#why is it not acceptable to just spend all day reading like a woman from a Victorian novel under a tree on their vast estate

[awearywritersworld]

she mumbled that i was peculiar

sukuna x reader summary: impressively, sukuna is still trying to find ways to deny his feelings for you. nevertheless, he keeps you safe from harm when a late night trip to the store doesn't go as planned. will seeing his violent nature for yourself change the way you feel about him? he seems to think so. w/c: 4.2k (oops) tags/warnings: angst to fluff. attempted kidnapping. canon typical violence. depictions of blood. reader throws up. reader is in shock for a bit. cursing. aged up!yuuji. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. *please mind the warnings for this chapter* a/n: i'm sorry this took so long! im ngl, i struggled quite a bit to write this chapter. i'm still unsure about the pacing, but here it is anyway. thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy! series masterlist // masterlist

it's not often that you go out for the evening, but tonight is one such occasion. you leave around seven, excited to meet nobara and maki for dinner.

when yuuji falls asleep a few hours later, sukuna doesn't take over right away. he spends a while in his domain, engaging in what some people might call sulking.

before long, however, he begins to feel restless and he tells himself it's because he's grown accustomed to his finite hours of freedom. of course, it has nothing to do with your absence.

so he assumes control of his vessel's body and pulls a short novel from your bookshelf. settling on the couch, his fingertips brush over the cover: the stranger by albert camus

it's the first time he's ever been alone in your apartment, a fact he's well aware of, and his eyes wander to the front door. it'd be all too easy to pull it open, to make his way downstairs and out onto the street.

how long would it last before yuuji regained control? are you nearby? would you get caught up in the havoc he'd doubtlessly wreak?

the thought makes him grimace. returning his focus to the book in his hands, time seems to pass by faster as he makes his way through the pages.

even so, he deems the narrative a bit boring. in his (what's the opposite of humble?) opinion, dead mothers and nagging girlfriends don't make for the most captivating story, so his mind begins to wander once he happens upon the quote:

"so why marry me, then?" she said. i explained to her that it didn't really matter and that if she wanted to, we could get married. besides, she was the one who was doing the asking and all i was saying was yes. then she pointed out that marriage was a serious thing. i said, "no." she stopped talking for a minute and looked at me without saying anything. then she spoke. she just wanted to know if i would have accepted the same proposal from another woman, with whom I was involved in the same way. i said, "sure." then she said she wondered if she loved me, and there was no way i could know about that. after another moment's silence, she mumbled that i was peculiar, that that was probably why she loved me but that one day i might disgust her for the same reason.

sukuna thinks about you— the woman who forced her way into his solitude.

although, what if it hadn't been you? what if the brat had been involved with another woman? would he have eventually taken an interest in her too?

are you really that special, or is he just going crazy inside the cage that is itadori yuuji? the latter is much more likely, right?

he supposes he prefers the idea of madness over... feelings for some human.

all of a sudden, your apartment door seems much more inviting. would it be so bad if he were to step through it? what did he really have to lose?

yeah, that's right. he'll get up any second now and act on every horrible impulse he's been repressing. any second now... any second...

he can't quite figure out why he's unable to bring his limbs to move, weighed down by some force that's beyond him.

it's at that moment the door clicks open and for a split second, he thinks it must be his sign to go, but then you come waltzing in.

"'kuna!" you greet in an excited manner, disrupting the peaceful quiet.

kicking off your shoes haphazardly, you make your way over to him and promptly drop yourself into his lap. it elicits a bout of unwelcome clarity for the king of curses.

no, he wouldn't have taken an interest in just anyone, that much becomes obvious. it wasn't through a medium as flawed as chance that he came to... tolerate you. you're much too annoying for that to be the case.

"hello???" you wave your hand in front of his face. "i'm home."

"i can see that."

"welcome home, darling," you say in a deep voice, a poor imitation of him. "i missed you so much— that's what you're supposed to say."

yeah, definitely too annoying.

"but i didn't miss you." one of his hands comes to rest on your thigh, a betrayal of his preceding assertion.

"you're sitting alone reading—" you pause to inspect the book lying open beside him. "existential fiction about a nihilistic frenchman. of course you missed me."

he changes the topic rather swiftly. "you're drunk."

"i'm tipsy, at best." you roll your eyes. "can't i just be happy to see you?"

"you'd be the first."

"i don't mind making history."

you place a kiss on his lips, casual and affectionate in way that makes sukuna's body stiffen, and stand up.

"i need to get ready for bed, then we're gonna watch tv together because i missed you— gosh, see how easy that was?"

you run off to the bathroom and his body doesn't fully relax until he hears the shower turn on.

the thought of missing someone is a strange notion to him, because it implies eagerness and desire. for as long as he cares to remember, those emotions have been reserved for proclivities much more sinister.

so he hadn't missed you. he just would have preferred it if you stayed home. that's all.

when you return to the living room around fifteen minutes later, you're wearing one of yuuji's shirts, and as far as sukuna can tell, very little otherwise.

making yourself comfortable on the floor between his legs, you pass a hair tie behind you. "can you braid my hair?"

he's watched you get ready for bed enough times that he's fairly certain he can manage it. taking the tie from you, he still asks "why can't you do it?"

"because i'm sleepy," you frown, reaching for the tv remote.

gathering your hair in his hands and carefully dividing it into sections, he sighs. "you require so much looking after."

"you're not going to die if you can't have cookies tonight." sukuna states dryly, glancing at the clock that reads eleven o'clock.

"please don't trivialize my struggle," you begin, pulling on your jacket. "i want miso butter cookies— my grandma's secret recipe."

most of what you need can be found in the kitchen, but a trip to the store is in order for a few final ingredients.

"my mistake," he huffs, rising to his feet. "how insensitive of me."

"oh, it's alright. just don't let it happen again."

"sure. i'll keep that in mind, princess." sliding the apartment door's chain lock off the track, he does little to hide the vexation in his tone.

just as he reaches for the handle, you stop him and wrap a scarf around his neck, forcing a hoodie into his hands. "put this on. you'll be cold."

he looks at you as if you're crazy. "i don't have to worry about things as insignificant as the weather."

"well, put it on anyway," you insist.

he decides that acquiescing will be easier than arguing for the next five minutes and slips the hoodie over head. when you both step out into the chilly air of night, there are still a decent number of people traveling the streets.

stopping at a crosswalk the next block over, you begin to prattle on about what you need to pick up and the different steps in your recipe. naturally, you completely miss it when the pedestrian sign turns green.

"come on," sukuna commands, his hand wrapping around your wrist and tugging you along with him. "i don't have all night."

you scoff. "to be fair, i didn't say you had to come with me."

"yeah well it's late. you shouldn't be out alone." there's a hint of exasperation in his voice, like he truly had no choice in the matter.

despite that, once you reach the other side of the street, his fingers slide down your palm and thread through yours.

you glance over at him and find he's looking off to the side, so you bite your lip to suppress your pleased smile. is he avoiding your gaze intentionally? you decide that bashfulness suits him better than you would have expected.

offering him a light squeeze of the hand, you hope it conveys your appreciation of his small display of affection.

"so, are you going to help me make the cookies?"

his lips press into a thin line. "as thrilling as that seems, i don't particularly have a penchant for baking."

"you think you'd humor me a little! you know, since i'm your only friend and all."

"if anyone else asked me such a ridiculous question, they wouldn't live to see tomorrow." you ponder whether he's joking and quickly decide that he isn't. "this is me humoring you."

"you're so mean to me."

"hardly."

"fine," you pout. "then you can't have any!"

"now, hold on." the threat does make him hesitate. you've come to learn that if there's one thing he loves as much as reading, it's food. "let's not be hasty."

you're approaching the store, the sliding doors just a few strides away.

"it's only fair! besides, you're not going to die if you can't have cookies," you throw his earlier words in his face.

he exhales deeply. "have i ever told you how irritating you are?"

"woah! now you're definitely not getting any, mister!"

"alright, alright," he groans as you step inside. "i'll help you bake your stupid cookies."

"perfect!" you exclaim as if you knew he'd give in eventually (you did). "then you can start by finding the miso paste while i get everything else!"

you scamper off before he can tell you not to order him around like some common servant. he's never even been grocery shopping, how the hell is he supposed to find anything in here?

wandering the aisles, he stews over how domestic this is. for god's sake— the king of curses, shopping for ingredients and making baked goods. what have you reduced him to?

just as he considers giving up, he spots the item he's looking for and grabs it so aggressively that it knocks a few packets of instant miso soup to the floor. wrinkling his nose in distaste for the entire experience, he sets off looking for you, though his efforts are to no avail.

he wonders where the hell you could have gone off to when a flickering light catches his eye, filling him with a strange sort of unease.

it's emanating from a narrow hallway tucked away in the back corner of the store. at the very edge of the hall, a phone with a familiar case is lying on the floor, the screen shattered.

his blood runs cold, a sensation that is fully unknown to him, and the miso paste slips from his fingers. he appears in the hallway the very next second and the sight that greets him ignites a furious hostility in the center of his being— heavy and consuming.

you're struggling against one man as he drags you out of the backdoor and into an alley. another man is holding the door open, urging his partner to hurry up.

the hand over your mouth keeps you from yelling, but you're unsure you would have been able to make a sound regardless.

one second you're cast into darkness, and the next, the light seems blinding. the flashing is unceasing and it makes your head hurt.

two limbs are wrapped around your torso, keeping you firmly in place, and your arms are trapped at your sides. you might be kicking your legs, but they may just be dragging along too. you really can't be sure.

there's a thrum of a heartbeat at your back. it's pace is unforgiving, the intensity mirroring that of your own. you've a vague concern that your heart may very well beat right out of your chest.

then there's an abrupt shift in the air and a sickening crack echoes through out the night. crumpling onto the concrete, you think it must have started raining before you realize that the droplets on your face are warm.

you wipe at your cheek and your fingers stain crimson, the color matching that of an increasingly large puddle seeping across the pavement beside you.

there's a heap lying a few feet away and you recognize that it's wearing clothes. it's a sight you struggle to make sense of.

needing to focus on something else, your eyes find sukuna and the expression he's wearing is fierce and unreserved. "tell me what you wanted with her."

you've never heard him speak in such a way. his tone is low, his cadence nothing short of threatening.

"s-s'kuna?" your own voice sounds foreign to you and it goes unheard by him.

he has your attacker pressed against the brick wall of the alley, both hands wrapped around his throat. he's too livid to realize the pressure on his windpipe is preventing him from answering.

sukuna throws him to the other side of the alleyway out of frustration, the man rolling onto his back and wheezing to appease his lungs.

"tell me!" sukuna commands again, louder this time. less collected.

the man scrambles away from his looming figure. "th-they sent us, told us they needed her for an important matter."

"who?"

"they'll kill me if i tell you—"

sukuna crouches down, laughing dryly. "and what do you suppose i'm going to do?"

his eyes are almost unrecognizable to you. they're frenzied— a few shades deeper than the scarlet you've grown so fond of.

"you'll k-kill me either way, so at least i'll die with honor—"

"tch. useless." sukuna waves his hand, and you can hardly comprehend what happens right in front of you.

neat red lines appear across the man's body, then it ruptures into nothing at all. the only evidence that he was ever there in the first place is his blood.

the stench of which is perhaps the worst part— intense, coppery, and hot. it makes your eyes water, and before you know it, you're hunched over and emptying the contents of your stomach onto the ground.

sukuna is at your side in an instant, pulling your hair away from your face, but while one of your hands is braced against the concrete, the other endeavors to push him away.

his body doesn't budge at the contact, but he takes a step back anyway in an attempt to respect your wishes.

your mind is a mess filled with racing thoughts— what the fuck? this cannot be happening. what the hell even happened in this first place? that man was there and then he wasn't.

inhaling sharply, you wipe at your mouth and shift to pull your knees to your chest.

"what..." you trail off, surveying the unutterable, incomprehensible scene before you. "what did you do?"

he doesn't respond, though his features noticeably soften. somewhere in the back of your mind, you know very well what he did, but you can't help repeating. "what did you do?"

"we need to leave." it's not that sukuna couldn't handle whoever might show up, but seeing as this is your reaction, he has no desire to. "if you let me touch you, i can take us home."

you take a moment to think about it, then nod wordlessly. as soon as his hand falls on your shoulder, you're met with that same sensation you felt the night gojo teleported you and yuuji home after one too many drinks.

though this time, the sick feeling in your stomach isn't caused by liquor. you don't stand up, you don't so much as move a muscle when you feel the surface beneath you shift from concrete to carpet.

sukuna breathes out your name, his uncertainty evidenced by the way he's shoved his hands into his pockets. meeting his eye, you reiterate the same inquiry once more. "what did you do?"

it's almost as if you want him to tell you that he didn't do anything. that the whole experience was some disturbing nightmare.

"those men would have hurt you."

"that doesn't mean they deserved to die." you choke on the final word.

"yes— it does."

with that, silence hangs in the air like a suffocating miasma.

looking to your hands, you're reminded of the blood you've been spattered with. "i need to wash up."

you still don't move from your spot, too fixated on your flesh and the dreadful hue that it's been painted with. sukuna notices now that you're trembling.

he approaches you hesitantly before extending his hand. "let me help you."

you decline his offer, shying away from him. "i think you've done enough already."

god, the look in your eye is utterly despondent. he struggles to swallow the lump that forms in his throat.

his arm falls limply to his side and he looks across the room, your copy of the stranger earning his attention.

he's overcome with chagrin when he realizes that his concern brought about by camus' quote the other night was wholly misguided. he'd been focused on his own feelings, whether they were genuine or simply wrought by his isolation.

how foolish was he to ever question what you truly mean to him? with the anguish that's settled in his chest at the sight of your current state, the fact he ever doubted it makes him feel like a hopeless idiot.

had he any sense at all, the part that resonated with him would have been—

she mumbled that i was peculiar, that that was probably why she loved me but that one day i might disgust her for the same reason.

disgust. is that what you're feeling now? he's certain it is.

it was just last week that he relayed the story of his past. you're the only person alive to know the truth of how his wickedness came to be, and you met him with unconditional sympathy and understanding.

you pulled him close and embraced him, but now that you've seen him for what he truly is...? you can barely stand to touch him and it's like a knife to his heart.

you're so fucking warm— like the sun against his skin after weeks of endless rain.

and if you're the sun, surely he is the moon— cold and barren on his own, but brilliant when in the presence of your light.

to be without that? to be without you? it's a prospect too terrible for him to bear. it makes his stomach twist miserably.

you're startled (as is he) when his form falls to the floor, his knees meeting the carpet with a dull thud. he calls out your name again, but this time, his voice cracks as he speaks. "please."

he doesn't have a clue what he's even asking for. a chance to explain? forgiveness? a way to turn back time?

you don't say anything, but you do shift your gaze to him. he knows that he needs to fix this, so he wracks his mind for the right words.

"i didn't enjoy killing those men." he's somewhat surprised to find he's telling the truth.

"you didn't?" your voice is so small and timid that he can hardly decipher your words.

"no. my only concern was to keep you safe— to make sure they never put their hands on you ever again. all i felt was rage and... and... guilt. i should have never left you alone and it's my fault—"

"stop," you interrupt him.

there are tears welling in your eyes, making it difficult for sukuna to breathe. he's positive you're going to tell him that his intentions were of little consequence and that you never want to see him ever again.

instead, you push yourself forward and collapse against his body, your own wracked with violent sobs. the reality of the situation is only just now hitting you. it'd been much easier to focus on what sukuna had done, rather than what almost happened to you.

"i was so scared, 'kuna."

and still, despite the way you're clinging to his shirt and burying your face in chest, he's under the impression that it's him you were afraid of.

"i'm sorry," he tells you earnestly. "i never meant to frighten you."

"n-not of you. those men." you're struggling to speak in between desperate gasps. "why did they do that? what did they want with me?"

"i don't know." though, he is going to find out.

sukuna is not a man well versed in comfort, so he's not entirely sure why he begins rocking you back and forth, but he does it anyway.

when you finally start to breathe a little easier, he mumbles into your hair, "come on. let's get you cleaned up."

he doesn't give you a chance to respond before he scoops you up in his arms and carries you to the bathroom. setting you down on the counter gently, he searches the linen closet for a cloth.

it's quiet, save for your intermittent sniffling, as he runs it under warm water and wrings it out. his free hand moves to rest against the side of your neck and he dabs at the blood on your face, rinsing the washcloth every now and then.

he tries his best not to show it, but sukuna is agonizing over what might be going through your mind.

do you still feel safe with him? have your feelings changed? do you still love him, even when you've been so harshly reminded what he's capable of?

when you speak for the first time your words are hoarse, barely above a whisper. "thank you for saving me, sukuna."

he thinks about telling you not to thank him, not when it shouldn't have happened in the first place. he left your side, an error in judgement he'll never forgive himself for.

he considers your mortality— your weakness— in relation to his feelings for you. he's always seen this exceptionally human quality as despicable.

but now? all it does is terrify him.

"in the past, i was only concerned with my own whims and desires." his hand moves to cradle your face, his thumb running over your cheekbone. "though after tonight... you have to know..."

it's clear that he's struggling. his eyebrows draw together and his mouth twitches as he ponders his next words.

"i care about you, angel." his voice is hushed when he adds, "very much."

your eyes widen briefly and you murmur his name, but your mind is still reeling from the events of the past twenty minutes and you can't think of anything more to say. you're emotionally exhausted in a way you would have never thought possible.

it's plain to him too, so he knows his next question is selfish, but he can't go on without knowing. "does what you saw tonight change things between us?"

the silence preceding your answer seems to stretch on forever.

"i thought it would," you confess eventually. it was as if you'd put up a wall in your mind separating sukuna the king of curses from sukuna the man you spend your evenings with.

and it's difficult to reconcile the fact that the hands you saw used to murder two men are the same hands that are caressing your face so delicately.

at some point, however, you realized that the only time you felt fear tonight was when you were without him. his arrival and ensuing actions inspired shock and apprehension, though in some twisted way, you knew it meant you were safe. "but it doesn't."

the next question tumbles from your lips thoughtlessly. "does that make me a bad person?"

he chuckles and some of the tension in the room dissipates. "i think i'm the last one on earth that can pass moral judgement on you."

he tucks your hair behind your ear and scans your face, relief coursing through his body when he sees you smile. in this moment, there isn't anything else in the world he would have asked for.

