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loganlermanstanaccount · 11 months

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Can you write a college roommate head cannon for miguel O’Hara ( 18+ f!reader)

ik you asked for HCs but I have no self control... my bad, anon!

College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

summary: Miguel is your roommate. And he’s hot. That’s it, that’s the tweet.

warnings: 18+ as fuuuck. F-receiving oral, using toys, masturbation, voyeurism (-ish), grinding, praise, service dom (idk?) Miguel, recreational drug use (reader and Miggy smoke a blunt). Minors DNI

a/n: I am a firm believer that modern day Miguel listens to 90s rnb, back when men were men: unabashedly, unashamedly down so fucking bad for their partners. he just gives me those vibes!!

edit: I'm writing a full fic for this! Rigor Mortis, college au fic, read here.

wc: 6k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm thinking you become roommates but he's your last choice.

Very last minute: you have a big falling out with your now ex-boyfriend, and the plans for flatsharing next semester goes right out the window.

So all the good places are taken, and you're going apartment-hunting, but everywhere's either too expensive, too dirty, or there's a predatory clause hidden in the lease: shitty landlords and blaring red flags in 9pt Times New Roman.

When you stumble upon Miguel O'Hara; a student in private accomodation who, lucky you, is in need of a roommate; it feels like a godsend.

Rent is affordable and he's nice enough; refusing to grunt more than a few words to you, but is clean, organised, and from what you can tell, is barely in the apartment.

You sign onto the lease, desperately, hoping you've just been lucky and trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

You give a thousand mile stare at the blank document in front of you. A bullshit paper due in exactly 12 hours. Yes, you left it until the final stretch, and yes, it's 10k words. Very doable. You're not fucked. Nope.

You blame it on the banging from next door. Paper thin walls; obscene noises. Cries of Yes Miguel and Just like that, daddy have been plaguing you for almost an hour. His stamina must be superhuman, the way the woman in his bed has been howling. Howling may seem extreme, but she sounds like a dying cat: cock drunk and babbling over Miguel O'Hara?

Your new roommate had been nice enough. Quiet, unassuming, and seemed more than absorbed in his schoolwork. So you didn't expect him to unashamedly fuck the girl he's been tutoring for the past week. It all clicks. The "perfect roommate" turned out to have one teeny tiny little flaw: loud, obnoxious sex, well into the early hours of the morning.

On autopilot, you're clicking through tabs on your bed. Perhaps you're a prude, but the sex noises are abrasive, excessive, to the point of parody. Persistent, Miguel's low voice reverberates in the walls of your bedroom; making heat pool at the base of your stomach.

"You want it, hermosa? Tell me…. such a pretty girl… like that?" It's muffled, but his voice is unmistakable. Low, greedy, heavy with want. God, the last time someone's spoken to you like that was…

You shake your head free of cobwebs. No. You're not rewarding him. You can't . Your roommate is shameless, and inconsiderate, and really fucking annoying .

The smacking noises increase, coupled with banging on his side of the wall. Resolute, your face hardens. From where you perch on your bed, you slam the wall with the side of your fist.

"O'Hara! Keep it the fuck down!"

~~~

He's a biochem major, up to his ass in assignments and he still has time for societies, internships and tutoring.

The only times he'd be in the apartment really was an impromptu session, and you didn't notice at first, but it became more obvious as the semester went on.

As a so-called tutor, he only seemed to pick the prettiest girls - they would twirl their hair on your kitchen counter and bat their pretty lashes at him when they didn't understand. Favours for a couple of friends, is his only response when you ask.

It felt like you'd open the door to a new girl every week and you are baffled. Donned in makeup and short skirts, they'd waddle in asking for Miggy, or drop off half-finished assignments whilst craning their head through, trying to catch a glimpse of him.

The absurdity would make you laugh if it wasn't affecting your sleep.

Not that he's not absolutely gorgeous, but he's so quiet you would never have thought he had it in him: to have a revolving door of women lining up to lay underneath him.

This time, her name is Sarah: pretty little thing in Miguel's Advanced Math class. She perches on a stool, wearing a tight dress that is wholly not appropriate for a tutoring session. She's one of his regulars, if you can call it that, and has been failing for at least 2 semesters. You flash her a smile as you pad through the kitchen, searching the cupboards for a snack. God, she is gorgeous; dolled up for another long session with Miguel, no doubt.

"Where's he gone?" She asks politely.

You shrug. "I couldn't tell you, sorry."

"It's okay… I'm just a bit stuck." You almost snort and catch yourself. For some reason, you didn't think they actually did any work, merely a pretense for the… cardio later on in the day.

You glance at her sheet of paper, scribbles in purple pen with large swathes crossed out. Leaning over, you scan the page.

"Right here." You point and she follows with a manicured finger. "You fucked up with this integral and I think… yeah, I think that messes with the whole thing."

Her eyes light up as she follows you, explaining with a piece of cookie hanging out of your mouth. She's definitely smart, just a few little mistakes here and there that you're happy to point out. Thanking you fervently, she rushes to correct it.

"Ah, it's no problem. I get mixed up with it too." You smile and notice Miguel by the doorway, watching with a strange look in his face. You roll your eyes as you walk past. What a fucking weirdo.

"Thought I was the tutor?" He croons.

You raise an eyebrow, voice low as Sarah is engrossed in her work. "...I don't want to fuck her, Miggy , if that's what you're worried about."

A little cruelly you push past him, shoulders clashing against one another. Is he smiling ? For now, you blame your perpetual tiredness when you think you catch the hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

~~~

You're a light sleeper, and it all makes for a tired, delirious combo. You sleepwalk through the day, scramble to finish assignments and whilst it's not all O'Hara's fault, you can't help but blame him for a lot of it.

After you successfully get through one long week, you decide to celebrate. That means a couple hours of mindless hedonism: your favourite movie, greasy food…. and your trusty dildo. Not at the same time, of course.

Miguel's not home, and he's not tearing down the walls with some other girl, for once, so you decide to treat yourself.

You've been going through a dry patch, and you'd hate to admit it, but he does sound good through the thin drywall.

It was a joke gift; given to you by a friend for your birthday. An obnoxiously purple dildo with a suction cup at its base. Aptly named Hugh, due to its - ahem - large stature. Standing tall at 7 or 8 inches, far bigger or thicker than any partner you've taken in the past. Sitting around a small diner booth with your friends and opening the bag to reveal him, had been quite the experience, for sure.

It wasn't your fault you had gone through a dry spell in the past few months. With work, with school, with relationship issues, you hadn't had the time or energy to sleep around. Not that you were desperate for drunk, lackluster sex, followed by an awkward dance of ubers and shitty coffee in the morning. Like many, you preferred to do it yourself.

Laptop open, you ease yourself onto the toy, already slick with lube. Prepping yourself with your fingers had been quite the task, tabs open to something on a lewd website. It's cheesy, but you didn't really like the bright lights and plastic of usual porn. The moans felt too fake, the sex devoid of any real passion. So you found a couple of independent creators; couples, mostly; carnal fucking with fervour only borne from real love . It's embarrassing to admit it, but your favourite parts are the little kisses and touches in between, or light laughter after a rough session. As if to say: it's okay and I'm still here.

On your screen now is a longtime favourite video, a broad man bullying his fat cock into his partner. You can't help but think he looks like Miguel, not as pretty but tan with strapping shoulders, and large hands that wrap around the neck of the girl in the video.

" F-Fuck," You breathe, sinking down onto your toy. You bet Miguel's palm on your throat would be deliciously rough, and you imagine how he'd fuck the brat out of you like the man on your screen.

What hadn't occurred to you, however, was that the thin walls went both ways. Whilst you were quieter than many of the girls Miguel brought home, you were fairly shameless with the moans and curses that fell from your lips. Headphones on, you were blissfully unaware that Miguel had slipped into the apartment some time ago. The slap of your thighs to the floor, the desperate whine as you roll your hips over the toy - he can hear it all.

Miguel has a conscience, so he does feel some amount of shame when he slips a hand down his trousers and presses an ear to your shared wall. He closes his eyes and bites down lusty groans, fisting his cock to your pretty noises. Noises he's been wanting to hear from you for months, now, imagining it was you underneath him instead of his usual partners.

He times it just right, squeezing around his tip in time with the steady slap just beyond the wall. Are you fucking yourself? On your knees, hands flat on the floor, churning up your insides with a toy… or maybe ass up, dildo attached to something…? He almost cums with that mental image, wondering what you'd look like on your knees for him. Is the dildo as big as him? He knows you, knows you'd want it to hurt - for his cock to stretch out your pretty pussy when he cums deep inside you.

All things he thinks about with a hand around his cock, and he's already close. But he wants to cum with you, listening intently for the signs.

" Fuck," Your voice comes out muffled, but it makes him buck up into his fist all the same. " Need it… oh God, I-"

He speeds up, wondering what it would be like to have your thighs shake underneath him, what it would take to have you babbling and begging for more. How would he break you? Maybe on his cock, where he'd watch you squirm as you take his length. Or on your knees, choking around him and licking up his cum. Or, God, thighs wrapped around his head, riding out your high with his mouth sealed on your clit, crying for him slow down, for him to-

" H-Harder, Miguel, please."

He releases, sudden and intense, spilling white ropes into his boxers.

" Fuck, Miguel…"

He fucks his fist through it, overstimulated from the way you say his name. It feels like the only way it should be said; spilling from your mouth, haphazard and desperate. Like honey, like treacle; sweet things he didn't know he had the capacity for. He lets that feeling wash over him, panting, bringing his forehead to rest on cool wall.

~~~

He's hot. He's smart. He's a whore.

A total blindspot for you, and no matter how much you can't stand him; you still find yourself stealing glances whenever he's home.

And he does seem to be home a lot more, often choosing to study on the dining table rather than his room. It's like he does it on purpose, using the warmer weather as an excuse to wear tiny tank tops and loose gray sweats - showing off the muscles of his broad back and arms perfectly.

Funnily enough, when he's not around those girls, he's bearable - seems to have grown a couple of brain cells in those short few days between sessions.

You laugh and joke, sometimes, and he surprises you by suggesting a movie one quiet night.

He offers you his sweater to snuggle into, you eat your weight in greasy takeout, and your roommate seems like an actually decent guy??

You had fallen into an easy routine: O'Hara leaves a flask of coffee for you to snatch up in the morning, hair damp from the shower and all, and you meet him with netflix and instant noodles in the evening. A push and pull that works in the little space - much smoother than your rocky beginnings.

After a truly shitty day, you come home to a quiet apartment. Almost sleeping through an exam, forgetting lunch, missing the bus home, and having to trek back through pouring rain in a thin coat. Everything that could go wrong, did, and you are left with the pieces. You trudge through the living room into the kitchen, the wet squelch of socks on laminate floor haunting every step. Shedding your limp outerwear, you lay the contents of your backpack onto the kitchen counter: clumps of loose paper, the damp leftovers of a textbook, bleeding ink. Your main concern, however, is your laptop slick with rain water.

With baited breath, you put it on the slab, and press the power button. A click, a stuttering whir, and the screen flickers on. Then, just as strained, it putters off. Dead. Completely dead. Your legs almost give out, and you lean on the counter to steady yourself. Half of your life was there; including the final project that would make up a good chunk of your grade. It takes you everything not to collapse onto the floor right then and there.

"How was it?" You hear the click of a door and Miguel calls out from the hallway.

You wince."...F-Fine?"

You hear footsteps, as he gets closer. "Are you asking or telling me?"

You clear your throat, desperately trying to keep your voice steady. "Fine. It was fine. I'm just… it was fine."

Back still turned, you fumble around with the wet contents of your bag, hoping he doesn't notice.

"Long day?" He says warmly, head poking into the kitchen. Haphazardly, you spare him a glance from behind your shoulder. He's dressed in a sweater that fits snug around his chest, rolled up to expose his forearms, and loose sweats. In his hands, he drinks from a cheesy mug - your mug, donning a stupid pun. He looks warm. Cosy. Domestic. For some, reason it makes your heart sink even further.

Long day? "Something like that." You manage to squeeze out. There's a pregnant pause as he comes closer. Rummaging blindly through a cupboard, you try to hide behind its door. If he sees you like this, now, you don't know if you'll be able to hold it together.

You close the door, and all of a sudden he's there, mug in hand.

" Fuck, man- " It makes you jump, as he squints and takes a sip of his coffee.

"You look… wet."

"That's because it rained, Miguel." Snapping at him, your tone is biting. You're tired, stressed and in desperate need of a cry, but he is unrelenting in his gaze.

"Are you ok?" He asks, unfazed.

There's a lump in your throat and all you can do is nod with a tight expression. His eyes flicker towards the counter and you shuffle, trying to cover up the mess. And then you watch it happen; initial confusion, a flash of realisation, and then worry; all in the space of a couple seconds.

Gently, he pulls you aside to inspect the damage. "Mierda. This is pretty bad. You sure you're ok?"

He's got a hand on your arm now, The dam breaks and you crumple into tears in the kitchen floor. Of course, he comes with you, rubbing your back as you blubber through the details.

" Nothing's going right for me… and I've got my final project on there… I'm barely keeping up as it is…" All he does is nod, face tight with something you can't quite name. It must seem pathetic to him, you think, shamelessly crying on the kitchen floor, complaining to your poor roommate. He can't leave you like this, because he's a decent person - but internally, he must think you're going crazy.

It helps, having him there: a steady presence by your side. Slowly but surely, your tears subside.

"You could've asked me to pick you up." He hands you some tissues off the counter, and watches as you mop up the tears. "I would've come, if you called."

"I didn't… I didn't think we were…" You search for the right word.

"...friends?" He offers, with a small smile. "You think I let just anyone steal my sweaters?"

"First of all," It makes you laugh, despite yourself. "You offered. And second, I've seen what you do with your friends, and I don't know if I have the energy for it."

"Ouch." Bashful, he rubs his chest like it aches. He sits a little close to you, knocking your shoulders with his own. "I know this girl who's crazy good with computers. I could ask her to take a look, if you'd like? Might not be able to save it but maybe we could recover the files?"

"...I'd like that, to be honest."

"Muy bien ." He leaps to his feet, palm stretched towards you to help you up. "I'll run you a warm bath or something. You're creating a puddle and it's going to ruin my floor."

"Our floor, asshole. I pay rent here, too."

~~~

You find that you enjoy being around him, and he feels the same.

You can't help but compare him to your shitty ex who you were planning to move in with: and even with his quirks, Miguel is better in every way.

There is harmony in your household, for a while, and you almost look forward to coming home to him after class. Almost.

It doesn't last long, because of course it doesn't. You'd thought you'd come to a tentative ceasefire, able to casually rib and joke with each other - takeout and B-roll movies aside. He leaves you leftovers from food he makes, you turn down your music when he's studying, and he even woke you up the other day when you had slept through your alarm.

Beyond the wall, his music is loud: a playlist you recognise as the one he puts on to (unsuccessfully) mask the noise of his usual late night adventures. Cheesy love ballads, heady RnB that leaks into your own room. You'd rather die than admit his taste in music isn't horrible, but it usually means a long, long night for everyone around. With finals around the corner, there's no way you can let this stand.

What kind of person does that? Lull you into a false sense of security with Snakes on a Plane and pepperoni pizza?

Absorbed in your own work, you hadn't even realised he had someone over; let alone was gearing up for obnoxious sex. You'd bang on the wall, but you feel like you guys are past that: crossed a threshold of intimacy that means you can shout at him up close and personal.

So you stomp over to the hallway, banging at the door to his room. In the short trip there, you've worked yourself into a frenzy. How many times have you told him to keep it down? That it was rude and inconsiderate to flaunt his sex life in your face; to fuck other women so loud you were practically involved? There was something about the little smile he would give you afterwards, when you catch him shepherding his latest out the door in the morning - like he gets off on it, enjoys it, when you react. Even when you think you're over it, he still manages to drive you absolutely crazy.

“Miguel? Open the fuck up!"

You're still fuming when the door opens with a click, and Miguel appears in the sliver of the doorway. He opens it so that his frame is half swallowed by the door, top half peeking through with a lazy hand in his hair. And of his top half, he's bare from the waist up, black band of his boxers sitting low on his v-line and loose sweats.

All the wind is knocked from your sails, and you lose your train of thought.

"Yeah?"

"I…" You clear your throat. "I don't care who you fuck, but when I'm doing work-"

"-I'm not." He chuckles. "There's no one here, hermosa. Just me. And you, I guess…"

There's something about the way he says it, lazily, as if it's his first time saying those words - wrapping his tongue around your name to see how it fits. If it fits, how it tastes. His relaxed posture, the way his hair falls…

"You're high." Your brow shoots up. "... you're high!"

With a finger pressed to his lips, he grabs your hand and pulls you into his room, eyes darting around the hallway.

"Shhh! You can't-" Now, he gets close, whispering like he's saying something he shouldn't. "You can't tell anyone. "

"I won't." You breathe. His face is serious at first, and then you're both giggling. You've never seen him so carefree, and it's nice to see Miguel walking around without the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He's still holding your hand, pressed close, and you see him drag his eyes up and down your figure. "You want do something you'll regret…?"

