmatched.

“Someone’s angry this time, huh, Lute? You afraid of a good time?” You drew back with a smile, playfulness in your voice contrasted the blow you just laid to her stomach, “Or are you just tired of losing to a sinner?”

Lute hisses in response, falling behind you and grabbing the back of your shirt, spinning you around to get a better angle, “Don’t kid yourself, I don’t lose. You know that, demon.”

There was not only a venom in her voice, but an anger that could only be explained by the emotion of mild exasperation. She wasn’t tired of fighting or ‘losing’, she was sick of not winning. Her grasp on your shirt loosened when you took a millisecond to examine her position, which conveniently left her stomach exposed, before kicking her hard right where she was open.

Falling back, she yelped, not expecting the sudden pain. That was another thing that filled her with a bitter rage each year, angels shouldn’t be able to get hurt. And yet, you always managed to make her feel the slightest bit, if not a decent amount, of pain after a fight.

What she would give to make you feel the same thing, what she would give to make you feel that pain. She wasn’t obsessed, however, no matter the countless nights she’s spent thinking about it. And disregarding what she did to cope on those nights.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to kick you that hard,” You drew in closer with your weapon, bracing yourself to lay a blow in. This year, it wouldn’t be a draw. This year, in your eyes, would be the year you finally win.

Your hands rise above your head, ready to strike, when you falter. Lute was looking at you with her usual glare of hatred, clutching her stomach, and calculating her next move. But it was your weak moments that certain thoughts overtook you. How could it be helped? She looked so pretty.

“Too slow, now you’re done for,” Lute sneered, smile growing as she lunged at you, spear clashing with yours as you barely block it. Your body’s were nearly pressed together, as she pushed the wood of her spear harder against yours, trying to break it.

Then her sneer flickers down, “What are you looking at?” She pants, catching her breath after the stimulating action.

“Your have—“ you breath, “—very pretty eyes.” Your eyes don’t falter with contact, until she looks down. Your superficial attempt to distract her, unlike usual, failed to work.

As if snapping out of a trance, she finally analyses the situation. This is it. All it took was that one moment, and your fucking finished.

“Well i’m glad you think so,” she starts quietly, “Because they’re going to be the last thing you see before you fucking die.”

She forcefully pushes back with the base of her spear, acting too quick for you to strike back, and swiping your feet.

“Finally,” she almost laughs, “Finally, I win, you vile demon. I win—“

You slide your foot behind her calf and tug her forward, making her fall into the space next to you, leaving you time to roll on top of her.

The wit in your voice was gone and replaced with bare survival instinct. Her hands go to grab her weapon but instinctively you pin them down.

With nothing left to do, you simply stare at eachother, catching your breath and panting heavily.

Lute glared up at you with confusion, anger, and then something else. The light fell on the top of your head, illuminating a vague sketch of a halo around it. But you were no angel, Lute knew that. And yet something about the way you were looking her made Lute think, if you told her you were sent from heaven she would not only believe you, but curse god himself for not sending you sooner.

Angels don’t make mistakes, they’re perfectly sculpted to be flawless, and this is something Lute has always believed. Which is specifically why the following events confused her. Your grip on her wrists weakened, given her an opening to break free. And still, that’s not what she did with her new freedom.

Strangely enough, when the constraints your hands acted as broke, she didn’t run away, or even fight back. Instead, she grabbed your collar, pulling you impossibly close, and doing something no one with the title ‘perfect’ would ever do.

You’ve always tested the limits of what she considered ‘possible’ as an angel. You condemned her with scars, when angels were incapable of getting hurt. You plagued her thoughts with lust, despite the ideas you filled her head with being overtly sinful for heavens standards. And now, you’ve provoked the, arguably, best exterminator soldier into making an irreversible mistake.

But the extermination wasn’t on her mind as her lips slammed against yours, nor was heavens consequences. The only coherent thought in her head was a simple idea; despite your hatred for her, you kissed her back. Not just eagerly, but with twice as much force.

And then, for whatever reason, reality came back to her. Brutal rage, no, violence filled her as she felt your lips on hers. To call it rage would be wrong. Yes, she did feel the necessity to cause harm to your well being, but something foreign dawned on Lute at that moment. An animalistic need for you, one that, despite being tainted by her hatred for you, was truly only fueled by it.

In one motion, she rolled you over, pining you to the ground by your shoulders and going back in for another kiss. Your lips were poison, that was undeniable, but the taste was sweet enough to distract from the deadly venom filling Lutes stomach.

“Look what you’re doing, sinner,” She hissed into your mouth, “Your turning the blessed into the damned, you slut. Haven’t you been cruel enough?”

Her words were spoke with such a blaze of passionate disdain, you almost were at a loss for words. Almost.

“Your seriously trying to blame this one me? I think it’s pretty obvious, Lute,” You speak inbetween mildly unpleasant, aggressive kisses, arms falling on either side of her hips as she pulls you into her by your shirt collar.

“You’re just dying to fuck me.”

Your words made Lute temporarily stop, shoving you down and removing her hands from your shirt, and shifting away.

You smirk at the annoyance on her face as she moves down your body, “Aw, sweetheart, don’t tell me I scared you away. I’d hate to loose the pleasure of your company—“

Her teeth launch into your neck as she struggles to pull your pants down, making you yelp in temporary pain. You feel her smile into the bite mark.

Lute breathes in anticipation, savoring every moment of her fingers dancing down to your belt, and slipping into your bottoms. How many nights had she spent thinking of this moment in utter, crushing shame? And how many hours afterwards had she berated herself for thinking such vile things?

She didn’t have to think anymore, and soon, you wouldn’t be able to. She relishes in the gasp you let out when she teases her finger to the opening of your pussy.

“Fuck!” You hiss as she slips her finger into your already dripping cunt, “Eager there, are we, Lute?”

Your confidence had already begun to falter. In this fight, it was true, Lute was winning. God, did she devour every shaky breath you took as she began to move her finger inside of you.

“You know demon, I wouldn’t have thought you’d be so wet so soon,” Her other finger teased your entrance, as her first one worked itself more aggressively as the seconds passed, “I just thought you’d have more self control. I guess there are just some fights you can’t keep up with.”

You let out a hiss of disapproval, “Fuck— uh, consider it a compliment Lute. That’s just how much I wanted your crazy ass.”

Lute snickered, your comment lacked your usual wit. You were responding for the sake of responding, not because you had anything clever to say. Pathetic, just as she suspected. Just as she always fucking knew you would be.

“And I doubt you’re doing much better over there, asshole,” You sneer, drabbling on for more than necessary, “Fuck, ah—”

During your fights, one of the things that infuriated Lute the most was your seemingly perfect composure, never once breaking your playful facade no matter how many blows you took. Now, your fragile character was finally breaking.

All the more reason, the next finger she added, she practically shoved inside you. “Aw, look at that. Prideful sinner,” She tutted smugly, “Looks like someone’s a sore loser.”

Her fingers worked themselves inside you relentlessly. Every single move implied pure, unrequited hatred. It was a sick kind of attention, but you’d kill to have it more. Despite the flirtatious demeanor of yours finally being compromised, you wouldn’t say it was in vain.