"i guess you're right."

and now, the hand over your mouth is your own, an attempt to stifle your tired giggles. the light of the bathroom is warm and steady. sukuna's hands rest atop your hips, his touch firm but comforting. while you can't feel your own heartbeat, you're positive it must be beating in time with his.

when you crawl into bed that night sukuna pulls you close, your back pressed to his bare chest. you're thankful for the softness of his demeanor, because you need it tonight more than ever.

he doesn't recede to his domain until yuuji wakes up the following morning. he's determined to keep an eye on you as you sleep, to watch the slow rise and fall of your chest with newfound gratitude.

he knows he needs to speak with the brat about what happened. someone is after you and while he hates to admit it, he knows he can't ensure your safety alone.

and he will keep you safe, no matter the cost.

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#m!writes #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna imagines #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna imagines

[xqueen-of-disasterx]

Lonely

Paring: Innocent!reader x dads!friend!Nat

Summery: You looked lonely Natasha could fix that

Warnings: SMUT, pervy Nat, innocent reader, (legal) age gap, masturbation, intersex nat, oral, fingering, p in v, slight degradation, pet names, anal play, manhandling, fluff at the end, implied aftercare,

Word count: 1.8k

!Disclaimer English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar or spelling errors. This story is completely fictional!

AN: @xxforeverinadayxx it’s a bit late but I hope you like it

Masterlist

ꕀꕀ ─── ⋆⋅ ✨🌞✨ ⋅⋆─── ꕀꕀ

Natasha knew very well how morally wrong her behavior was but how could she help herself when you were this cute. She was aware of the fact that Steve had an adult daughter but until this burning summer in Italy she had yet to meet you. But time came and Natasha found herself living with the most beautiful girl alive. Natasha had tried to spend as much time as she could with you, trying to find out everything about you. She’d take you on cycling trips and read to you your favorite novel while laying in the grass. You had been enchanted by Natashas presence. She was kind and yet smart. She happened to like the same authors as you and treated you like an adult, and not like your father who always shielded you. You didn’t want to accept it but you quickly had a crush on the older woman. In your eyes she was just perfect.

Who could’ve known that all of that was just a facade Natasha had put on to hide her true perverted fantasies. She had wanted you from the moment you first stepped down the stairs only wearing a light summer dress who looked so beautiful on you. She couldn’t flirt with you like she would with any other girl. No. Natasha had to be smart about it. She couldn’t risk Steve picking up on her true intentions with you. Natasha also of course didn’t want to do anything to you that you didn’t want. She might have been a pervert but she wouldn’t step over that boundary. Natasha knew exactly what she was searching for when she forged through your drawer. Her long fingers delicately caressing over the light pink cotton fabric of your panties. Her breathing was heavy as she quickly stuffs the the piece of fabric into the back pocket of her suit pants.

She’d do it like she did many times before on her summer vacation at your fathers mansion. Natasha would take the piece of clothing to her room and deep in the night when everyone else would be asleep her hands would find their way into her boxers. Moving her hand up and down her shaft as she whimpers your name quietly wishing it would be your smaller hands instead. She would grunt and moan muffled by her pillowcase. She’d cum into your panties cleaning her seed from the deep red tip of her cock. The next day while you would be in the garden she would put it back neatly folded hoping you would notice the difference which was a false hope. You weren’t aware why your “fresh” underwear had crusty but you chose to ignore it.

She quickly fled the room through the connected bathroom as she quickly hides the panty in one of the drawers of her nightstand. She moved on her turning to her bed as she grabs some book and pretended to read as she hears your light knocking on her door. “Come in Bambi” you could her her mumble as you pushed the heavy wooden door open. Her nicknames never failing to make you want to melt. Your feet make their way across the floor before you take a seat on the side of Natashas bed. “What brings you here” her voice was husky coming out almost as a whisper. You had your eyes located on your lap as you could hear Natasha move behind you. “I felt lonely” You could hear her chuckle in response as she moves beside you. “Is Steve home” You shook your head “He said that he won’t be home till late at night today”

Natashas smirk was devilish as she knew now was the time she could finally shoot her shoot. “And he left you all alone with me?” You didn’t answer her. The question was more rhetorical than anything. “Tell me pretty girl” her hands moved to your chin making you meet her lustful gaze “Do you feel something 'down there' when I touch you” Your cheeks turned a light shade of red. You were too embarrassed to say it but she was right. You slowly nod and making Natasha the happiest woman alive. “What do you do then” “W-Well I-” Natasha cut you off “No Олененок I want you to show me. Show me what you do to make those feelings go away” Your movements were shaky as you laid your fragile body on her kingsized bed. Your hands had found their way towards the waistband of your shorts as you slowly dragged them down your feminine legs. You had revealed your undergarments, a white pair with flowers on them. Natasha smirked as she saw the pair. She was familiar with it once having right her under her hips as she wished she had you instead. However her time had come, she had finally had you all to herself. You disposed of your panty too as you left your dripping cunt on full display for Natasha who was sitting between your spread ankles. Her breathing got more rapid as she could feel herself het harder and harder. Your hands had found their way towards your clit rubbing the bundle of nerves in tight circles as you kept releasing moan after. Natasha looked at you with a pitiful expression it was clear that you didn’t really knew what you were doing. The older woman highly doubt that you’ve ever managed to made yourself cum judging by your inexperienced movements.

“Let me help you pretty girl” Natasha was fast to strip from her shirt throwing it somewhere behind herself as she moved between your legs. Your legs were thrown over her shoulder as she took a long lick from the bottom of your cunt right up to your clit. Your hands carefully grabbed Natashas hair not wanting to hurt her. Natasha kitten licking between your folds, the taste making her hum deeply. The vibrations making you release soft moans. You tried to buckle your hips making the release seem closer. Natasha responded in slamming her forearm down on your hips grounding your hips. You whimpered and Natasha just laughed “Have you ever tried to you know use your little fingers Зайка” she mumbled against your puffy cunt. Forming words seemed incredibly difficult even through Natasha hadn’t really done anything “N-Never” you managed to get out. Natasha gave you a fake look of pity between your legs “Let’s pop that cherry shall we?” It was again a rhetorical question, how could you ever say no to Natasha. “Will it hurt” I whimpered looking at Natasha through hooded eyes. “Зайка, I’m not gonna lie it will hurt a bit but you will feel so good” She rubbed my thighs trying comfort me into believing her and I did.

“Do it… but be gentle… please” the last part came out mote desperate than you had intended to. “I’ll try Зайка” she whispered against the soft flesh of My stomach kissing her way down again. She carefully inserted one of her long fingers making me groan in pain as she ripped my hymen even drawing a few drops of blood on the white sheets. Natasha groaned as she saw and felt it. She knew it was wrong being obsessed with taking her friends daughters virginity but she couldn’t help herself. “Fuck baby you’re so tight” he breathed out as she can feel your walls clenching around her finger as she pushed it in and out. The pain of her fingers soon turned into pure pleasure as you moaned like a whore in a brothel. She added a second finger on which you clench down even harder sucking her in. “Fuck you’re even tighter then you thought you little slut.” Her movements got faster and rougher having me moan louder as you climax all over Natashas fingers and hand. You eyes are glued shut as you try to calm yourself.

You can feel Natashas strong hands on your hips turning you onto your stomach. Your face is pressed into the pillows as she pushes your hips up your knees touching the soft fabric of the sheets. You can hear the sipper of her pants followed by the sounds of her undressing. Natasha was painfully hard, her large member standing proud as she places herself behind you. Her tip pressed against your clit as you whimpered for her. “Are you ready for the real deal Зайка” She didn’t give you much time to respond as she pushed inside your hole making you scream out only for it to be muffled by the pillow case. She bottomed you out giving you some time to adjust to her girth. She whispered sweet nothings against you back until you gave her the go to go further.

Her pace started out slow not wanting to make you uncomfortable as the wet sound of skin clapping against each other filled the room mixed with both your groans and moans. Natasha pace was steady as the moans you released got louder and louder. Natashas hands gripped the flesh of you ass kneeling it before she got an idea. She spread your cheeks giving her the perfect look at your muscle ring. She spit on it only making you consciously of her actions. “Natty what are yo-” you got interrupted by your own scream as Natashas finger pushed past the ring the spit and your cum making a perfect lube. You clammed down hard in Natashas shaft as you were unexpectedly an anal whore. Your moans turned into screams the mixture of both penetrations making you climax in recored time. “Fuck you dirty slut you can deem yourself lucky I haven’t made you my breeding bitch yet” she mumbled pulling out of both holes before roughly throwing you to your back again. After a few more pumps with her large hands she came all of your stomach before laying down next to you.

She didn’t need long to recover from her high as she pushed some sweaty strands of hair behind your ear smiling like she didn’t just turn you into her whore. “Are you still lonely” you shook your head being too tired to even speak. She finally kissed your lips before picking you up bridal style and caring you into your shared bathroom. “Let’s get you cleaned up in a nice and warm bath shall we baby” she was just the woman for you.

:)

#natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x female reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff smut #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff

[ja3yun]

Can i make a request?

Y/n saw this post and rant about bf!jake about this, only to be pounded by him as peace offering (breeding kink, talks about marriage, overstimulation) 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🙏🏻

https://twitter.com/asterjwon/status/1762378305490338241?t=yDIAkzHkDVx87C4_6BjXJg&s=19

hi! I don't normally take requests but this one was too good. the video has plagued me since i saw it 😩 when will it be me? hope this what you're looking for!

warnings: smut (mdni), breeding kink, overstimulation, cream pie, tummy bulge, mentions of jealousy and pregnancy, not proofread, anything else lmk!

w.c: 1.2k

-----

“I can’t believe you,” you scoff, folding your arms to mimic the disgruntledness within your body.

Jake stares at you bewildered, “Seriously? Because I put a ring on a fan's finger?” you’re usually so understanding about these things. Typically, you never bother being jealous, he’s always been flirty with others, his fanservice on another level compared to others.

So why is this one bothering you so much?

“You don’t get it, Jake. Just forget it,” your voice is wavering but you hide it behind a deep breath.”

He walks towards you, cupping your cheek with his hand, “Are you really gonna act like this?” his words are harsh but he’s only trying to coax an explination from you, “It’s my job, Y/N.”

“I know it’s part of your job, Jake, I’m not stupid,” you bite back, pushing him away slightly.

Jake stands there, not used to this cold side of you, it makes him think if this has just beem bottling up inside you since you both started dating.

Sighing, he rubs his hands over his face in frustration, “I know you”re not stupid, but fuck Y/N, I can’t read your mind,” his voice raises slightly but he’s trying to keep his composure.

“You’re so quick to accept marraige proposals, get fake married at fansigns, and speak all day like about your future wife on lives but as soon as I want to talk about us and our future, you cower away!” you let it all out, the tension in your shoulders lifting slightly from all the pent up anger.

You’ve been holding it in for months but placing a ring on another woman’s finger, fan or not, has tipped you over the edge. Jake has avoided any talk regarding marriage or kids, opting to make a quick lighthearted joke or changing the subject, however, there is only so many ‘we can start practising’ and ‘did you see that book you like is beng made into a movie’ you can take.

After you’ve ranted about your troubles, you hear the unthinkable - he laughs. Not like a hearty laugh but a snicker which somehow is even worse.

“Are you seriously laughing about this right now?” you glare at him, hoping you just heard wrong, yet there he is, smiling his head off.

He glides towards you, placing his hands on your hips, “Baby, no, I’m not laughing,” he said through chuckles which obviously doesn’t help his case, “You’re just so cute when you’re jealous.”

Brushing your hair away from your neck, he begins to scatter kisses all over the base, working his way up. His lips linger, tongue flicking on your skin ever so slightly just to tease you.

Losing focus, you stutter, “I-I’m not jealous.”

“But you are, baby,” his grip tightens a little on your hips as he presses himself against you, eliciting a moan from you, “You know you have nothing to be jealous of.”

He trails his fingers from your waist to the bottom of your tummy, playing with the waistband of your trousers. His sudden provocative touch making you crumble, forgetting what you’re even angry about.

“You’re the only one I’m going to spend the rest of my life with,” he whispers into your ear, the tips of his fingers crawling into your trousers and placing themselves teasingly at your entrance, “And you’re certainly the only one I’m fucking and filling up with my cum,” two of his fingers enter you suddenly, you grip onto his shoulders.

His thumb attaches itself to your clit, rubbing it roughly as his fingrr curl into you. Jake’s lips are ghosting over yours as he smirks, feeling your ragged breath, “You like that idea hmm? For me to make you mine and marry you? Fuck my kids into you?” his spare hand sneaks under your t-shirt and rubs over your stomach tenderly, “What if I fill you up until you’re so full there’s no choice but to get pregnant?”

You’ve never been more turned on in your life, the mix of his words with the way his fingers are moving inside your pussy so deliciously has you purring.

But before you can get too comfortable, he pushes you onto the bed and yanks your bottoms down, leaving you exposed to his gaze.

Once he discards you and him of all your clothes, he crawls onto you, his hand resuming his previous activities, except this time with more vigour. His cock throbs as it sits on your inner thigh, only making you ache more for him.

Jake focuses on rubbing your sensitive nub, feeling how close you are already, “Who did you think I meant when I spoke about my future wife?” he smooches along the mounts of your breasts, taking your nipples in his mouth as he passes them.

Your head is cloudy, too lost in the feeling of his lips on you and his fingers working you open, your clit throbbing on his thumb. The mewls that are falling from your mouth hit him straight to his cock, making it jump slightly.

“Cmon, Y/N, who did you think I was talking about?” he asks again, picking up the speed of his digits.

“M-me,” you breathe out after mustering up the words that are tangled in your pleasure.

“So why the jealousy, hmm?” his voice is too calm, a stark opposite to your writhing body and busy mind. He can feel your walls clamping down and your slick dripping down his hand, indicating how close you are, “You’re so silly, baby,” he mocks you slightly but only because he can’t imagine why you would take his fanservice to heart like that.

You feel the familiar heat rising in your stomach as you tense, feeling your climax wash over you, “Fuck, Jake!,” you cry out his name while you dig your fingers into his shoulders.

The sensation of you coming undone only serves to fuel his desires even more, his dick longing to be the one you’re squeezing around. Swiftly, he removes his hand from your heat, leaving you empty but not for long.

Quickly, he lines up at your entrance and pushes inside you, your hole still contracting and tight from your orgasm. He isn’t giving you a moment to breathe, to recover from your climax.

Jake’s thrusts drive into you at great speed, the way your walls are hugging him tightly is driving him to pound into you deeper.

“You feel so fucking incredible,” he huskily whispers, his thumb back on the attack of your bud.

Your pussy is being overstimulated, each thrust of his hips and rub from his thumb has you thrashing around under him, a mix of pain and pleasure, “Jake, s’too much,” you groan as your hands weakly try to hold his hips still.

But he is too far gone, lost inside you, “You want me to stop?” he asks cheekily, a smirk splayed over his face, “Isn’t this what you want? For me to fill you up?”

Your clit is burning, your hole is being stretched beyond belief and you really don’t want him to stop, not your mind anyway, yet your body is trying to fight him, the overstimulation all a bit too much.

It feels so fucking good though.

Jake is getting close, you can tell when his hips faulter slightly and his jaw tenses. You want him to cum soon, if not to give your pussy a break, to give you what you desperately crave.

Reaching down, you clasp your hand around his wrist and remove his thumb from your nub - relief instantly washing over you - and place it on your stomach, his cock bulging with each buck of his hips.

He looks down and feels it, the tip of his cock poking out just under your belly button, “Fuck, Y/N. You’re gonna look so cute carrying our kid,” he says whistfully, voice full of love and adoration.

Kissing your lips hungrily, you feel another orgasm flushing through your body, that coil snapping once again as you clench his length, legs wrapping around him to hold him still as you ride it out.

Jake spurts ropes of his seed deep into you, making good of his promise to fill you up. The pulse of his dick adds even more gratification to you, the feeling of it jumping inside you makes you shake.

The room is filled with echoes of your shared pants and profanities, Jake's body falling on top of you once he’s rode out his high.

Looking up at you, his head laid on your chest, he smiles, “You’re unreal.”

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, you nod in agreement, “You too, baby,” you lean down to kiss his forehead lovingly.

“You know, I can’t wait to marry you,” he begins to speak, tracing shapes into your side, “I just want it to be at a time in our lives where I can actually be there for you. Once we’re settled and I’m not touring twenty-four seven. I want you to have a husband that’s always there when you need him, to help raise our family.”

His confession throws you off a little but your heart soars at the realisation that he has thought about your future together just as much as you have.

“And I promise, I won’t place rings on anyone’s fingers unless it’s yours,” he beams up at you, meaning every single word.

-----

#enhypen smut #enha smut #i hope this is okay? #i wrote it on my lunch break lmao #again i dont take reqs often so #this is a special occasion #bc that vid destroyed me #jake smut #aj answers #aj writes

[doki-doki-imagines]

Kitsune!Michael Kaiser x AFAB reader

TW: Smut with really little plot, religious themes, dom!Kaiser, oral sex (m receiving), fingering, scent kink, Kaiser wants you to carry his baby LOL

author notes: I didn’t want to write smut anymore and here I am with this one. I also did a damn mood board I can’t even recognize myself anymore. It’s all Michael’s fault. Hope that I will get him out of my system with this one and finally write something else for the other fandoms LOL (and if possible not smut). Anyway it's 2k words of smut, hope you'll enojoy it.

It was an old habit you got from your granny-

“Every month visit the temple we have behind our house, cook some strawberry delicacy and the God of the mountain will protect you.”

Now, it’s not like you fully believed your granny's words, a lovely woman, but that kind soul believed a little too much in rituals.

But you know? Why not try? It was also a good way to improve your cooking skill and jog in the forest.

Every time you bring to the little shrine the food you made you get heart palpitation, the luck to live near such a wonderful forest. It is a small one, and rarely people jogged there, so you often found yourself alone or with some fawns passing by, the gentle wind caressing your face; truly relaxing.

Now it is a habit of yours, every afternoon you would bring to the temple a new strawberry delicacy. Too bad that winter came, and strawberries are nowhere to be found.

“Well, I suppose the God of the mountain will have to accept an orange delicacy this time!”

Imagine the surprise when the next day, near the plate you set near the shrine you found a ticket, made with some expensive paper, the words on it still make you tremble-

“I hate oranges, bring me something better.”

So there was for real a mountain God! You always thought the animals were the ones eating your food- “No, it’s impossible” you try to regain your composure. There is no God, it must have been some dumb kid passing by that wanted to play some cheap trick. Muscles still twitching for the fear you ran back home, not spending more than a minute there, and not noticing a pair of blue eyes following your every step from behind a bush.

The next time you visit the temple it is January, exactly one month from the last time you visited the shrine and you bring the same exact delicacy as last time.

“Can’t you read? I told you last time that I hate oranges!”

The plate falls on the ground with a thud, it isn’t broken, but for sure the food you made is now spoiled. But what surprised you so much?