"...I've got a 9am, tomorrow, I really-"

"-shouldn't?" He finishes, dragging his hand up your bare arm, pupils blown. He gets up to your shoulders, tucking your hair behind your ear. It's sinful, the way his touch is gentle but gaze heavy - violent in the way he practically eyefucks you. You feel bare, in little sleep shorts and a t-shirt.

He steps back, lounging on his bed, and makes for a half finished blunt by the adjacent window sill. Sighing, you sit by him, sinking into the mattress. He pats you closer, dangerously close, and you comply. One arm curled by your waist, the other brings the blunt up close and you wrap your lips around it. When Miguel brings a lighter to the blunt, you lean into it, knuckles brushing your lips.

You take a drag, long, heavy, eyes closed. And when they open, you're met with his own. Maybe it's the weed, maybe it's the heady atmosphere, but you swear his eyes are low and deep with lust.

"Good girl." He rumbles, cupping your chin and tracing a thumb to your lips. He separates, bringin the blunt to his own lips before leaning back to pass it to you. As quick as he gets close, he pulls away; leaning back into the expanse of his large bed. And he looks good, head drawn back and the curve of his tan arm drawn upwards. Tufts of hair from his chest, the trail that leads down suggestively - and without inhibition, you basically drool over him. God, there it is. You feel it kick in and let it wash over you.

His music, long forgotten, blends into your downy haze. You want to sit in his lap, rest your head on his chest. You get it now: if this is the view all those women he tutors get to have, then you finally understand.

"Come closer, hermosa ." You barely register the nickname, only focused on the way he says it, the delicious way it rolls off of his tongue. You nod, and shuffle closer. His siren song sounds sweeter, somehow, up close.

You pass the blunt between you both, and watch it dwindle to the last dregs. Lying down next to him, he clutches your hand and takes the butt between his fingers, letting its flames die as you watch. You giggle and his gaze softens.

"I didn't expect this from you." You look up to see an upside-down Miguel, hiding a smile.

"Expect what?" He drags himself downwards, to rest his head by your side.

"All…" You gesture vaguely. "This. Don't even think I've been in your room for this long, before."

His room looks exactly how you'd expect it: tidy and modest, a row of trophies neatly lined up on a shelf, a telescope pointing out towards a window. There are posters by his bed; science related, mostly. You tilt your head in the direction of one of them.

"Is this what they see?" You mumble to no one in particular.

He manages to catch it, sluggish in his response. "...Is this what who sees?"

"All the girls you fuck." It tumbles your of your mouth, before you can help it.

He tilts his head too, looking at the poster and you watch the sharp lines of his jaw besides you. Even at this angle, he's so pretty.

"Huh. I guess they do."

"It's not very romantic, is it?" You blink, oblivious. Your question is met with a noncommittal shrug. "What was her name last time? Cassie, Clara-something…"

"Katie." He hums.

"Katie." Ignoring the twinge of disappointment at his quick response, you hope it's the weed and not jealousy that made you pretend to forget her name.

You sit up on your haunches, tracing the valleys and mountains of his bare chest with a leisurely finger. You try not to notice the way he shivers at your touch.

"I could hear everything. Every, 'Yes daddy'," You feign a moan by curling your lips into an O-shape. You bring your other hand to your hair, head tilted back with exaggerated movement. "And 'right there, Miggy, right fuckin' there' ."

Technically, you're making fun of him and laughing, expecting him to follow. But he doesn't, head back and eyes boring into you - only bringing a hand to press yours at his chest.

"Thin walls, Miguel." You clear your throat, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. Too far, probably. "Sorry, shit. I didn't mean-"

"I hear you too." He says softly. "I heard you, the other day."

Head filled with cotton, it takes a moment for his words to really click. So he elaborates, lacing his fingers with your own.

"Fucking yourself, hermosa ." He says it lazily, like the vulgarity of the act doesn't register.

Your eyes widen in horror. How much exactly did he hear?

"...and I heard you say my name."

"It was…. i-it wasn't like that-" Fuck. You can't think straight as it is: and his voice is low and silky, rubbing circles on your hand close to his chest. Even now, he oozes confidence, the steady thump-thump of his heart giving away nothing.

"Hmmm? Then what is it like?" You blink at him, unable to answer. "You're a hypocrite. You complain about all these women I supposedly fuck, but then-"

He pulls you closer, so that your lips almost touch his. "-you lock yourself in your room, touching yourself and thinking about your poor roommate. What am I meant to do with you?"

A pause, and in your daze, you can't breathe. For all your theatrics, it's too easy for him - to prod and tease, and for you to chase after him. You move to kiss him, but he grabs your chin at the last second. "Not quite. I want to hear you say it."

"Fuck- " You crumple, hiding your head in the crook of his shoulder. Even in your haze, the nerves bubble up from the base of your stomach. "Fuck me, please , Miguel."

He places a hand on your thigh, leading you to straddle his middle, other hand wrapped around your waist. He grinds your lower half into his, leaning up to bring your lips together.

He tastes sweet, greedily lapping up your moans in the clash. You're not thinking, not really, lost in the heat of his body, desperate and eager when you kiss. To contrast, Miguel cups your chin, pulling you away for air whenever you sink too deep. Somehow, he still manages to look smug, taunting you with a flash of his little fangs whenever you separate. If you weren't feeling the effects of that blunt, you may have had the means to be embarrassed at how much you want him - needily grinding against him and pawing at his chest.

It's too slow, too leisurely, like a punishment; and he refuses to give you what he knows you want. Your whines betray you when he finally slips a hand down your shorts.

"¿Paciencia, hmm?" He grabs a handful of your ass, clothed cock catching on your clit. It rips another moan from you, which he happily swallows with another kiss. "Patience, princesa."

You hump against one another like teenagers, your hands planted by his head for purchase. Hips moving of their own accord, you chase the relief Miguel provides: with his hands kneading your ass, length catching at your clit, and teeth nipping at your bare neck.

He licks a stripe up your collarbone, soothing the blossoming hickeys with a hum.

Fuck, how can he be so casual ? You don't know if it's the weed or something else, but he is in his element, hand dipping down your back to graze at your pussy from behind. He hisses when he realises how wet you are, swiping his fingers down your slit and taking them out to pop them in his mouth.

Now, flushed and face hot with embarrassment, you look up at him with big doe eyes. It makes Miguel feel guilty for stopping you so close to your climax. Beautiful : lower lip hooked under your teeth, plump and swollen and kissable. He'll make up for it later: a promise he whispers into skin.

"You're soaked." He cups your cheek to press a kiss to your forehead, and all you can do is whine. His gaze dips down, to the swell of your tits in that thin shirt..

"What did you think about when you touched yourself?" It's soft, said in the warm press of your bodies; hook-shaped and hazy and you fit like you were made for one another. The thought lingers, plants a dangerous seed that makes you forget that the man underneath you is your roommate : unrepentant whore, Miguel O'Hara.

"You." You've seen it first hand, he eats hearts for breakfast; and yours is on a platter for him to devour.

He laughs, deep and rumbling, hands resting on your waist. "I know that, baby. You don't have fantasies? Fuck yourself to the thought of someone touchin' you just right?"

Not just someone, him, you think. Your voice dies in your throat at the way he looks at you. "Just… n-nothing really-"

He hums, grinding your hips onto his. "Speechless, I can't believe it. Is this what I need to do to get some fucking peace around here?"

You roll your eyes, "Don't be a dick, Miguel. When I shout, it's because you deserve it."

"...there it is." Eyes shining, his face stretches into a shit-eating grin. Wide, unabashed, unambiguous. "You back with the living, sweetheart?"

It makes you laugh, even though you hate to give him the satisfaction.

"What do you want?" He kneads your thigh and pleasure pools at the base of your stomach.

You mumble something begrudgingly.

"Hmm? Can't hear you, baby."

Louder, now. "...want to sit on your face, Miguel."

Lowly, he groans, shaking his head. "Mierda… of course you do."

Expertly, he helps you take your shorts off, dragging the thin material down your thighs. You clambers upwards, wrapping them around his shoulders, watching intently as he kneads the soft skin. It's tentative, at first, and you place your hands on the headboard to perch just above his mouth.

He licks, diving in with the flat of his tongue: a long upwards stroke that ends with him sucking your clit. Moaning, your hips jump and he chases your pretty pussy up, large palms pushing you back down. He concentrates on your bundle of nerves, lips around your clit like a man on a mission.

And, God, does it feel good; he watches and learns from your every movement, committing your body to memory. His moans vibrate deliciously, tension building at that spot faster than your mind can register it. Then, you clench around nothing, gushing into his mouth whilst he eases you through it. The noises he makes are obscene; one leg off the bed and a hand snaked under his boxers. He's getting off on it; watching you crumple and sob around his tongue.

And when you begin to move off, thighs sore, he doesn't relent, sealing his mouth on your pretty little hole.

"Miguel.. fuck-" After your first orgasm, it surprises you when he continues, tongue fucking you with fervour. He presses you close, impossibly close, and your body fights against his ministrations. Heat, everywhere, and it's too much. The haze of the blunt begins to wear off and you are left with biting clarity. You want more of him, deeper; drunk off of just his tongue.

You card your hands in his hair, and he moans: deep and wanton, with his eyes fluttering shut. He wants to look, to watch you when you cum on his tongue for a second time. Back arched, the curve of your tits peeking through a tiny top, fucking yourself on his face. He wants it hard , wants you to take control and use him to get off.

"Right there, fuck… "

Like you can hear his thoughts, you press yourself down harder, riding the deep ridge of his nose for relief. Miguel complies and leans into it. He eats you out like a man starved and the carnality of it all brings you to a second peak. You cum once again, legs wrapped tight around his face. Head back, he laps it up readily.

You separate with a wet pop, and Miguel looks blissful : fucked out and panting, wiping the slick off of his face with a forearm. Exhausted, you lean back onto the mattress beside him.

"That was…" He searches for the right word, and it's your turn to finish for him.

"... good. " Scarily good. So good you won't be able to see him around the apartment without remembering what he looks like trapped between your thighs.

Gently, he turns to cup your cheek and bring your lips to his. It starts off sweet and deepens rapidly, making that thread at the pit of your stomach tighten, again. He grabs your thigh, bringing it closer, and you feel his length poking your stomach. Fuck.

"You haven't…?" Your hand makes for his trousers, and he stops you. "I want to, Miguel. Want you to feel good too."

His head sinks into your shoulder. "I know, baby, I know. Not like this. Not yet."

You nod, still wrapped up in his arms. You haven't even fucked, and it feels more intimate than it should.

"You've got a 9am tomorrow." He smiles with a hand underneath his head.

"I've got a 9am tomorrow," You repeat, sighing. "...and my life is falling apart. I'm failing half of my classes as it is."

He turns to you, lazily.

"I could tutor you, if you'd like."

…

"That's not fucking funny, Miguel."

Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns @ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings

edit: the full fic xx

#i am very very close to making this a full fic #(implying that this isn't alr basically a full fic lmfao)#miguel o hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #kat_writes😼#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara headcanons #spiderman 2099 masterlist #spiderman 2099 x reader

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lovelybluebirdie · 3 months

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What is yours

Astarion x gn!Reader

Summary: A stroll through the market evokes an unpleasant sensation in Astarion.

Word Count: 3,1k

hurt/comfort, jealousy, fluff

[ AO3 ]

The warm rays of the midday sun bathed the markets’ goods in a marvellous light. The place was bustling, a scent of spices lingering in the air and hurried voices brimming.

If someone had told Astarion that one day he’d be able to move around Baldur’s Gate so freely again, he’d probably huffed merely a dry laugh – and yet here he was, following you through the narrow streets of his city, admiring how much colour the world had to offer.

Of course it was you who had dragged him along for the mundane task to gather some food for your companions back at camp. Astarion couldn't care less to fill up their bellies, as his own appetite was perfectly stilled from your generosity when it came to offer him your blood, but one blink from your doe eyes had been enough to convince him to accompany you.

Well, that, and perhaps that warm feeling that refused to leave his chest when he was with you.

It was obvious that you loved to stroll around the market, savouring the colourful impressions while taking a break from all the fighting and gore your journey to rid yourself from the tadpoles held for you.

Astarion had never watched you spending your coin so lightly before. You probably thought it was time to treat yourself once in a while, and who was he to deny you this little pleasure? He had to admit that he actually adored seeing your face light up over the different trinkets you bought, eagerly filling your bags and pouches with your newest additions.

“Let's get some fruit for the others while we’re at it,” you suggested, pointing towards a merchant presenting an inviting range of fresh goods. “Something nutritious seems much needed after we fed mostly on leftovers for the past weeks.”

Your shoulders were loaded with the various goods you had already bought – dyes, herbs, some new toys for Scratch and the owlbear cub and a bunch of flasks to fill with potions.

“As you wish,” Astarion replied, when a display of weapons caught his eye. His last pair of daggers had become rather blunt from the Goblin throats he’d cut, so maybe it was time to treat himself as well, he thought and gently grabbed your wrist.

“On second thought, why don't you go ahead while I'll have another look around here, my love?” he asked and came to a stop. “I haven't much expertise to add when it comes to your culinary needs, and those daggers look rather appealing.”

“Sounds fine with me, but try not to spend all of our gold at once,” you teased and squeezed his shoulder.

“Hah, you're one to talk. Please remind me, who was it again that just bought five new toys for Scratch, so he had a set of different colours to choose from?”

“He needs some variety,” you muttered, trying to keep up a serious expression. “But nevermind, see you in a minute then.”

You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and waved, already on your way to spend some more of your coin.

Astarion couldn’t help but smile over your excitement for the market, before he picked up a dagger from the display in front of him. The handle appeared to be of higher quality than his current ones, and the blade looked sharp enough to inflict some hurt.

As he gazed further through the wares, pondering which one would fit him best, he spared a glance to check on you.

He spotted you a few stalls away at the fruit stand you had mentioned. The vendor you were talking to gesticulated wildly while presenting his wares, leading you to laugh.

Astarion frowned and put the dagger away to take a closer look.

The vendor was young, an elf with blond curls, and Astarion noticed that he wasn’t an unpleasant sight.

He was immediately bothered by the smile you gave the other man, the way he touched your hands as he started to offer you bite-sized pieces of fruit to taste.

His fingers lingered too long against yours for Astarion’s liking.

As he continued to watch you from afar, something inside his belly started to seethe – hot and ugly.

A feeling he experienced before when it came to you, but couldn't quite grasp.

Well, whatever this was, Astarion certainly wasn’t jealous. Not of some random street vendor at least – and why should he be? Because you had smiled so sweetly at him? Or because you were laughing again as you took another piece of fruit from his filthy hands?

What in the nine hells could be so entertaining about buying fruit anyway?

It was ridiculous, really, and yet Astarion imagined how it would feel to rip the vendor's throat as punishment for daring to touch you.

Would he bleed out quickly? Would he scream?

Astarion shook his head, shoving the violent image aside.

He remembered the previous occasions when that unpleasant burning inside his stomach had appeared. It was the moment Gale decided it was appropriate to show you his so-called magical weave, or the other day when Wyll proposed a dance to you. You had kindly rejected both of them, but Astarion was still not particularly impressed by their interest in you.

He knew what others would seek from you. Why they wanted you. For the same reasons he enjoyed being with you: your compassion, the kindness you spread. Your special talent to make him feel seen.

There was also your wit, the way you would crack a joke even in the most maddening situations, making him feel light. And not to mention, you were a beautiful vision if Astarion had ever seen one.

Of course there would be others who saw those qualities as well, aiming to claim you.

A sudden wave of anxiety flooded his mind, moulding an appaling image in his skull.

He wondered if one day you would prefer someone else over him.

Someone who would match your kindness – acting all selfless and heroic, indulging in activities he found little pleasure in.

Providing you with something Astarion might be unable to give you, ever, no matter how much he cared about you.

Hells, what if you were already seeking someone like that?

His stomach dropped.

The dreadful notion spread its relentless claws past his ribs, tearing holes in his dead heart.

Blood rushed to his ears.

Before he even realised, his feet were already dragging him towards you.

He needed to be close to you – doing anything to make this feeling stop.

When he arrived next to you, he placed a hand on the small of your back and grasped your tunic, a little tighter than he'd intended.

He tried his best to keep his composure.

“Are we all done here, my love?” he asked, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Oh, Astarion!” You smiled when you noticed him, unaware of his musings. Your pouch was filled to the brink with fresh fruits. “Yes, I guess that would be all.”

Astarion felt the need to pull you away, but before he came up with an excuse to leave immediately, the merchant was already addressing you again.

“Think about it, will you?” A smug grin plastered that man’s face as he spoke to you, casually bending over his counter.

Astarion gave you a confused look.

Think about what?

“Unfortunately there’s no time to join the tavern tonight, but thank you for the offer. Maybe next time,” you said amicably and packed up your wares.

What was that?

Astarion thought he must have misheard.

“What a shame. Perhaps you can give it a second thought.” The vendor was still beaming at you, before he turned to Astarion. “Your friend can come too, of course.”

“Oh, that sounds splendid. We will think about it, will we, darling?”