No, certainly not when she was finger fucking you so good. The anger was present and unbreaking with every thrust inside of you, only fueling what was the long burning fire of arousal within you. She would ruin you, just as you would do to her, and god, it was welcomed.

Every motion inside your right cunt led to an embarrassingly priceless moan from you, just as your witty comments turned into mumbles of hatred and fowl wishes upon Lute and her kind.

But just as your climax drew close, Lute pulled her fingers out. She glanced at them proudly, as if standing over a field of conquered enemies. She basked the moment in, before licking her fingers boastfully.

“You know, I really thought you’d last longer, demon,” She grinned, “But you really are pathetic, you know that?”

However, by then the neediness in your empty cunt had been replaced by a dull irritation at Lutes demeanor. You were enemies for a reason, and it seemed she forgot how equal the two of you were.

Too cocky, you think, and far too slow. In one swift movement, you flip her over, pining her to ground just as she had you just moments ago.

“Is that so, Lute? That’s big talk for someone who lost to a demon for years and years.” Your hands go to stop her wrists from shooting up, “I’m really not the pathetic one here.”

“I didn’t lose!” Lute struggled against your grip, but strength aside, your position prohibited her from shooting up to regain her control.

“And what to you call this, then?” Your grin had formed again, but it didn’t distract from the aching from your pussy, “Typical angel fashion. You never leave yourself open like that, Lute. You should know that.”

You scorn her as you free a hand to trail under her skirt and tug her panties down. You’re lucky you get them half way off before she jumps up again. Your hands are quick to catch hers, however.

“Hm, who’s the sore loser now?” You taunt, shifting the position drastically so that you have both wrists pinned down with one hand above her head.

While Lute struggles against your grip, you use your other arm to host her leg over yours, drawing both of your open cunts daringly close to each other.

“Don’t be stupid, Lute. Do you want me to deal with that mess or not?” The mess in question being her, as suspected before, soaking pussy.

She grimaced up at you. Before she had the chance to bite you back with a useless reply, you started sloppily grinding your pussies together, earning a moan of pleasure from Lute, and a groan of relief from you.

“Oh fuck—“ She curses breathily, leaning her head back and pushing her legs further into yours, chancing the friction between the two of your aching cunts, “This doesn’t— this doesn’t mean I like you, demon.”

“You know Lute, you’ve made that abundantly clear over the past session,” You speak through gritted teeth and furrowed brows as you start to move faster.

The slick, filthy, slapping noises that filled the area with around you, filled Lute with an all too familiar feeling of anger at her losing battle.

“Your fucking perverted sinner filth,” Lute spat out, cutting her sentence off with a terrible hoarse moan, “You were the dirt of the earth when you were alive and now your— ah— even worse in hell.”

“Uh-huh,” you remark, focused on the grinding of your parts against hers, having to take a moment to gather a reply. “I get that you hate me, dumbass. You don’t have to waste your breath—“ you groan with pleasure, “—I’d like to not hear your terrible voice right now, thanks.”

“Fuck you,” she growls, but the threat of her bite is nearly completely gone when her sentence is punctuated with the arch of her back.

Your speed only increased as you felt the building of your climax, and from the way Lute looked right now, you guessed hers followed soon. In all truth, you didn’t really hate the sound of her voice. In fact, the desperation in it made you swell with incredible pride. But then again, you guessed she felt the same way about you right now.

“Fuck, Lute, ‘m close,” You moan, mostly to yourself. You thought about throwing in an insult at the end, after all, it seemed like the only way you were able to hear each other, but you decided against it.

She didn’t need to hear you, but you did bask, like her in your desperation, in her cries below you. Despite the immense, and probably foreign pleasure she felt, the jeers never stopped.

Even in an intamiate moment like this, she was still the “mediocre angel” and you were the “vile demon.” And even closest to both of your climaxes, you were sure to remind each other.

But it was then that both of you realized, between the switching of positions and roles, the year long build-up to the final ‘winner’ was worthless.

The fight, just as usual, was a draw.

a/n — THE SONG TITLE WAS ‘Tear You Apart’ BY SHE WANTS REVENGE BY THE WAY. Boy, this one’s been in drafts for a long time.

I forgot how much fun it was to ruthlessly project onto characters! I have no one to thank but my life for being so terrible and confusing and awful and terrible and

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #dom reader #inbox open #sub reader #lute x reader #lute x you #hazbin lute x reader #hazbin hotel lute x reader

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jadedrrose · 7 months

Text

Taking Care Of Him

Short fic where reader takes care of Law after the crew is ambushed :) I actually wrote this months ago but decided I’d post it now since I haven’t been writing due to my botw/hwaoc fixation lol

Warnings: fluff, mention of a wound, g/n reader

Normally, after any type of fight, Law would get the crew in order and make sure nobody was badly injured, ensuring he had nothing to worry about. But this time was different.

You’d been ambushed, this time. Most of the crew had been out on the deck, enjoying the sunshine. It was then that another pirate group attacked, presumably to take any poneglyphs or something of that nature. But, you’d all fought them off, winning the battle. So things seemed alright, until you realized Law wasn’t ordering everyone to go over injuries.

You caught sight of his spotted hat, quickly realizing he was injured, laid on the wooden planks of the deck. “Law!”

You ran over to him, the others gasping as they watched, all wondering aloud if their captain was okay.

Reaching his side, you found that he was clutching a hand to his left arm, and appeared pretty banged up from the fight. You gently grabbed his shoulders, looking your boyfriend over. “Law? Are you okay-“

“I’m fine. Go help the others,” he muttered, trying to act as though he was fine. He always got like this; not liking to accept help or admit that he’d been injured. Law was used to taking care of and healing others, not the reverse situation.

“No, you’re hurt,” you snapped, trying to pull him off the ground. “And I’m going to help you, whether you like it or not.”

He sighed, but decided to stand up for you and allow you to guide him down to the operation room.

—

Other than some bruising, the only concerning injury was the cut on his left arm. Apparently the enemy pirate’s captain had sliced him pretty well. It was nothing that wouldn’t heal, though. So you cleaned the wound before wrapping it up.

As Law grumpily sat on your bed after finishing up in the operation room, you held a warm cloth in your hand, wiping off any dirt or dried blood from his skin. “I can do this myself, y/n,” he grumbled, pouting as he spoke.

“I don’t doubt that,” you lightly chuckled, holding his wrist as you wiped around the tattoo of his right arm. “But you fought so hard, I wanna take care of you. Give you a break, y’know?”

“I’ll be fine,” he tried protesting, but you shook your head.

“Nope, just relax and let me take care of you, baby.”

Law finally sighed, letting his head fall back against his pillows. But he only got to rest for a couple seconds, as you quickly snatched his hat off of him.

“Oi! Y/n, what are you doing?”

“This needs to be cleaned,” you huffed, tossing it to the laundry basket kept in your room. “I don’t want it getting our bed dirty.”

Law rolled his eyes, now leaning on his arms rather than against the pillows. You took the opportunity to get closer to him, running a hand through his messy, raven locks.

“You look so cute like this,” you giggled.

You pushed his dark hair back and away from his forehead, lowering your head down so you could place a kiss on his skin. You smiled, continuing to play with his hair.