A guy of breathtaking beauty sits on top of the shrine, he has sharp features, his deep blue eyes adorned by a delicate shade of red eyeshadow, the same color of his lips, plump and soft, you could tell it from afar. He has blonde hair, ruffled and all over the place, but you noticed the tips to be blue, the same shade as his eyes and you can only think about how much you would pay to brush his fingers in between his gold and sapphire tresses.

“Hey! Are you deaf? Reply back human!” He stands up, and you can’t not notice how tall he is, how broad are his shoulder and how fit he looks.

And then you also see the fangs and the nine white tails waving left and right from anger.

“I-Is this a dream?” don’t wake me up “Who are you?”

“I’m the God of the Mountains. Call me Kaiser.”

You nod, a loud gulp breaks the silence between you two.

“I’m so sorry, I thought some dumb kid left the note and-“

“Shut up, I don’t care about your excuses! I protect you and this is how you show your gratitude? With this disgusting-“Did he just throw at you the food you made?  “oranges!?”

“When have you ever protected me you asshole! Never seen you around!” You shout back, trying to clean your chest; what a waste of good food.

“Maybe when I got rid of that stalker that was following you anywhere? Or when that brute of your colleague tried to punch you?”

A flash. Now you understand why all of a sudden that strange guy stopped following you, it hasn’t been going on for a long time so in the end you just thought you had similar routines. And that jerk of your colleague? You were sure he was going to punch you, but in the end didn’t, you thought he just cleared his mind and decided to let go.

“Oh I didn’t think-“

“Yeah, you don’t look like someone that has ever done that.”

Okay, this God is as much good-looking as he is irritating, but honestly, you don’t feel like angering the God even more so you let go.

“I’m so sorry for my attitude. What can I do to make it up to you?”

It must have been your trembling irises, your pupils were already blown wide, your chest slowly rising, up and down, and now pushing on his hard and broad one, faces mere centimeters apart, that gave the God an idea; a delicious idea.

“On your knees”

“W-What, umpf-“

Kaiser pushed you down and was now untying the know that kept his white linen robe in place.

“Be a faithful worshiper and pleasure your God”

At that moment you see his erect cock, such a pure white with two veins on the sides and the tip so engorged and so red, a mouth-watering contrast. You don’t complain and start by leaving kisses on his tip, they never linger, the heath subsiding immediately, never giving the pleasure the God wants to receive.

“Brat, take it”

Kaiser grips your hair and pushes in, the intrusion makes you choke, but the vibration just makes him want to abuse your throat more. You try to suck as good as you can, but you are not used to such a girth, saliva slips from the corner of your mouth, while his hands keep a steady grip on your hair, your scalp hurts, but even more your throat now that your nose brushes the blonde curls of his pelvis. You put your right hand on his hips, trying to set the rhythm yourself while the other massage the heavy balls that keep slapping on your chin.

“Yes like that, I know that you had it in you, whore”

He keeps abusing your mouth, and since you can’t still his hip you decide to use your hand where you can’t reach his length, finally relieving your sore throat.

“Look at you, squeezing your thighs together-“ finally a moan escape his mouth “you can’t wait to have me in you, mh?”

He is right, if he can stretch your mouth so much you can only imagine how deliciously he can stretch your tight pussy.

“Now darling-“ Kaiser pull out, your saliva still connect your lips to his cherry-red tip “pull out your tongue and hands, your God here is gonna bless you”

And he does, with a few strokes, his dick twitch and white hot cum cover your tongue and your open palms.

What can you do other than gulping down and licking your fingers clean? By the look on the deity’s face, you followed the right path.

“You are my fave kind of worshiper” He licks his lips and looks at you with a wicked spark in his eyes “lay down, you need to get ready”

You can’t even start to follow his order, that Kaiser already manhandled you on the ground, tearing your leggings with a swift motion, it would be a lie to say that he didn’t excite you immeasurably.

“Fuck, you don’t even wear panties? You really wanted to be railed in the mountains, bitch” His forefinger caress up and down your outer lips “Hold on me, it’s for your own good.” So you hold his biceps, while the other grip the cold ground.

It’s the last warning before his middle and forefinger start to abuse your wet core, scissoring, and curling against your spongy walls, you can’t help but let out heavy breaths in between broken whines. The God is brutal, doing this more for his pleasure, your drooling cunt must be a signal of how good he is, rather than your own.

“C’mon darling, touch your clit, it’s screaming for your help” He licks the shell of your ear, while one hand massages one of your breasts still covered by various layers of clothes.

You start to circle your clit, trying to follow the brutal peace of his fingers, but you are way too out of your mind to do that, your hips jerking totally off the peace.

You cum, your loud moan eaten by the blonde deity, his hot tongue sucking and licking yours, tasting himself on you, slapping your pussy every time you tried to escape from his mouth.

“So fucking wet, I bet anyone can understand what we are doing, fuck-“ Kaiser licks his fingers clean “delicious, better than everything you ever cooked” he pops them out from his mouth, and sit up, now in between your legs, holding your ankles and spreading you impossibly wide.

A devious laugh reverberates in the forest “Look at your cunt, squeezing nothing, it’s screaming to be fucked dumb by me, right?”

The shame finally overcomes you, this God is the nastiest being you have ever met. So you shake your head, a sigh escaping your mouth.

“Tsk, after all we’ve done you act all shy now? Just say it. Just say you want to be fucked up by me, a God”

You look at the deity, he pulled your legs down, still spread wide, but at least in a more comfortable position, his ears stand up and his tails too, his face is tinted red, and his plush lips are red and swollen; he would look so pure, if going down, you didn’t notice his throbbing cock against his stomach, in need for attention too.

Maybe you just want to be fucked dumb after all.

You finally nod and the God let out a laughter more similar to the one of a hyena than one from kitsunes.

“I knew you wanted this too.” He lifts again your legs now leaning on his shoulder, his hands planted on your sides, and bullies his cock in, a slight pain makes you shiver, but it is nothing compared to the pleasure his girth gives you.

“Fuck, you take me so well darling” His thrusts are restless like his fingers were, the loud claps of his hips against your plush ass fog your mind even more, while he couldn’t stop watching your tits, still bound but still jumping up and down thanks to his powerful thrusts.

“You fuck me so good- Kaiser!” That must awaken something in him, the deity looks at you, pupils so wide that the deep blue can be barely seen and then you see them, the fangs, getting sharper with each thrust.

“Say it again”

“K-Kaiser! Fuckfuck-“ You can only blabber, your hand now gripping his blond locks, pulling a few hair for every cruel roll of his hip, while his hand let your leg go, locking instead with your hand, still tightening on the ground.

“You want to be filled with my pups mh? Get all swollen with my cum-” His fangs get near your neck, your scent intoxicating his brain, each thrust now off peace.

“Yes, fill me! Fuck-“ You reach your apex, your glands releasing such a sweet scent that the deity has to restrain every fiber of his body not to mark you forever as his.

“Fuck take it all, I want you f-“ The God couldn’t finish, the mere thought made him cum, filling your cunt to the brim. His eyes roll back, the bitchiest moan slips from his open lips, and his tails flex to the sky, probably in tune with the roll of his toes.

After a few heavy breaths, the deity pulls out, and you feel his hot cum slipping down your core, wetting your ass together with your own wetness. He is still in front of you to notice that and push his cum back him, with the same two fingers that stretched you before.

“Don’t make anything slip. This is holy cum, it would be a sin to waste it.” Then he lays down next to you.

“Come again next week, don’t make me wait another month. And bring strawberries, next time we’ll eat them together.”

It is an order, and with your mind still fogged by bliss you can only nod, now hugging his warm body in this cold winter afternoon.

#bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk imagines #blue lock imagines #bllk smut #blue lock smut #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter five : lunar interlude : just a man (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 5.0k

summary : a look into din's point of view

warnings, etc. : language, sexual fantasy, masturbation

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

Absurd.

It’s absurd how much the job pays. Din’s not even sure he should take it at this point because it’s too good to be true. But they promised monthly payments up front and he needed a new ship, and with what this gig pays, within the year he could buy a fleet. He could do this for a few years and be set for life. 

So he catches a ship to Naboo.

And he meets with a rather obnoxious prince who loves the novelty of having a Mandalorian working for him. It’s a good thing the job’s seemingly so easy because Prince Harand is off putting enough to make him reconsider. It’s simple, act as a personal guard to his wife. In exchange he’ll receive more credits than he’ll know what to do with and a private place to reside in. All he has to do is keep her from harm and make sure she doesn’t get into trouble. 

“Is she prone to getting into trouble?” Din doesn’t try to hide the distaste in his voice at how high-and-mighty the man is acting.

“You expect me to know that?”

Pig. 

After he accepts he’s given direct permission to disregard any of her orders that would prevent him from doing his job. 

He declines the invitation to attend the wedding, to say he’s indifferent to the whole affair would be an understatement. He isn’t in any hurry to meet the woman who agreed to marry that. So Prince Harand gives him a note, he doesn’t bother reading it, he just tosses it on the vanity and he waits alone in what he is told are your chambers. 

Weddings take a while. 

So he can’t help but be curious, after all did his employer expect him to just stand in the same spot all day? So he snoops, he’s allowed to be nosy, it might help him do a better job if he can get a grasp on who you are. He spends the next two hours inspecting the room from top to bottom and much to his annoyance he learns nothing. There isn’t a single personal item here. All the clothes are seemingly unworn, there’s no clutter, nothing. If anything he feels like he knows even less about you. Shit, does he even know your name? Had the prince mentioned it? Maker, did the prince even know the name of the woman he was marrying? What a clown. Whatever, it doesn’t matter, she’s royalty and he’s the help, she probably won’t even address him. So he waits for several hours. He just stands there, eventually he considers just leaving and reporting for duty tomorrow but he can hear voices in the hall now so he stands up a bit straighter, then the door creaks open and Kodo drunkenly peers in before slamming it shut again.

Idiot. 

Is that laughter? 

He doesn’t get any time to wonder what that was about because a Twi’lek opens the door and then you walk in. And he’s frozen in place. Your eyes are on him and the room is suddenly dreadfully hot. It’s like you're under some sort of spell that pulls you towards him and he can’t breathe. Why would they put such garish makeup on such a beautiful face?

He should say something. He needs to say something. Introduce yourself you dimwit. 

He opens his mouth but before he can utter a sound you touch him. It feels like his heart has stopped. He can see you speaking but he doesn’t hear a thing, captivated by the way your mouth moves when you talk, your tongue poking out slightly to wet your lips as you graze his chest plate with your fingertips.

It’s enough to make a man want to abandon his creed and take you right there. 

This must be some kind of punishment for all of the terrible things he’s done. The gods are punishing him with this paragon of a woman that he is doomed to spend his days with but he can never have. The ringing in his ears finally clears up and he hears the first words he can actually get a grasp on that come through your perfect mouth. 

“Is this some sort of weird fetish of his?” 

Well. The ringing is back in his ears. He thinks he might just have to die in this position at this point cause it’s definitely too late to speak up, he waited too long, what the hell is the matter with him? He’s a fucking bounty hunter for gods sake, he’s fought beasts of all shapes and sizes and suddenly he’s been conquered by some woman he doesn’t even know?

Your small hand grabs the edge of the helmet and he’s finally able to snap out of it when you go to remove it. On instinct he manages to catch both your wrists in one hand. 

“Don’t.” Thank the gods the modulator covers up the way his voice cracks. You’re scolding him, you’ve poked a finger into his chest plate but he’s having a hard time paying attention because he can’t seem to take his eyes off of the way your face flushes red, and then your neck, and then your chest. 

How low does the crimson tint go?

For Makers sake snap out of it man, you’re one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy not a school boy with a crush. 

You’re staring at the Twi’lek, scowling. He has to silence his helmet to hide the laughter that bursts out as you actually manage to get him to leave just by eyeballing him.

He manages to get through the conversation with you without tearing your clothes off, although there is a close call when you hike up your skirt to remove an anklet and like some sort of repressed Victorian woman, he sees just a glimpse of your ankle and can feel blood rushing south. 

For god’s sake. At that point he just closes his eyes because this situation cannot get any worse, and then he can hear your dress hit the floor and he has never had to work so hard to keep his eyes shut. 

“...I want to hear it from you.” 

“My job is to make sure you are not harmed.” Can you hear the strain in his voice as he wills himself not to get hard? Gods he hopes not. He needs to get out of this situation fast, he’s getting ready to dismiss himself and find Kodo and tell him to take the money back, that he can’t do this but you say something that stops him dead in his tracks.

“Actually I’m good.”

He can’t stop the exasperation in his voice.

“Excuse me?” 

“Can you not hear through the helmet? I’m good. I’ve already got an ensemble of people trailing me. I don’t need another.”

You can’t be serious. 

“You’re dismissed.” 

You are. 

People don’t typically talk to him like that. They’re always too afraid. But you aren’t, you don’t seem to be frightened by him in the slightest. He was going to leave, he wanted to leave, but it’s been a long time since someone challenged him like this. 

“You don’t have the authority to dismiss me.” He snaps back. 

He likes arguing with you. He doesn’t get to argue with people. Who wants to argue with a Mandalorian? Most people don’t want to get shot by a trained killer. 

You don’t appear to be most people.

He wants to rile you up, wants to see the fire in your eyes, he’d do just about anything to be the target of your anger. 

So he teases you, until he leaves, making sure to get the last word in. He sets up a few imperceptible motion sensors just under your door knob so he can make sure he’s alerted if you decide to make a run for it. 

And then he’s alone. So he goes to where he was told his lodging would be, it’s about a twenty minute walk but he doesn’t mind, it’s secluded, cozy. The cabin reminds him a bit of the crest, just big enough to be comfortable. 

He takes a cold shower and tries not to think about his boss's wife. 

✩

The next few weeks aren’t any easier. 

You seemingly can’t stand him and he decides it’s for the best. You should hate him, he deserves it since your husband is paying him outrageous amounts of money to follow you around all day and fantasize about all the ways he could make you hate him a little less. 

It’s hell.

Having to watch you day in and day out. Watch you wander around aimlessly, like a bird trapped in a cage. His least favorite days are when he has to attend dinners with you and your husband. The man is an ogre. And that’s why he can’t seem to leave. He thinks about it, often. Just packing up and catching the next ship off planet. But if he leaves, who's going to protect you from this creep? So he stays.

Eventually, he watches you less like it’s his job and more like it’s his religion. 

Things only get worse when one night he wakes up with a start, sitting up in bed as he hears the beeping from his gauntlet that signifies your door being opened. It’s the middle of the night. What if somebody got in? There’s no way, you have a state of the art locking system that only he and a few staff can get into, unless they have a code. What if it was just your husband? Why does that make him don his armor faster? He has no right to barge in there if it’s simply your spouse coming in to fulfill his marital duty, yet he’s in a dead sprint towards the castle the moment he’s dressed. He had fallen asleep in his flight suit with his helmet on anyway, it didn’t take him long and when he gets to your room he’s tense the moment he sees that the door is closed. Ever so slightly adjusting the audio on his helmet he discerns that the room is empty so he switches his vision so he can trail you and sure enough a set of footprints is going off in the familiar direction of the library. 

It was a relief. To know that no one had gotten in and you had simply left on your own accord but why would you be sneaking out to the library? You go to the library everyday, you should be sick of it. So he silently walks until he sees the faint light of a glowrod illuminating your face, a stack of books clutched in your arms. And he’s about to say something, you’re only a few feet ahead of him but when you turn you’re wearing such a thin nightgown, and the robe is hardly doing anything to cover you. Before he can react you’re rushing forward slamming into him. 

And now he’s facing the worst torture yet. 

Your robe fell off one of your shoulders as you dropped and now you’re sprawled out on the floor below him, your hair is down, messy from sleep, your slip of a nightgown riding up your thighs as you look up into the darkness at him. And then you fucking groaned. And all he can think about is how easy it would be to turn that fabric into confetti. 

Help her up jackass. 

He reaches down and of course you swat his hands away. You should hate him. 

He helps you back to your room and the moment he knows you aren’t going to try anything he rushes back in the direction of the library. He knows you're fuming, the least he can do is go get your books. But then he’s picking them up and looking at the titles he can’t believe how warm it is in the castle suddenly. He’s used to the heat. Wearing this many layers you build up a tolerance.

But now he’s looking at the stack of smutty romance novels you’d wanted so badly you’d snuck out to get them and he’s sweating. 

He makes it back to the cabin in half the time it usually takes him. He was in such a hurry he had completely forgotten about returning your books to you. He tosses them to the side and in an instant he’s practically throwing his armor to the ground, he only manages to get half of it off before he sprawls out on his bed, discarding his gloves haphazardly as he frees his cock from his trousers. His helmet bumping against the wall as he leans back and starts stroking himself, his palms are so clammy he doesn’t even bother spitting in his hand. 

It’s shameful how close he already is just at the sight of you on the floor like that. His hips stutter upwards into his fist as he imagines you on top of him, your thighs wrapped around his waist, hair disheveled, wearing that pretty little negligee. Maker, your skin always looks so soft, you’d feel so much better than his calloused hands. Were you gonna read those dirty books and touch yourself with those delicate little fingers of yours? 

It doesn’t take long after that before he reaches his hasty climax, cumming with a filthy groan of your name, shooting ropes up onto his stomach. 

He definitely deserves to have you hate him. 

He tries to not even look at you after that. Until one day when you’re in the library once again and it’s obvious to him that you’re pretending to read your book, your eyes dart up to glare at him every few seconds. 

You’re looking at him like bounties look at him once they’ve been caught and are plotting to attempt an escape, purely out of habit he chides you.

“Don’t”

And that’s all it takes. He actually manages to talk to you. Of course it’s easier once he imagines you as a particularly unruly bounty, to snap back at you. If you were a real bounty he’d have a hard time turning you in. 

You’d look nice in the cuffs. 

Don’t. Keep it in your pants you moron. 

He even offers to take you to the gardens, you deserve that at the very least, a few hours outside of this sweltering castle. 

Then he takes you back to your quarters and you look at him with those heart eyes and he feels like he’s going to pass out when you so eagerly make him promise to show you the gardens. 

It’s selfish. But he has to get in one last dig, he has to see that bloom of color on your skin one last time as he tells you that your book had been upside down. 

It all becomes so manageable. For a moment he thinks that the two of you might be able to handle this little antagonistic relationship that you’re beginning to build. It would be nice, to have you keeping him in check, to have reminders that you dislike him. 

But he had to go and ruin it all.

It all went wrong so fast it made his head spin. 

It all started when you were in that damned dress. You’d been the most stunning woman he’d ever seen even in the campy, over the top makeup, and the flashy unattractive dresses. But now here you were in that yellow gown and it was like he was seeing you clearly for the first time. There weren’t any flashy accessories to distract him from your face. That flawless face. 