Astarion bit his tongue, swallowing the impulse to spit a cutting remark on top of his obvious sarcasm.

What in the nine hells was this mongrel thinking, inviting you to the tavern? And how he was speaking to him – as if he was some irrelevant bystander.

“Let's see what we can do,” you said politely, already on your way to move on. “Have a nice day. And thank you again.”

“You as well,” replied the salesman and waved.

Astarion gritted his teeth as he followed you through the busy alleyways, still processing what just happened.

The vendor's words appeared in his mind.

That man had obviously desired to fuck you, and wasn’t even trying to hide his advances.

How could he have dared.

Astarion regretted that he had acted so passive in that moment. Usually he wasn’t one to hesitate, always a sharp comment dancing on his tongue, and yet… the thought of losing you to someone else had shifted something in him, turning him small.

His fury grew.

Oh, how he would love to grab that despicable pig by his throat, banishing that filthy grin of his face. Making him bleed. But he knew that unlike him, you would gladly refrain from a public bloodbath, so he shoved away those violent fantasies, even if the fire continued to seeth in him – unpleasant and hot.

He tried to fathom what posed the worst about this whole ordeal: The way in which the man had aimed to claim you, or his fear that you enjoyed those cheap advances – possibly were fond of it even.

Astarion's mood couldn't have been more sour as you arrived at a secluded area, away from the markets bustling.

“Can you believe it? That seller insisted on giving me a discount,” you broke the silence and pointed proudly at the wares you had gathered. “And they say there are no kind people left in Baldur's Gate.”

And just as the words had left your throat, Astarion finally snapped.

“Is that so?” he hissed, baring his fangs. “How generous. What a nice, handsome gentleman he is, also inviting you to the tavern with him.” He spoke harsh – his tone cold and venomous.

You came to an abrupt stop, resting the groceries on the ground and fixating your gaze on his, a furrow between your eyebrows.

“What are you implying?” You sounded puzzled.

“Oh, don't act so naive, darling, you know what I'm implying. That man wanted to bed you, everyone could see it from the way he treated you. And by the laughs you offered him, you seemed to enjoy his attention as well, did you not? What a flirt you are.”

His accusations left a taste of ash in his mouth. Moments before his anger seemed directed at the man’s advances, and now his bottled-up wrath was boiling onto you.

The bewildered look on your face turned into something else, something sad, your eyes losing their shine. He sensed that he must’ve hurt you, and it tugged at his heartstrings.

“So, you’re jealous of that man, is that what this is about?”

“Me? Being jealous of some filthy street vendor?” Astarion scoffed, immediately falling back to his dramatics, gesticulating defensively with his hands. “Don't insult me, darling. I find it amusing that he thinks he can have you, and I didn’t fail to miss your interest in him,” he bit, almost choking on the dry chuckle that spilled from his lips.

“There was no interest from my side, other than purchasing some of his wares,” you explained. Then you opened your mouth again, sharply sucking air between your teeth, before your gaze softened. Your voice was calm, without spite or anger. “He recognized me, Astarion. From the article in the gazette. Slayer of the evil Ketheric Thorm and all that fuss. Does that ring a bell?”

Of course he remembered. It was him that had to sneak past those giant steel watchers back at the gazette’s building, convincing the magical press to print an article in your favour. An article that wouldn’t taint your reputation, unlike the one Gortash had commissioned to derogate you.

Astarion couldn’t deny that after the praising piece was published, you were indeed met with an unusual kindness from the people of Baldur's Gate.

“Well, how could I forget?” Astarion's face twisted. “But that doesn't mean he didn't have something else in mind with you. Some people certainly would love to bury their blade inside a true hero for once, I can imagine.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Even if he did want to bed me, what does it matter?”

An icy grip twisted Astarion's chest. The image of you with someone else stung in his eyes, making him sick.

Before he could growl another reply, you rested your hand on his arm, catching his fuming. “Hey – look at me, you silly goose.”

Your tender touch was enough to quell the blazing flame in his belly.

You spoke so warmly to him. So... loving.

Astarion rested his eyes on you and was met with an affectionate smile that disarmed him completely.

“Astarion, don’t you realise that I couldn't care less if thousands of people felt the sudden need to bed me?”

He bit his cheek, remaining silent.

“You’re the only one I want, you jealous fool. No one else – not now, not ever, and certainly not some random street vendor that throws a discount at me because he thinks of me as some kind of hero.”

Astarion’s features involuntarily softened as he took in your words. The fury that was about to overwhelm him dissolved into a flutter, engulfing his chest, washing away the seething that hooked at his ribcage.

“Really?” Only one word left his mouth, before he cleared his throat. “I mean – I'm not surprised of course, as you seem to literally cling to my side these days.” A poor attempt to cover his insecurity, but the best he could muster.

“Really,” you assured and gently tapped on his temple, “I vow on the tadpole flooding inside our brains.” You chuckled as you rested your hands on the back of his neck and shifted closer to him.

“Well, but those might be gone someday,” Astarion mumbled.

“And even then, I will remain at your side. Only if you want me to, of course.”

Astarion didn’t have to think of his answer, the words spilling from his lips like a reflex.

“Yes, I would want that,” he whispered sincerely, his flamboyant mask crumbling. “Look, it's not that I don't trust you. It’s just… Well, I guess I'm used to losing what I hold dear. And the thought of losing you to someone else… I don’t know, apparently it woke something in me.”

He felt almost ashamed over his sudden lack of eloquence, being so raw with you, but there was a sense of relief in opening up. To his surprise, it was even more soothing than losing himself in violence.

You looked at him with affection and cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing over his skin. He closed his eyes and sunk against your palm.

“It's alright, Astarion, you don't have to explain. I promise you, you won’t lose me to someone else. As you said, I tend to cling to your side these days, and truth be told, I have no intention to stop.”

“I hope you won’t,” Astarion replied and took your hand in his to press a kiss to your fingertips. “But honestly, I have to apologise for doubting your intentions with me. With us.”

“I forgive you, lover,” you replied tenderly. “I didn't take you for the overly jealous type, though,” you added with a smirk.

Astarion offered you a wry smile. “Let's not dwell on it, shall we?”

Then he reached for your face, softly taking your chin between his thumb and index finger and rested his lips on your forehead, followed by a kiss to the tip of your nose.

You wrapped your arms around his waist to pull him into a close embrace. He could sense your heartbeat against his cold body, your pulse drumming in a comforting rhythm.

For a moment you were just holding each other, your head against his chest, Astarion relishing your warmth and kissing your hair. Your touch was relieving. Assuring.

You were with him, and had promised not to leave.

Your affirmations repeated in his mind: You wanted him. Only him alone.

This was all new territory and Astarion sensed it would take some time for him to fully adjust, yes, but right now… this was all he could wish for.

“Somehow I don't want to let go of you, little love,” he hummed to your ear.

“Then don't,” you breathed and kissed along his neck, brushing his bite marks with your lips, sending a shiver down his spine. A particularly sensible spot, but you were allowed to touch him there.

Gods, how deeply he had fallen for you.

Astarion drew you even closer and sighed, your hands grasping the fabric of his shirt.

When he gently peeled away from your hug, you looked up to him and bit your lip.

“Can I be completely honest with you?” you asked sheepishly.

“What is it, my sweet?”

“Well... I think that merchant truly wanted to bed me.”

Astarion laughed – deep, coming from his belly – surprised by his own lightness. The idea of fuming over your obvious admirer seemed almost ridiculous all of a sudden.

“I told you so. But now that you see it too, I guess you wouldn't mind if we turn back for a quick chat? I would love to take care of that dear fellow,” he replied mischievously. While his fury was gone, he still wouldn’t mind some misdemeanour.

“Astarion!” you scolded, but joined his laughter. “Please spare that innocent man.”

“Relax darling, I will. For now at least. And only because you asked so nicely.” His fangs poked from the grin that adorned his lips.

“Good boy,” you teased and brushed one of his white curls behind his ear, his grin widening from your touch.

As you walked back to camp, hands softly entwined, Astarion noticed that probably for the first time in his life someone truly belonged to him – willingly, out of love.

You belonged to him.

The thought grew in his chest, wandered up to his eyes, spreading affection through his entire body, and for the remaining way back to camp he didn’t let go of your hand.

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surftrips · 3 months

Text

SHAPESHIFT | CLARISSE LA RUE

pairing: clarisse la rue x female!reader

summary: clarisse wonders if you know just how much she likes you.

word count: 2.1k

author's note: this is the first part of a two part series i'm writing based on jenna doe's songs: shapeshift + pink slips. this is from clarisse's pov and the second one is from readers' :) lmk if you want to be tagged in part 2 <3

i. i think you have a type, and it's not me

Clarisse has been watching you from the second you arrived at camp. Since you spent every day doing more or less the same thing, she was able to pick up on your routine pretty fast. Two sugars in your coffee every morning. A walk around the lake in the afternoon. Archery practice before the sunset.

She felt weird going to practices at the same time as you, but she couldn’t help herself. Whenever she got a chance to sneak away from her siblings in the Ares cabin, she always found herself back in your presence. However, the thought to approach you like a normal person had never crossed her mind. Clarisse is the kind of person that needs to be in control, and talking to you one-on-one would mean letting her inhibitions take over, so she always made sure to keep her distance.

Once or twice, Clarisse had seen you on dates with another camper. At first, she thought you were just having a picnic with the girl from Aphrodite, until the two of you began holding hands. The next day, Clarisse saw you in the other girl’s sweater, which made her so sick she avoided you for an entire week.

The Aphrodite girl (her name, Clarisse later found out, was Stacy) began showing up with you more often. Stacy wore bows in her hair and pearl necklaces, whereas Clarisse’s mascara was always smudged and accessories that didn’t double as weapons felt wrong on her. For the first time, Clarisse wondered why she couldn’t just be like all the other girls. Or at least, a girl you would pay attention to.

It wasn’t for a lack of trying. Clarisse tried to make her penchant for you as obvious as possible, while actively hiding it from the rest of camp. This proved to be difficult because at the same time, she also didn’t want to get too close to you because, well— what would she even say to you?

Her flirting consisted of winking at you during Capture the Flag or from across the dining hall. She had an ongoing list of nicknames of what to call you when no one else was around, but those moments were few and far between. Once, she even went as far as brushing away a stray piece of hair that had fallen on your face. There seemed to be nothing left for her to do except put bows in her hair or maybe paint her nails, and the thought of doing either of those things made her almost as sick as seeing you and Stacy together.

Between her and the Aphrodite girl, she knew which girl you would choose. Had chosen.

ii. mold me how you want me to be

Still, that was not going to stop Clarisse. She had never backed down from a fight before, and this was no different. Even if Stacy didn’t know it, she had become Clarisse’s number one enemy, even more so than that Percy Jackson kid that had recently shown up at camp. It just wasn’t fair that she had been watching you for so long and here comes Aphrodite’s daughter out of nowhere to sweep you off your feet.

Since Clarisse knew your routine by heart, she devised a plan to get you alone. She decided that she would finally make a move, and then you could pick for yourself who you wanted to be with. Easy enough, right?

At night, Clarisse lay awake in bed thinking about you, Stacy, then you and Stacy together. Though she didn’t want to go there, her brain wondered what the two of you were doing at that very moment. Her thoughts ranged from tame, to slightly more unhinged. Like, were you lying underneath the stars on your picnic blanket? Or was Stacy doing your makeup as she straddled your lap?

Clarisse didn’t pray often, but ever since she met you, she had taken to silently wishing you would acknowledge her. Each time she saw you with your arms wrapped around Stacy, she yearned to know what that would feel like. Not that she thought you would come near her with a ten-foot pole. Stacy is sweet, like bubblegum or strawberries from the fields, and Clarisse is the opposite. If you tasted her, she might make your gums bleed.

Before you, she was never the kind of girl to care about her appearance. Gods, she was the daughter of Ares, they weren’t known for their beauty but their strength and power and when it came to those categories, Clarisse knew that she had Stacy beat.

And yet, Clarisse would change just about anything about herself if it would make you like her more. In your hands, she would turn into putty, moldable clay to take the shape of your ideal lover. Hell, she would change her name if she thought you didn’t like the sound of it.

iii. kill anyone if you ask me to

A few weeks later, the Ares cabin and yours happened to be on the same team for Capture the Flag. It was the closest Clarisse had been to you ever since you began dating Stacy. The proximity to you was killing her, but she had to stay focused—on winning the game and your heart.

Putting aside her wandering thoughts, Clarisse barked out instructions to the campers. When she got to your cabin, she assigned you and your half-siblings to be the second line of defense for the flag. Clarisse figured this way, she could keep you out of harm’s way. Also, this was her one chance to talk to you without Stacy hanging off your body and she wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass.

After the first conch blew, Clarisse went on high-alert mode. Her team had lost the last game to Luke and Annabeth’s team, but she was not going to accept defeat this time. Her eyes darted back and forth between blind spots in the forest and you and the flag.

As she absent-mindedly waved her new spear around, Clarisse heard soft footsteps behind her. She whipped her head around with her weapon aimed in the air, preparing to fight whoever had approached her.

“Shit, Y/N, you scared me.” It was just you. Wait– it was you.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to,” you responded, your hands in front of you.

Clarisse almost couldn’t believe her eyes. Did someone poison her earlier and she was hallucinating right now? Okay, keep it cool.

“Is something wrong?” Clarisse managed to ask after composing herself, realizing that you had moved away from your post.

“Uh, no. I- um… heard about what happened to your spear last week, and I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” you smiled nervously.

“Why?”

“Why…. am I sorry?”

Clarisse wanted to slap her hand across her forehead. Why did she say that? She meant to ask why are you talking to me right now? What did I do to deserve this? But she didn’t know how to word that in a way that wouldn't make you think she was crazy.

When she didn’t respond, you began backing away. “Look, I’m sorry if this is a sensitive topic. I just felt bad, is all.”

“No!” Clarisse began panicking. “I didn’t mean it like that- just, why are you talking to me now? We’ve never had a real conversation before.”

“Does it matter?” She expected you to be confused, but the look at your face seemed more amused than anything.

“No, I guess not,” Clarisse couldn’t help but smile. Gods, why was she so awkward? Anyone else, she would’ve been perfectly fine, but in the last few minutes, her mouth had gone dry and her legs felt as though they would give out at any second.

“Great,” you beamed in return. Clarisse’s eyes catch yours and the two of you stare at each other in content for a minute. Or at least, you are. Clarisse is convinced an Aphrodite kid has changed her pupils to hearts. “I haven’t seen you around lately,” you broke the silence.

“What do you mean? I’m always around,” Clarisse stammered for an excuse.

“Well, sure. It’s a small camp.” You seemed to be enjoying seeing Clarisse fumble for words. “But I used to see you all the time. At breakfast and archery.”

Clarisse ignored the implications of your comment. “Oh, I guess we just started going at different times then. You know you’re always with Stacy now—”

At the mention of your girlfriend’s name, your face contorted into something strange and unfamiliar to Clarisse. But before she could figure it out, a noise behind you caused the two of you to turn around abruptly.

“Y/N, watch out!” Clarisse shouted at you, but it was too late. Someone had dragged you backwards, knocking your weapon out of your hand. You struggled to free yourself, but whoever was holding you had revealed a dagger and you didn’t want to risk accidentally cutting yourself.

“If you know what’s best for yourself, let her go.” Clarisse breathed furiously, pausing between the last three words in her sentence. You couldn’t see who was restraining you, but you could feel their heart rate quicken at the sight of Clarisse’s spear getting dangerously close.

“And what if I don’t?” they responded. You knew that they were just putting on a front, you could feel their chest heaving up and down on your back. Clarisse seemed to know this too, she’s always been able to sense fear in people— mostly because she is the one that invokes it.

“I don’t think you want to find out,” she grinned, a wicked smile on her face. The next second, her spear had jabbed into the camper’s side, causing them to let go of their hold on you. You dropped to the ground.

“Shit!” the camper swore, rubbing their ribcage. “You’re not supposed to actually hurt me!” You could see their face now, one of Hermes' kids you’ve seen hanging around Luke.

“Now, what’s the fun in that?” Clarisse laughed. “Besides, the spearhead is blunt. You’ll be fine, drama queen.”

The kid scrambled away, leaving behind the dagger they had previously threatened you with. Clarisse ran over, instinctively putting her hands on your face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think so.” You began to stand up, but Clarisse pushed you back down.

“Clar, come on, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? Let me just get a look at you,” she insisted, ignoring the way your nickname for her made something in her stomach flip over. You relented, knowing it was useless to argue with her. You allow her to scan your body for any signs of harm. Clarisse took her time, unsure of when the next time she would be this close to you again. Most of your body was covered by your armor or clothes, so her eyes drifted toward your exposed arms and the area where the kid had touched you.

Hesitantly, she reached for the side of your stomach. “Are you sore? Did they leave a mark?”

“No, I don’t think so,” you shook your head, lifting up the hem of your shirt to see. You heard Clarisse’s breath hitch. “What? What’s wrong?” You were fully sat up now.

“N-nothing!” Color rushed into Clarisse’s cheeks, causing her to turn her head away suddenly.