“Thank you,” Law suddenly mumbled, and you pulled your face back to look him in the eyes.

“What for?”

“For taking care of me,” he sighed, seeming like he didn’t want to admit it. It was endearing, honestly.

“You don’t have to thank me, baby,” you smiled sweetly, giving him another kiss. “I love taking care of you… actually.”

“Why?” Law asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Uh well you just… seem to overwork yourself, so I… y’know, feel happy seeing you so relaxed…”

“I see,” he whispered against your skin, his hot breath fanning onto it. Carefully, Law raised his hand to pull you down so that your lips could meet his. “I love you, y/n.”

Just before your lips connected, you smiled again, a warm blush covering your cheeks. “I love you too.”

#trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x you #trafalgar law x y/n #law x y/n #law x reader #law x you #law x g/n reader #law x gn reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law x you #trafalgar d water law x y/n #trafalgar d law x reader

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mothwingwritings · 6 months

Note

C and F for my boy Pickle

Eyyy sorry for the delay! (Yes I am still working on these!!!) Here is some Pickle goodness for you my dear.~<3

WARNINGS: Sex and violence and one love sick feral man.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Pickle would honestly treat you as nicely as he is able too. His living environment has its limitations, but he does everything he can to make it comfortable and inviting for you, adamant about making it a home that is fitting of his mate.

Once you are safely stashed away in his secret abode he sets to work constructing you a nest of things so that you may find pinnacle contentment in your new home. He’s gathered an amalgamation of the softest blankets, clothes, linen, etc. that has been given to him or that he has scavenged, so that you may rest in peace and luxury while in his presence. He also brings you the best cuts of meat after his hunts, though he caught on quickly that you were apt to turn your nose at his bloody, raw offering (he couldn’t quite understand why, he was sure you would love it if you just gave it a chance). Once he picks up on your distaste, he instead begins to hoard ingredients and snacks he steals picks up out in the world, supplying you all manner of foodstuff till he pins down the ones you like.

While Pickle prefers you in your natural state, he understands your body needs protection from the elements. He doesn’t quite get modern fashion, but you seem sad wearing the same thing over and over again. While he’s out he procures a hodge-podge of varying clothing, presenting it to you by dumping it at your feet, a huge dopey grin on his face. He loves seeing you in the clothing he gifts you, you look so beautiful in each and every piece that he can’t help but stare, holding back the urge to rip it right back off and have his way with you.

Pickle won’t mock you and wouldn’t dream of disrespecting you in anyway. Any harm he causes you is either completely unintentional or for your own good. He loses control of himself sometimes, forgetting his own strength. You are just so small and he loves you so much, it’s hard to hold himself back. He hates using his strength against you to prove a point, but if you remain insistent on trying to escape him he will do what he must to protect you. You are HIS mate and HE’S the only one who can take care of you. All that’s waiting for you in this strange new world is danger, so if you won’t stay by his side willingly, he will force you there.

All that said, while you may be relatively safe from Pickle’s more violent tendencies, anyone else most certainly is NOT. If another person approaches you, threatens you, or tries to take you away from him they will be obliterated, decimated, ripped to shreds, torn apart until nothing is left. He’ll bask in the gruesome slaughter, their end another validation that he is the best one for you, the one who loves and can protect you above all others. Doesn’t matter if that person is a stranger or your own mother-he is all you need, anyone else butting in is an unnecessary threat.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He would find it incredibly charming if you tried to fight him. Pickle doesn’t see it as an act of aggression at all, but views it as you trying to mimic him as a sign of reverence. You think he is so impressive and strong that you strive to be like him, going so far as to challenge him to a fight. It’s adorable, and he can’t help but break out into a huge toothy grin when he sees you assume a fighting stance.

And it excites him- seeing you tense up, clenching your fists and bending your knees, preparing to strike at a moment’s notice. Seconds before the fray, you stare him down with such intensity, sizing him up and calculating what moves you should make against him, gears turning in your head as you focus wholly on him. The fixation on him sends a shiver of anticipation down his spine. He is the only one you are thinking of in that moment, and in turn you are all that is occupying his thoughts.

Your strikes never hurt him and he can tell how much that frustrates you. He’ll play along sometimes to make you happy, yowling like a mother lioness that is being batted by her cub. He’ll cringe at your punch, shy away from your kick. If he’s convincing enough, you sometimes award him with a small smile, a brief look of accomplishment. It warms his heart, knowing you are having as good of a time as he is.

He also relishes the closeness the two of you share when you initiate these little fights. Usually you try and hide away from him, distancing yourself as much as possible whenever he is in the vicinity. At first he thought it was another game you were trying to play with him, something coy, cute, and seductive to grab his attention. But when the chase became a regular thing he was disappointed, why did you put up such a fuss each time your mate tried to approach you? You didn’t even give him a prize when he finally caught you, just flailing and screaming and spitting. It hurt his feelings- this was supposed to be fun.

But the little brawls you had were fun, and they gave him a chance to have you near him without any to-do. He could feel your skin on his, smell your sweat as your body writhed and wriggled against his. Feeling your small hands grab at his hulking form, listening to your strained moans and heavy breathing as you threw your all into attacking him… Witnessing you in such a state, holding you close as your body rubbed his in just the right way, it doesn’t take long for him to completely lose control.

Before you can recognize what is going on, your body is sheathing his cock, previous grunts of exertion quickly turning into wails of pleasure.

He doesn’t understand why you cry so much afterwards, though. Were you not having as much fun as he was? You initiated the fight, why are you so upset at the outcome? It was a good tussle, and judging by the noises you were making, he was able to make you feel good. Even if you struggled a bit when he was trying to enter you, you always end up yielding to him. The fit is tight, and there have been several times he was afraid he would outright break you when he pushed deeper, pressing into your core. But the pleasure that courses through him as he bottoms out is indescribable. He loses himself in the feel of you surrounding him, completely consumed by the euphoria your body has supplied him.

You are his perfect mate, his brave little warrior, and his love for you is endless. So don’t cry, OK? Maybe next time he’ll let you really ‘win.’ :)

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fairyhaos · 10 months

Text

. ˚ you're everything to me

requested by @cinnamoroxie : could u write some angst ending in fluff and comfort (heavy of f + c please) with minghao and reader is just having an awful day and snaps at hao? then kinda realizes and starts crying and apologizing and honestly just end it w comfort pls <33

pairing: minghao x gn!reader

genre: mild angst, brief fight, crying, comfort, fluff

word count: 2702

warnings: curse words, hao + reader touch ceramic shards with bare hands

notes: it's funny, because i've actually had this idea half-written before a request was even sent in! so this is half a request, and half self-indulgent deluluisms from me haha

summary: minghao may not be a mind reader, and he may not be able to know everything about you in the blink of an eye, but he knows how to make things better again. and really, he thinks that that's all that truly matters.

Honestly, Minghao is actually quite proud that he's able to tell your mood just from the way you open the front door.

Before you even unlock it, he can hear the aggressive key shaking, and you slam the door shut behind you with such force that the whole apartment feels like it's shuddering. He looks up from his book, setting it down on the bedside table and walking out into the hallway when there's a loud crash, and a string of curses whips him across the face.