So he was already a little off his game at that point.

And then he slipped up. He couldn’t help it, not when you were standing next to him, dressed like that. He called you little flower. That had been something just for him and like the blundering fool that he was in your presence he blurted it out without thinking. He could feel that familiar paralysis, he hated the effect you had on him. Thank the gods he had done it in Mando’a. 

But you’re you so of course you don’t drop it. And then you make it worse because you touch him. 

And then he makes things worse because he lashes out.

Then he thinks you’re hurt and he makes an ass of himself.

And lashes out again. He’s not even that mad about the droid comment he’s just overwhelmed, he’s never been this overwhelmed and this stupid fucking planet is so hot.

It keeps getting worse, he can’t shut the fuck up and finally you tell him to leave and he can’t because he wants to stay, he wants to stay and scream at you because he can’t stand how much he needs you it makes him physically ill how you haunt him day and night.

So he says no.

And the look on your face is enough to make him want to swear a new creed to make sure you never look so betrayed ever again. 

After that you should hate him. He’s glad you hate him. He’s glad you’re giving him the silent treatment, he deserves much worse. 

The first day all he can think about is apologizing. You sit in that little nook, back in your blue dresses, looking furious. He just doesn’t know what to say that won’t make this worse. 

The second day all he can think about is how he could make it up to you. He’s got a couple of ideas of things that might wipe that frown off your face. He’s obviously not going to just abandon his creed but you definitely don’t make it easy, there’s a million different things that he wants to do to you that would be rather difficult if he can’t use his mouth.

He doesn’t make any real progress on day two either and later that night ends up with his face buried in his pillow, fucking his fist. 

The third day he’s actually kind of pissed. If you two have something in common it’s how stubborn you can be and suddenly he’s mad at you, for no real reason, he supposes he’s just sick of feeling sorry. 

And then there’s that dinner. 

He wants to kill that ignorant, snooty, little man more than he’s ever wanted to kill a person. He wants to make it last, it’s been a long time since he’s killed something, he would enjoy killing Kodo.

But all that rage goes away when he catches a glimpse of your expression and it’s replaced with fear. He’s never seen you look so small and suddenly he’s terrified that you’ve lost that fire. He’ll go back and massacre Kodo right now if he truly did extinguish your flame. 

So he breaks the silence. And asks if you're okay. 

And he’s relieved when you ramble on, even though he wishes so desperately he could wipe your tears away. Of course you’d be harder than that to put out. His light is okay, and that's all that matters. 

So he leaves you your book. 

He had gotten bored and read one of them. The Smitten Paladin. It was racy but it’s what she had gone to get in the first place so why not. But that isn’t enough. Not after what you just went through, so he opens the cover and leaves his favorite color, green, written inside, it’s the least he can do. 

✩

He goes into the next day with the intention of apologizing. Not entirely sure what for. 

Sorry your husband is a scumbag. You should leave him for me. 

Doesn’t exactly have a ring to it. 

Before he can think of what to say you come out of your room and he’s thankful for the helmet because his jaw would be on the floor. 

Maker, did you wear that just for him?

The green dress clings to the outline of your torso and it feels like he’s been punched in the gut. Actually, he’s been punched in the gut plenty of times and this is worse because your hair is down and it’s all he can do to not tangle his fingers in it and drag you back into your room. What kind of game are you trying to play with him? Dressing in that color, making yourself irresistible, what the hell is your angle? He’s cautious and slow when he greets you. He remains on edge all the way to the library.

And then you take out the fucking book. 

You can’t be serious. 

This can’t be happening. 

You can’t just do this.

You can’t just sit there in that dress. With your hair falling so exquisitely across your face, begging to be brushed behind your ear, reading porn directly in front of him.

If you’re trying to punish him it’s working. This is torture. If you used this method to interrogate him for information he would have folded immediately. He sits there for hours, sweating his ass off as you perch in that little nook of yours, it would be so easy for him to just bend you over it and lift up the skirt of that lovely little gown. Is that what you want? He’s getting dizzy. Why else would you do this and then read a fucking erotic novel in front of him? Is this some kind of test? 

Then you look at him. It’s easy to forget since he’s always wearing a helmet that you don’t know when he’s staring right at you. You glance up at him through your eyelashes and you don’t look away. He’s so hard he’s pretty sure he’s about to burst through the front of his pants. What is your goal here? Your face is turning that delicious shade of red and you haven’t so much as looked at the pages in front of you for minutes at this point.

If this is some game of chicken he isn’t going to lose. No matter how badly he wants it, he won’t lay a hand on you unless you ask him for it. Did you just squeeze your thighs together?

For god's sake, ask for it. Ask for anything he’ll fucking do it.

He can’t take it anymore. So he speaks, teases you. It’s innocent enough. 

Keep it innocent. 

So you go back and forth and it’s safe. For a moment. He manages to adjust himself in the chair so it hopefully isn’t too obvious that he’s pitching a tent severe enough to camp under. And then he can’t stop himself from asking how the book is and before he knows it you’re asking if he had to take a vow of celibacy. 

This isn’t okay.

And then you ask if he can take the armor off. 

For Makers sake you’re married.

He needs to ask about something else. Anything else.

“The book, what’s it about?” 

Yeah, let's talk about the porn again. Dumbass. 

And then you say the words that make him want to just abandon his post and quit. Get as far away from this planet as possible.

“I wasn’t really stuck on anything… I suppose I was just trying to figure out how he fits it all in there?”

Fuck. Does she know? Is she trying to be coy?

You can’t know. He hadn’t seen your eyes dart between his legs. This can’t be happening, this is so bad. Kodo would have him killed for this. So he plays his last card, that he read the book. And thankfully it actually works, you’re so distracted by the fact that he read your book that he manages to get you out of the library and back to your chambers. 

He can’t get back to his cabin fast enough.

Cold shower. Bed. That’s the order of events. Nothing else. 

But he can’t get away from you. It’s worse when he sleeps because in his dreams you are so much less confusing. 

In his dreams you join him in that cold shower and you warm him up in several different ways (and several different positions) and he can take off his helmet and look at you unfiltered. You're the leading lady of all of his dreams, since the day he met you he has never had a break from you. 

That isn’t always a good thing because he wakes up from those dreams he has to go see the real you. The one that hates him. As you should.

✩

It was already a rough morning, there is nothing as humbling as waking up to find you’ve cum in your pants like some pent up teenager. 

The morning only gets rougher when he goes to retrieve you and you aren’t there.

Fuck.

What’s the protocol for this sort of thing? He doesn’t even bother trying to figure that out because his hand is already on his blaster and he’s throwing doors open. This isn’t the time to panic, he needs to pull himself together.

And then he throws open the right door and you’re sitting there in the tub with your hand shoved between your legs, your head tilted back ever so slightly with your eyes shut tight. You’re his dream come to life and simultaneously his worst nightmare. He wants to look away. He needs to look away but he’s a goner the moment he sees your soapy chest. 

This has to be a record breakingly bad morning. 

And yet by some miracle he fixes it. Or rather, the garden fixes it. You couldn’t pay him to look away from your face. He wants you to look like this all the time, beaming, curious, truly happy. And he can’t help himself, he doesn’t deserve it, but he’s greedy and he wants to know more about you, wants to hear your voice. So he suggests the game and Maker, you play it. 

Gods, he’s weak. Why do you make him so weak?

The moment you ask for a question if you win he knows what you’ll ask. He hadn’t planned on letting you win, but you looked so content, he could just tell you but he passes on the last question. He wants you to know what it means. 

It’s selfish to ask for anything else, he shouldn’t be rewarded for this kind of behavior, but he does it anyway, and he asks for more. He asks for more days, just the two of you, and you say yes. 

And when you ask what sarad'ika means he’s sure this is where he gets what he deserves, this is where you’ll spit in his face, call him a creep, and tell him to leave. But you don’t. Instead you politely say good night to him. 

This can’t be real. There’s just no way. But there you are, each morning, in your much simpler gowns that suit you so perfectly, and you ask him to read because you don’t want him to be bored and how could he possibly say no to you. You could ask him for the moons and he’d find a way to give them to you.

But it has to end eventually. 

And it does on the fifth cycle as reality crashes in and he has to escort you to dinner with your husband. 

She’s married.

✩

It keeps getting worse. He’s asked to leave. He can’t. He can’t just leave you in a room full of drunk men, especially these drunk men. Especially that drunk man. His mind is racing at light speed but he can’t think of a single argument for why he should stay. 

And then you look at him with those pleading eyes and his heart starts pounding out of his chest.

Maybe he could take on six battle droids.

But he doesn’t, of course. Because what if you got caught in the crossfire. You hadn’t produced an heir, you were still expendable to Prince Harand. And he has to leave you alone with him. 

It’s the longest two hours of his life. 

He wants to tune it out, to turn off any exterior sound on the helmet but he can’t because what if something happened to you? So he listens to every word.

He’s never felt so small. 

It’s a pitiful feeling. To go through your entire life being used to doing things a certain way to protect the ones you care for. And then when it comes down to the person that means the most to you you can’t do a thing.

For a man who has solved nearly all of his problems in life with a blaster, to suddenly be unable to do so? It’s pathetic. 

They could punish her if I intervene.

They could kill her. 

They could kill me.

Lock me up.

Who would protect her then? 

Maker, he hasn’t felt this crushing sensation in his chest since he had to say goodbye to the kid. He can’t breathe. 

He’s supposed to be the strong one.

Yet he has been conquered by a fucking door. 

He doesn’t even realize you're out. Or that you’ve kicked him. Or that you’re suddenly sitting between his legs. He’s too far gone. It isn’t until he feels his helmet adjust that he snaps out of it. 

Because you’re real. And you’re okay.

No thanks to him.

And he can’t stop the words that pour out of his mouth. Never in his life has he been reduced to this, afraid like this. You should be disgusted. That the Mandalorian sworn to protect you had been diminished to this. Just a man.

But you aren’t. You’re warm, and gentle, and soft, and real. 

He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve you.

So he stands. And he helps you up.

He needs you to hate him again. It’s the only thing that keeps him grounded. 

So he escorts you to your chambers, and you turn to him and say those five damning words. 

“Do you wanna come in?” 

He’s weak. And he’s selfish. Don’t do this Mando.

But he isn’t a Mandalorian right now. He’s just a man. 

With you he's just Din.

So he nods.

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#lincolndjarin #the mandalorian #best kept secret #bks #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #din dijarin x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #RE UPLOAD

[mxigo]

soul sick | part 1

SERIES SYNOPSIS: It’s hard enough watching the male that holds your heart pine for another woman, one that is the definition of beauty and grace, but to watch him fall for another yet again after you feel the mating bond snap into place is its own hell. A hell that makes you dangerously ill.

CHAPTER SYNOPSIS: you get ready to go out with Azriel after his check in with the Illyrian camps, but things don’t go as planned.

WARNINGS: 18+, angst, swearing. a relatively tame first chapter

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

MINORS & AGE-LESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED. YOUR AGE MUST BE SOMEWHERE IN YOUR BIO OR YOUR BYF.

NEXT CHAPTER

a.n. if i get anything wrong i’m blaming it on my shit memory and the fact that i haven’t finished acowar and haven’t read acofas and acosf. really just going off what i remember and what i’ve read in other fics. enjoy!

It has been three months since Feyre’s sisters were Made and subsequently brought to the Night Court. You’ve done what you could in aiding their transition to fae life, even getting as far as calling Nesta a friend, cold façade and all. But while you have gained a friend, you’re beginning to lose your best friend, and the male that you love, all at the same time.

It first started with him checking in for a second after the two of you had come back from being out and about in Velaris, then it turned to him apologetically explaining that he already had plans with Elain for the evening, and now, you hardly see him at all anymore.

It’s become more often than not that he spends his time with Elain, leaving you on the back burner, as a second thought to his plans now. You have other friends, yes, but you don’t remember a day where you haven’t at least sent notes back and forth to each other since you became close. It’s like you’re missing a part of you, something that is supposed to be there but isn’t anymore, and your body knows it. Why did it have to be him? She has a mate waiting for her for crying out loud, one who you can tell just genuinely wants to know her, and Azriel is entertaining her, knowing full well what her position is.

Guilt eats at you for these jealous feelings, knowing that the girl has been through so much when her entire life was ripped away and was literally turned into something that she was taught her entire life to fear. You want to be accepting and carefree about the situation, but it is literally impossible when you catch him looking at her with the intense adoration that you have yearned for decades for, and she has simply swooped in and stole him from you.

But tonight, you and Azriel have plans to go out into Velaris for the night for dinner. It’s your tradition that you’ve had for years to catch up after his return from his visits to the Illyrian camps, something to help him unwind. You just hope that for a single night that you can forget about it.

The new dress you bought just yesterday is a beautiful deep burgundy color, the hem falling just above your mid-thigh, long-sleeved, and the neckline plunges lower than what you are used to wearing. You were able to find a pair of nude heels that fit you perfectly in a corner shop. You were even successful in keeping your hair styled for the occasion. It was safe to say that you looked stunning, and there was a glimmer of hope that it wouldn’t be left unnoticed by him.

The heels’ click echoes off the paneled hallway as you scramble to finish getting ready, knowing that you need to leave. You stride into your bedroom, beelining for the jewelry tree on your vanity. Considering the colors that you’re wearing, you think a gold set would be the best, and you know exactly which to wear. Gently, you pick up the teardrop Alexandrite earrings and necklace that Azriel had bought you after one of his trips to the Summer Court. The gem’s color shifts between purple and green depending on the light source, easily making them your favorite pieces.

It hurts a bit when you try to put the earrings in, meeting a bit of resistance as it’s been a while since you’ve last worn any, but you’re able to get them through without too much trouble. The necklace thankfully clasps easily around your neck, the pendant falling in the middle of your chest. The delicate gold glitters in the candlelight, making you smile at the memory of Azriel giving it to you. With a shack of your head, you snap out of the memory’s haze, misting yourself with perfume as a last thought before leaving your bedroom.

The click of your heels echoes off the buildings lining the road as you make your way to Rhys’ townhouse to meet Azriel for drinks before dinner. The night’s cool breeze causes your flesh to break out in goose bumps, but it feels nice over all.

The door unlocks as you turn the knob, and the house becomes alight as you enter. The candles flicker to life to bring the house into a cozy atmosphere, and even the fireplace roars to life to stave off the last of the early spring chill.

The grandfather clock in the foyer chimes, signaling the turn of the hour at seven o’clock. Your heart flutters, excitement filling you knowing that he’ll be here any minute. You make your way into the kitchen, pulling out Azriel’s favorite whiskey and your favorite liqueur, grabbing two tumblers out of the cabinet to set it all out on the table.

Minutes tick by as you wait for him to winnow into the kitchen like he always does, a soft smile on his face as he holds out his elbow like the gentleman he is to winnow you wherever you want to go. You settle into a cushioned seat in the adjoining living room, picking up a book that has been left out and flipping open to the page that you had left on.

Those couple of minutes turn into five, then into fifteen, and then by thirty minutes, you’re constantly glancing between the clock and the kitchen, anxiety eating away at you. Azriel has never been late like this before, and if he’s ever late, it’s only by no more than five. Your stomach rumbles as hunger makes itself known, and you set down the book on the table to stand up. Maybe something happened that’s causing him to be late, but there’s a little voice that’s whispering to you, saying that he’s forgotten about you, that he’s preoccupied by a certain sister.

You shake your head, setting the book back into its spot to stand up and head back into the kitchen. You pour a drink and watch as the dark amber liquid swirls into the cup before settling around the ice. More minutes pass as you finish the drink only to pour another, still waiting, hoping that he will pop into the room, spewing apologies as he tries to explain why he was so late.

But it doesn’t happen. Instead, it is Rhys that winnows into the kitchen, startling you so bad you nearly fall off the stool.

“Mother, Rhys, give a girl a warning before you snap in like that,” you joke, righting yourself up. Your eyes meet his, and you’re confused because he’s confused, staring at you like you are crazy.

“What are you doing here? Are you meeting someone?” he asks, his head tilted slightly as he stares still.

There is a sinking feeling in your stomach, but you want so badly to be wrong about what’s happening.

“I’m meeting Az here. We’re supposed to be going out tonight like we always do when he comes back from the camps, but he’s late. Have you seen him by chance?” A look passes over Rhys’ face, and you recognize that look immediately, your face dropping, heart hammering as you wait for those few words.

“Oh, sweetheart, he left the House with Elain,” he whispered, like you would shatter at just those words, and you suppose you do.

Your breathing stutters, and it’s like the world goes fuzzy, the sounds muted as your breaks cracks. Never in all the years have you been friends with Azriel has he ever forgotten about your nights out when he comes back, let alone either forgetting or just flat out choosing to spend it with another female and not tell you. And of course, it’s with Elain.

Your lungs shake as you take your next breath, reality coming back into focus as you realize that Rhys is still in front of you, worry etched across his face as he too realizes what has happened. You knock back the rest of your drink, and your hands shake as you pick up the glasses to take care of them and to put the bottles away. In an effort to try to get Rhys to go away, to be alone, you put on a fake smile, looking at him.

“Oh, well, I guess I shouldn’t have expected that we’d be going out tonight without checking in with him to see if he was free. That’s my mistake, but thank you for telling me, Rhys. I’ll clean up here and I’ll get going,” you try, but he just shakes his head.

“Nonsense. Leave it, I’ll take care of it later. Let me take you home.”

“Honestly, Rhys, I’m ok. It’s just a misunderstanding on my part. And my home isn’t far from here at all, and the night is nice. You don’t need to winnow me,” you insisted, already done with rinsing out the glasses and putting them away. But your voice is shaking ever so slightly, sick to your stomach, and you know that Rhys notices.

He grimaces, debating with himself on what to do.

“If you’re sure,” he asks, raising an eyebrow, and you nod. “I’ll talk to him when he gets back.”

“No! No, you don’t have to do that. Seriously, Rhys, it’s not a big deal,” you beg, and finally, he relents.

He nods once before stuffing his hands back into his pockets.

“You’ll let me know if you change your mind, right,” he asks.

“Of course,” you promise, and he pops back out of the house, leaving you to truly process the situation.

He took Elain out instead. He left you, that same voice whispers, louder this time. Tears sting your eyes, and a half-sob rips out of your lungs, a hand flying up to your mouth to prevent any more from leaving. But you’re fruitless in your efforts to contain your emotions as tears start spilling over, splattering onto the table.

You leave the townhouse in a flurry, harshly wiping at the tears. The house goes dark behind you and the lock snicks shut, leaving you in the night’s chill. Then all at once, your face crumbles as your emotions make themselves known. You try to reason with yourself that there’s no reason to be upset because it was true when you told Rhys that you never did confirm with Azriel if he didn’t already have plans, you just assumed.