You giggled, her reaction not going unnoticed. “Thanks for saving me, tough girl.”

“Of course.” Clarisse pulled you up on your feet. “Anything for you, pretty girl.” The words slipped out of her mouth before she could register it. The two of you stared at each other again, it seemed as though eye contact was your main form of communication at the moment. And right now, Clarisse’s eyes were sparkling with something familiar, almost like how Stacy looks at you—

“Oh my god, babe! Are you okay?” Speaking of the devil, Clarisse rolled her eyes at the sight of your girlfriend running up.

“Stacy! How’d you know something was wrong?” You were pulled into a stifling hug, the air thick with floral perfume.

“Silly girl, I am the daughter of Aphrodite. I have a heightened sense for these things,” Stacy pulled her arms away and gave you a once-over, presumably to check for injuries, before smothering you with kisses.

Clarisse coughed, once, and then again a little louder. “Oh!” Stacy turned toward her. “Clarisse, I didn’t see you there.”

“I wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t for her,” you said, sensing Clarisse’s uneasiness.

Now, Stacy’s face contorted into something strange. Shamelessly, Clarisse took pride in being the cause of it.

“Well, thank you,” she responded tersely. “Come on, let’s get one of the Apollo kids to look at you.” Stacy pushed you away before you could protest. You offered Clarisse a weak smile before turning around.

Clarisse sighed, maybe if she had been a daughter of Aphrodite, she could shapeshift into someone you walked away with— not from.

That night, she prayed to Ares for the first time in months.

#WHERE ARE ALL MY SAPPHICS #WOMEN LOVERS #WARNING: YEARNING #clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #percy jackson series #percy jackson #pjo #dior goodjohn #dior goodjohn x reader #clarisse la rue imagine #pjo x you #clarisse la rue x you

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evergone · 6 months

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Hey!! Idk know if you are taking requests right now but can you write a Theo x Hufflepuff reader imagine where the reader is always telling him to make friends from other houses. He finally does make friends but with a beautiful Ravenclaw and starts spending more time with her. The reader starts feeling insecure and ignores Theo. He soon realises that she is ignoring him and talks to her.

Btw I love your writing and can you please tag me if you do write it?

Too Friendly

Theodore Nott x reader

Warnings: Swearing, allusions to sex but no sex.

Description: The reader wants Theo to make more friends but when he does, she becomes insecure about their bond.

Sorry this took so long to get out, I'm in the middle of my final exams of high school so I don't have much time. I enjoyed writing this one. Thanks for the request @orphicmortala

“It’s sad, Theo, you’ve got, like, no friends!” You said as you tried your best to remember how to tie your yellow tie.

“What do you call Malfoy, then?” Theo asked from the bed.

“An accomplice,” you replied with that unique snark that Theo loved about you, “You need friends from other houses— Friends that aren’t just me.” You added those final words hastily before he could open his mouth in protest.

Theo rolled his eyes and beckoned you over. His hands glided over the folds of your tie with expertise, undoing the mess of a knot you’d created in order to do it up properly and perfectly. When he was done, he looked up at you with his gorgeous, oceanic eyes and the corners of his mouth where both his beautiful lips connected turned upwards. You uttered your thanks quietly as you resisted the primal urge to just not go to class at all and instead spend the whole day with him. Your mind wandered off to imagine being stuck between Theo’s checkered emerald sheets, but you brought it back to reality.

Fending off your lustful desires as well as a nun would, you bid adieu to Theo and hurried out of his room and the Slytherin common room. On your way out, you dodged the teasingly crude jokes and names that Theo’s friends tossed towards you and told Pansy that she was no better than yourself (you’d seen the way she snuck out of that empty classroom after Draco a couple days earlier, her hair and clothes all dishevelled and her thighs rubbing together uncomfortably).

The whole day, Theo dwelled on your words. While you weren’t exactly dating or in a relationship, he always found himself bound to your every word and every whim. You seemed to dictate his life in a way that you certainly shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help but listen to you. So, in Arithmancy, he didn’t sit next to Blaise as he usually did, instead electing to sit with Lisa Turpin, a Ravenclaw girl he’d seen you talk to a few times.

She looked at him in confusion, “Did you need something?”

He withheld the instinct to say some snide remark and instead replied, “I thought I’d make a new friend today.”

“On some random Tuesday… in our Sixth year?” Her face contorted to expose her obvious disgust.

“Merlin’s cock and balls, I’m trying to be nice, Turpin!” Theo frowned and picked up his bag to go sit elsewhere.

Turpin grabbed his wrist as he stood up and her lips made a thin line as she pulled him back down to the seat. Her brows knitted together like a homemade sweater and she breathed out a sigh of defeat.

“No, it’s okay, sorry,” she said, “Sit here if you’d like.”

Over the next week, Theo made some serious efforts to get to know Turpin despite his friends’ obvious, loud verbal opposition. After that first Arithmancy class, Blaise had practically torn him to shreds with his massive speech on house loyalty and the horrible impact that you were clearly having on him. Daphne had recited the same speech her mother had given to her on her first day of her first year at school about how interrelations with students from the lesser houses was a gateway drug to blood sympathy (she’d given him the same speech when he started his little thing with you). And Pansy, Merlin’s beard, Pansy was furious.

Pansy had constructed this whole idea in her mind that you hated that Theo was talking to Turpin. She called it “cheating” which Theo had adamantly disagreed with. He wasn’t having sex with Turpin, in fact, he had absolutely zero romantic interest in her. He barely even liked her. The only thing the two had in common was Arithmancy and every time they hung out they talked about it until there was no more Arithmancy to talk about. It was, quite frankly, boring. Turpin was boring.

“It’s emotional cheating,” said Pansy in a huff as she and the others started towards the Great Hall for Monday breakfast.

“Emotional cheating?” Theo asked skeptically.

“Yes, Nott, emotional cheating,” she nodded, “And it’s hurting Y/n’s feelings. That’s why she hasn’t spoken to you all week.”

His gaze snapped to focus on Pansy whose black eyes were ablaze with the feminine rage of a girl’s best friend, “How do you know she hasn’t spoken to me all week?”

Pansy smirked, her honey red lipstick bright against her pale skin, and shrugged. She knew you hadn’t spoken to him all week because you wouldn’t shut up about it. In Divination on Wednesday afternoon, you’d all but assaulted Pansy with questions about Theo’s newfound interest in Turpin. All of which Pansy had no helpful responses to.

“Is he flirting with her?” You asked.

“Maybe, I don’t know, it’s not like they sit with us,” said Pansy, struggling to focus on the crystal ball with all your chatter.

“Why not? Why don’t they sit with you? Are they trying to be private?” You pushed almost frantically.

“Uh, possibly? Honestly, I just think he knows we don’t like her,” she explained.

“Why don’t you like her? Is she a bitch?” You frowned and then quickly added in a judgmental tone, “Or are you just being blood supremacists?”

“Is she a mudblood?” Pansy stopped working to stare at you.

You smacked her hand and she hissed, “I don’t know her that well. Don’t say that.”

When Theo and his friends finally arrived at the Great Hall, he searched the tables for your face. While most people usually stuck to their house’s table, you were a social butterfly and loved to flutter from table-to-table to talk to all of your many friends. Sometimes he wondered how you weren’t a prefect despite your popularity and the respect the younger years gave you. His eyes found Turpin first and she beamed and waved him over, but he blatantly ignored her. Pansy and Daphne watched on with delight as the girl cringed with embarrassment and turned back to her meal with bright red ears.

A spot of h/c hair floated above a robe lined with yellow and he abandoned his friends to go to you. You were standing at the end of the Hufflepuff table (not an unusual place to find you, but your favourite table was always the Slytherin one), and you were utterly consumed by a tale you were sewing for your housemates Hannah Abbott and Justin Finch-Fletchley.

“Y/n,” Theo spoke and his deep, smokey voice tore you straight out of your conversation, “Can we talk?”

Your eyebrows quivered and your blinking sped up as you took his appearance in for the first time all week. You hadn’t gone so long without speaking to him in at least three years (you got into an argument in your third year about the petrifications) and hearing his voice and seeing him so close was like throwing a former alcoholic into a sea of wine. There was nothing you wanted more than to indulge in him. But Hannah and Justin were glaring at him like hawks, or guard dogs, whichever was more intimidating.

“Um,” you glanced back at your friends and Hannah shook her head slightly, she’d never much liked Theo, “Sure.”

Hannah rolled her eyes and whispered something barely audible to Justin. Something about a “love-fucked pushover.” You ignored her. Theo took you to a pair of seats far from any prying ears and held your hands in his.

“You know I don’t like Turpin, right?” He said quietly.

You scoffed, “Yeah, right. And that’s why you spent all week with her.”

“I spent all week with her because you told me to!” He laughed with salt that spread itself over your wounded heart.

“Did I just? Because I really don’t remember saying ‘Hey, Theo, you know how I like you so much? I actually want you to go talk to another girl,’” you said sarcastically.

He held back a grin as best he could but the amusement glistened in his eyes and on his rosy, mole-spotted cheeks. His hand came up to your brow and massaged the frown out from between your eyebrows as you fluttered your eyelashes at him in the way you knew made him melt inside.

“I wanted to make friends for you,” he told you with that soft, romantic tone he used in bed.

“Don’t,” you ordered, “You’re Theodore Nott, you aren’t supposed to be friendly.”

For the first time in a week, he got a good look at you. He hadn’t realised how much he missed the sight of your h/l h/c hair and the way it framed your stunning face so perfectly that you appeared to have stepped right out of a portrait. He hadn’t realised how much he missed how your eyes, an elegant e/c and perpetually glossy as if always on the verge of tears, examined every centimetre of his face. He hadn’t realised how much he missed doing your tie up for you until he saw it tied like a bow around your neck.

“I’m friendly to you,” he said as his hands pulled at the end of the tie and it fell apart over your chest.

“And that’s all you need, I think,” you whispered pleasantly and pressed a loving kiss to his lips as he looped the tie around itself twice and pushed the end through the gap, tying it perfectly.

#theo nott #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #theodore nott x reader #hp fandom #theo nott x y/n #slytherin x reader #draco malfoy x reader #harry potter x reader #theo nott imagine #theodore nott imagine #theo nott fanfic #theodore nott fanfic #theodore nott x y/n #mattheo riddle x reader #regulus black x reader #tom riddle x reader

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roguelov · 10 months

Text

A little spicy scenario for Miguel O’Hara

In his office, you were riding his thigh as he worked - or he tried to act like it. A poor attempt given he had been staring at the same screen since you started.

“Come on, Miguel,” you groaned. You had been feeling needy all day, and after your mission, you needed a way to relax. “A quickie before anyone knows.”

“I said later,” he huffed, typing away at screens and looking over reports.

Later.

You huffed, crossing your arms. Now, what? You luckily did not have to dwell long before an idea struck. One to satisfy yourself, and get underneath his skin. A win win.

You quickly straddled his lap, completely unbothered by his minor protests. “If you won’t then I will.”

Those were the last thing either of you said before you started. His jaw tensed, teeth grinded, as he listened to you, to your heavy panting. He relented somewhat. One of his hands gripped your hip - his talons gently poked at you - as he very softly guided you. Your forehead rested into his shoulder, as you whined so closely to his ear.

God, how could he focus now?

Your soft moans and cries, your panting, your fingers digging into his shoulders, your obvious attempt to finish as you sped up but can’t quite get there, it all riled him up. It all went straight through him. The bulge in suit becoming more and more apparent with every agonizing second.

Fine.

He clenched his thigh.

You immediately whined, “Miguel.”

He instantly turned his head, burying his face into your neck. His hot breath made you shiver. His lips brushed over your skin, and began to place sloppy kisses up and down. Both hands now grabbed your hips as you continued to rock. He quickly yanked you harshly picking up your own pace. “I know, I know,” he whispered. “Let me help.”

#miguel o'hara #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #Miguel x reader #miguel o’hara smut #atsv miguel #smut #afab!reader #short blurb for fun

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lavender-devotion · 25 days

Note

Hi Hi! I wasn't sure if you're open but can I request a Alastor x reader who is a charlie's older sister and she is alastor's fiance. They never told their hotel friends, basically they're in a secret relationship, until Lucifer arrived (from episode 5 dad beat dad) and announced she's engaged. but no body knew who her fiance was until alastor popped up behind her and pressed a kiss on her. Charlie's happy and Lucifer D:

As soon as I saw this request I immediately ran to make this meme, lmao I'm sorry 😭

anywho, here we go lmao

Summary: You’re Lucifer's eldest and, much like Charlie, you’re desperate to have his support and approval---he’s your dad, of course you are. So, when he finally visits the hotel, you can't wait to tell him that you're engaged. And he's overjoyed...that is, until he finds out that you're engaged to the Radio Demon. What happens when your fiancé and your dad start feuding over you, forcing you to pick a side? Your family, or the love of your life?

Tags: Alastor x Fem!Reader, No Use of (Y/N), Reader is Lucifer's Eldest, Secret Relationship, Lucifer has a heart attack bc Alastor, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, we're just gonna pretend Alastor has been at the hotel a longer time than in canon bc Plot, Charlie is a Good Sister TW: None <3 Word Count: 2.6k Read it on Ao3 <3

When you'd first met Alastor, you had been…skeptical of him, to say the least.

To be completely honest, you’d hated him—and that was putting it lightly. You hated how condescending he was, you hated the fact that he clearly had ulterior motives, you hated that he kept everything about himself a secret, you hated his damn smile, you hated…him!

And the feeling was definitely mutual.

Alastor hated your obvious distrust of him, he hated the fact that you neither feared nor respected him, he hated the way you’d constantly tell Charlie and the others to be wary of him, he hated the way you always seemed to get in the way of his plans, he hated…you!

And no matter how many lessons Charlie had on friendship and trust—lessons that she forced the two of you to attend, I might add—or how many lectures about how the two of you needed to get along or how much she begged the two of you to stop fighting, nothing ever worked.

But…then something changed.

At some point between then and now, the two of you began to soften and learn more about each other---often against your will, and your wishes---and you found...that you had more in common than previously thought.

You both preferred radio to television, you both had a love and penchant for cooking, you both enjoyed quite a few of the same novels, and on and on it went. And those similarities brought the two of you closer together and, although neither of you ever wanted to admit it, you actually began to get along. Eventually, after enough time had passed, the two of you managed to forget why you didn't get along in the first place---all of it becoming a distant memory.

Of course, one thing led to another, and now you were lucky enough to have a pretty little ring on your left hand---not married yet, but soon to be.

Obviously none of the others knew about any of this, by both of your wishes. You were both private people and, knowing everyone else, they would ask questions and the two of you would end up having to spill your entire life's stories to finally get them to leave it be---and even that wasn't guaranteed!

So, to avoid the drama of it all, you just...kept things quiet. Private.

It wasn't particularly hard---Alastor wasn't much of a PDA person, especially in public; neither of you were particularly big fans of pet names; your dates were always fairly simple; and the two of you had your own jobs within the hotel to attend to, so half the time you weren't even in each other's presence.

It was...nice. Having someone to lean on, being able to see another side of Alastor---and having him all to yourself. No one else had him like you did, and you preferred it that way. Of course, though, all good things had to come to an end.

Your and Charlie's father, Lucifer, was coming to the hotel for the first time and---knowing him---it'd be the last, so now was possibly your only chance to tell him about your engagement in person.

Part of you was nervous, considering that you hadn't even told him---or anyone else---you were dating someone and now you were just going to spring an engagement on all of them, but another part of you was relieved and excited. Obviously, you would miss the privacy, but who knew? Maybe everyone's constant curiosity wouldn't bother you as much as you thought, and you might actually end up enjoying a more public relationship.

One where you could kiss him whenever you pleased, instead of being forced to wait until the two of you were alone; one where you could wish him goodbye with an "I love you," instead of snarky "don't die" on the way out; one where you could simply blow off any potential suitors with an "I'm married," instead of having to convince them that you really weren't interested in dating. Maybe all of that would be nice too.

"Nervous?" Alastor asked, the static overlay of his voice drawing you out of your thoughts. You turned away from the mirror you were looking into, instead turning your attention to your beloved---his ever-present smile softening as he looked at you.

"A little, I just..." you sighed, "I just want this to go well, but---knowing my dad---he's going to freak out and it'll be a whole thing."

He chuckled and stepped forward until he was close enough to brush a stray piece of hair out of your face, "not to worry, my dear, I'm sure everything will go just fine."

"But-"

"And if it doesn't," he continued, "I'll be by your side to help you fix it all. You won't be alone."

You smiled and let him draw you into a chaste kiss, some of your tension dissipating in his presence. Somehow he always knew how to make you feel better.

"What would I ever do without you?" You asked, gently cupping his face.

He tilted his head slightly to press another kiss to your palm, "you'll never have to find out."

Suddenly the unmistakable sound of Charlie's voice made its way up to your shared room, introducing everything and everyone in the hotel to---who you assumed to be---your father. So there was no more preparing yourself for it, now you just had to do. Besides, maybe Alastor was right, maybe he'd take the announcement better than you thought.

There was only one way to find out.

----------

"WHAT??? HIM???"

He did not, in fact, take it better than you thought.