You're crouched down on the floor, next to the broken pieces of what used to be the ceramic key bowl that was kept by the door. Neither of you used it, really, but it seemed that it had fallen over when you'd knocked your arm against it in your anger, and now your hands are shaking, frame hunched over the broken pieces, and he can tell that you are upset.

"What happened? Are you okay?" he asks, instantly, and then regrets it as your entire frame stiffens with annoyance.

You're in a bad mood—a horrible one, actually, and any sort of mild confrontation from anyone will make you blow up in ways that he knows you'll regret afterwards.

"What do you think, Xu Minghao?" you hiss out, not looking up, trying to collect the broken pieces of the bowl.

Minghao doesn't reply, simply looking down at you before sighing, walking towards where you're crouched on the floor.

"Here, let me do it," he says, calmly, gently. His hands replace yours on the floor, gathering up the ceramic pieces. You won't let him take the pieces already in your hands, though, stubborn, but he just lets you, walking into the living room to deposit the pieces into the nearest bin.

Neither of you say anything about how you really shouldn't be picking up ceramic shards with bare hands, nor about the fact that it probably means there's still some left on the floor. Because that's not important at the moment.

Minghao turns to face you, but you keep your gaze fixed on the floor, brow furrowed tightly.

"Y/N? Love?" He tries to get you to meet his eyes, but you're steadfastly looking somewhere else, anywhere else, refusing to look at him. That's a sure sign that you're trying not to cry, and he's told you to release your emotions when it gets too much, but it's hard for you, and even though he gets frustrated by that, he still wants to try and help.

"Minghao, I've had the shittiest day. Just… leave me alone."

He shakes his head, trying to step closer to you. "I can't do that. You know I can't do that."

"Yes you can," you bite back, almost instantly, and he blinks. "God, there's no need to be so worried over me, okay? I don't need you hovering over me like I'm going to fucking break. All I did was break that bowl, it's not a big deal."

Well. Minghao knows that this is your anger talking, but it's just so hard to continue talking to you gently when you're biting at his outstretched hand. "Then why are you so upset?”

“Why do you need to know?” you say, and sidestep him, walking out of the room.

“Why do you not want me to know?” he counters, following you. He can hear your eye roll, and he knows he’s getting on your nerves, but he wants to know. He wants to help. “Is it because of the bowl?”

You yank open the fridge, staring at it, before slamming the door shut. “Yeah. I’m in a shitty mood because of the bowl. Because I broke that fucking bowl.” You stare at him, blankly, irritatedly. “Happy now?”

No, he’s not happy, not in the slightest. Minghao crosses his arms, staring at you from across the kitchen. “Tell me the real reason, Y/N. What happened today? Did someone say something to you?”

You roll your eyes, hard, turning away and busying yourself with opening drawers and looking inside them for no reason at all. You can’t tell Minghao the real reason you’re acting like this. Because it’s stupid, to just say that it’s because you woke up feeling ‘wrong’ and then your entire day had just been tiringly normal.

“No. I just told you, it’s because I broke that stupid bowl.”

There’s a part of you that’s screaming at yourself for constantly being so curt and snappish with Minghao when you know he’s only trying to help, but your pride and the bigger, more hurt, more prickly part of you can’t bear to stop digging into this hole of irritation and anger that you’ve been making.

And so you keep going, shovel clanging hopelessly against the ground even as every bone is crying in protest.

“We can always buy a new bowl,” Minghao is saying, gently, understandingly, and it’s so logical and well-intentioned that the ugly urge to shoot it down rises up in you.

"Yeah, of course you'd fucking say that," you spit, and it sounds so horrible and you want to take it back, but you're just so upset and embarrassed that you can't.

And so what do you do?

You keep going.

“You’re always thinking so logically, like everything can be solved just like that, aren’t you? Well some things… some things just aren’t like that, Minghao.” You gesture wildly at yourself. “Like me. You think that by coming up to me, asking so softly ‘are you okay’ that I’m going to be fine? That—that all my pain is just going to fucking disappear? I asked you to leave me alone. I don’t need you on my back all the time. It’s annoying.”

Minghao’s face has fallen, his expression stony and still. His ears are red, and he crosses his arms, looking you up and down. “I’m sorry I’m not a fucking mind reader. I don’t know what you’re thinking if you don’t tell me, okay? I need to be on your back so I can help you. So I can do what you need.”

“And I told you I need you to shove off,” you spit, knuckles white against the countertop, shaking. Every horrible, disgusting feeling is rising inside of you, uncontrollable, higher and higher with incredible speed and now it’s crashing down, over you and over Minghao. “I don’t need you.”

“Yes, you do,” Minghao says, but you’re already shaking your head.

“I just said I don’t, didn’t I? You said you’re not a mind reader, so here’s me telling my mind to you.” Your fingers have gone numb. So has your chest. But you carry on. “Leave me. The fuck. Alone.”

The words are harsh, spat out like whistling bullets, and Minghao physically takes a step back, surprised. You hadn’t yelled, hadn’t raised your voice, but the malice and fury in your voice had shocked the both of you, and suddenly the waves have soaked you, leaving you shivering and cold and looking at him with a sense of clarity. Like coming out of a red-hot haze.

Minghao’s eyes are wide, and the hurt in them is so visible it’s like it’s tangible, that earlier irritation gone and simply replaced with shock. Shock that you said something like that to him.

“Oh,” you whisper, and it’s like the blood is running frozen in your veins, a sudden dowsing of reality, showing you what you’ve just done. Your vision is going blurry, heart having abruptly unthawed and begun pounding, startled, in your chest. “Hao…”

Minghao doesn't reply, and that makes you feel even worse, the worries now overtaking your earlier anger and making you fear that you're losing him, losing your wonderful, wonderful Minghao all because of words you didn't mean.

You sniff, eyes welling up faster, and you feel a little pathetic over how you're crying because of what you'd said, but you're just so exhausted and everything hurts. "I'm sorry… Hao, I'm so sorry."

The tears spill over, now, and you keep on wiping at your cheeks but they continue to fall, endless, incessant.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, you know I— I don't mean that," you whisper, shaky. Every time you try to clear your gaze, everything ends up blurred again, and Minghao is just a watery outline in front of you. "I'm just so… so—" you bite your lips, stifling a sob. "I'm just so tired."

You can't speak anymore, too overcome, a hand over your mouth in an attempt to hide your pathetic, selfish sobs, the other hand clutching your stomach. Your entire body feels like it's lurching, sick with fatigue and fear.

But then, one moment you're standing there, trembling in the corner of the kitchen, and next there are arms wrapping around you and a chin resting on your head with a shoulder pressed into your cheeks.

"I know, love, I know," Minghao murmurs, and he's still being so gentle and it makes you feel even worse. "It's okay. Shh, it's okay."

One of the reasons you love hugging and being hugged by Minghao is because he hugs in such an all-encompassing way. His arms engulf you, his scent is everywhere, and his shoulder is in your mouth and his neck in your eyes and there's just so much Minghao surrounding you that you kind of feel like crying even more.

"I'm sorry," you're whispering, again and again, into his shoulder, and even through the tears he can understand you loud and clear.