But you never have to check in, he has always been there.

“Fuck,” you whisper, walking down the cobbled road back to your townhouse, furiously wiping away the stray tears.

The walk back is quiet for the most part, and you’re thankful that you don’t run into anyone. You would never let yourself live it down if someone saw you in the state that you’re in. You almost make it back, but as you look up, your heart drops and your veins fill with ice as you recognize two figures walking your way. They are so enraptured with each other that they haven’t noticed you yet, so you quickly move over to the edge of the road, hopefully giving yourself enough space that they don’t see you.

You continue walking, arms crossed, and hair falling around you to shield your face, and you’ve just passed them when you spare a glance, making eye contact with him.

Fuck. You walk faster, eyes trained on the ground.

“Y/N?” he calls out, but you keep walking, quickening your pace.

“Y/N! Hey, wait,” he shouts, and this time catches up with you.

A calloused hand closes itself around your arm, effectively stopping you. You whip your head around to face him, and he looks at you in confusion. His form towers over you, and you’re so close you can smell the cologne wafting off of him. You watch as his face crumbles while he looks you over, and it almost seems like he’s panicking.

“Please, just allow me a moment to explain,” he begs, but you shake your head, eyes screwing shut to prevent him seeing the frustrated tears.

“It’s fine, Az, really. I just wish you would have told me instead of having Rhys be the one to tell me where you were,” you whisper, your eyes now trained on his chest, still avoiding his eyes.

If there’s one thing you hate, it’s confrontation. Even if all you want is for someone to feel what you’re feeling, and to confront them about what they’ve done, you can never bring yourself to do it, to hurt them like they had hurt you. So right now, you just want him to let you go so you can let yourself fall apart and piece yourself back together in the comfort of your home.

He is helpless as he sees you put up your walls, trying to keep your emotions in check by shutting them off entirely. It’s something that he’s never been on the receiving end of, and it crushes him to know that he’s who caused this.

A cold whisper ghosts over your wrist, and you look down to find a shadow caressing you anxiously, but it only makes you even more upset, the corners of your lips forcefully tugging down and eyes burning. Blood thunders in your ears, and you can feel your hands shaking, and no doubt Azriel can feel it too, which just makes you panic harder.

“Please, let me go I just want to go home.”

“Y/N,”

“No, Az. Just—”

“Azriel? Is everything ok?” A soft, ethereal voice breaks the moment, your eyes snapping over to the culprit.

You’re horrified as she walks over, the object of your ire making herself known. She looks absolutely breath taking dressed up, and you can’t help but understand for a moment why he would choose her over yourself. She’s absolutely perfect, and you’re… not.

She stops just behind him, placing a delicate pale hand on his back, looking up at him with worried eyes. His gaze snaps from you to her, and it makes you sick as you watch his face soften for her. You take the moment of weakness to rip your wrist away, giving yourself a step to breathe.

Azriel looks between the two of you, confliction painting his face as he tries to decide what to do, but you don’t give him the chance.

“I used to believe that you wouldn’t go as far as this, but I can’t say I’m surprised.”

He reels back like he was physically slapped, looking back at you in astonishment.

“What is that supposed to mean,” he begs, his eyes wide as his grip grows tighter around your wrist, but if you say what you want to say, you’re going to irreparably damage your relationship with him. Despite how you feel, that’s the last thing that you want.

You sigh, closing your eyes and shaking your head, just wanting the conversation to end. “It doesn’t matter. Enjoy your night, Azriel.”

You spin around and high tail it away from him. Although you just want to be left alone, it still makes your heart break even more when he doesn’t try to come after you.

The guilt eats at you again knowing that you ruined his and Elain’s night, but that selfish part of you is glad that you did and made him feel like shit.

Thankfully, you make it back home before you lose it, sobs racking your body as it all comes out. The pain of being pushed aside for someone else yet again comes to a head from tonight’s events. In a fury, you rip off the dress and heels, slinging them somewhere to be found later. You all but drop your jewelry onto the vanity, letting it clatter against the dark wood top. Tears still pour out of your eyes as you rifle through your liquor cabinet, pushing to the back to grab a bottle of dark and strong whiskey, but you slam the door shut as the thought of whiskey being Azriel’s favorite pushes itself to the forefront of your mind.

So instead, you crawl into bed for the night, staining your white sheets with your black-tinted tears.

-

Heavy thudding at your door drags you from sleep, making you groan as you have to peel open your eyes. The sun is blocked out by the thick curtains, confusing you even further as you try to figure out what time it could be. A headache makes itself known, pulsing behind your eyes causing you to groan as you sit up. The thudding continues, and you can’t help but snap.

“Give me a Mother-damned second! Fuck!” You slip from the sheets, stumbling across the room to get to your dresser. You pull a pair of pants and a t-shirt from a drawer, throwing on them on as you make your way to the door. You pray it’s not Azriel, but it’s more than likely it is. He’s the last one you want to see right now. Hopefully, he’s smart enough to stay away for a little while so you can cool off, allowing the whole situation to blow over.

You yank the door open, squinting at the bright sunlight, but they snap awake when you see Mor and Cassian in front of you instead, the latter standing against the door frame with his arms crossed.

“Uh…” You’re at a loss for words, guilty for the way that you had screamed at them.

“Get ready, we’re going to lunch, and you’re going to tell us why Azriel came home like his fucking puppy died,” Mor says, inviting herself in and grabbing you to lead you to your room. You look back at Cassian, eyes begging for help, but he just shrugs. Bastard.

The blonde immediately starts riffling through your wardrobe, picking through dresses and outfits, but you’re not sure what she has in mind. You allow yourself to flop back onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling. Cassian’s footsteps announce his entrance as he takes a seat on your love seat.

“What’s this?”

You pick your head up to see Mor holding your dress that you left in a ball on the floor. Your face flickers for a moment before you reign it back it, allowing the emotionless mask to take place.

“Nothing,” you whisper, letting your head fall back onto the bed.

It’s silent for a moment as Mor and Cassian look between themselves then back to you. It’s obvious something happened between you two last night, and the story won’t come easy from either of you.

The bed dips as both of your friends sit on the edge, one on either side as the flop down next to you. They remain quiet, but the tension and everything that you’ve been feeling makes your chin tremble, and you bite your lip to try and conceal it. But the tears sting at your eyes anyways, making the ceiling go blurry.

You sit up, digging your elbows into your knees, heaving a great sob. A small hand rests itself on your back, rubbing in circles as you allow yourself to finally fall apart.

“He fucking stood me up,” you choke out. “We always go out when he comes back from the camps. I got dressed up and everything, waited at the townhouse for a half hour just for Rhys to show up and tell me he wasn’t coming. Then I ran into him with Elain on the street on my walk home.”

They’re silent as they let you recount what happened last night, Mor’s face twisting as she watches one of her closest friends fall apart in front of her.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Cassian whispers, but you just shake your head.

“It’s fine—”

“No, it’s not fucking fine. He’s either blind or just outright stupid to not see what he’s doing to you.” Cassian’s face is set in a scowl as he thinks about his friend’s behavior after Elain came into the picture.

He knows that his brother has a history of fawning over unavailable women, but for him to entertain one who already has a mate, one that lives with them and wants to engage with her nonetheless, makes him question if Azriel is really that ignorant to the entire situation. It’s not exactly a secret that you harbor feelings for the shadowsinger, but he has been oblivious to the way that you look at him, and Cassian can only imagine how you are with him when no one else is watching.

Mor’s heart breaks while she is helpless watching your face crumble and tears drip off your chin. There’s been a lot that has brought you down, but nothing like this. You keep a strong face around your friends, always trying to be a happy and fun person to be around, letting yourself be the shoulder to lean on when they need it.

Although Mor was the first obstacle between you and Azriel, she was always a good friend to you since you first joined the Inner Circle decades ago. Her warm and confident nature brought you out of your shell when she introduced you to everyone on that fateful night at Rita’s, which in turn brought you to Azriel.

You let your feelings ruin it all, the voice whispers, if you had just kept your feelings in check then you wouldn’t be in this position.

Then, with a deep breath, the mask comes back.

You wipe your face of the tear tracks, sniffling to try and clear your sinuses before looking at Mor and Cassian with a watery smile.

“So, what were you guys saying about lunch?”

A look passes between your friends before looking back at you.

“Well, we thought today would be a good day to try that new place on the Sidra for lunch,” Cassian answers, a slight smile on his face.

“I would love to. Will you two help me pick something to wear?”

“What else would we be here for, angel,” Mor giggles, standing up and taking you with her.

I’m so lucky to have them as friends.

#azriel x reader #azriel #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #angst #azriel angst #mxigo.acotar #mxigo.azriel #mxigo.soulsick #mxigo.masterlist.soulsick #mxigo.masterlist #mxigo.masterlist.acotar

[anshares]

Once upon a time, there was a prince most beloved by all.

He was highly doted on by everyone but especially so by two men: his older brother, His Majesty the Emperor, and by his secret suitor, a childhood friend by the name of He Xuan.

By all accounts, Prince Qingxuan should have a blessed life. Unfortunately it was nothing but a wretched beginning,with a wretched end.

His brother, wary of him vying forthe crown, kept him on a tight leash, while the other man in his life perished on the battlefield. To live your life in a guilded birdcage, that is the tale of this prince.

Click more for full plot!

ROYALTY AU (M/M Flavor Beefleaf)

Shi Qingxuan is a royal prince, brother of Shi Wudu the emperor who is known to be a tyrant

He Xuan comes from a military family but he refuses to practice the sword and prefers to read instead.

They first met in the palace as kids when HX was accompanying his father to a meeting and he explored the palace grounds while he waited for his father.

He is reading by the garden and meets SQX there who is playing hooky from royal lessons and from that moment on they become friends. (SQX the talker and HX the listener). Emperor Shi Wudu, seeing that his brother favors this kid, assigns him as his playmate.

Then one day SQX got kidnapped by rebels, HX tried to rescue SQX and found him after a day. They managed to escape from the kidnappers but were found by one of the rebels,

they tried to run as fast they could and managed to lose the guy chasing them but SQX sprained his ankle so HX had to piggyback SQX

luckily they were found by the royal guards and the rebels who dared kidnapped the Tyrant Emperor’s only brother were executed and put on display in the plaza.

Emperor Shi Wudu awards the He family for what their youngest son did and officially appointed HX as SQX future retainer and personal guard, SWD acknowledges how smart He Xuan is and was impressed by his bravery,

he saw potential in him and to HX dismay he has to learn the way of the sword which SQX teased him over because he kept whining about it during their breaks or sparring sessions.

As they grow up they become inseparable and people talk about how incompatible they are, like how the young prince who is beloved by everyone is with this gloomy person but it works. They are closer as ever CLOSER than anyone thinks.

They sometimes have a rendezvous in the library where they “study” or at the garden where SQX likes picking his favorite berries. SQX feeds HX one and he sucks the leftover juice in SQX finger which leaves him flustered.

The truth is they have been in a relationship for years now but they just hide to protect SQX reputation, as their genders and status won't let them be accepted by society and it will cause quite a scandal.

Hx and sqx also have talks on having life outside the palace and he sees that sqx is not really fond of palace life, and sqx admits that there are times where he just wants to run away from it all but he can't

Contrary to popular belief, emperor swd is known as a tyrant and his brother is no exception to the treatment. As his brother constantly watches sqx every move and punishes him even for the slightest mistake,

making sqx doubt himself and belittling him to the point where sqx life is controlled by swd.

This makes sqx be easily influenced that he himself even forgets he has choices on the matter.

All he knows is that his brother controls his fate, his marriage and as a prince he has a duty to his country, he can't entertain selfish thoughts which is why these few moments of reprieve where he could spend his time with his lover dreaming about life outside the palace is all he could do,

there's nothing bad with just dreaming inside his gilded cage with his lover by his side, he feels like he can soar free.

Even with HX gloomy countenance he is quite popular among the ladies that there were also rumors how HX is gonna be engaged to a woman he is usually seen with and visits his house

but in truth he just treats the girl as a younger sister and is actually from the family where his own sister is getting engaged to.

During a marriage interview where SQX meets with his possible marriage candidates he meets the rumored girl as she was part of the selection. She asked about HX to SQX and disclosed her true feelings about HX.

SQX assumes that something is going on between them and with how the rumors are, SQX gets worried about this so he asks about it to He Xuan, HX assures him that nothing is going on between him and the lady.

SQX is a little bit jealous so HX smirks and “do you want me to show you how much I love his highness” and they proceed to have a passionate night where they assure each other that they are the only ones they will love and be loyal too.

They actually talk about running away from the capital and just settle down in a rural village without their statuses getting in the way they'll just be Shi Qingxuan and He Xuan, just 2 normal people but skirmish/war with the rebel army happens so they have to draft up every son in each family.

It is also perfect opportunity for Shi wudu to get rid of a pest that might ruin his brother’s reputation because he learned of his brother's growing affection for HX since a palace maid witnessed one of their “study” sessions

so he dispatches him to the front lines at the border where he is the appointed strategist. SQX is not aware that SWD knows about their secret tryst.

Before HX leaves, SQX makes him promise to come back alive because he has something to tell him, HX asks why wouldn't he just tell him now SQX says it isn't the right time and at least he will have motivation to come back as soon as he can to the capital.

He was actually going to tell him “I love you” since they hadn’t said it to each other yet, SQX also requests that he write often, HX does but it gets intercepted by SWD and alters the contents so it'll look like HX is gradually changing his mind about their relationship.

Unfortunately HX dies in war with a lot of arrows in his back (like the visual in bloody festival) he tries to get back to camp but with his heavy injuries he won't survive,

he knows this but still tries because he promised SQX he will come back, he hasn't heard what SQX wants to say yet and it seems important.

SQX won't hear news of his death, Shi wudu will keep it under wraps and make up a story on why HX is getting transferred. He tried to ask around and find out why HX hasn't come back yet even though the war is over.

All SWD said was for their service to the country the He family was granted a piece of land to a far away place. HX decided to settle there and get married which was impossible since HX promised SQX,

did he change his mind after being away from each other for years, is this why his letter gradually stopped and the contents were not as sweet as they were during the first year.

SQX can't go out and check it out himself with no good reason, so he look at records and stuff everything checks out, he is hurt but he is glad that at least HX is alive and well somewhere even tho far away from him,

SQX doesn't want to get in the way of HX happiness even if they grew far apart from each other so he decides to let him go but SQX doesnt know that the reward also doubles as compensation for the grieving family and that the family decided to leave the capital because of painful memories.

At the end SQX monologues if it was a sin of falling in love with HX since they are both men and how he wishes in the next life he can love him freely without their status getting in the way and being condemned by society.

Epilogue:

SQX finally gets to go out for inspection and it's in the city where He Xuan's whole family relocated he was all cheerful like even tho HX is probably married now at least he can still visit as his friend as long as he is happy and healthy even if it wasn't with him that's all that matters

so when he asks the parents where he xuan is…. it got sus cuz why the home is so gloomy then he sees the family shrine…..with He Xuan's tablet in it.

SQX is shocked and can't believe what he is seeing because how could that be?? Were all the things his brother said to him are lies all these years….

Sqx didn't even know he had already lost hx years ago, did he die swift and painless, did they find the body in the battle field and give him a proper burial. He wasn't even able to give his lover respects and he couldn't even see him one last time because of her brother's intervention.

What about those letters then? Were they really from he xuan??

and then realizes it's indirectly his fault. He connects the dots and realizes that it's swd's fault but the blame doesn't just falls on his brother but also him for he wasn't strong enough to defy his brother,

didn't fight harder to ensure his lover's safety, he shouldn't have been ignorant, he should've have been more observant, he should've been more…..Then hx mom interrupted his spiraling thoughts as she noticed how pale and shocked the prince looked.

Hx mother knows how close she is with her son so finding out hx this way is shocking.

" Your highness, I wanted to let you know that he died honorably in battle protecting the city and its people.

They were able to find his body and give him a proper burial.

I can't thank the emperor enough for bringing my son home. Also I wanted to give you this, it was one of A-xuan's belongings, a journal. I think it may be best if his highness hold on to it."

After he paid his respects and did his exception he left the city with a heavy heart he didn't expect this outcome. As he journeys back to the capital, he opens HX journal. Its full of entries of hx listing everything that reminded him of sqx,

like how he saw the wildflowers that he used to collect for him to make into a crown as kids, how a nervous soldier reminded him of sqx's inability to lie, how he noticed sqx's influence in choosing the meals sent to the soldiers, etc.

Growing up as royalty he was thought to have a good handle on his emotions but he couldn't after reading the journal and so he broke down,

he sobbed and called out to he xuan even though he knows no one will answer anymore when he calls out the name. He just lets out all his grief, anguish and love lost.

When he calmed down he made a promise that he will devote himself to serving the people better so that they're not left at his brother's mercy and tucks the journal safely back to his sleeves as he sees the capital over the horizon.

-THE END-

#beefleaf #tgcf #shi qingxuan #he xuan #lord wind master #tgcf fanart #black water sinking ships #mxtx fanart #mxtx #mxtx tgcf #tian guan ci fu #heaven officials blessing #heavens official blessing #heaven official's blessing #师青玄 #贺玄 #天官赐福 #黑水沉舟 #风师青玄 #my art #fan art

[wandanatsgf]

Right Where You Left Me

Pairing: Maid!Wanda x Noble Woman!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Wanda is your maid who you fall head over heels for. But like all good things, you knew it wouldn't last. You knew your life was already decided for you, but that didn't mean you couldn't enjoy your time with her while it lasts.

Warnings: This ends sadly and contains smut. Read at your own risk. Also I wrote this in two hours so there's probably grammar mistakes so pls ignore those.

You had never understood this strange feeling inside of you, the way you would cringe when you danced with a man or when he kissed your knuckles. You didn't understand why the idea of marrying a man brought feelings of dread and despair. You didn't understand how such simple actions from a man could elicit such strong emotions in a woman. And then you met Wanda.

Wanda is your recently hired maid and god is she gorgeous. She has long brown hair and eyes as green as emeralds. You tend to get lost in them quite frequently, much to Wanda's chagrin. And every time her skin touches yours it sets you ablaze, which is what's happening right now.

"Does this corset really need to be so tight?" you complain to Wanda who is helping you get dressed. It's making it really hard to control your slightly labored breathing. Wanda's presence was really doing something to you today.

"I'm sorry my lady but I'm just following your mother's orders," she says apologetically. She continues to help you get dressed and then she gets to work on your hair.

"You know you don't have to call me my lady when we're alone, Wanda. Y/n is fine," you tell her as she fixes a curl that was out of place.