You tried to wait for the perfect time to break the news, but---of course---your dad had immediately spotted the ring on your finger- (a detail that, somehow, everyone else had missed) -and pressed you for more information, his actual reason for visiting long forgotten. By both him and everyone else, apparently.

Getting a meeting with Heaven was suddenly playing second fiddle to everyone's curiosity about who you'd been dating behind their backs---who you were now engaged to. So, after a lot of pressing and pressing, you'd finally relented and admitted that it was Alastor. Which had led to...all of this.

Charlie was vibrating off the walls, everyone else was in various states of shock, and your dad...looked like he was in the middle of a mental breakdown.

"You can't- I mean-" He laughed, more than a little hysterical, "you're not actually engaged to him, are you?"

Before you could answer, Alastor cut in---a sharp edge coloring his tone.

"Why wouldn't she be?"

Your father's attention switched from you to Alastor, practically seething as he looked at him. You couldn't see Alastor's face from your place beside him, but you could tell that the feeling was mutual by the crackling electricity that crawled across your skin.

"Have you ever fucking met you?" Your father asked incredulously.

"Yes, and I'm very lucky to have her," Alastor responded, punctuating his statement with a gentle kiss on your cheek---a kiss obviously done just to piss your father off, since you knew Alastor wasn't exactly fond of public affection.

The tension was thick in the air as the two just stood there, glaring at each other.

Then finally, your father laughed.

"Alright then..."

Jazzy, upbeat, music suddenly came out of nowhere, and—before you had any time to process what was happening—you were drawn into your father’s song and dance number, the world around you shifting to follow his words.

“Looks like you could use some help, from the big boss of Hell himself! Obviously, since I don’t know how you could’ve felt that this–”

One voice, “Bastard!”

Two, “Jackass!”

Three, “Arrogant piece of shit!”

Back to your father, “–would ever make a suitable husband! Especially for you, did you forget?”

He twirled you around until you were in an elegant dress and crown, falling backwards onto a throne.

“You’re a princess of Hell, so better yet! Rather than an old outdated crook—who’s probably just using you for your station, at least from the looks—why not let your dad give you pick of the lot?” He snapped his fingers, new people appearing with every beat, “men, women, or those in between; outgoing royalty or someone serene, anything but this walking tomato lookin’ prick—you could have anyone, so just take your pick!”

A streak of shadow suddenly shoved your father to the side, Alastor appearing in his place with a charming grin—his shadow twirling around you like it was trying to hold you.

“My dear it’s true that you’re one of a kind—everything anyone could ask for, a very rare find,” he knelt before you and kissed your hand, “I’m a very lucky sinner to call you my own, to stand by your side as you sit on your throne.”

He then moved to sit on the arm of your throne, pulling you into his side, “however I have to agree that someone around here is a crook, but it’s certainly not me, so let’s take a look!”

The first person he picked out of the crowd was Charlie, his shadow minions bringing her forward dressed in her own royal attire, “your darling sister, who’s been by your side—supporting you through your troubles, high or low tide!”

Next came the other residents, dressed in their own fancy clothing, although less detailed than yours and your sister’s, “your close hotel friends, do you dare suspect them? Even though they’ve proven they’d follow you to the end?”

Finally he knelt in front of you again, dressed in his own royal attire and placing a golden ring on your left ring finger, “or do you truly think it could be me, your doting husband-to-be? Could I be the traitor despite the love, trust, and devotion I’ve given to you, or everything I’ve done to prove that my affection is true?”

“Of course not! You know that, so why don’t you see?” Suddenly your father was shoved forward like a criminal, the shadows dressing him in peasant style clothing, “the only traitor around here is this snake, does he take you for Eve?”

“Excuse me?” Your father asked incredulously, pushing back the shadows and reappearing in his usual clothing.

“Trying to lead you to darkness with his tricks and lies, wanting you to be miserable and lonely instead of by my side.”

“Hold on now–” “All this unsupportive jargon, telling you how you should live your life,” Alastor practically snarled, looking your father dead in the eye, “no wonder that this bastard was left by his wife.”

Your head was left spinning as things quickly switched between your father playing a golden fiddle, to your fiance interrupting him on a vintage piano—the two practically seething at each other before turning their attention back to you.

First Alastor, “my dear, why don’t you pick your own path, instead of listening to this stick in the mud?”

Then your father, “why choose a shitty partner over your own blood?”

And that is how it went.

“And pick a deadbeat father, nothing more than a dud? Wouldn’t you rather find happiness with the family you choose?”

Over.

“Yeah, sure, pick a bunch of losers–”

And over.

“Can you butt out of my song?”

And over.

“Your song? I started this!”

Until finally– “I’m singing it, I’ll finish it!”

You had had enough.

“Oh you tacky piece of sh–”

"JUST STOP!" You shouted, bringing their argument to a screeching halt and drawing a deadly silence into the room, "for fuck's sake---how can the two of you not see your own hypocrisy?! Even when it's sitting right in front of you!"

The two of them stared at you, wide eyed, but you kept going before they could respond.

"You're arguing over what's best for me, while not even fucking asking me what I want! This isn't even about me, this is about the two of you hating each other," you took a breath, desperately blinking back tears, "well you know what? BOTH of you are hurting me! BOTH of you are ignoring my wishes! BOTH of you are treating me like shit! And I don't want to fucking be around EITHER OF YOU!"

And without another word you turned on your heel and left the hotel.

----------

The moment you heard footsteps coming near you, you flipped around and snarled---prepared to snap at your father or Alastor, whichever one decided to come kiss your ass to one-up the other. But, instead, you only found Charlie standing behind you, a concerned look on her face.

You immediately turned away from her and wiped your eyes, not wanting your little sister to see you like this, but she didn’t seem to mind—just sitting beside you and resting her head on your shoulder as you sniffled.

After a moment, you broke the silence.

“I just…I don’t understand,” you said, voice shaking, “they’ve known each other for five fucking minutes and already hate each other. Why can’t they just get along for me? Do I seriously matter that little to them?”

Charlie was quiet for a moment, mind churning.

“I don’t necessarily think that’s it,” her voice was quiet as she spoke, as if she was thinking through each word, “I think that, for the first time ever, both of them are dealing with the fact that they might not be the most important man in your life and…I guess this is just their way of reacting to that.”

You turned to her, eyebrows raising, and she continued to explain.

“Family is important to you, Alastor knows that, but he hasn’t had to…complete, I guess, with anyone for his place by your side before—so, when dad showed up and openly disapproved of him, I think he just got scared that you’d leave him because of what dad thinks,” she took a breath, still thinking through her words, “dad, on the other hand, has always been the one who you’d run to for everything—if you were scared, sad, happy, or needed help, he was the one you’d go to. Now you have Alastor and that’s who you go to for everything, so I think dad just got scared that you wouldn’t need him anymore now that you’re getting married.”

“Congratulations, by the way,” she added wryly, squeezing your arm with a smile.

You gave her a small smile back, “how’d you ever get to be so smart?”

“I learned from the best.”

You sighed, “I just wish they’d get over themselves, I can—in fact—have more than one important man in my life, there’s not a fucking limit.”

“Yeah well…men can be stupid, I guess.”

You snorted and pulled her close, gently ruffling her hair, “you’ve got that right…between you and me, though, I like you better than both of them.”

Charlie giggled and hugged you, the two of you inseparable, just like when you were kids. You took a little longer to just breathe and enjoy the sweet moment with your sister, before finally releasing her.

She then got up and dusted off her suit, bright smile now firmly back in place, “now, let’s head back! I’m pretty sure Vaggie’s already got them working on their apologies, and I already have so many ideas for a new lesson plan on: selflessness and communication!”

You shook your head, but didn’t manage to quite hide your smile. Whatever happened, at least you would always have Charlie by your side…and Alastor and your father, if the two could manage not to kill each other.

“Those apologies better not be in fucking song format.”

“…I’ll text Angel.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #devotion's posts: requests🪻#devotion’s posts: fic stuff 🪻

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lehguru · 1 year

Text

CALLING THEM MY LOVE + STRAW HATS

characters: luffy, zoro, sanji, nami, usopp, robin, franky, brook + jinbei

warnings: not proofread + commissions are open !

monkey d.luffy doesn't even care about pet names. you try to call him out by using "my love", but he doesn't even look at you; he only notices you're calling him when you use his name or a nickname. "oh, what's up?" he simply answers, his wide eyes staring at you with obvious happiness and joy – simply out of seeing you there. everyone in the crew smiles at the obliviousness of their captain and the situation just becomes a joke. (nami asks if you need her to punch him till he acknowledges the pet names)

roronoa zoro almost growls at you when those two words leave your lips if you two aren't alone. it's not that he hated those cute names, he likes them, but in private; he knows that if you two use any pet name, sanji and the others won't stop bothering him, so he prefers to keep everything behind closed doors. if you call him 'my love' before bed, he will softly smirk at you and kiss your forehead, holding you close to his body.

sanji feels like doing backflips when you call him by any cute name. "my love, do you need any help?", he didn't need it, but as his body hits the floor, his eyes having hearts on them, he ends up needing help. he begs you to call him like that again, saying that it makes him feel all warm and nice that his sweetie is giving him such cute nicknames.

nami scoffs anytime you come up with a new nickname. "i'm not going to give you more money", she always says, her arms crossed in front of her chest. when she notices you're just being soft and adorable, she will press light kisses all over your face and woo at you. "you're s' lovely, baby! c'mon, les' have a date!"

usopp waves between being embarrassed by the pet name and being cocky about it. he can and will go "heh, obviously 'm your love! 'm usopp, after all!"; but if you do it in private, he will bury his face on your neck and quietly ask "do ya really think that?". no matter what, he will hug you and spin you around, laughing with joy at your own giggles. usopp will want to be next to you the rest of the day, doing his silly little jokes and telling you more stories to hear you laugh at him.

robin tears up softly after hearing you call her 'my love' for the first time. she never felt like that before; the straw hats make her feel like she belongs somewhere, but you... you make her feel something greater than that. the tall woman will grab your hand and softly kiss your knuckles, bringing you closer to her body so her other hand can rest on your hips. "you are my love, too." she will softly whisper against the skin of your hand, her lips forming the softest smile.

franky will immediately pick you up so you can sit on his metallic shoulder. "aren't you proud that your love is super strong?", he would say with a wide smirk. he would make sure to tell everyone that pass you two that you're the best partner ever and that he's so lucky to have someone like you – even if all crew members know about that.

brook laughs loudly. looming over you, he would start giggling and tease you a little; "yohoho? 'm your love! oh, my dear! i am truly your love!" he would pull his violin out and start serenading you, singing all the songs that he wrote about you. if you sit and applaud him every single timehe finishes a song, he will fall even harder for you.

jinbei simply smiles and puts his hand on the top of your head, cautiously so he doesn't end up hurting you. he resumes on doing whatever he was doing before, but your words would ring in his ears and he would remain with a smile on his face the rest of the day. at night, before you went to sleep, he would kiss your forehead and murmur, "goodnight, my love."

2023 © content belongs to lehguru, but the characters used on them belong to their respective creators!!

#luffy x reader #zoro x reader #sanji x reader #nami x reader #usopp x reader #robin x reader #franky x reader #brook x reader #jinbei x reader #one piece x reader #monkey d luffy #roronoa zoro #sanji #nami #usopp #nico robin #franky #brook #jinbei

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sukiipjs · 3 months

Text

❧ SHOWER

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

↳ chris sturniolo x fem reader

↳ words - 1276

↳ summary - chris can’t stop staring at your ass, you just took a shower but might need another after this. (i’ll be honest i kinda hate/love this)

↳ contains - smut, fluff ish, sex, spanking, oral, swearing, praise, idkk

↳ song - anaconda by nicki minaj

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

°:. *₊ ° . ☆

chris should be coming over soon, i’m taking a quick shower before to get comfortable. i step out of the shower, grabbing my towel and drying off mostly, then putting on my underwear and bra. it’s only chris so i’ll just where that, plus it’s been so sooo hot lately, i’m literally sweating my ass off.

i hear the door open and chris shouts out, “baby! i’m here!” i smile as i continue with my skincare, “bathroom! come in!” i yell back as i hear the bathroom door creek open, chris coming in and his eyes immediately going to my ass, barley covered with just my underwear on, and the water droplets dropping down my curves perfectly.

“hey baby,” he smiles, shooting his eyes back up so i don’t catch his staring. he wraps his arms around my waist, rubbing my ass on his pants slightly. “you look so pretty,” i smile as he leans his head to kiss my cheek, i giggle a little, “what do you want to do tonight?”

“i don’t know, kinda tired from all the filming,” i finish up my skincare and start putting my products away, “i’m kinda hungry, how about we order food and watch something?” i turn around to look at him, smiling up, “that’s great baby,” he leans down a little sealing our lips together.

we decide to order taco bell, getting one of those boxes. we sit on the couch, my head on his shoulder looking over at his phone as we scroll on tiktok waiting for the food to get here, his eyes looking over at my ass every other second, his hand rests on my side, i can tell he’s trying to hold back from grabbing my ass. i laugh a little to myself.

eventually the food arrives, quicker than usual, we get up and he gets the food from the door, setting it on the counter in the kitchen. i get out two pepsis handing one to chris as i open mine, him getting out all the food.

i ‘accidentally’ push over one of the tacos onto the floor making me bend over to pick it up, right by chris, and my ass sticking up. he stares at me then i stand back up, “sorry,” i set it back on the table, chris puts his hand on my lower back then kissing my cheek, “don’t worry about it,” i can see his pants bulge. we move to the couch and setting our food on the table in front of us as we put on some movie.

we finish up eating, watching the movie and me on his lap as we cuddle under a blanket. his length still hard below me, i shift a little, my ass rubbing on the bulge, “fuck,” i hear chris gasp a little as he brings his hands to my waist, “you teasing me?” he whispers in my ear as i laugh a little, “you’re so obvious, i’ve seen you staring. just giving you what you want,” i smile and turn myself to face him as i sit on his lap still, i throw my arms around his neck, resting them on his shoulders, still grinding my ass on him slightly as i tilt my head, looking at his eyes.

his hands move to my ass, grabbing and kneading it as i move on his bulge. his breath starts to hitch and get heavy as he moves a hand to the back of my bra, undoing it and throwing it aside, he leans forward and kisses at my neck, going down to my tits, sucking on them as he moves my hips to grind on his bulge more.

“please..” he mumbles his breath heavy as i smirk, getting off his lap, pulling down my underwear and kicking it aside then kneeling down between his legs as i smile up at him. i undo his belt then i take off his pants, throwing them to the side and resting my hand on the bulge in his boxers, rubbing on it as chris’ breath becomes faster, staring down at me.

“oh fuck,” he mumbles, i pull down his boxers, his dick springing out as chris bites his lip softly, his hands on his thighs as i move my hand to grip his dick, moving my mouth closer as i start spitting on it, then licking around the head. chris let’s out soft moans as he moves one of his hands to rest on my head.

i move my hand off his dick and both my hands move to his lower thighs as i start sucking his dick good, making his hand on my head grip on my hair, his breath heavier and his moans louder.

“fuck.. i’m so close baby,” he goes back to biting his lip as moans slip out, his hand gently pushing my head down a little more and his hips bucking up as he finishes in my mouth. he moves his hand off my head and i lift my head up as i catch my breath, swallowing and smiling up at him as he also catches his breath.

he stands up in front of me as i look up at him, “get up,” i do and he pulls me in to get rid of the gap between our lips, his hand on my cheek and the other on my ass as he kisses me, more and more.

he pulls away and smiles a little, “lemme see that ass baby,” i start smiling too, i get on the couch, my knees bending as my back arches and my head resting on a pillow. chris gets on the couch behind me as his hands grab my ass, kneading it then he leans down to kiss it too, my head turns a little as i try to look at him.

he leans back up then giving my ass a slap, making me jump a little as he laughs. his hand moves to his dick, guiding it on my folds then pushing it inside, i bite my lip as i let out a moan, “fuuck baby, you were made for me,” his hands on my waist, guiding his thrusts as i moan, digging my nails into the couch.

“oh fuck you’re so good,” his thrusts getting more rough as i shut my eyes, letting out more and more moans, “fuck chris!” my walls clench around him as i get close, him too.

“i’m- im close.. fuck..” my voice hoarse as i moan out, finishing on his dick. he stops and pulls my hips toward him, making himself as deep as he can, “oh fuck.” he quickly pulling out and releasing himself on my back. i flatten out as i lay on my stomach, chris then laying himself by me, both of us catching our breaths. “that ass does something to me baby, you’re so fucking hot,” he moves my hair out of the way, kissing at my neck, i laugh a little, “might need another shower after this,”

he smiles then goes back to kissing me, “you’re so pretty baby,” he mumbles, i move myself to my side, looking at chris, pulling him in for a kiss, “let’s go clean up?” my smile soft as he gets up and leads me to the bathroom.

we take a shower, cleaning up then get back in our clothes and go back to the movie we were watching. cuddling under the blanket, my head on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around me, “i love you baby,” he whispers, i move my head to look at him a little, “i love you too chris,”

☆ °:. *₊ ° . °

taglist : @slutforchriss @mattsleftnipple03 @mattsdinosweater @ccolleenn @mixvchelle @leah-loves-lilies @sturn-wrld

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo x reader #sukiipjs #𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢𝐢𝐩𝐣𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝜗𝜚⋆#𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢𝐢𝐩𝐣𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝜗𝜚⋆

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ambros1an · 12 days

Text

hsr x gn!reader relationship hcs

warnings: penacony spoilers (2.0+), bug mention (screwllum), angsty (aventurine & acheron), ocd mention (sunday), slight dark content (ie stalking) at end in Sundays but it’s marked in red to avoid if uncomfy

characters: sunday, screwllum, acheron, aventurine

a/n: i feel like it’s so obvious i did like 2 of these a week later 💀 i need more Sunday content in game

sunday

❧ if you manage to get past Sunday’s formal exterior, what lies behind it is a complete “know-it-all.”