"It's okay," he says, softly, one hand rubbing circles into your back and the other wrapped firmly around your waist, keeping you pressed as close as possible to him. "Don't apologise, I understand, it's alright."

The softness in his voice makes you whimper, feeling undeserving of such understanding. "Minghao…"

He makes soft soothing sounds, keeping his arms tight around you, his hand firm and warm at your waist, grounding you with the touch, reminding you of his presence. You're clinging to his shoulders as if he's going to disappear any moment, and in response he only holds you impossibly tighter.

"I know, I know, it's okay, don’t worry," he says, tilting his head slightly to kiss your temple. "Minghao is here for you, okay? You can cry as much as you want."

Minghao is someone who's very sturdy. He's firm, he's always very there, and it makes him so perfect to hug. He's not the biggest fan of physical touch, and it isn't often that you have such meltingly intertwined hugs like this, but there are times when both of you crave that touchiness. Like now, you suppose. And when you do, he's always, always willing to give it to you. And vice versa.

"My Y/N had a hard day today, hm?" he asks, letting you cry quietly into his shoulder. You nod, just slightly, and he sighs softly. "Oh, dear. I'm so sorry, my love. I'm sorry that happened to you."

"I'm sorry," you try to say, again, but he shushes you before you can finish.

"No, there's no need to be sorry, I understand completely," Minghao murmurs. "You're tired, and I pushed you too far. I'm sorry."

Minghao is so warm, so comforting, and after a moment your legs buckle and you fall. He falls partway with you, helping you to your feet again, and he keeps you pressed against his chest as he slowly backs out of the kitchen and into the living room, falling onto the sofa, you still in his arms.

This way, you're curled up in his lap, safely cocooned in his arms, in his presence. He looks down at you, soft, wiping the wetness that's staining your jawline.

"Shh, don't worry, my love," he says soothingly, thumb still rubbing gently up and down your jaw, holding you as you cry. His other arm is still around you, your head against his chest, and it just feels so safe. "Cry as much as you need. I'm here."

And so you do. Several minutes pass, or perhaps hours, but Minghao holds you through it all, whispering words of praise and reassurance, repeating over and over that it’s okay, that you’re doing okay, that he’s here and he loves you. And eventually, when the tears die down and you’re taking in big, shaky breaths, he dabs at your eyes with his fingers, and it doesn’t clear up the tears all that much but now you can see him properly, see him smile down at you so, so lovingly.

His hand is tracing nonsensical patterns across your side, the other swiping a thumb delicately across the under of your eyes. His eyes are soft as he looks at you, and there’s no hurt or irritation in them, as you’d feared. Only pure understanding.

"Feeling better?" Minghao asks, a rumbling whisper, and you duck your head, leaning against his chest once more.

“Don’t know,” you whisper, sounding all clogged up due to the tears. After a moment, you add, “Head hurts.”

That makes him chuckle softly. “I can imagine. You cried a lot, love.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry,” Minghao says, clicking his tongue. Just a simple sound. No malice, no annoyance. “It’s good to release your emotions, rather than bottling them all up until you can’t handle them anymore.”

“Still, ‘m sorry,” you mumble, ashamed, guilt pricking your insides, but less intense than before. Soothed by Minghao’s warm hand on your cheek. “Sorry for saying that. Sorry for making you sad. I shouldn’t have said that to you.”

“Don’t say sorry,” is all Minghao says, again. “And while it’s true that I can’t read your mind, I should have been able to read your body language. I’ll be more aware next time, and give you the space you need.”

You shake your head. “No, no. I think… I think I did want you with me. I was just so angry that I said the opposite, out of spite.”

“Okay,” Minghao says. “That’s okay.”

And the way he says it makes you begin to believe that it really is.

"Want to talk about it?" he asks quietly after a moment, watching you play with your hands.

"No," you whisper back.

He clicks his tongue again disapprovingly, playfully. "You know it's not a good thing to keep this in. It's better to talk it out."

"Don't want to."

Minghao watches as you take his hands into your own, bending his fingers and circling his knuckles with fingertips before interlacing your hands together, secure. He squeezes your hand, once, and something warm blooms in his chest at the quiet, happy noise you let out.

"Don't need to talk about it," you say. "I'm feeling better now."

"You do?"

You nod, and he smiles, squeezing your hand again.

"I'm glad."

Your hand is warm in his, warmed by the contact, and perhaps a little sticky with sweat and remnants of tears but he doesn't care. Having you breathe steadily against him, having you on him, calm and relaxed once again has the same effect as if he had been the one to go through a relaxation routine.

It makes him relieved, to know that he’s been able to relax you, to get you out of whatever frustrated headspace you’d been in before. You dig your nails into the soft skin on the back of his hand, just lightly, and the playful move makes him smile.

"Y/N?"

You hum in acknowledgement.

"I'm always going to be here for you," he says, and he says it simply, like it's just a fact, and maybe. Maybe it really is.

"Thank you," you say back, and you feel light, like your worries from earlier truly have been lifted.

Huh. Perhaps there really was truth to the idea of how sharing a problem can lessen the load.

“Hao?” you say after a moment.

He rubs his thumb over the back of your hand, cheek pressed against the top of your head. “Hm?”

“You’re everything to me,” you say, soft, shy. “Please stay with me.”

That makes him smile, and he lifts himself away to press a kiss to your forehead, feather-light, before resting against your head once more.

“Of course,” he murmurs. “Of course.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @minhui896 ,, @bunnyiix ,, @slytherinshua ,, @haowrld ,, @belladaises ,, @moonlitskiiies ,, @cinnamoroxie ,, @butiluvu ,, @zozojella ,, @kawennote09 ,, @thedensworld ,, @a-wandering-stay ,, @abibliolife ,, @doublasting ,, @wonranghaeee ,, @icyminghao ,, @sweet-like-caramel ,, @your-yxnnie ,, @evasaysstuff

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enviedear · 5 months

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in my head i feel like billy could be a switch, but maybe a hc of how dom!billy and sub!billy are like🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

i should be in federal prison for the amount of edits i have of this man i need to be stopped

nsfw billy bonney hc's

i agree with him being a switch! he's got an ocean depth worth of emotions so i think his preference would honestly change on a daily basis

tw— smut, minors dni 18+

request

as a dom... billy is more demanding. rarely, if ever, does he tell you what to do. but when you're sprawled out on his bed, staring up at him like he's some magnificent constellation, his head is filled with unbridled confidence. he won't feel the need to be so graceful or gentlemanly. his regular requests and plea's turn into orders. he'll tell you that he wants you on your knees, tell you to be quiet, and tell you exactly how to take him. he won't ask, but he won't force you either. he'd never do that— wouldn't even think of it.

"on your knees, darlin" "c'mere and keep quiet, don't want the boy's t'hear" "stop runnin' from it, honey. you can take it"

his main goal as a dom would simply be to make you truly yearn for him. he wants to see it in your eyes, and hear it in your voice. he'll get more and more impatient if you try to fight him or try to hide how crazed you really are for him. he needs to see that you're wild for him, just like he is for you.