"Ok Y/n," she says, trying it out. Your name sounds so good coming out of her mouth, you could listen to her say it for forever. Unfortunately you have duties to attend to today.

"Thank you for helping me," you say once Wanda announced she was finished.

"It's really no problem, Y/n. It is my job after all."

"Yes I know but it's only right for me to thank you."

Wanda smiles at this and you swear you've never seen a prettier sight.

"Have a good day, Wanda," you say as you open your bedroom door and slip out of sight.

You spent the majority of your day entertaining your parent's guest, Steve, a lord from a neighboring country. You talked with him for hours, however your heart wasn't in it. You could've cared less about what he was saying. You would've much preferred to be reading a book or talking with Wanda. And by dinnertime you were ready to rip your ears off if you had to hear another story about a battle.

"Thank you so much for accepting our invitation," your father says as everyone takes their seat.

"It really mans a lot to us that you rode all the way out here to visit us and our daughter, Y/n," your mother adds.

"The pleasure is all mine," Steve says.

"This actually brings us to an important topic, Y/n," your father says. "We, your mother and I, are hoping you would be open to courting Steve." You knew he wasn't really asking, he was telling.

"I would love to father," you say, lying straight through your teeth.

"Well that settles that. I think this calls for a toast," your father says.

The rest of your night was spent drinking and pretending to be merry, but you couldn't get out of your own head. You knew your parents wanted you to marry soon, and you had put it off for as long as possible. Now you were being set up with Steve and you felt hopeless.

Around midnight you bid your parents and Steve goodnight and headed to your room. Maybe you could cry in peace there, but when you enter you see Wanda waiting for you.

"How was your day?" Wanda asks as she helps you out of your dress.

"Honestly it was horrible. I had to spend the whole day with Steve," you say, your face wrinkling up in disgust.

"He can't be that bad."

"He's not bad...he's just not interesting," you say carefully choosing your words.

"Well men never are," Wanda says. She pulls off one of your many petticoats, accidently grazing your thigh. You let out a low moan and you hope Wanda didn't notice. You don't think she did because she finishes taking it off and sets it off to the side.

"Oh?" you ask. You can't tell if Wanda is giving you a sign or not. Or maybe you're just reading into things.

"Well you know how men are. They just talk about hunting or battles or money. It's all very boring."

"Oh yes of course," you say agreeing with her. Wanda continues to undress you, but your thoughts are still plagued by the awful news you got at dinner today.

"You know my parents wish for me to court and probably marry him and I don't know if I can do it," you blurt out. You hadn't meant for that to come out, but you just feel so safe in Wanda's presence. Despite the short amount of time you've known her, you've grown close to her. At least as close as you've ever been to a person.

"Why not? It's not like there's someone else and Steve could give you a life of luxury." Wanda unties your tight corset and lets it drop off your body.

You think carefully before letting your greatest secret slip. "I don't think I could ever love him, Wanda. Not the way I love you." At this Wanda's hands still and drop to her side.

"Y/n are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"I'm in love with you Wanda Maximoff. I know it's wrong and we barely know each other and my parent's would never approve but I can't help how my heart feels."

"Do you really mean that?"

"I mean every word Wanda."

"I'm in love with you too Y/n. I have been since I first started working for you," she admits.

You carefully turn around and plant a soft kiss on Wanda's lips. She tastes like strawberries and you can't get enough.

Wanda pushes her body as close to you as possible, slowly walking the two of you backwards until your body hits a wall. Your thighs open up to make more room for Wanda to position herself between them.

Wanda's lips move from your own to your neck, making you arch your back.

"Please Wanda."

"What do you want baby?"

"I want you to touch me please," you beg.

Wanda obliges and slowly moves her hand down your breasts, fondling them through your undergarments for a minute. You thrust your hips up against her, getting impatient.

"You're just so needy for me aren't you baby?"

"Mhm I just want you so bad Wanda please," you mewl.

Wanda's hand moves to cup your mound and one of her knuckles lightly grazes your clit.

"Is this what you wanted? You want me to touch you right here?"

"Yes Wanda," you breath out. Your loins were on fire and only she could extinguish it.

Wanda slowly rubs her fingers against you and it takes everything in you not to cum then and there. You never thought this would happen, and now that it is you didn't want it to end.

"Let go for me baby. I'll still be here," she says. Her fingers start to move faster against you and it breaks your resolve. You cum in your underwear, moaning like a mad woman.

As you come down, you see Wanda staring at you.

"What?" you ask.

"You just look so beautiful doing that I want to see it again."

This time Wanda gets on her knees between your thighs and slowly pulls your underwear off. She can clearly see your arousal and it turns her on, making her let out a low moan. She lifts your left leg up over her shoulder and dives in.

The wet slurping sounds are unholy but they only turns you on more. Your hands grab onto Wanda's hair and you pull her closer to your heat. Her nose bumps against your clit and your hips thrust against her.

"Right there Wands," you moan out. The brunette woman continues to lick and suck your clit until you finish all over her face.

Wanda slowly works her way up your body, leaving kisses all over your stomach and chest. She makes her way up to your mouth and leaves a soft kiss there.

You gaze into her eyes and see nothing but love and admiration. It makes your heart melt.

"Let me return the favor," you tell her. You swap places with her and gently take off her clothes. Saying she's gorgeous is an understatement. She looks like an angel.

You kiss her as you start to fondle her pussy, messing around to see what she likes. You can feel her moan against your lips and it gives you a surge of pride knowing you're the one making her moan.

You dip one finger into her entrance and you feel her buck her hips against you. Clearly you had a much stronger affect on her than you thought. Her wetness coats your hand.

You thrust your finger inside of her, watching her writhe in ecstasy. It was a sight you knew you would never get sick of. You add another finger and watch as her head rolls back in pleasure. Soon she is cumming and you continue to fuck her through it.

Once she's calmed down you take your fingers out and lick her arousal off of them. She tastes so good, and you tell her as much.

The two of you spend the rest of the night in each other's embrace, enjoying your time together.

You wake up and you think it was all a dream before you look next to you and see a brown mop of hair sleeping next to you. She looks so pretty and peaceful when she sleeps, but you have to wake her up.

"Wanda. Baby. Wake up," you say as you gently shake her.

"Good morning honey," she says.

"Good morning," you say. You lean down and place a kiss on her lips.

'We have to get up y'know," you say as her lips move against yours.

"Just give me one more minute," she says. She continues to kiss you until you can't breathe anymore and you have to pull away.

"Now we really have to get up and get ready," you say.

"Fine," Wanda grumbles.

You each help the other dress and look presentable.

Today you were supposed to hang out with Steve again. The only thing that made that even bearable was the thought of going to bed with Wanda by your side.

"I'll see you tonight," you say as you cradle her face in your hands. You place a passionate kiss against her lips before walking out.

You spend the next couple of weeks like this. You spent your days with a man you hate and your nights with the woman you love, the woman who owns your heart.

"You know we could run away together. We could live in that abandoned cottage near the woods and have a garden and never have a worry again," Wanda says one night. The two of you are cuddling in your bed.

Deep down a part of you knew it was nothing but a dream, but the thought of living with Wanda made your heart soar.

"I want nothing more," you say, never truly thinking Wanda was serious. You lean in and capture her lips with yours.

That night you fall asleep with a pit in your stomach. You still needed to tell Wanda about the now official wedding plans (well your mother was planning a wedding but Steve hadn't proposed yet. You knew it would be soon though), but you would rather live in delusion than end this. And that is what you did, at least until Wanda comes storming into your room a few days later.

"What is this I hear about a wedding between you and Steve?" Wanda questions.

You were currently brushing your hair at your vanity, but you set the brush down when she stormed in.

"There's nothing official but word is he plans on proposing soon and my mother is planning a wedding even though there isn't one yet."

"And you weren't going to tell me?" Wanda asks. You can see the pain and anger on her face and it makes your heart break.

"I was going to eventually Wands. I just couldn't. I couldn't ruin what we have just yet."

"Are you going to deny him Y/n?"

"I-I don't know. I don't know if I can."

"Of course you can Y/n. You have a choice here."

"I don't think I do Wanda."

"Please Y/n," she begs. She begs you to choose her, but you can't let your delusion cloud your judgement anymore.

"I'm sorry Wanda, but we should've known this would never work," you say. You can feel your perfectly applied makeup start to run down your face, but you don't care. You look how you feel, a mess.

"Why wouldn't this work?" You can hear the pain and desperation in her voice.

"Because..." you trail off. You don't want to give her the real reason. You're afraid. Afraid of your family, the townspeople, and a life full of unknowns. You knew that going with her to the cottage the two of you had always talked about would mean giving up everything you have ever known and loved.

"I'm sorry Wanda but I can't leave them and I can't disappoint them." She knew you were talking about your parents.

"You always complain about them controlling you, y/n and you're letting them do it now. Is your happiness really worth their happiness?"

You nod and that is all the confirmation Wanda needs to realize her life was about to fall apart. She was about to lose the love of her life and there was nothing she could do about it.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Wanda," you say. You fall to the ground in a heap of petticoats and skirts. Wanda moves to comfort you, but she knew that would only make this harder.

"I'm sorry too Y/n," Wanda says. She leaves your chamber and you sob harder. You knew you brought this upon yourself, but that didn't make you feel any better.

The next morning a new maid walks in, telling you Wanda had quit last night. From that day on all of your days blurred together. Time was pointless without her. Living was pointless without her.

Exactly two weeks after you had ended things with Wanda, Steve proposed. You don't even remember saying yes, but you must have because you now have a huge, shiny ring on your finger.

You expected Wanda to come to you after the news of your engagement made it's way through the kingdom, but she never showed.

Maybe if she had came back for you things would be different. Or maybe if you had ran away with her you wouldn't be where you are now. But you had backed yourself into this corner and there was no getting out.

Your dress is beautiful. It's big and poufy and white. But the person at the end of the aisle isn't who you want to see. Instead of emerald eyes you see cerulean. Instead of a smooth face with delicate features you see a rough face with harsh lines. He's all wrong, he's not her. But you made your choice. Your parents and their wishes come first. Maybe in another life you could chase your happiness, but in this one you were chasing theirs.

After the wedding you resided yourself to a life you hated with a man you loathed, even though you knew it wasn't his fault. If only you could feel the same way about Steve that would make life so much easier. But no matter how much you tried to love him you were still repulsed when his lips touched yours or when you laid in bed side by side.

Sometimes you couldn't stop the sobs that would fall at night, knowing you had made a mistake with marrying him. You should've ran away with Wanda, but now it was too late. You had kids to take care of and an estate to run.

Despite that you let yourself dream about the woman you left all those years ago, the woman you still loved. You hoped Wanda had lived a life far more happier life than yours. You hoped Wanda had moved on and found someone else. You hoped Wanda and new her lover lived in the cottage that was meant to be yours's and had a plentiful garden and never wanted for a thing.

However Wanda's reality was much sadder than what you had wanted for her. Wanda spent her days at the cottage by herself, over come with grief. She never moved on. She spent her days gardening, reading, and crying. Everyday she hoped her lover would come back to her. She never did.

#wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff #smut #marvel #mcu #elizabeth olsen #lizzie olsen #wanda x reader smut #wanda maximoff smut

[silvamyman]

𝗣-P𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗖𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗻 !

𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀 !: A day off from Blue Lock, finally determined to make peace between all the boys, forget the misunderstandings, a new one is born, With youthful hormones

𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 !: Blue lock x FemY/N ¡!

Warning!: Harassment, Minors, Hormonal children, Stalkers, desecration, wet dreams, Milf

Please do not translate my work, do not upload it to any platform, Consult me ​​to give you authorization for my work, I would appreciate it if you would show me the talent you have after reading my stories ! 🫶

Finally, after so much effort, all the boys who participated in the Blue lock project had their well-deserved rest, after so many tears, sweat and frustration, They were definitely making the most of those vacations now. And what could be better than making peace?

Isagi was the one who had the idea, to bring all the boys together, leave the rivalries, envy and meaningless senses of superiority, recognize the abilities of each one and unite them with the others, Everyone accepted, some went reluctantly (Like barou)

To improve the moment, Reo decided to contribute to Isagi's good cause, he invited them to spend a day at his house, it was impolite to reject his offer after having made peace. Why not?

This is how all the boys ventured to the reo's house, making small talks about any topic, remembering embarrassing moments, comical moments, various emotions that they felt as soon as they knew each other

As soon as they arrived, they realized the rich neighborhood in which reo lived with his family, living the life of any boy, Reo gave them a small tour of his house, just the basics, kitchen, bathroom, and his room, where they would be most of the day

Everyone took some kind of seat, getting comfortable, they spent some time like that, making jokes, games, Taking small snacks and drinks

Everything was laughter, except for Nagi, his gaze lost in the window, looking at the house from the side

"—Reo! Reo!"

Nagi's scream full of happiness alarmed the others, everyone stayed in their places while reo got up from his bed, to see what was happening, He looked out the window, barely knowing what was happening, he took his binoculars to see better*

"—is something wrong guys?"

Isagi asked with a small confused tone as if scared by the attitude of both friends

Everyone approached the window, burying themselves and fixing their gaze on the neighbor's room

They were surprised to see a curvy figure, a woman so beautiful, so delicate, her skin looks so soft.

She was so beautiful in every aspect, breaking the Japanese stereotype, the standards they had of a woman, were tiny to what she was

"—And... What are we seeing?"

Bachira commented, without understanding much, seeing a woman behind one of his windows, he didn't see why, at that moment Otoya placed a finger on his lips letting him know that he would shut up

"—Don't worry, we'll explain later"

He spoke reo, while he adjusted his binoculars to better appreciate the moment, His childhood love until now, who disturbs his dreams with such elegance, who treated him like a little child, His beloved neighbor

Reo remembers his neighbor from childhood, his beloved neighbor always came on important holidays, doing a singing performance

A talented woman, doing small performances in dressing rooms, Their work was mysterious to the entire neighborhood, they only knew very little about acting

"—Just enjoy the view, we'll talk in a moment"

Nagi spoke without taking his eyes off the window, as enthusiastic as a dog waiting for a treat, all the boys looked at each other, they decided to listen to Nagi

Everyone turned their gaze to the window again

As soon as I turned around, that long-awaited and mysterious show began

The girl was behind them, not knowing that some hormonal children were watching her through her uncovered window

The sensual and charming neighbor began to take off her heels, leaving them in their usual place, She took her stockings in her hands showing her meaty and juicy butt as soon as she bent down to take her stockings off the floor

All the boys immediately blushed at the sight, everyone was stunned, Some swallowed in surprise as an emotion, they never expected those attitudes of nagi and reo

They never took their gaze off the backside of such a beautiful neighbor, her dress tight to her flesh, She left her stockings on the edge of the bed, at that moment she began to lift her dress from the butt up, showing her panties to the boys while she passed her dress over her head, Throwing it on the edge of your bed

The boys could barely contain a scream, they stayed frozen in place, no matter how much they tried to look away, they always returned to the same point

The beautiful and distracted neighbor continued with her show, She pushed her hair aside, showing her bra, she untied it in the back, letting it fall to the floor, she grabbed the edges of her panties, letting them fall to the floor

I take his clothes, underwear as well as upper, leaving them in his dirty clothes basket, She returned her body to her closet, revealing her breasts and butt, Her beautiful face so fragile and soft, so innocent

He took his bath towel, a towel for his hair and another for his body, placed them between his hips while he closed his closet

He headed to his bathroom, he never noticed the lustful looks of brats as soon as they understood that his small cock didn't let go, it was to go to the bathroom

Her heard the bathroom shower turn on, at that moment his beautiful neighbor began to hum a little song

Definitely, they should go to the reo's house more often, to "talk among friends"

Hello hello! Thank you very much for continuing to support my content at all times!

part 2?

I have many ideas that would never be expected, if this blog is supported I will do the second part right away !

#fandom #manga #bllk #anime and manga #anime smut #bllk smut #manga smut #bllk headcanons #y/n #bllk x reader #bllk x you #isagi yoichi #itoshi rin #bllk fanart #anime #anime fanart

[nejibaby]

crush culture

Pairing: Wakasa Imaushi x Reader

Word count: 1.2k

Description: everybody knows about your crush on wakasa, including the man himself.

The art of subtlety is a skill you have yet to acquire. With that said, everyone you know is able to read you like an open book.

In the recent chapters of the book that is your life, it says that you have feelings for your friend, Wakasa Imaushi.

You know it.

Benkei knows it.

Takeomi knows it.

Shinichiro knows it.

Even Wakasa himself knows it, as embarrassing as it sounds.

Though technically, they’re all assuming you like Wakasa, but without your confirmation, it’s just that: an assumption.

Even though your feelings for him are indeed true and definite, you refuse to admit it to anyone out loud. You won’t allow them to tease you more than they already have.

But for whatever reason, you could tell that the founding members of the Black Dragon gang are conniving with each other to somehow get you to confess, which is a real mystery to you, because what is there to gain from it?

You know he doesn’t like you like that, and you’ve already accepted the fact that heartache comes with continuing this friendship with him, so what’s the point? Why risk a perfectly good friendship over something as trivial as your crush for Wakasa?

Unless…

No, you refuse to go down that path. There’s a reason why Hope is in Pandora’s box in the first place.

You click your tongue and focus on the task at hand, which is sterilizing Shinichiro’s wounds.

“What happened this time, Shin? Did you instigate a fight? Got ambushed? Flirted with a taken woman?”

Shinichiro grunts. “‘S not important.”

You scoff, dabbing the disinfectant harder to his open wound.

“Ow! That hurts!”

“You should’ve known better than lying to my face,” you mumble.

“Don’t worry about it. It really isn’t important.”

“Shin, you have a black eye,” you deadpan. “And you were limping when you got here. I’m pretty sure whoever did this intended to hurt you.”

He doesn’t refute your claims. He just waits until you’re done patching him up.

“Thanks,” he says after you murmur you’re done. He stands to his full height and starts walking towards your door, but you grab his wrist before he can even cross your room.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Home?”

“I don’t think so, mister,” you frown. “Stay here for the night. If you aren’t going to tell me what really happened, you’re going to sleep here and wait ‘til morning before you can leave. I’d rather have you spend the night than have you ambushed again.”

Shinichiro sweats, and you can tell he’s about to turn down your offer. “I—”

You glare at him. “No ifs or buts! Now go lay down in bed and sleep or else I’ll knock you down.”

There isn’t really much he can do to sway you when you’re this upset. So he lays on the other side of your bed and patiently waits for you to fall asleep before slipping out of your place.

The next day, someone knocks on his door. He sluggishly walks towards it with his eyes closed, and opens it without a thought. “Mmh?”