❧let him nerd out about the greatest books in the current and past amber eras. he’ll make sure to tell you all about the authors too.

❧if the two of you have liking books in common, congrats! he’ll bring you on a tour to the primal waking library where you can chat all about it.

❧sunday’s compulsions become even worse with you around. is his shirt properly tucked in? he hopes there’s no wrinkles, maybe he should iron all his shirts again. oh gosh-are his shoes untied? you don’t even notice this. he’s used to hiding his true feelings.

❧he definitely confesses first. he’s aware that his status can be a hindrance when forming genuine relationships.

❧ maybe afterwards he’ll let you touch his wings. he loves the feeling of you stroking his feathers. especially when those annoying pin feathers grow in. the biggest sign of trust amongst birds- and sunday of course.

❧ and obviously you always get free vip to robin’s shows.

❧before and after the “Robin incident” are two very different Sundays.

❧the after, is a very possessive Sunday. he can’t have you become like Robin. he uses nightingales to keep watch on you, to make sure you’re safe. he knows it’s unhealthy but he just lost his sister, he can’t lose you too.

Aventurine

❧aventurine’s flirty facade fools most people. they think he’s sleazy and untrustworthy, and so do you in the beginning.

❧at first he talks to you because he thinks your reactions are amusing.

❧eventually your relationship gets too deep for comfort.

❧this guy will never open up. if he has feelings for you, you’ll never know. it’s not because he’s ashamed. it’s because he cannot comprehend someone actually liking him.

❧the only way he’ll confess is if you do it first. and even then he plays it off like a joke, something he can’t even believe. it takes a lot of button pressing to get him to admit his feelings.

❧aventurine is a very vulnerable person. he may rub off insults but they still hurt him deep.

❧the first time you hug him, he is baffled. affection has been foreign to him since the extinction event.

❧worming your way into his heart will get you even more riches then before. sure, he hands out money like nothing, but to you? that credit card is unlimited.

❧”what, that’s all?” he encourages you to spend.

❧brings you to casinos for good luck. not as if he needed any, but with you at least his hand doesn’t shake.

screwllum

❧ it isn’t uncommon for inorganic species to feel love. just as it isn’t uncommon for organic species not to.

❧ Screwllum, however, hasn’t experienced that feeling.

❧ he sees the way organic species love in a way he hasn’t. as a genius society member and one interested in life itself, how could he not be interested.

❧ which is why when he starts feeling a fluttering in his chest whenever you’re around, he must get to the bottom of it!

❧ confesses instantly. he has zero experience yet remains so confident.

❧ immediately takes time out of his day to interact with you. in whatever way possible.

❧ it could be the busiest day of his life and he’ll still make time for you.

❧ he’s described as a gentlemen by his close companions. this means opening doors for you, taking you out to places, etc.

❧ sounds too good to be true. but it is true.

❧ his one flaw, if you can even call it that, is his love for all life. and that includes bugs! no smashing them on his watch! he’s picking them up before you even get the chance.

❧ if you like bugs, even better. he’ll gently pick them up and talk about them with you. the two of you can take turns.

Acheron

❧ the first time you meet her, you think she’s a polite but introverted lady. she claims to be a galaxy ranger and you have no reason to doubt her.

❧ her blunt way of speaking leaves no room for questions.

❧ that is, until you get too entangled in each other’s destines.

❧ your first meeting with acheron, wasn’t actually your first. you’ve met her many times. every time though she seems not to know you.

❧ Acheron lies to protect you. just as she lied about being a galaxy ranger, she lies that she has no feelings whatsoever towards you.

❧ perhaps you remind her of someone she once knew.

❧ on some days, acheron traverses through her memories to look for you. she sees the hurt look in your eyes, but sees your smiles too. the path of a self-annihilater is a lonely one.

❧ ultimately, if you manage to convince her with words and actions that you truly care for her. she will put forth that effort tenfold. she desperately doesn’t want to be alone anymore.

❧ acheron is very protective towards you. if there’s a hint of danger, she’ll encourage you to take her with you. even going on her own to eliminate it herself.

credit to @/miau-meow-miau for first divider 🫶

#hsr x you #hsr x reader #sunday x reader #sunday x you #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #acheron x reader #acheron x you #screwllum x reader

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just-a-torn-up-masterpiece · 3 months

Text

be quiet

masterlist

emily prentiss x reader

18+: smut; emily has a penis, blowjobs, office sex, lowkey humiliation, talks of punishment, dom!emily, cockwarming kinda??but using a mouth lol, angry emily

a/n - inspired by an ask that i cannot find | wc: 1.1k

You’d known it was inevitable that talking back to her would have its repercussions but having her belittle you for a minor mistake in the field with all of your colleagues around to hear was beyond humiliating.

You should have stayed silent and bitten your tongue. But the flush to her neck as she raised her voice, the way you were shrinking beneath the harshness of her tone despite how desperately you tried not to, only bubbled the anger up your throat. Your words were spat back at her with malice, utterings of her need to control those around her, and her overreaction at the situation. They’d taken aback not only herself but the onlookers to the tension-fueled argument. You were soon dismissed and ushered back to your desk while she stalked to her office with a slam of her door behind her.

You’d not seen her for hours and you were hoping the atmosphere would have diffused by this evening considering she was the one who’d driven you to work this morning.

Emily, however, had been ruminating on her fury the entire time. Her jaw was beginning to hurt with the way it was so tightly clenched and the work in front of her that she had been working on was now becoming haphazardly completed due to the attention she was paying to thoughts of you instead.

Her annoyance at you oftentimes is accompanied by an arousal and need to dominate you - to put you in your place. She’s convinced you do it on purpose just to be on the receiving end of her wrath. It’s just like you to be desperate for her rough hand.

She thought back to just the previous night when she had you beneath her and crying out her name for hours on end, clambering onto her body as though it was your lifeline, the way your breathless body panted and moaned under hers with her fingers in your mouth and her dick fucking you into the mattress whilst you begged her for more. She couldn’t get enough.

And now, with these memories freshly implanted into her mind and her skin so hot she had to rid herself of her blazer lest the anger fuelled heat burn her skin, she could feel herself getting harder by the second. She wanted you. She was ravenous and starving for you, aching in her jeans to keep your slutty mouth silent.

She picked up her phone to send you a message and peeked out through the blinds of her office windows to watch your attention be taken by the vibration beside you. She watched you read her instruction and positioned herself in her chair when she watched you make your way to her, legs splayed and her arms sporting rolled up shirt sleeves resting on the arms of the seat.

“Come here,” she spoke. No greeting to ease the tension, just a gesture to the ground between herself and her robust desk.

You could see her growing bulge from where she’d been palming at herself with all of the thoughts running through her mind, she was needy for you and your lips but she didn’t want to hear a word. You didn’t even dare to mutter a teasing comment at her obvious desperation. You just did as she wanted - you only ever wanted to obey her - taking your place on your knees as she’d silently instructed once you had approached.

“If you’re gonna use that fucking mouth to be bratty, you can use it now,” she rasped, unbuckling her belt to release her hard cock. “I don’t want to ever, hear you talk back to me at work.”

“Em, I’m sor-”

“No talking,” she interrupted with a harsh grip around your neck halting your words. “If I have to force you to be quiet, that’s what I’m going to do.”

She left no room for argument, not that you’d even try underneath the harsh and dark eyes she scrutinised you with. Instead, you let her push your head down, parting your lips for the tip of her cock, moaning slightly at the taste of the precum that landed on your tongue when you licked the head. You knew what she liked and she groaned out above you at the feeling.

Her nails bore into into your scalp, long fingers tangled up in your hair as she orchestrated every single movement of your head, merely using your mouth as something to fuck. As long as it kept you quiet.

Just as she’d eased each inch into your throat, her phone rang out into the quiet of the room. You thought that this would mean a slight, if momentary, reprieve of the cock that filled your mouth and nudged so deeply into you. But, when Emily has a punishment in mind she doesn’t carry it out leniently.

She forced your head to still when she answered the phone and spoke for much longer than was necessary, only smirking darkly with each glance she darted at your head in her lap. Your jaw ached and your lips salivated around her length, tears streaked down your cheeks at the way you gagged around her.

Your hands dug into her hips, holding onto her just hoping she’d set you free but she kept you in your place. There was no possibility for any semblance of movement. She enjoyed the helpless way you sporadically gasped for breath.

“There’s something so pretty about seeing you so quiet,” she murmured once she’d placed the phone back onto its receiver. “I knew my good girl was still in there.”

It was only then that she let you pull away for just a moment to catch your breath but she soon pushed your lips into the head of her throbbing cock, she was more aroused than ever with how the heat of your mouth had had her aching.

Your head bobbed in her lap, lips around her shaft and your tongue licking the skin with each glide over it. Her hips lifted from the leather of her cushioned chair, her head leaning back with her bottom lip caught between her teeth at the pleasurable feelings coursing through her.

“Fuck, you feel so good, sweet girl,” she murmured. “I’m gonna cum into that slutty mouth of yours.”

Her words ony spurred you on and the groan that vibrated onto her dick was enough to be mirrored by her as her seed filled your mouth, spurts of cum painting the back of your throat with familiarity. You swallowed every drop as she continued to fuck your mouth for as long as she wanted to, milking herself of every mouthful she could give you, letting herself rid her body of the ravenous arousal that had been plaguing her.

She eyed the way she dripped from your shining lips onto your chin and pulled you in for a kiss once she’d wiped it clean with the pad of her thumb.

“I’ll deal with you later,” she growled into your ear after she’d trailed kisses across your jaw and you waited in anticipation once she’d dismissed you back to your desk.

#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily prentiss #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss x female reader

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the-writer-arrived · 2 months

Text

Inappropriate Behavior in the Workplace

Synopsis: you decide to give your lover a hand in his work as a bartender, helping out as a waitress for the busy friday night. little did he know that your intentions were far from pure...

Characters: diluc ragnvindr; gallagher.

Warnings: afab!fem!reader; explicit smut; established relationship; unprotected sex (please use protection in real life!); semi-public sex (you fuck in the empty tavern); soft men becoming rough men; spanking; reader is a brat; reader wears a skirt; your man becomes a horny mess for you good luck dealing with him; headcanons + a drabble.

A/N: diluc 🤝 gallagher -> hot guys that work at a bar (and fuck their lover there post-work hours) that make my brain go brrrrrr.

<<This work has sexual themes and is not suitable for minors. If you click on read more, I am not responsable for any discomfort you may feel reading this. You have been warned.>>

He should have known. He should have listened to his gut feeling that you were up to no good, when you were suddenly very insistent about helping him out at the bar that friday.

But nooooo, you had to bat those little doe eyes of yours at him, like the purest, sweetest angel that you are for him to give in to your whims.

After all, that would mean spending more time with his beloved woman, instead of having her wait for him all alone back home.

Oh, if only he could look past the rose-tinted lens of love and adoration to realize the perfect trap you had prepared for him...

There were essentially three main situations that should have given you away, but that fool (/affectionate) is too much in love with you to have realized in time:

The first being your insistance of wanting to work with him in one of the busiest nights of the week. Your reason? He's been too busy lately with his other duties, so you wanted to at least be beside him... (Critical hit in his heart).

The second, your unusual choice of clothing - a skirt. Now, he isn't one to tell you what you should or shouldn't wear, he's simply surprised by it, considering it's a rare sight for you to use it. And hey, you looked absolutely beautiful with it.

The third and most obvious one - your smile. But not any smile. The one you specifically have on your lips when you have some mischief up your sleeve. Like a cat ready to pounce on an unsuspected bird.

When everything clicked inside his head, it was already too late...

You had gone behind the bar to help him clean the counter, the rush of customers dying down for the moment. While distracted wiping a glass, he accidentaly bumped into you, causing you to drop the empty cans left by some customers.

He quickly apologized, but you reassured it was fine, which really was! (He unbeknownst set the scene for the grand finale of your nefarious plan).

You, helpful as always, bent down to pick up the cans without thinking twice, causing the hem of your skirt to raise up a bit too much. Your man, gentleman as he is, was about to warn you to be careful, but any coherent thought was thrown out of the window.

It was a just glimpse. He could argue that it was just the work of his dirty imagination. A trick of the light. Anything.

But no. He knew exactly what he saw. And the wink that you gave him as you sauntered away was all the confirmation he needed to know he wasn't mistaken.

You're not using any panties.

You're working in his establishment, looking stunning as usual, with your pussy hidden only by your skirt.

Oh he feels light headed... due to all the blood going straight to his crotch.

It all makes sense now, your behavior, your choice of clothing... And now you're suddenly taking care of the tables, knowing that he can't leave the bar anymore with the big tent in his pants.

...Is this punishment for not paying attention to you the past few days? If so, he never knew you could go to such lengths to teach him a lesson...

Still, you should know that your lover isn't one to take things laying down. So, you better enjoy yourself making him squirm while you still have the advantage...

And enjoy yourself you do, much to his dismay.

He follows you with his eyes like a hawk, mind swirling with a myriad of feelings: annoyance, for being teased so cruely like this; worry, that someone might accidentaly see what they shouldn't; impatience, for the damn clock to stop dragging its hands and reach closing time already; and arousal, for having being tricked into a situation which you are the one in control.

As the night goes slowly by and the number of customers begins to decrease, the tension between the two of you grows more and more, like a volcano about to erupt.

Until finally, at long last, it's time to close the tavern.

It's time to show you the consequences of your actions.

----------

After bidding his employees a good night, he wastes not a single second more, locking the door behind him as the last inch of his patience snaps.

You're wiping one of the tables, pretending not to hear his steps coming closer to you from behind, a shiver of anticipation running down your spine. Before you can utter a word, you see his shadow falling on you, like a predator ready to pounce on his cornered prey.

He takes the dirty rag from your hand and throws it away, wrapping a strong arm around your waist to pull you flush against his chest. His other hand goes to grab your chin, turning your head to the side before stealing your breath with a kiss.

Actually, it can't even be called a kiss, but more like a two pairs of lips mashed together. It's messy, desperate and intense, his tongue invading your mouth with the objective of claiming every single part of you. Your lover's touch is rough, but not without care. Even when he's lost amidst the fiery passion that has consumed his usual composure, he never fails to make you feel loved.

As intoxicating as this moment feels, the need of oxygen is still a necessary thing for the both of you, prompting him to finally release your lips with a gasp for air. But not a second later he latches his mouth on your neck, nibbling, kissing and licking the tender flesh that soon becomes warm by his attention.

"Do you have any idea of what you did to me today?" His question is a rhetoric one, aware that your ability to think straight isn't working anymore to string an answer. "What am I saying, of course you do. In fact, you've came up with your little plan wanting things to turn out this way, right?"

Your only response is a moan when he grinds his clothed erection on your behind. Honestly, you didn't expect your plan to work so well like this, witnessing a side of him you're not used to, but still very turned on.

"Walking around all pretty like this, serving customers and helping the other employees out, with no panties on..." You let out a gasp of surprise when you're suddenly pushed down on the table, your skirt flipped out to expose your bare private parts, your cheeks flaring up as he caresses your buttock. "...Who knew I had such a lewd girl for a lover."

The harsh slap on your ass forces a loud yelp out of you, the pain of the sting mixing with pleasure that makes you shuddering. The sight of the plush skin jiggling at his action leaves him hypnotized and with his pants even tighter.

"I was tense the whole night, you know. Worried that some scumbag would try something funny and end up seeing what is for my eyes only." Another slap, now on the other asscheek, and he notices your pussy glistening with arousal at each hit. "You're getting even wetter... You're enjoying this, huh?"

A pitful whine of his name paired with the teary look you throw at him is enough to convince him to give up on his previous idea of dragging out this teasing and go straight to what you both have been desiring all evening.

Your lover grumbles in frustration at his vexing belt and pants, pushing the garment down enough to free his throbbing cock from its confines, the tip angry red and with precum.

You're so pent up with need that he doesn't even need to prep you further, seeing that you spread your folds yourself for him, impatient to have your wish fulfilled at long last. So, doing both of you a favor, he doesn't waste any more time and slides himself in, eyes rolling back at the warmth enveloping him.

"Fuck, so tight darling..." He massages your waist, trying to get you to ease up a little. You feel so fucking good, he fears he won't last at all.