"you're my girl aren't you, lemme hear you." "don't be so shy, look at me."

he'd never need to raise his voice to make you listen to him. if you're being a brat he'll just quirk up a brow and stare into your eyes, silent. that's all it would take. he'd hold such a commanding gaze that you'd quickly fix your act.

billy would be pretty hard to annoy, but if you try to be coy and ignore his obvious want for you, he'll be brooding until he can get you alone. he'd have a fair number of 'punishments' for you in his mind; maybe he'd work you up until the morning sun begins to creep into the sky, or better yet, he could bend you over his lap until there are tears in your waterline. but his favorite has to be leaving you high and dry. it's the meanest stunt he can pull without his resolve breaking. billy would be too good with his restraint too, if he says he won't touch you... he's not. at least until he thinks you've learned your lesson.

"does that feel good?" he'd ask, being surprisingly gentle with his touch for how riled up he had seemed earlier. you lay back against his bed, eyes closing in pleasure as he continues to toy with your bulb, "feels so good." with a light chuckle, he pulls his hands away from you, leaving you needy and aggravated, "m'not touching you again until you get that attitude of yours in check."

as a sub... he's almost pathetically needy. he wants your love so bad that he'll beg for it. he'll give you a small smile before kissing your forehead, hands finding a home at your waist.

"god, billy, you're like a bee to honey." you'd mutter, trying to focus back on the shops' books. the latest bank statement had you looking for any way to cut costs. his head rests on your shoulder, body flush against your back, "can't help m'self, darlin'," his voice would drop, "i'll get on my knees and beg for ya."

he'd be more submissive if he's feeling sad. the days he misses those long gone, he'll curl into your embrace, needy for your warm affection. he feels like a man starved for you, and he doesn't mind giving you the reins and being under your spell.

billy tries his hardest not to be a brat, and he's pretty good at listening to directions. but ever so often, he's talking back and riling you up— just to see your jaw clench and eyes spark. and he'll take your domineering actions afterward without refuting.

the buttons on his shirt are too hard to see in the dim light of lanterns and you let out an audible huff in annoyance. in the dark you still catch billy's smug grin, "does my girl need a little help?" you roll your eyes, fighting a smile at his obvious and futile rebellion, "don't get ahead of yourself, outlaw."

he's whiny for you. he'll whine and beg, using the sweetest tone he can muster. he knows you're in control, but he also knows he has his own weapon— his voice. he knows how much you love it and how easily you cave if he uses it.

"please, jus' touch me. i need you s'bad, honey." "just like that. that's my girl, makin' me feel s'good."

loves being marked up! nothing too blatant though, he doesn't want to ride into town with hickeys on his neck. but if you leave red welts along his back or love bites on his chest, he'll spend a few minutes in front of any mirrored surface to see your handiwork. he likes having the proof, for himself, a wonderful reminder that he has you. that you're real, and that he's entirely yours. he hasn't had anyone to belong to for so long, he wouldn't trade it for the world.

—reblog and like if you enjoyed, let ur local writer know you like her work !

#billy the kid #billy bonney #billy the kid x reader #billy bonney x reader #william h bonney #william h bonney x reader #tom blyth!billy the kid #tom blyth #coriolanus x reader

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myballsyourballs · 1 year

Note

This just came in mind

Katsuki deku and todoroki reactions to seeing reader really bad injured.

Ok so they fighting a villain, and on the end of the battle the construction that they were inside starts to break in pieces. And the reader didn't managed to get out in time. (reader is not dead just badly injured)

(So sorry if it's hard to understand my english still need to be polished 🙇‍♂️🙇‍♂️🙇‍♂️)

fatality

bakugou, midoriya (seperate) x m! reader

genre: angsty(?) drabbles

warnings: description of injury

notes: i assumed this was seperate- i hope i didnt get that wrong 😭 also, if you don't specify gender im probably going to make it gn or male (which i did here) and i am SO sorry for not including todoroki — i didn’t know how to characterise him for something like this, and i honestly just need to churn out fics rn. thanks for requesting!

masterlist | make a request

bakugou !

The building erupted into flames, orange and yellow tendrils licking at the sides of rotting concrete walls. Slowly, the cement broke, anything stable soon collapsing into a dusty heap of rock.

Bakugou called out. There was no answer.

He kept running. There was so much smoke. His eyes scanned the remains around him frantically, in contrast to his seemingly calm exterior. He felt like he was in shock. His expression was blank, completely devoid of any emotion -- except his eyes. Unadulterated panic swam in his red irises, molars clacking together as Bakugou clenched his jaw. He swallowed thickly.

"Zero! We need to get out of here -- it's not stable!" He faintly registered Kirishima yelling out to him. Nothing's breaking anymore. It's stable enough. Bakugou knew he was only trying to make himself feel better at this point.

"[L/N]'s in here." He said softly, hands stilling by his sides as he observed the concrete around him.

"Grou-- Bakugou, come on!"

He spotted you.

A hand, one that was definitely yours, peeked underneath a thick slab of rectangular-shaped rock that was laying on top of you. There was some other concrete that rested beneath it which prevented it from completely weighing on you, but your left arm wasn't so lucky. Bakugou rushed forward, gripping the edge of the slab with calloused fingers and pulling it up with a groan. Once it was far enough from you, he let out explosions from his palms, ignoring the ache and slight burn he felt in doing so.

The concrete slab slammed against the ground beside you, vibrations ringing out in a low rumble — unheard over the high-pitched ringing in Bakugou’s ears. No, no, no no no…

Your body lay on the ground, blood pouring in a slow drip from a head wound located on the side of your temple. Your arm was twisted at an unnatural angle, and your face was covered in soot. Bakugou felt the sting of bile at the back of his throat. A torn hero suit revealed a large burn — 3rd degree — that traced the expanse of your stomach. 2nd degree burns littered your arms and chest, though your face and legs were left mostly clear.

“Get a medic!” he called out, voice raspy from smoke inhalation.

There was silence. He looked back, meeting the eyes of Kirishima, who was still in shock, standing with his eyes trained on your unconscious body.

"I SAID GET A FUCKING MEDIC!"

Red Riot startled, stumbling backwards and towards where the ambulances were soon arriving, exiting the cloud of smoke.

His fists clenched against the ground beside your head, body rocking back and forth. He couldn’t move you. It was too risky. What if you had broke your neck? Got a concussion? Brain damage? Broken your skull? Amnesia? Hematoma? Paralysed, seizures, coma—

“Ground Zero!” A voice called — unfamiliar this time. Kirishima seemed to have left. Bakugou raised his head slightly, red eyes peering at a figure approaching from the smoke. “We need you to step away. We’re taking him to the hospital.”

Wordlessly, Bakugou reluctantly pulled his arms from beside your head. More figures approached from the cloud of dust and smoke, carrying a stretcher between them. They checked your pulse, announcing it was there, but faint. He watched numbly as they wrapped a precautionary brace around your neck, steadying your head as they transferred you to the stretcher.

Bakugou followed them out, feeling like he was on autopilot. You had a pulse. You were alive.

He didn't leave your side.

midoriya !

"[Y/N]!"

Midoriya skidded to a stop next to your stretcher, collapsing to his knees with tears already streaming down his cheeks. He slid an arm around your waist, and a palm to the back of your head. "You're okay, you're okay..."