“Waka really did beat you up, huh?” He hears Benkei laugh at him.

Shinichiro groans without even putting effort into opening his eyes. He just walks back to his bed blindly and slams his body to it.

“Ah, did you knock out in an alley somewhere last night? I went to check up on you but you weren’t here.”

With sleep laced in his tone, he murmurs the tale of how he went to your house to get his wounds treated and how you won’t allow him to leave your place in the middle of the night.

He almost falls back to sleep with the lack of response from Benkei, but he jolts awake when he hears Wakasa gritting his teeth and saying, “You what?”

He swiftly stands upright and gapes at a fuming Wakasa. He internally curses himself for not bothering to open his eyes earlier and for running his mouth.

Wakasa Imaushi is jealous enough of him and his closeness to you as it is, and hearing what had just happened makes him want to punch Shin’s face again.

“Nothing happened!” Shinichiro is quick to clear it out, but Wakasa’s not hearing it.

“Quit going behind my back!” Wakasa is seething and Benkei is holding him back from attacking their leader. “You know damn well we have something going—”

“Am I interrupting something?”

You’re leaning against the door frame with your arms crossed.

Wakasa pulls away from Benkei’s grip and scoffs. His anger quickly fizzles down at the sight of you.

Shinichiro, on the other hand, sighs in relief at your impeccable timing. He decides then and there that you’re his savior.

Benkei eases the awkward air. “Shin and Waka were just… play fighting. Yeah, play fighting…”

You turn to look at the two men with a questioning look, and find them nodding at you.

You roll your eyes. Wakasa is an awfully good liar. Unfortunately for him, Shinichiro is terrible at it. So you naturally don’t believe them, but you decide it’s better to leave it at that.

“Whatever,” you frown at them. You then sit on Shinichiro’s bed and point a finger at Wakasa. “You better go easy on him. He was already limping last night. I don’t think a night’s worth of rest would be enough for him to recover.”

Wakasa hides the way he’s clenching his fists inside his pocket. He hates how he can’t quell his jealousy no matter how hard he tries. So he opts not to say a word. He just keeps his eyes on you.

It’s unnerving.

But he’s so pretty, it leaves you breathless.

You look away from him when you feel the heat creeping up your neck from the intensity of his gaze.

You’ve always been like this with him. It’s impossible for you to keep eye contact with him longer than necessary without being flustered.

You can almost hear Takeomi snickering and whispering “The Wakasa Effect” by your ear, even when he’s not around.

“Well, anyway, we just dropped by to tell you that Takeomi wants to celebrate our win against that puny gang the other day at the bar downtown,” Benkei says.

Despite not being a member of the gang, Benkei tells you, “You can come along too.”

Without any other plans for the day, you suppose you can join them. “You pickin’ me up, Shin?” You ask.

Shinichiro averts his eyes quickly, only to meet the glare of Wakasa. He clears his throat, “Uh, I can’t! I still have to drop by somewhere else. But I’m sure Waka can drive you there.”

You bite your lip to stop yourself from calling Shinichiro a traitor. And you have to acknowledge that it takes a whole new level of self-control not to strangle him for putting you on the spot like this.

Wakasa hums. “You sure you wanna ride with me?”

Your real answer is a big red NO. You’re pretty sure you’d combust on the spot if you’d be that close to him. In all honesty, you’d very much prefer to be swallowed whole by the earth over that.

But perhaps this would be a good chance for you to try and desensitize yourself from him, hence you find yourself croaking a “Yes, Waka.”

He smirks at you and you feel your entire body shutdown.

With that, Benkei drags Wakasa out the door and leaves you with Shinichiro in silence.

For an entire minute, you could only blink owlishly at the space where Wakasa stood. And when your brain finally recovers from his lethal attack, you pounce on Shinichiro, screaming, “How could you?!”

a/n: part 2???

feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

#wakasa imaushi x reader #wakasa x reader #imaushi wakasa x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev x reader #tr x reader #wakasa imaushi #imaushi wakasa #wakasa imaushi x you #wakasa x you #imaushi wakasa x you #wakasa imaushi x y/n #wakasa x y/n #imaushi wakasa x y/n #tokrev x you #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers crack #tokyo revengers fluff #tokrev crack #tokrev wakasa #tokrev fluff #tokyo revengers #tokrev #wakasa #tokyo revengers wakasa #tr x you #tr x y/n

[lightlycareless]

I was reading your scorned ex husband Naoya and I was wondering how much worse he’d be if him and Y/N had to share custody of a child(How the Zen’ins let Y/N get a divorce AND get joint custody idk. Maybe it was Naoya’s last act of kindness to his wife). Hehehe, I feel like it’d be so messy

Heya anon!!

Couldn't get this idea out of my mind because I needed the angst :> I gotta say, your child here is the true victim. And yes, it would be messy. You'd end up hating Naoya for it—

But I won't say much, I'll let you read it instead :)

warnings: naoya is your ex-husband. you have a daugther named naomi. naoya's a jerk. naomi is a victim of his idiotness. toxic relationships. physical violence.

also, this is the work anon is referring to (can be read independently.)

Happy reading!!

Sharing custody of your beloved daughter Naomi with Naoya is, as expected, the most surprising, frustrating, and difficult (if not borderline impossible) things to do.

And no, it’s not because you must arrange your schedule to fit this new lifestyle—nothing that ever related to Naomi could be that.

Rather, because of the things Naoya was doing to spite you. He might deny it as much as he wanted, but what else could you call these… questionable behaviors?

First, through setting up thousands of excuses as to why the place Naomi was to visit with him was not good enough.

Sure, you could argue that as her father, he was entitled to… voice his opinion and choose an option that would also be of his liking—it’s their time together, after all, which didn’t happen every day; restricted to the weekends, per previous agreement.

But his suggestions were just so stupid, if not inappropriate for a child!

What made him think that spending the weekend over at this office was any good?

Or going to all these fancy restaurants that limit Naomi when it comes to her behavior?! She’s a kid, for god’s sake—the weekends are supposed to be a break from the boring school routine she’s subjected to on the weekdays!

“The amusement park is too noisy.”

“There’s too many germs at the water park.”

“She if wants to see a movie, she can do it at the house.”

Just to state a few.

It was highly infuriating, to say the least, to see how dismissively he behaved towards his own daughter. Angering enough, that the next time he said one of those stupid comments of his, you couldn’t help but lash out, wondering—

“Do you even love Naomi?”

Naoya remains quiet at your accusation, before opting to scoff in response, rolling his eyes, and leaving.

You believed that it wouldn’t get any worse than this. That it couldn’t.

But oh, how wrong you were.

By the next time Naomi returns from spending the weekend with her father, she runs to your arms as soon as she steps through the door, teary eyed and highly distraught, confiding you with words which prove Naoya can indeed be worse.

No, not worse.

Straight up atrocious.

“Naomi, pumpkin, what’s wrong??” you fret, taking the poor child in a tight embrace as she begins to cry.

“I don’t want to go with papa anymore…” is what she confesses, and at the notion of Naoya doing something stupid, yet again, your chest tightens with anger.

«Just what did he do this time?!» Your mind would frantically wonder, going through a long list of possible causes, hating each one more and more as you went past them.

And yet, no amount of preparation would be comparable to what Naomi eventually confessed.

“Papa made me call a… a woman mama.” She begins. “I—I didn’t want to, but he—he told me I couldn’t go back if I—if I didn’t do it…!”

That’s it.

Naoya has done it.

Officially.

You could respect his intolerance when it comes to doing something genuinely fun, or his lack of tact when being a father—hell, even you were accepting of it, outside of what the law said. Because deep inside you, you still believed he deserved to be in Naomi’s life.

And now that this new advancement rose to the occasion, regardless of how much it hurt you, you were also willing to accept the fact he was moving on with someone else.

But this…

This was beyond your limits.

Because if Naoya had any issues. it would be kept between him and you.

Naomi is nothing but an innocent girl that deserves to have parents that love her, and have nothing but her happiness in mind, doing all what it takes to ensure such a thing!

Not a father that immaturely tried to spite the mother of his child for bitter reasons.

And certainly not a mother that allowed this to go on for far too long.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You’d shriek the moment you got a look at him in his office, Naoya freshly out of a meeting, and rightfully taken aback by your sudden, unannounced visit—any other time, you would’ve cared enough to not have caused a scene, but when it came to Naomi, you didn’t care if this was all his employees and family would talk about for the upcoming weeks.

You just bothered to know what was inside his stupid little fucking mind to have demanded such absurdity from your daughter and disrespected you in the process!

“What are you doing here, Y/N—"

“I can respect you seeing other people, really, I do.” You cut through his words; this isn’t his moment to talk, after all. “In fact, I’m glad you have! Great, you’re moving on!

But I will not tolerate disrespect towards my daughter, or my role as her mother! Did you know Naomi came back home crying because you forced her to call a woman she doesn’t even know her mom? What were you thinking?!”

“I was thinking of what was right.” He quickly interjects, a prominent frown on his face. “Do you think it’s acceptable to have this—this arrangement??”

“No, it’s not, because I should’ve gotten full custody of her!” you cry back. “I can’t believe you managed to convince the judge you were actually a good father to her! But let’s be real, that was your family’s money talking, wasn’t it?”

“Y/N—I won’t allow you to—!”

“Oh, but I have to?!” you gasp. “I have to take the way you treat Naomi weekend after weekend? Dismissing her like she was just a random kid, and not your daughter? Which you wanted to have if I need to remind you! And after all this, you still have the nerve to tell me I’m being disrespectful?!”

“Well, now that we’re talking about reminders, you’d do good in remembering you’re the one that filed for divorce! The whole reason this is happening at all is because of you!”

“Fine! I’ll play the villain if you want to—But I won’t stomach you hurting Naomi!” you cry. “She is your daughter, Naoya! At least have a bit of decorum when it comes to her!”

“Ha! I don’t recall having a daughter so insolent against her own fa—”

Naoya doesn’t even finish his words before your hand lands a slap across his face, a movement so harsh that effectively turns his head to the side, with a sound equally resounding in both his mind and office, that left him both speechless and startled as everyone else quickly exited the room, understanding it was best to leave in their own terms while they still could.

While you, on the other hand, frantically tried to wrap your head around the fact that not only was he comfortable insulting you, but your innocent daughter as well.

The one person that did not deserve any of the horrible things he was doing.

The one act you could never forgive.

“Do not, ever, talk about Naomi like that!” you hiss. “Naomi has been nothing but accepting of your irresponsible parenting! Far more than she should be! In fact, she’s—she’s always excited to wait for the moment she’ll get to see you again, since you don’t bother reaching out to her any other way!

And you still dare talk about her like that?! What is wrong with you, Naoya?! Why are you doing all of this?! You literally don’t have anything in your odds to be behaving this way!

You have a good job, no—you have your whole life set, and you’re moving on with someone else too! So, why must you keep hurting me and your daughter? Are you not satisfied with what you have? With your new life without the wife you hated oh so much?!

Or do we—do we have to be miserable just for you to be happy?”

But even then, Naoya doesn’t respond; instead, he just keeps silent, as if deep in his thoughts while placing his hand over his cheek, carefully feeling the marks of your attack underneath his fingers before eventually glancing back at you.

And you don’t know what it was—perhaps the silence following the turmoil allowed the depths of your emotions to finally settle, or maybe it was the disbelief of reaching your breaking point and hurting Naoya, an act you greatly came to regret later on, pushed you to it— but you’d end up revealing far more than what you initially wanted.

Offering a glimpse of your true feelings, a question that erupted the moment divorce crossed your mind, and filed the papers, continuing to torment you to this day, more so when doing what you did…

“Where—where did we go wrong?”

“You did this.” Naoya accuses—there was fury in his eyes, an expected sentiment after all that transpired. And yet, underneath that fire, something inside you was still able to discern that far from pained by the act… he was sorrowful both got there in the first place. “All of this is your fault—”

“What was I supposed to do, Naoya? Stay behind in a household where I was nothing but miserable, where your family wouldn’t bother respect me, or our daughter, and with you—you allowing all of it? Like we were deserving of it?” you breathe. “Did you…. all this time—Hate me?”

“No, I don’t hate you.” Naoya disputed. “I—I don’t—I never did.”

“Do you hate Naomi, then?” you fret. “How—how could you do that, Naoya? She’s your daughter, for fucks sake! A child! What could she have done to you to earn your hatred?! You—you even wanted her!”

“It’s not—It’s not against her—it never was. I couldn’t do anything to hurt—”

“Then what is it?! What is it that has you so—so angry at us!”

“Y/N—I—I don’t know—”

“Just tell me!” you cry. “Tell me!! Why is it always so hard for you to tell the truth?!”

“I never wanted to hurt Naomi! I could never!”

“Don’t lie to me—not after all the horrible things you’ve done to her! Do you really need us to be miserable just to be happy?! You have everything in the world! Why can’t you just let us go—"

“Because I never wanted you to leave!” He suddenly confesses, a shocking truth that hits you across the face, perhaps much sharper than the slape you gave him, leaving you silent all air leaves your lungs. “I never wanted that—that stupid divorce! Or for you to act like I wasn’t even important to you!”

“Naoya—what does that even—”

“You know damn well what I mean!” he hisses, burning tears beginning to pool in his eyes. “I—I could never hurt Naomi, I wouldn’t dream of it—but it was the only way to get you to look at me. The only way to see you again—or even—or even react to me!”

“Wha—what?”

“Ever since you… ever since we got divorced, is like I don’t exist to you anymore.” Naoya continues, lowering his gaze to the floor, the weight of his actions, as well as your hardened gaze, too much for him to take. “I call you, text you, even try looking for you at your house, but you’re nowhere to be found. Or even… interested in seeing me again.”

“And why would I want to do that?” you murmur, frowning. “With the way you treated me—the way you’re treating our daughter, why would you even think I want to do that?”

“Can you say with certainty, that you don’t feel anything for me anymore, then?” Your ex-husband adds. “That in your heart, there’s nothing—nothing left for me?”

“That’s… that’s not what matters.” You pause. “Not anymore.”

“So that’s it? That’s what you’re going with? You’re just going to abandon this marriage, like it didn’t mean anything?” Naoya takes a step closer to you, and while you move away from him, you don’t do the same at the second attempt, less when he placed his hand over your cheek, gently touching you the same way he’d done many, many years ago—when the two were, perhaps, still in love.

“It meant the world to me, Naoya.” You say, voice trembling, doing your best to not let the tears in your eyes slide down your cheeks—to no avail, caught by his gentle thumb. “There was nothing more than I wanted than to make this marriage work. But… it wasn’t meant to be, no matter how much I tried, or how many children we had—”

“We can still do it—we can still go back and make it better—right this time."

But deep inside you, you knew that wouldn’t be possible.

Because what you hoped Naomi would represent, the one last chance to save this marriage… simply became its doom, a tool for him to use against it as well—a declaration that truly, not even a blessing, like was meant to be for you and him, could do the now impossible task.

After all, if it didn’t happen during the marriage… what security did you have it would happen after? More so with the things he selfishly did to grab your attention?

It was unjust for Naomi. The one person you’ve long accepted to shift your whole existence for, and would willingly continue to do so, even if it meant letting go of what once made you happy.

Or wished that one day would.

Your work was carved out for you, you just… needed to stop being the delusional mother that wished for a happy, healthy marriage with the man you considered the love of your life…

And walk away from the father that is still unwilling to let go. the father from not letting go.

“I hope you enjoyed your weekend with Naomi.” You begin, moving away from his hand and getting a glimpse of his shocked, if not confused, eyes, which gave you the impression he knew what you were to say—

Or perhaps, the reluctance to accept this was to happen.

“Because it’ll be the last.”

Ex-husband was too merciful of a title to give him.

With at that happened, and all you needed to do…

No one was more fitting.

Oof, that was angsty :s well, it's safe to say Y/N and Naoya are not happening again.

I honestly always liked the idea that if Y/N and Naoya break up/divorce, they wouldn't date again. Sure, they'd try, specially with Naoya's family, but they would never move on. They can't—their fates were destined to be with one another, and if not possible, then that's it—no other person can come into their life.

Gee, how... dramatic of me lol. But, well, I like tragic stories :)

Anyways, I hope it was to your liking! Thank you so much for this angsty ask heheh. Take care, and hope to see you soon!! ❤️❤️

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

[thesupreme316]

a bunch of headcanons of the reader has a kid and has to take the kid to work a lot but the wrestler(s) with a crush on them help out and they get together??

darius martin x female reader? action andretti x female reader? dante martin x female reader? hook x female reader? ricky starks x female reader? lee moriarty x female reader?

AEWS Stars Having A Crush on A Single Mom:

Pairings: Darius Martin X Fem!Reader, Dante Martin X Fem!Reader, Action Andretti X Fem!Reader, Hook X Fem!Reader, Ricky Starks Fem!Reader, Lee Moriarty X Fem!Reader, Eddie Kingston X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.5K

Supreme Speaks: hiii, thanks to @hooks-martin for the request! this one has been sitting in my drafts because I just kept changing stuff so I hope everyone enjoys it. if you a momma out here, I appreciate you cause you def do a lot, you are wonder woman. please remember that you are loved and appreciated.

Warnings: I refer to children as demon spawns and gremlins jokingly, MY GRAMMARLY AND THE N KEY DOESNT WORK WHEN I NEED IT TO, GIFS are NOT mine, not proofread so not too loud

Taglist: @hooks-martin @hookerforhook @wwenhlimagines @sheinthatfandom @eddie-kingstons-wifey

Darius Martin:

THIS MAN WOULD ABSOLUTELY MELT AT THE SIGHT OF YOU WITH YOUR KID

Darius always admired you, but eventually that became a big crush

Completely simps for you and your kids

Will do anything that you say or ask

In my mind, he is that man that stepped up into a father-figure/male role model in your child’s life

Him taking the task of watching your little gremlin (I mean blessing…same difference) very seriously

Never lets them out of his sight, will spend almost all his money on them, and will try his best to give a good experience every time they go to work with you

Starts spending time with them outside of work as he understands being a single mom is hard and will do anything to lighten your plate

YOUR KIDS FUCKING LOVE HIM cause why not? Plus he always buys them ice cream

Eventually, you notice and you absolutely fall in love with the way he accepts your kids

One day, after dropping the kids off at your house after a day of fun, he makes his move

“I wanna be in their lives more and I want to be in your life more. I really like you and I want to have more with you.”