His hips pick up the pace as your moans and pleas grow to a crescendo, your voice like a siren that beckons him to dive head first into this addicting chase for carnal pleasure, enhanced by the love shared between you two.

Sooner than he would have preferred, your lover reaches his peak, head thrown back and hips grinding hard against your behind, his cum filling you to the brim. You can feel your climax coming as well, his orgarsm bringing your own...! Until his cock suddenly slides out of you.

"W-Wha- Why did you-- ah!" Your words are interrupted by two fingers of his intruding your fluttering hole, him putting his weight on your back as he shushes you.

"You didn't think you get what you want so easily, did you love?" His voice is husky in your ear, fingers pushing his release back inside your pussy. "No, no, you've been a bad girl tonight. And bad girls don't get to cum now."

You whine in protest, attempting to wiggle your hips to get any sort of friction as you feel the waves of your impending climax waning.

"Please, love, please let me cum, please! It's been so long since I've felt your touch, I need you!"

His breath hitches when he listens to your begging, not expecting the neediness in your tone. It seems like his busy schedule the past few days took a heavier toll on you than he thought. He sighs, his heart is too soft for you to continue his original pay back.

"Alright, you win... But know this is the only time I'll let you off the hook for your little stunt, you hear me?"

You nod your head quickly, thank you's and promises to be a good girl falling easily from your tongue. However, you knew none of what either of you said will remain, you will continue being your teasing little self and he will continue letting your brat behavior slide, because that's the kind of couple you are.

But that's the least of your concerns right now, your mind returning to the foggy state of pleasure as you continue your inappropriate actions in many different surfaces of his bar, adding yet another secret item to your list of things one shouldn't do in the workplace.

thanks for reading <3 likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated <3

heart divider made by @/cafekitsune

red diluc and gallagher banners (smut) made by @/the-writer-arrived aka yours truly ;)

#blue.writes: genshin impact #blue.writes: honkai star rail #blue.writes: smut #blue.writes: diluc ragnvindr #blue.writes: gallagher #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc x reader #diluc smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail smut #gallagher x reader #gallagher smut #not suitable for minors #minors dni

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repulsiveliquidation · 6 months

Text

Fore!

Leah Williamson x Reader [Tooth-rotting, diabetes-causing sweet af fluff]

Leah meets the hottest golfer she’s ever seen.

word count : 2.3k, there will be more parts coming soon!

Based off of true events, I do play college-level golf and I thought it would be fun to incorporate that into a story!

“Come on Leah, our tee time is at ten fifty!” yelled Jacob from the living room. They had planned on playing some golf today, but Leah couldn’t pick an outfit out and was becoming frustrated. “Give me a minute you arse! We won’t be late!”

Finally deciding on something to wear, they headed to the Abbey Hill Golf Club (a/n this is a real course in Milton Keynes!) where they were just in time for their tee time. “What was it you were saying about not being late, sis?” Jacob quipped, earning a hard smack on the upside of his head for his mocking tone. “Shut it before I shove this club up somewhere you don’t want.” “Alright, alright, I’ll bring the cart around.” He answered with a laugh, walking over to the golf carts searching for the one with the number 6 on it.

“Just you then, Y/N/N? Right, you’re gonna have to pair up with those two then. The course is pretty full today, that’ll speed up play.”

“Right, thanks so much Greg!”

“You’re welcome, kid. I’ll give you a tenner if you beat your own course record!”

“I’ll hold you to that, Gregory!”

“Hello, I’m Y/N. Greg paired us up today, I hope that’s okay!”

Someone taps Leah’s shoulder and she swears time stopped. Standing before her is the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. She had the most beautiful smile and was dressed in the cutest golf outfit. She looked professional, like she knew what she was doing, not like herself.

“Um, are you alright?”

“What? Oh fuck, yes. Um, what did you say?”

You giggle at her flustered answer. “Fuck,” thought Leah, “I think that’s the cutest sound in the world.”

“I’m Y/N. Greg wanted us to play together since the tee times are full, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh no, not at all! My brother and I just came out to have a little fun but we’re not that good so I hope we don’t slow you down. You look like you play golf a lot. That’s a really cute shirt you have on, perfectly paired with those trousers. I really like your shoes too, mine are really beat up.” “I love you.”

You giggled again, amused by her rambling. “Don’t worry about it! I just came out to have a little fun but I did bet Greg ten pounds if I could beat the course record today so you’ll need to be witnesses.”

“Course record? Just how good are you?”

“I’ve played my fair share of golf. Between secondary school and college, I’d say I’m alright.”

If Leah had a ring, she’d be on one knee proposing to this girl right now. Jacob finally pulls up with the cart and starts to lock the bags to the back. Leah, in a split-second decision to abandon her precious baby brother, tells him he can have his own cart and that she’ll share with you.

“If that alright with you, of course.”

“Not at all; what’s your name again?”

“Shit, where are my manners? I’m Leah, that’s my brother Jacob. Jacob this is Y/N.”

“Hello Y/N, Greg set us up eh?”

“Yeah, I won’t be too much trouble!”

“You’re alright, just beat my sister and let her take you out, we’ll have a fantastic day.”

“Jacob, I swear–”

“See you two on the first tee!”

A deep blush creeps up Leah’s neck as she rummages in her bag for something she isn’t looking for. You smile fondly at the woman, finding her obvious nervousness extremely attractive; her brother’s request more of a hope than a dream now.

You hop into the driver’s seat, looking back at her still rummaging but now with added grumbling. “You ready, Leah?” you ask with an amused voice, her head popping up as she stood straight and smiled, walking to the passenger side and sat in the cart. You headed to the first tee, the course looking beautiful this time of year.

Jacob stood on the first tee with a cheeky smirk on his face, driver in hand. You park right behind him and get out, grabbing your glove and driver before walking up to him. Leah copies you, following quickly behind you.

“Leah normally plays the reds but I knew you’d come up here to the men’s tees.”

“The women’s tees are too short for me, I like a little challenge anyway.”

Leah, under the guise of stretching, listening intently to your conversation with her brother. It made her stomach do flips and fill with butterflies as you spoke so elegantly about golf. She knew it was the same way she did about football but there was something so hot about the way you spoke that made her heart want to jump out of her chest.

“Would you like to start us off, Jacob?”

“Yes! Then my sister can show off her swing to impress you before you undoubtedly bomb in perfectly down the fairway to show her how it’s done.”

Leah swears she nearly committed first degree murder right then and there. You let out a comical laugh, clutching your stomach as you watch Leah come over and smack her brother hard. He does eventually play his first shot, which isn’t bad, and it’s now Leah’s turn.

“Good luck!” you tell her, smiling softly. She blushes, setting up her shot way too much to the left out of nervousness.

“Leah, too much left darling. Come over a little.” You say nonchalantly, giving her a thumbs up when she corrects herself. Her brain has short-circuited, the pet name you used making her last two braincells abandon her. She manages a shot, ball going only about 50 meters before coming to a stop. You clap nonetheless, telling her it was a good shot. She blushes even harder when you give her a high five, walking over to the tee box to play your shot. Just as Jacob predicted, you hit a drive straight down the middle, flying way past both their balls.

“Wow, that was impressive.” “I love you.”

“Perfect, that was my intention. Come on, let’s get to yours.” You tell her, taking her hand and walking back to the cart. You get in and make your way to her ball. Her face held an expression of pure shock, staring at you with her perfect blue eyes. You could only smile shyly, your boldness was a surprise to everyone in the cart.

“You’ve got 215 meters, Leah.” You tell her as you approach her ball, pulling out your rangefinder and shooting the distance for her. You sat back into the cart and let her hit her ball. You knew she wasn’t going to get there with one shot but you always tried to make anyone you played with enjoy the sport regardless of their talent level so they didn't feel intimidated. Having been surrounded by coaches who made you resent golf while playing in college, you made it your mission to have people enjoy the sport; for golf to be a hobby and not a chore.

“Thanks, what should I play?” she asks, wanting your expert opinion she convinced herself; truthfully she just wanted to hear you talk about golf. “Well, how far does your 5 wood go?” “120 meters if I don’t waffle it.” “Ha! Wonderful, use that.” “I love you.”

She does, in fact, waffle it. But she laughs it off and tries again. This time she does hit it good and it lands beside the green. “Yes Leah, that was great!” you give her another high five and see Jacob already by your ball.

“100 perfect meters. You hit that drive a long way down here.”

“Thanks Jacob, this is one of my longest ones on this hole I think.”

“Which club do you want?” Leah asks, wanting to return the favor. “Pitching wedge please.” you tell her, grabbing it from her and playing your shot. It flies past the hole a little, leaving you with 15 feet for birdie. You smile and wave a little as they impressively clap. Jacob catches the lovesick glint in his sisters eyes as she watches you like you're the only person in the world.

“You’re a goner, aren’t ya?”

“Hook, line and sinker Jacob.” “I love you.”

The three of you spend the next 4 hours playing the most fun round you’ve had in a while. Leah ends up playing a 102, Jacob was better with a 95 and you won ten pounds from Greg after posting a course record of 63.

She was a little sad that the round was over, packing her bag much slower than was necessary. She didn’t see that you were doing the same. Jacob said goodbye and left, winking at her and teasing her. She shoved him and smiled happily, nervous about not wanting the day to end. You had just about plucked up the courage to ask her out when you stood and there she was, almost as surprised as you were.

“Uh, fuck. I was j-just wondering if you would w-want a drink or something.”

“Depends, would that mean that it’s a date?”

“Only if you wanted it to be.”

“I would love nothing more. Well, you eventually but, we’ll see.”

“You’re WHO?!”

“You saying you didn’t recognize me?”

“I hate that I have a feeling you’re more amused than offended that I don’t know THE Leah Williamson.”

“It’s honestly refreshing.”

You laugh as arrive at your car. You wordlessly grab both golf bags and pack them into your boot. You close it and smile at her standing there, hands shoved into her pockets as she rocked on the balls of her feet.

“How about a little lunch? I know a pretty good café I think you’d like.” She nervously suggests, somewhat scared that you would say no.

“I’d love that, Leah. Quit being so nervous, I don’t bite.”

“Could I do the cranberry and chicken wrap please? Maybe an iced latte to go with that too, please.”

“Make that two. I’ll pay.”

“Leah, I couldn’t let you do that.”

“It’s a date remember? I asked, I pay.”

“What a gentlewoman, you are. Makes a girl weak in the knees, you know.”

“I’ll catch you doll, don’t worry.”

Leah doesn’t think she’s ever been able to talk to anyone the same way she could with you. You were the perfect listener; attentive and engaged. You also spoke so eloquently and had the best jokes she’s ever heard. It’s not till the café owner comes over at 7PM to let you both know that they were closing did you realize the time.

You both walk hand in hand down the streets of late-night Milton Keynes. Leah insists on getting ice cream, beating you again at handing over money to pay. You both settle on a bench at a nearby park and enjoy the cold dessert. Your hands don’t leave each other’s, her thumb softly brushing over your knuckles.

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, Y/N. I don’t think I would be able to sleep tonight if I didn’t tell you.” She blurts out suddenly and it sends a dark blush up your cheeks. “I love you.”

“I lied.”

“What?”

“I lied, of course I knew who you were. How could anyone not? I was fangirling so hard but I had to keep my cool so I didn’t scare you. I’m sorry.”

“That’s the best lie anyone has ever told me.”

You continued to eat your ice cream, sitting closer to her as your laced fingers sat in your lap. Ice cream cones now finished you both just enjoyed the cool Milton Keynes night.

“Are you from here?” Leah asks as she mindlessly plays with your fingers. “Yeah, but we moved around a lot as kids because of my dad’s job. I moved back here for secondary school but went to the US for college.”

“A great friend of mine studied in the US while playing sports too.”

“Alessia? I’ve met her, she signed my jersey one time.”

“Signed–which game did you come to?!”

“I was at the Euro’s last year. Loved watching the final, I had a sore throat for a week from all the shouting. I had just come back from graduating so I thought I’d enjoy a little soccer.”

“It’s football, love.”

You laugh and lean your head on her shoulder as she takes the opportunity to slip her arm around your shoulder. You don’t protest, leaning into her. She smiles wide, grabbing your hand to hold with her other. It was past 11PM, both of you walking to your car begrudgingly at the reality of a perfect date coming to a close. You get in and suddenly have a burst of confidence. You lean in and to your surprise, she does too. Your lips meet and it's like fireworks. Her lips mold to yours perfectly, tongues swiping and tangling like a practiced tango. You pull away first, hand cupping her beautiful face and stroking her cheekbone.

“I don’t want it to end.”

“Then don’t let it.”

“Stay the night?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

#woso soccer #woso imagine #leah williamson #engwnt #leah williamson imagine #leahwilliamson x reader #lionesses #arsenal wfc x reader #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #womens football

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bloatedandalone04 · 1 year

Text

Everything I Didn’t Say

➪the one where you leave and leon lets you.

Warnings: no spoilers for re4 remake, angst, mentions of infidelity, ada being a sneaky b!tch, this is pure angst, mentions of blood, mentions of trauma, mentions of death, abuse, toxic relationships, abusive relationships, swearing

Word Count: 2.7k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine <3

Leon’s leg had not stopped bouncing since you walked out the door of your shared apartment. That was nearly an hour ago and he hadn’t moved from his spot on the couch, where his elbows pressed to his knees and his hands pressed against his mouth.

He stared at the coffee table, and more specifically, at the small box that he placed on it just a few seconds after you left.

How had things become this screwed up? How did he let you slip away? Why didn’t he try to stop you when you fled the apartment with nothing but tears in your eyes?

You didn’t even take your phone in your rush to get away from him. He found that out when he entered the communal area of the apartment and looked all over for you before deciding to just call you. Your phone went off and it was then he realised that you had left it on the kitchen counter.

That was when he disappeared back into your shared room and rummaged around in his drawers for the box he bought six months ago. It was a month later when he made, he was sure, the biggest mistake of his life.

Leon needed information that only few had, one being a person he wanted to keep in his past forever. Somehow everything always came back to Ada, as frustrating as it was, and that was how he found himself tracking her down.

Turns out she was in the area and was more than willing to give Leon the information….but not without a cost. And the cost was the one thing he swore he would never involve in this part of his life. You.

She didn’t threaten you or anything, but she did insist on him partaking in things that would surely ruin your relationship. Fast forward to now and those things came back to bite him. Hard.

The sound of the door opening tore him out of his thoughts and instantly his eyes were on you. He turned his head and watched as you entered the apartment and closed the door behind you, fiddling with your fingers as you avoided eye contact.

You stand by the door for a few seconds, debating on turning right back around and leaving again, or just getting this over with. One sharp intake of breath later had you slowly walking over to Leon. He didn’t dare move or open his mouth to apologize as he watched you with guilty eyes, afraid that you would leave him again if he were to ambush you with all the thoughts that ran through his head in the last hour.

He missed you.

He was terrified that you wouldn’t come back to him.

He loved you more than life itself.

He needed you. And it scared him.

He never allowed himself to rely on others as he had been betrayed too many times to count, but he quickly gave that rule up when he met you. Not only did he rely on you to be his escape from the cruel, bad world, but he also relied on you to be the one person he trusted the most, the one person who would never turn their back to him.

Yet here you were, hesitating to sit beside him. How did things go so wrong?

You swallow harshly and sit next to him, placing your hands on your lap as you glance at the small box on the table. It was obvious what it was and you had to look away quickly before you ran away again.

Leon hadn’t been able to take his eyes off you, and the traces of tears still on your face did nothing to calm his racing heart. He refrained from reaching out to you and feeling the sense of comfort you always provided him. Instead, his leg came to a stop and he turned his body to face yours. “I didn’t know if you were coming back,” he said, not surprised at how unsteady his voice sounded.

You kept your eyes on the floor as you picked at the skin around your nails. It was a habit you had grown out of since you met Leon as he was somehow able to calm your nerves and take away the feeling of anxiety you dealt with on a daily basis.

His eyes narrowed as you inhaled sharply, your index finger moving to cover the small cut you had just made from pulling too hard at the skin of your thumb. He hadn’t seen you like this in months, so tense and uncomfortable. He hated that he was the reason you slipped back into old habits.

You pressed your finger harder against the cut, attempting to stop the small flow of blood as you answered him, “I didn’t want to,” you still refused to meet his eyes and that, along with your words, was enough to have his heart beat faster at the very real fact that he was losing you. You were slipping away and he was powerless to do anything about it. “I wanted to run away, go back to how I was before I met you. I wanted to feel somewhat normal after what happened….what you told me.”

Leon closed his eyes at that and turned his head away. Those were the words he never wanted to hear you say. Your life before him was terrible and you were running on pure adrenaline half the time, unsure if you would even still be alive when tomorrow came. The way your life was before…you were barely living. And he saved you.

He showed you that the feeling of abandonment you felt everyday was no way to live, and he filled in every hole that had formed in your heart. The one from your parents leaving you, the one from when your ex-boyfriend put his hands on you too many times to count, the one from when your best friend drank too much one night and decided to drive home anyway.