Your eyes settled onto his, hazy. Midoriya let out a relieved laugh that soon dissolved into sobs. Your eyelids felt heavy. You wanted to sleep. "...I'm... okay," you said, voice raspy. "It's okay..."

"You w--weren't! There was-- there was blood, and--"

"Izuku," you murmured gently, his eyes snapping to yours. "I'm okay," you repeated. You raised a hand, gently stroking his jaw, watching in silence as his lower lip trembled.

"...I can't lose you."

"You won't. You haven't."

He dipped his head, shoulders shaking once more as sobs wracked his body. Plumes of smoke poured out of the building in the distance, the wail of sirens faint. Midoriya buried his head into your chest, worn out and emotions a tangled mess.

The fight from before didn't seem to last long after you had gotten injured. It's odd, though, the contrast you see now. After you had been thrown back by the villain and broken your leg, Midoriya was first not upset. Well, underneath his exterior he probably was, but outside of that?

Midoriya was furious.

He was seething with rage, a rage that could rival even Bakugou's. It was... rather odd to see. The fight didn't last long after that. Midoriya felt with the villain, and ran straight to the stretcher you had been put on.

Your calloused fingers ran through his hair, brushing out any knots and shaking off the dust. His breathing was less ragged now -- though he was still limp against your chest. Kneeling on the ground. That looks uncomfortable. "Don't you wanna grab a chair? Your knees are going to hurt..." you mumbled quietly, voice only a gently rumble.

Midoriya tightened his arm around your waist.

No, then. You continued to guide your fingers through his hair, your other hand gently laid over his shoulders.

A throat cleared.

You turned your head quickly, wincing and letting out a small hiss when the movement caused your headache to increase while your vision blurred.

A paramedic stood there, her face patient. "There's an ambulance ready for you now," she paused, contemplative. "Hero Deku, you're welcome to tag along."

Midoriya's head lifted, green curls bouncing as he nodded his head.

"Great. If you're good to go, we'll get you going now."

"Yeah," you murmured breathily, eyes threatening to close. "...yeah, I'm good."

The paramedic, who was now rolling your stretcher to the ambulance with Midoriya trailing at your side, pursed her lips before she spoke again. "Please keep your eyes open, sir. You can sleep when we get to the hospital."

You sighed, head lolling as you turned it to the opposite direction of her. "M'fine. The guy... before... he told me not to sleep, too," you faltered, eyes feeling heavy.

“[Y/N]?” Midoriya murmured, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. His eyes widened as yours slipped shut. “Hey, [Y/N]!”

He never let go of your hand.

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ttoddii · 3 months

Text

please,

pairing(s): bada lee x f!reader

cw: angst, very very little cussing, maybe reader is just high idk, bad grammar, lowercase intended.

wc: 1k

summary: you can't seem to get over a certain girl that you had met in your dream.

a/n: once again, apologies for a very messy story because i'm sleepy ;-; and apologies again because i had not been posting as frequent, had been through a lot of things recently. but i'll try to adjust that. lastly, i hope you enjoy this.

you slowly open your eyes, a sigh gently leave your mouth as you sit up. your body have no energy to make any big move right now, redirecting your gaze to take a glance at your clock, still too early, too early for you to feel so disappointed.

nothing. again.

it was heartbroken, no you didn't go through any broke up recently, and no you definitely is living a happy life, having what you need. but god, why? why does he has to torture you like this? why does he has to make you fall so hard in love with someone in your dream?

it was a long time ago. too long. to the point where you barely even remember what was the dream about.

and yet, you can't seem to get her out of your head.

she is a sweet girl, her smile as bright as the sun, her hug make you feel like the sea is gently washing away all your troubles from deep within your soul.

maybe that's why her name is bada.

she told you that. her voice was so lovely, and that seems to be the only memory you have from that dream.

it's funny, and pathetic, honestly. because you can never seem to remember anything, any detail of the dream, and yet you can remember how soft her touch is when it land on your hand, or how pretty her eyes are when you look into it.

a girl that make you helplessly fall in love.

and it hurt, it hurt so bad because you can never see her again. relationships that have ups and downs are great, you really think so, because at least you can feel them, touch them, see them.

but this? you don't even know if she exist or not, but you are hopelessly in love with her.

you wish you could see her, feel her, kiss her, hug her.

you tried, of course, countless time. you would think about her non-stop in the day, hoping, wishing that by the night, when you're deep in your sleep, you could see her again.

but to no avail.

you find yourself helpless in this silly crush of yours. why did you have to like someone that's not real? why is the world so cruel to you?

"i should just stop", you mumble. your hands rub softly against your eyes.

the words are a reminder to yourself that maybe, maybe you should give up.

but what if you still have a chance tonight?

you shake your head, forcefully pushing the thought out of your head. your hands going up to your cheeks to squeeze it gently, attempting to make yourself a bit more awake.

you do like the girl too much, but is it enough to risk having a hopeless cycle that might make you cry days and nights?

no, maybe not. if you continue, you will break.

it's a vicious cycle. a cycle that if you don't fight against, you would succumb to your own heartbreak.

and the worst thing is.

that heartbreak is not even real.

feeling is a bitch, it give you a hint of happiness and then take that same happiness away, even though you hold on to it for dear life. feeling is a bully.

you sigh, your body slowly fall back down to the bed. your eyes open to look at the ceiling, it's still pretty early isn't it? maybe you should sleep more? you don't have plans today, and most definitely not in the mood to wake up yet, your eyes are still heavy and your brain still too fuzzy.

at some point, the heaviness of your heart sink into your bed and you slowly drift to sleep along with it.

"love", a soft voice call out to you as you can feel something touching your face, and you shift, your body move slowly as you open your eyes.

somehow, you're at the beach now, and you could see the stars above your head. your right hand holding up to your cheek to touch someone else hand, and you can feel the slender fingers, resting on your face.

"bada?" you asked softly, your eyes moving to find the source of the voice.

and there she is, ever so gentle, smiling at you. your face shocked as your body shoot up and you turn to look at bada.

her figure sitting down on the sand as she look straight at you, her hair fall down over her shoulder as she pat her hand on the spot next to her, indicating for you to sit a bit closer.

so you did just that, scooting over to her as you try to keep eyes contact,

you're scared, scared that if you look away, bada would disappear.

bada chuckle, she lean back, putting her hand behind her back and use it to support her upper body.

"it's a nice night, isn't it?", she said, her gaze now move to the waves that are slowly moving to the shore.

it is indeed a nice night, a night where the sky is so clear that you could see every stars twinkling above your head, you can feel the chilly air hugging around your body, you can smell the saltiness lingering around, you can hear the sound of waves crashing down, and most importantly, you can feel her sitting next to you.

of course, it's a dream, nothing is real, even this nice night view, even all the things you feel right now, it's not real.

but maybe, just for today, right now, at this moment, you rather enjoy it than stressing it too much. after all, you did wait for this, you did hope for it to come.

"bada", you reach out first, your voice softly as you slowly lay your head on bada's shoulder. it's tiring, really, to keep waiting for a day like this. but you're happy at this moment, you feel content.

you can feel bada sigh softly, her hand move up to give you a head pat, her fingers run through the lock of your hair as you hum. to feel something like this, even when it's not real, make you feel safe.

bada sigh again, and she hold your head up softly, her hands cup your cheeks as she look at you in the eyes.