He took every ounce of pain you had and made it dissolve until it was a distant memory. The pain was replaced with happiness, love, want, desire. He never let you go through life alone - not if he could help it, anyway. Even on the days he was called away for work, the weeks you went without hearing a word from him were bearable as he left you with the assurance that he was coming back and he always would. And you understood.

You were his entirely. His person, his reason to keep fighting, his reason to never give up. You were and always will be the love of his life, and nothing anyone could ever do would change that.

Even his own fuck up wouldn’t change that.

“Y/n,” he said, not missing the way you tensed up even more at the way he said your name. “I’m so sorry.”

He wanted to say so much more but he had no idea where you two stood. He had never in his life felt more powerless, so out of control to the point where he was resisting the urge to pull his hair out. Did he even deserve to beg for a second chance? For you to allow him to explain what happened?

Leon had never felt more ashamed.

You finally look over at him, sadness overflowing in your eyes as you ignore his words. “So, every night you said you were with Chris or out running errands…you were with her?” You ask, not wanting the answer but knowing you needed to hear it for you to be able to move on and find the closure you were never able to get in your past relationships.

It seemed as though Leon didn’t want to answer either as his eyes stared into yours, silently begging you to not make him answer the question that would surely shatter any hope left to fix what he broke.

“Please,” you whispered, holding back a sob as you felt your eyes sting from unshed tears. The look in his eyes gave you the answer, but you needed to hear him say it, hear how he ruined what you two shared, how he broke the connection. Even if it hurt you more than anything else from your past, you needed to hear it. “Just answer the question.”

Leon broke eye contact again as he stared at the wooden floor, his jaw locked as he held back tears of his own.

“Were you with her?” You ask again and Leon hated how defeated you sounded. You didn’t even sound angry or annoyed, you just sounded heartbroken and embarrassed. He was convinced he would rather have you scream at him than have you talk to him in the quiet, tearful voice you were using now.

He waited a few more seconds before forcing out the answer that would surely be the final breaking point in your relationship, the beautiful, fragile thing it was. “Yes,”

The single word was powerful as it was the final nail in the coffin of your broken relationship. You quickly look away, nodding as you wipe away the blood on your jeans. You weren’t sure where to go from here and you had no clue what to say next. Your eyes land on the box again and you decide to keep asking questions you really didn’t want to know. “Was that for me?”

Leon didn’t know what you were talking about until he looked over at you again and saw what you were staring at. He felt offended that you would even ask that as he was sure he made his feelings for you crystal clear. Then again, your current situation was entirely his fault, and your trust in him was nonexistent at this point, so he really couldn’t blame you for beginning to question everything.

He had to hold back his scoff that would surely make things worse when he answered, “Of course it’s for you,”

You look down before back at the box again, hating the fact that you wanted to see what the ring looked like. You bring your finger up to your mouth and chew on your nail, wincing at the sore skin that surrounds it. “Can I see it?”

Leon felt his heart sink. This was not how he envisioned showing you the ring. In a perfect world he would’ve taken you out on a date, probably to your favorite spot - the lake you used to go to when things became too much as it brought you comfort - and he’d make another memory with you there. He’d get down on one knee and wouldn’t have a care in the world about the inevitable grass stains that would form on his pants and he’d ask you to be his forever. Like you were always meant to be.

He didn’t bother answering as he grabbed the box and held it out to you without a word, his eyes glued to the floor. You take it from him, brushing your fingers against his hand as you did so and unknowingly making his whole body ache for your touch. As you held it in your lap, you bit your lip as you looked over at him. His head was turned so you couldn’t see his face, and maybe that was for the best.

You open your mouth to say something, but all words die on your tongue and you close it again after a few seconds. Taking a deep breath, you look back down at the black box and convince yourself to just get it over with. You just wanted to see it, that’s all, then you can move on and leave this behind you.

When you opened the box and looked at the ring, you bit down harder on your lip to stop a cry from spilling out. It was perfect and the definition of your dream ring and you wanted to sob at how well he knew you and your style. It was simple but so beautiful and so you. Your vision blurred and you tried to blink back the tears as you closed the box. It was useless as tears still flowed down your face and landed on your jeans.

Leon brought his hand back up to his mouth and he pressed his knuckles to his lips, turning to you when he heard you close the box. You hand it back to him without a word being spoken and he refrained from taking you in his arms when he saw how you tried to discreetly wipe under your eyes.

He looked at you while remaining silent, completely speechless at what was currently unfolding before him. There’s so much he wanted to say, but what was the point? The relationship was over, that much was obvious when you asked to see the ring that should’ve had a permanent place on your finger for the rest of your life. The ring you should’ve seen in a surprising and special moment, not during a break up.

Break up.

Leon’s heart hurt as everything set in. You were breaking up with him and leaving him to face the harsh reality on his own.

You clear your throat and wipe your damp hands on your jeans, no plan in mind when you sit up straight and say, “Okay,” it came out more in a breathless tone rather than sounding confident, something you cringe at before continuing, “I should go pack my stuff.” You nodded at your own words as you stared at the floor, beginning to stand up.

That made Leon hold the box in his other hand as the one closest to you reached out and grabbed your wrist. “Wait, please,” he quietly begged and you froze at his touch. You sat back down, though you never got to fully stand up to begin with, and face him. He looked heartbroken with unshed tears gathering in his waterline, his blue eyes begging you to stay with him. You could get lost in those ocean blue orbs he called his eyes, and you have done just that many times before. But not now. You couldn’t give in and accept his apology when he was the one who betrayed you beyond repair. “Let’s just talk about this some more.”

His hand was beginning to burn against your skin, so you gently pulled away, ignoring the hurt that flashed across his face. “There’s nothing left to talk about,” you say quietly, giving him a sad smile that he wished he never saw as he knew it would haunt him when he tried to go to sleep without you tonight. “I think we both know that.”

No, he wanted to say, let me fix this. Let me save us.

No words left his mouth as he watched you stand up and make your way to the bedroom. You were in there for what felt like hours before you walked back out, your duffle bag slung over your shoulder and a backpack on your other one.

You don’t say goodbye as you grab your phone on the way to the door, glancing back at him one last time. He was still in the same spot, his shoulders tense, his jaw locked and his eyes glued to the box in his hands.

You tear your eyes away from him and open the door, hesitating for just a second before you walk out and close it behind you.

When Leon heard the door shut and knew he was alone, the tears he had been holding back since he confessed what he had done came flowing freely down his face. He opened the box and looked at the ring, your ring. It always would be. You were the one girl he had ever dreamed of giving it to, and all it was now was a reminder of what he did and what he ruined.

He took it out of the box and held it between his thumb and index finger, watching as it sparkled in the light of the setting sun. Tossing the box aside, he reached into his pocket and grabbed his keys. He stared at the ring for a few more minutes before unclasping the chain and sliding the band onto the key ring, right beside the key to this very apartment.

Part 2

#leon s kennedy #leon re #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagines #leon s kennedy imagines #x reader #resident evil 2 remake #resident evil 4 #resident evil 4 remake #leon s kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon s kennedy imagine #leon s kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy angst #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy imagine

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descendant-of-truth · 10 months

Text

Ohhh this scene. This one's a doozy

Nine is right to call this out about Sonic, of course. While he's definitely grown since the start of the show, he's never really been able to move past his tunnel vision and tendency to project onto the others.

He never thought to ask Nine what he wanted not because he doesn't care, but because he didn't think he needed to. He inherently assumes that the people he's working with are on the same page as him until told otherwise - in fact, it wasn't too long ago that he was similarly thrown off by Shadow in that very room.

(Love Shadow being used as a sort of "test run" for these kinds of conflicts by the way)

But here's the thing. While it's true that Sonic didn't really think about what Nine wanted and just assumed they were going to stick together no matter what... the same is true of Nine.

Look at how confused Nine looks when Sonic talks about coming back to Green Hill and restoring it:

Nine didn't ask what Sonic was wanting to do by repairing the Prism because he thought it was obvious that they were going back to the Grim together. I don't think it occurred to him that fixing Green Hill was even an option, or at least not one that he considered in favor of his original plans.

And just like Sonic, it's not that he only cares about himself - he went out of his way to engineer coconuts and (presumably) palm trees because he knew how much Sonic missed them. It was really sweet!

But, in what's becoming a pattern in this show, he doesn't understand why those trees matter to Sonic. They're not just cool plants, they're a reminder of home. And as Sonic aptly puts it at the start of the show, home is where your friends are.

I love that the conflict here is that both of them were convinced they knew what the other person wanted/would be okay with, because they think it'll naturally be the same thing they want, and then were both completely unprepared to handle a conflict of interest. It feels so natural and makes perfect sense with how they've been written up to this point.

But see, while I think it's pretty clear that Sonic and Nine fell into the exact same communication trap, I think it's going to take longer for Nine to realize his own fault in any of this.

Sonic spent the entire second half of that conversation looking devastated, and he's made it clear throughout the show that he's quick to feel remorse when he realizes he's hurt someone. In all likelihood, he's going to put all of the blame for that argument on himself, decide that Nine was right about everything, and leave it at that.

Nine, likewise, doesn't strike me as a particularly self-reflective type. He'd probably try to justify not needing Sonic to himself before anything else, and with that in mind, who else is there to make him see the situation with more nuance?

If I had to pick, I'd guess Shadow - our resident "smacking people in the face with their own flaws" extraordinaire.

Why would he bother with any sort of mediating between the two? Well, the funniest reason would be that he finds Sonic's self-pitying and Nine's self-righteousness equally annoying, but I'm inclined to assume any sort of confrontation between him and Nine would be a little more dramatic than that. (He might still use that reasoning as justification though)

Anyway I gotta cut this post short before I go too far into speculation territory or else I'll be here for another hour and this took long enough to write as is, case in point I love me a well-written and believable conflict

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic prime #sonic prime spoilers #nine the fox #shadow the hedgehog #analysis #meta

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satoruin · 3 months

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➣ matchmaking or meddling?

pairing: satoru gojo x gn!reader

word count: 1.6K

summary: you find out just how much your students have been meddling in your love life, though you can’t really be mad.

notes from lee: i’m afraid to make this look like an award acceptance speech so ill be brief. had to make a fic for the namesake of the blog and a very late hbd to boo (@2018-01-20). kinda wish i had more interactions with the kids, but i ended up w/ a lot of gojo pov also unedited

Looking back it should have been obvious what these kids of yours were up to. Yes, they were the reason you were in this god-forsaken closet with a blindfolded fool.

You’re only really aware of their meddling now as you hear their snickers from the hallway, so you can’t quite tell when their meddling started. But it makes sense that they were plotting something, but was it in collaboration with Satoru? Because it seemed like every mishap or coincidence between your two classes, Satoru took it in stride and turned it into his advantage. Just like he was taking advantage of the situation now…

Thinking back, your first clue should have been with the sticky notes. A note scrawled on a pink sticky note, in actually legible handwriting, addressed to you like a valentine. Reading, “from: Satoru ;D to: (y/n) <3; do you look this good every day or do i just not remove my blindfold enough????” It’s on top of a stack of papers handed over by the ever-stoic Fushiguro. Surely to get your guard down, and it did.

When you interrogate your fellow teacher about it later, he keeps his normal all-knowing grin plastered on his face. Now they, being the kids who orchestrated it, don’t need to do any work as every day after that there’s a new sticky note somewhere for you to see. They vary in color, most in some shade of pink, some with bad pick-up lines, others with a stick figure drawing, or the very rare ones hidden away with words that make you spit out your drink.

Or maybe another tip off should have been the ‘coincidental’ times you’d have the second years out on the training field and he just so happened to also plan a demonstration for the first years at the same time. But then again you don’t hear their snickering above your irritation at the white-haired man as he lets you jab a finger into his chest, with his annoying smirk.

But they notice you don’t care anymore that he peeks his head over your shoulder to look at your teaching outline just so he can do the ‘coincidental’ planning now.

And still the biggest hint that you fall for every time, is when they leave you at the cafe with just Satoru after begging for a weekend meetup. And again, when they ask to have team dinners, study sessions, or extra training, it's ridiculous. Your gullibility and trust in them is commendable, but it’s become laughable as you still trust in the kids to show up. And they do, just in disguise from across wherever you are as they watch Satoru come to your rescue every time.

Maybe the more ridiculous part is when the rare glimpse of their teacher’s eyes is pointed, peeking through their poorly crafted disguises, at them from across the room with a smirk.

He’s noticed for a while now that the kids are playing matchmaker, and their skills are much better than those his clan hires. And to be honest, he doesn’t mind, if anything he finds it cute that they think he needs the help. Though admittedly they do have some good ideas. Each one never fails to fluster you, in your own cute and angry way, as he takes over their schemes. His six-eyes catch the flurry of texts sent every time he does so, which he’s sure just encourages them further.

Satoru’s not quite sure when his feelings for you developed. He’s always found you attractive, especially when you were his cute kouhai (he still likes to call you that in order to annoy you until you begrudgingly call him senpai once again.). Everything he learns about you only adds to his initial interest. He’s a sucker for getting to know the little things, like your favorite dinner spot after a tough mission or what your ideal day off is. Once you accept his feelings he’ll put the knowledge you deem useless to good work.

But there’s a moment that sits so starkly in his memory as the first time he realized he was in love with you and not just intrigued or infatuated.

It was maybe around the time Tsumiki had gotten sick and though Megumi was self sufficient, Satoru didn’t feel that he should be alone. He knows he’s not the best at comfort, hell he could barely comfort himself, so he sends you.

And he’s not overly worried about you, you’re a teacher so he’s sure you’ll get through to the ever prickly Megumi just fine. Plus you’ve always been significantly better at handling emotional situations, he knows first hand. So when he comes to check on you after finishing his mission, he smiles at your success.

Megumi’s head rests on your lap, asleep, and you’re slumped over the armrest. There’s a twang of jealousy that pricks at his mind, wishing it was him in your lap instead, but all he can think about is having you greet him as he comes home and Megumi and Tsumiki sitting for dinner and that would be yours and his alone.

He’s never felt like someone that would settle down or want a family, especially given the circumstances of his status. But you, in this moment, make him want to move past the shrewdness of the higher ups and his clan, and just have you. He longs for something that is just his, not part of Jujutsu Society, the higher ups, or his clan, or even Satoru Gojo, he wants things just for Satoru, just for him.

You are that something, that someone, he wants, he’s convinced that he needs you like the air he breathes. The weird surge of emotions that have been kept bottled up since a dark day suddenly seems to make sense and it has a name, it’s love.

So when he’s reminiscing on his feelings, it really has been there all along, but it’s that very specific moment in which his love for you was defined.

And the apex of all his work in gently guiding you to realize your feelings, that he’s very sure are there, is in a closet of all places. His blue eyes glow dimly in the dark of the closet with the snickers of his students on the other side.

“Hey,” he breathes out, much less confident than he intended, but you make him nervous.

You meet his bright eyes briefly before looking away and returning the greeting, “Um, hi.”

His breath hitches and his mind blanks, every funny line or flirty remark he could make right now is gone. He can’t think about anything other than you, how cute your expression is, how good your hair looks even slightly messed up, but mainly your lips and how much he needs to kiss you before he leaves this cramped closet. “How are you?”

You blink at him incredulously, “We’re in a closet, Gojo. How do you think I am?”

He tosses his head back and groans as you use his last name, he thought he’d gotten you to call him Satoru like pretty much everyone did. “C’mon (Y/n), you know I hate when you call me that.” He whines and pouts, jutting his bottom lip out like a toddler.

He watches the guilt flash across your face briefly, surely it’s you remembering how he confided in you about hating the weight that came with his last name. “Sorry, I know. I know,” you pause and he senses your hesitancy and waits, “Satoru.”

He’s got a big shit-eating grin on his face that differs from his usual smirk as he rocks on his feet with his heart fluttering.

“You really like it that much when I call you ‘Satoru’?” You ask, eyeing up his body language with a skeptical look.

“Maybe.” He answers in a sing-song tone, he’s back to his usual self, “But you know what I’d like more?”

He leans in close and glances down at your lips. No matter how many times he does this, it always results in him pulling away with a teasing smile. So when he feels your hands wrap around the neck of his uniform and pull him closer, it’s certainly a surprise.

“You want a kiss?” You ask and he nods meekly, if possible, and you do, you kiss him. Satoru’s eyes flutter shut as his heart flutters in his stomach. His big hands reach up to cup your face and keep you glued to his lips. Gods, it’s everything he’s dreamed about and more.

When you part from him to catch your breath, he’s smiling. “I hope you know I want much more than a kiss.” He waits for you to breathe and to watch your reaction before smashing his lips onto yours again.

Satoru feels your arms wrapped around his neck and how your hands crawl through his undercut to tug at his hair. And he’s similar, the hands once holding your face have traced down your body to your hips so he can hold you close.

The knock on the door cuts your time short, your tongues and bodies having to part. Satoru watches as you smooth over your clothes and hair before he pulls up his blindfold. The door opens not a moment later to reveal the two classes waiting with bated breath to see something scandalous.

They are disappointed, fortunately for you and your image as a teacher. None of the students have the time to catch the heavy blush on his face as he slips away while you lecture them. But they do notice how flustered you are when you get a text from Satoru, “dinner 2nite?”

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