"please, darling, move on, without me." bada said, her smile so soft that it's like a stream of warm water just poured through your heart, and yet, so bitterly.

so so bitterly.

and once again, you open your eyes.

#bada lee #bada lee x reader #bada lee x y/n #bada x reader #lee bada #bada lee x reader angst #bada lee angst #swf2 x reader #⟢ tod's chaos

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flawdchaos · 28 days

Text

Cold Shoulder

Robert Rosenthal x Reader

Word Count - 1273

Based off of this request:

Hello! First and foremost ,I would like to tell you that I really enjoyed reading Spilled Drink and I would love to read the third part of the story. I was wondering if you could write a Rosie story, where he flirts with the oc but she is giving him the coldest shoulder ( something that he didn’t expect) . So he makes it his mission to make her like him. Thank you 😊

small authors note, it isn’t exactly like the request but i wrote this on my lunch break today and tried my best with the hour i had 🫠 i hope you still enjoy it

Rosie had never been so lost for words in his life. He had never been so blatantly ignored and he couldn’t figure out what he had done to deserve it. His entire flow felt off. He had seen her around Thorpe Abbotts for a while now, sharing glances and half hearted smiles but now - absolutely nothing. A cold shoulder couldn’t even explain her reaction towards him.

After being the only plane to return from their mission, Rosie and his crew were sent to the Coombe house to get some R & R and despite his best efforts to leave, he was made to stay. When he returned to base a week later, everything felt wrong - including her.

He was still frozen in disbelief, hard grip on his glass, when Harry’s hand slapped down on his shoulder. “Tough crowd, Rose?” Rosie let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding and nodded. “You have no idea, Cros. I don’t know what in the hell I did. I asked her for a dance and she all but ran away from me.” Harry turned his friend to face him. “Maybe she’s got a lover out there somewhere, fighting just like us.” The idea had crossed his mind but he couldn’t just ignore the smiles and eye contact they had shared for weeks before. It was possible he had read too far into her actions. ‘Maybe she was just being nice’ he thought, shaking his head and trying to take his mind off of the rejection. Clearing his throat he responded “Yeah, Cros, you’re probably right.” When his head hit his pillow that night the scene replayed over and over in mind, embarrassment coursing through his body.

Two days had passed since Rosie’s run-in at the bar and he would be lying if he said the memories of that night weren’t ingrained in his brain. He was pulled back to reality when the Colonel stepped into the hallway, beckoning him into his office. “How have you been, Captain Rosenthal?”

“Fine, sir.” he said. “I hope the flak house treated you and your men well?” All he could do was meet the question with a curt nod. It honestly hadn’t been what he wanted. He left when everything and everyone needed him and returned to the little semblance he had turned up on its head. The rest of the meeting eluded his mind, putting his brain and responses on auto pilot. Excusing himself and saluting the Colonel, he stepped out of the hut and urged his feet to lead him to the chow hall. All he wanted at that moment was a cup of coffee and a moment to clear his brain. A few steps distanced himself from the building before he caught a glimpse of her, leaning up against the women’s barracks with a cigarette loosely hanging from her lips, her hands busy repinning the fallen curls framing her face. He couldn’t see his own reaction but he knew he looked like he had seen a ghost. He stood, feet planted on the gravel for a good minute - debating his next action. He could continue to chow with his pride intact or take one more chance at catching the girls attention. ‘C’mon Robert. You fly damn planes into warzones. She’s just a girl.’ Fuck it.

He stopped in front of her, her gaze still on the ground kicking around the loose gravels.

“Excuse me, ma’am.” Rosie softly spoke, lightly clearing his throat. Her eyes slowly raked up the body standing in front of her. Her mouth slightly fell open and the cigarette threatened to fall from her lips. She remained silent although her eyes were darting around.

“I know, uh, I know I spoke to you the other night at the bar. I didn’t mean to overstep. It’s just -” he took a deep breath before continuing. “It’s just, I’ve seen you around for weeks now and I’ve meant to say hello or wave - or something - but I don’t know. Would it be stupid to say I was nervous?’ she still didn’t speak but a small shake of her head to signal ‘no’ was enough for Rosie to keep rambling. “I know it probably sounds stupid. I go thousands of feet in the area in a big metal box and fly through battlefields but I can’t even speak to a pretty girl.” He shook his head, letting out a small laugh.

“You think I’m pretty?” his heart almost jumped out his chest as her timid voice broke through the silence. He could feel the heat rising to his face.

“Uh,” he laughed awkwardly ,”Yes ma’am, yes I do.”

They still hadn’t made direct eye contact yet but her feet had stopped scuffing at the patch of grass growing by the side of the barrack building. A hand appeared in her vision, waiting for hers to connect. “I’m Robert Rosenthal but please, call me Rosie. Everyone else on this base does.” Their hands intertwined and he took control of lightly shaking them up and down.

“Y/N Y/L/N but everyone just calls me Y/N.” For the first time in this whole interaction Rosie watched as a small smile had slowly worked its way onto her face.

“Well, just Y/N, I’m on a mission for a hot cup of coffee. Would you like to make the hike with me?” A slight nod of her head had his feet moving once again. He was dying to ask more questions, to pry into her life and truly get to know the girl walking beside him but the last thing he wanted to do was scare her away.

“Can I admit something to you, Rosie?” Her voice breaking the silence almost made his entire body freeze. “Of course, Y/N.”

She took a breath before stopping dead in her tracks, Rosie doing the same but a few steps up ahead. ‘Oh God, this is it.’ is all he could think. He hung his head preparing himself for the blow of disappointment he was suspecting.

“I got worried about you. Last week, you know?” she admitted, sheepishly. “Everyone saw you land, including me. I was selfishly happy it was you. I wanted to tell you that when I saw you next but the next day on my walk to work, I didn’t pass you like I usually do. I didn’t see you the whole week and I think, in my mind, I kinda expected the worst. Seeing you in that bar last weekend I,” she took a moment, seeming to try and collect her thoughts “it was like seeing a ghost.” It was her turn for the heat to rise to his cheeks.

Rosie didn’t know what to say. He was at a loss for words. In all of the scenarios he had dreamed up in his mind that was never one of them.

“You thought I died?” he asked, dumbfounded. She rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly.

“I didn’t know your name. You and your whole crew disappeared. I thought asking people about you would be a sore spot.” she admitted. “So, you don’t hate my guts and never want to speak to me again?” For the first time ever, Rosie heard her laugh. Like a true, doubled over belly laugh.

“Hate you? God no. I guess I was just waiting for the right moment to talk to you. I thought I had waited too long.” He shook his head at the girl. “You didn’t.” he said. “It seems like we have some catching up to do.” she nodded in agreement before he spoke again. “You still wanna get that coffee?”

Author’s note: Hi friends, another Rosie fic for y’all ♥️ I hope you enjoy this. It hasn’t been proofread/double checked at all so pleas disregard all of the little mishaps here and there.

#masters of the air #masters of the air x reader #anthony boyle #anthony boyle imagine #gale cleven #john egan #masters of the air imagines #robert rosenthal #rosie rosenthal #rosie rosenthal imagines

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