Needless to say that y’all establish your family and are starting to add one more to the mix

Dante Martin

I feel that just like his brother Dante would also take the task seriously

But because Dante is younger he wouldn’t know how to really “help out”

Definitely read a couple of books to help

So he would do what he could; watch your kids while you work if he didn’t have a match or just distract them while you had to handle something

To them; he quickly becomes that cool older brother who can do flips

Dante begins having a crush on you because of how nurturing and attentive you are to your kid(s)

He’s just worried about you not seeing him in the same light (if you are older)

You like him because of how sweet he is and that he really tries his best to help you

To ask you out, I feel like he would ask the kid(s) more about you and your interests

After asking for the child(rens) blessing and their invasive questions, he would ask you out

IT WOULD BE REALLY CUTE Like he would use the kids homemade cards to ask you out on a date

You: *reading the card(s)* Mom, you should go out with Dante?

Dante: I mean the kid’s got taste

Action Andretti

I feel like he would be very similar to his Lad comrades

Will be attracted to you at first from a far and come around to making his feelings known

He gets hella nervous around you (like would stutter and not make eye contact)

But would be shook to find out that you have kids or a kid

He wouldn’t wanna feel like he’s adding more to your plate

Offers to watch your kids or take them to get something to eat while you work

You guys would have little date nights as either his or your friends offer to watch the kid(s)

BUT LISTEN

I think that your child(ran) would pressure you into asking you out

“You know mom likes you, right? But then again she likes Dylan too-“

Before they could finish their other sentence, Andretti runs straight to you and asks you out

Andretti: *out of breath* I just had to ask you out before Dylan did

You: I don’t even know a Dylan. But I would love to go out with you

Hook:

LETS GET THIS STRAIGHT: HOOK LIKES MILFS (as do I) AND IDC WHAT YOU SAY

Likes you because you are a strong woman and then fell even more in love when he found that you’re a mom (a great one at that)

But he would never show it; he’ll try his best to keep his feelings at bay so he doesn’t add pressure to your life (and because he’s not a verbally emotional person)

Also he thought his actions would speak for his words

I think kids like Hook for the simple fact that he doesn’t talk much; Would let your children do whatever they want to a certain extent

If they did something outta pocket, he’ll just look at them and they’ll stop

You were amazed and you just automatically started going to Hook to babysit/watch them while you’re working

He always keeps snacks, juice boxes, and coloring books in his backpack just in case

Remember how I said that he doesn’t show his feeling and his actions speak for him? When that all changes when he has a talk with your son

Demon Spawn: Do you like my mom?

Hook: Yes

Demon Spawn: Well, can you tell her? She doesn’t think so and she doesn’t understand us guys

Would ask you out with your favorite flowers

“I thought my actions were speaking loudly but I think I need to be straightforward. Will you go out with me?”

Ricky Starks:

THIS MAN IS SOOOOOOOOOOOOO ARJHGAJFHGJKAFDG

He also likes MILFS (again so do I call me)

Before knowing you had kids, he would actively flirt with you every damn day

When he found that you had kids, the flirting became more provocative and direct

“So….do you want another kid? With a handsome and charming man?”

Your kids love him because he helps pick out their outfits, he’s funny (always give them material to roast someone), and he genuinely cares

Like Darius, he will take the responsibility very seriously

In his eyes, it’s like they are his kids too (that was apparent after he signed a permission slip for a field trip)

Keeps a close eye on them backstage and takes them to basketball games

Constantly takes you out on dates; genuinely believes that you guys are in a relationship (PDA, spending nights together)

You always thought that you weren’t good enough for Ricky; but he quickly shut that shit down

“Listen, you are my woman, always have been. You are a great mother just like how you are a great girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend? We never confirmed our relationship.”

“I thought it was obvious but if you want we can go to the bedroom and confirm it now.”

Lee Moriarty:

THIS MAN IS FUNNY IDC WHAT YOU SAY

I feel like he would have that one uncle that is everyone’s favorite

Developed a crush on you because you gave him a jersey

Loves to give your kids piggy back rides (or make Big Bill give them), fake wrestle, and race them around the arena

Will do TikTok challenges with your child and make you join them

Will also let them watch a little of South Park

He’s a confident person but when it comes down to you; he don’t know how to act

He’s the type of person who will get shy around the person he likes

Like Hook, your children will ask if he likes you, to which he responds “Is it that obvious?”

And with them having big mouths, they say, “Mom! You should make him your boyfriend! He like likes you!”

Next time he comes to watch your kids, you ask him out, making him blush

“*in disbelief *You wanna go out with me?”

“Have you met yourself? Of course I want to.”

And then you kiss his cheek, making your children gag

Eddie Kingston *Bonus* I had to include him

THIS DUDE THIS DAWG

He’s aware that he has feelings for you but he doesn’t let you know outta fear of rejection (He thinks he’s being obvious and you’re not interested)

If you ask him to do something, he’ll do it while saying no problem; does not want you to lift a finger while he’s around

Will fight to the death for you and your kids

Always give (sometimes unsolicited) advice to your kids and gives them the hard truth

“Stawp that running around; ya motha don’t like that” (I can hear him sayin it exactly as I wrote it)

They always appreciate how upfront he is

Treats your kids like their his own

Tries to attend their games and award ceremonies

Will brag about their achievements to Jon and anyone else

Back to his crush on you; Eddie fully believes that you don’t like him back and just see him as a friend

Until you tell him about your feelings

“Eddie, you’re a great person: handsome, funny, real, and a sweetheart. I genuinely want you in my life as more than a friend.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth doll.” And then he gives you a kiss

Your kid: EW

“No one told you to watch dawg.”

#aew #all elite wrestling #eddie kingston #aew imagine #aew hook imagine #aew hook #eddie kingston imagine #eddie kingston x reader #darius martin #darius martin imagine #darius martin x reader #dante martin #dante martin imagine #ricky starks #ricky starks imagine #ricky starks x reader #lee moriarty #lee moriarty x reader #action andretti #action andretti x reader

[luckbealincoln]

Best Kept Secret

chapter five : lunar interlude : just a man

THIS SERIES HAS BEEN MOVED AND RE-UPLOADED TO ANOTHER ACCOUNT. WHICH CAN BE FOUND HERE. THIS POST STILL EXISTS AS AN ARCHIVE BUT THIS ACCOUNT IS NO LONGER ACTIVE!!

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 5.0k

summary : a look into din's point of view

warnings, etc. : language, sexual fantasy, masturbation

Absurd.

It’s absurd how much the job pays. Din’s not even sure he should take it at this point because it’s too good to be true. But they promised monthly payments up front and he needed a new ship, and with what this gig pays, within the year he could buy a fleet. He could do this for a few years and be set for life. 

So he catches a ship to Naboo.

And he meets with a rather obnoxious prince who loves the novelty of having a Mandalorian working for him. It’s a good thing the job’s seemingly so easy because Prince Harand is off putting enough to make him reconsider. It’s simple, act as a personal guard to his wife. In exchange he’ll receive more credits than he’ll know what to do with and a private place to reside in. All he has to do is keep her from harm and make sure she doesn’t get into trouble. 

“Is she prone to getting into trouble?” Din doesn’t try to hide the distaste in his voice at how high-and-mighty the man is acting.

“You expect me to know that?”

Pig. 

After he accepts he’s given direct permission to disregard any of her orders that would prevent him from doing his job. 

He declines the invitation to attend the wedding, to say he’s indifferent to the whole affair would be an understatement. He isn’t in any hurry to meet the woman who agreed to marry that. So Prince Harand gives him a note, he doesn’t bother reading it, he just tosses it on the vanity and he waits alone in what he is told are your chambers. 

Weddings take a while. 

So he can’t help but be curious, after all did his employer expect him to just stand in the same spot all day? So he snoops, he’s allowed to be nosy, it might help him do a better job if he can get a grasp on who you are. He spends the next two hours inspecting the room from top to bottom and much to his annoyance he learns nothing. There isn’t a single personal item here. All the clothes are seemingly unworn, there’s no clutter, nothing. If anything he feels like he knows even less about you. Shit, does he even know your name? Had the prince mentioned it? Maker, did the prince even know the name of the woman he was marrying? What a clown. Whatever, it doesn’t matter, she’s royalty and he’s the help, she probably won’t even address him. So he waits for several hours. He just stands there, eventually he considers just leaving and reporting for duty tomorrow but he can hear voices in the hall now so he stands up a bit straighter, then the door creaks open and Kodo drunkenly peers in before slamming it shut again.

Idiot. 

Is that laughter? 

He doesn’t get any time to wonder what that was about because a Twi’lek opens the door and then you walk in. And he’s frozen in place. Your eyes are on him and the room is suddenly dreadfully hot. It’s like you're under some sort of spell that pulls you towards him and he can’t breathe. Why would they put such garish makeup on such a beautiful face?

He should say something. He needs to say something. Introduce yourself you dimwit. 

He opens his mouth but before he can utter a sound you touch him. It feels like his heart has stopped. He can see you speaking but he doesn’t hear a thing, captivated by the way your mouth moves when you talk, your tongue poking out slightly to wet your lips as you graze his chest plate with your fingertips.

It’s enough to make a man want to abandon his creed and take you right there. 

This must be some kind of punishment for all of the terrible things he’s done. The gods are punishing him with this paragon of a woman that he is doomed to spend his days with but he can never have. The ringing in his ears finally clears up and he hears the first words he can actually get a grasp on that come through your perfect mouth. 

“Is this some sort of weird fetish of his?” 

Well. The ringing is back in his ears. He thinks he might just have to die in this position at this point cause it’s definitely too late to speak up, he waited too long, what the hell is the matter with him? He’s a fucking bounty hunter for gods sake, he’s fought beasts of all shapes and sizes and suddenly he’s been conquered by some woman he doesn’t even know?

Your small hand grabs the edge of the helmet and he’s finally able to snap out of it when you go to remove it. On instinct he manages to catch both your wrists in one hand. 

“Don’t.” Thank the gods the modulator covers up the way his voice cracks. You’re scolding him, you’ve poked a finger into his chest plate but he’s having a hard time paying attention because he can’t seem to take his eyes off of the way your face flushes red, and then your neck, and then your chest. 

How low does the crimson tint go?

For Makers sake snap out of it man, you’re one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy not a school boy with a crush. 

You’re staring at the Twi’lek, scowling. He has to silence his helmet to hide the laughter that bursts out as you actually manage to get him to leave just by eyeballing him.

He manages to get through the conversation with you without tearing your clothes off, although there is a close call when you hike up your skirt to remove an anklet and like some sort of repressed Victorian woman, he sees just a glimpse of your ankle and can feel blood rushing south. 

For god’s sake. At that point he just closes his eyes because this situation cannot get any worse, and then he can hear your dress hit the floor and he has never had to work so hard to keep his eyes shut. 

“...I want to hear it from you.” 

“My job is to make sure you are not harmed.” Can you hear the strain in his voice as he wills himself not to get hard? Gods he hopes not. He needs to get out of this situation fast, he’s getting ready to dismiss himself and find Kodo and tell him to take the money back, that he can’t do this but you say something that stops him dead in his tracks.

“Actually I’m good.”

He can’t stop the exasperation in his voice.

“Excuse me?” 

“Can you not hear through the helmet? I’m good. I’ve already got an ensemble of people trailing me. I don’t need another.”

You can’t be serious. 

“You’re dismissed.” 

You are. 

People don’t typically talk to him like that. They’re always too afraid. But you aren’t, you don’t seem to be frightened by him in the slightest. He was going to leave, he wanted to leave, but it’s been a long time since someone challenged him like this. 

“You don’t have the authority to dismiss me.” He snaps back. 

He likes arguing with you. He doesn’t get to argue with people. Who wants to argue with a Mandalorian? Most people don’t want to get shot by a trained killer. 

You don’t appear to be most people.

He wants to rile you up, wants to see the fire in your eyes, he’d do just about anything to be the target of your anger. 

So he teases you, until he leaves, making sure to get the last word in. He sets up a few imperceptible motion sensors just under your door knob so he can make sure he’s alerted if you decide to make a run for it. 

And then he’s alone. So he goes to where he was told his lodging would be, it’s about a twenty minute walk but he doesn’t mind, it’s secluded, cozy. The cabin reminds him a bit of the crest, just big enough to be comfortable. 

He takes a cold shower and tries not to think about his boss's wife. 

✩

The next few weeks aren’t any easier. 

You seemingly can’t stand him and he decides it’s for the best. You should hate him, he deserves it since your husband is paying him outrageous amounts of money to follow you around all day and fantasize about all the ways he could make you hate him a little less. 

It’s hell.

Having to watch you day in and day out. Watch you wander around aimlessly, like a bird trapped in a cage. His least favorite days are when he has to attend dinners with you and your husband. The man is an ogre. And that’s why he can’t seem to leave. He thinks about it, often. Just packing up and catching the next ship off planet. But if he leaves, who's going to protect you from this creep? So he stays.

Eventually, he watches you less like it’s his job and more like it’s his religion. 

Things only get worse when one night he wakes up with a start, sitting up in bed as he hears the beeping from his gauntlet that signifies your door being opened. It’s the middle of the night. What if somebody got in? There’s no way, you have a state of the art locking system that only he and a few staff can get into, unless they have a code. What if it was just your husband? Why does that make him don his armor faster? He has no right to barge in there if it’s simply your spouse coming in to fulfill his marital duty, yet he’s in a dead sprint towards the castle the moment he’s dressed. He had fallen asleep in his flight suit with his helmet on anyway, it didn’t take him long and when he gets to your room he’s tense the moment he sees that the door is closed. Ever so slightly adjusting the audio on his helmet he discerns that the room is empty so he switches his vision so he can trail you and sure enough a set of footprints is going off in the familiar direction of the library. 

It was a relief. To know that no one had gotten in and you had simply left on your own accord but why would you be sneaking out to the library? You go to the library everyday, you should be sick of it. So he silently walks until he sees the faint light of a glowrod illuminating your face, a stack of books clutched in your arms. And he’s about to say something, you’re only a few feet ahead of him but when you turn you’re wearing such a thin nightgown, and the robe is hardly doing anything to cover you. Before he can react you’re rushing forward slamming into him. 

And now he’s facing the worst torture yet. 

Your robe fell off one of your shoulders as you dropped and now you’re sprawled out on the floor below him, your hair is down, messy from sleep, your slip of a nightgown riding up your thighs as you look up into the darkness at him. And then you fucking groaned. And all he can think about is how easy it would be to turn that fabric into confetti. 

Help her up jackass. 

He reaches down and of course you swat his hands away. You should hate him. 

He helps you back to your room and the moment he knows you aren’t going to try anything he rushes back in the direction of the library. He knows you're fuming, the least he can do is go get your books. But then he’s picking them up and looking at the titles he can’t believe how warm it is in the castle suddenly. He’s used to the heat. Wearing this many layers you build up a tolerance.

But now he’s looking at the stack of smutty romance novels you’d wanted so badly you’d snuck out to get them and he’s sweating. 

He makes it back to the cabin in half the time it usually takes him. He was in such a hurry he had completely forgotten about returning your books to you. He tosses them to the side and in an instant he’s practically throwing his armor to the ground, he only manages to get half of it off before he sprawls out on his bed, discarding his gloves haphazardly as he frees his cock from his trousers. His helmet bumping against the wall as he leans back and starts stroking himself, his palms are so clammy he doesn’t even bother spitting in his hand. 

It’s shameful how close he already is just at the sight of you on the floor like that. His hips stutter upwards into his fist as he imagines you on top of him, your thighs wrapped around his waist, hair disheveled, wearing that pretty little negligee. Maker, your skin always looks so soft, you’d feel so much better than his calloused hands. Were you gonna read those dirty books and touch yourself with those delicate little fingers of yours? 

It doesn’t take long after that before he reaches his hasty climax, cumming with a filthy groan of your name, shooting ropes up onto his stomach. 

He definitely deserves to have you hate him. 

He tries to not even look at you after that. Until one day when you’re in the library once again and it’s obvious to him that you’re pretending to read your book, your eyes dart up to glare at him every few seconds. 

You’re looking at him like bounties look at him once they’ve been caught and are plotting to attempt an escape, purely out of habit he chides you.

“Don’t”

And that’s all it takes. He actually manages to talk to you. Of course it’s easier once he imagines you as a particularly unruly bounty, to snap back at you. If you were a real bounty he’d have a hard time turning you in. 

You’d look nice in the cuffs. 

Don’t. Keep it in your pants you moron. 

He even offers to take you to the gardens, you deserve that at the very least, a few hours outside of this sweltering castle. 

Then he takes you back to your quarters and you look at him with those heart eyes and he feels like he’s going to pass out when you so eagerly make him promise to show you the gardens. 

It’s selfish. But he has to get in one last dig, he has to see that bloom of color on your skin one last time as he tells you that your book had been upside down. 

It all becomes so manageable. For a moment he thinks that the two of you might be able to handle this little antagonistic relationship that you’re beginning to build. It would be nice, to have you keeping him in check, to have reminders that you dislike him. 

But he had to go and ruin it all.

It all went wrong so fast it made his head spin. 

It all started when you were in that damned dress. You’d been the most stunning woman he’d ever seen even in the campy, over the top makeup, and the flashy unattractive dresses. But now here you were in that yellow gown and it was like he was seeing you clearly for the first time. There weren’t any flashy accessories to distract him from your face. That flawless face. 

So he was already a little off his game at that point.

And then he slipped up. He couldn’t help it, not when you were standing next to him, dressed like that. He called you little flower. That had been something just for him and like the blundering fool that he was in your presence he blurted it out without thinking. He could feel that familiar paralysis, he hated the effect you had on him. Thank the gods he had done it in Mando’a. 

But you’re you so of course you don’t drop it. And then you make it worse because you touch him. 

And then he makes things worse because he lashes out.

Then he thinks you’re hurt and he makes an ass of himself.

And lashes out again. He’s not even that mad about the droid comment he’s just overwhelmed, he’s never been this overwhelmed and this stupid fucking planet is so hot.

It keeps getting worse, he can’t shut the fuck up and finally you tell him to leave and he can’t because he wants to stay, he wants to stay and scream at you because he can’t stand how much he needs you it makes him physically ill how you haunt him day and night.

So he says no.

And the look on your face is enough to make him want to swear a new creed to make sure you never look so betrayed ever again. 

After that you should hate him. He’s glad you hate him. He’s glad you’re giving him the silent treatment, he deserves much worse. 

The first day all he can think about is apologizing. You sit in that little nook, back in your blue dresses, looking furious. He just doesn’t know what to say that won’t make this worse. 

The second day all he can think about is how he could make it up to you. He’s got a couple of ideas of things that might wipe that frown off your face. He’s obviously not going to just abandon his creed but you definitely don’t make it easy, there’s a million different things that he wants to do to you that would be rather difficult if he can’t use his mouth.

He doesn’t make any real progress on day two either and later that night ends up with his face buried in his pillow, fucking his fist. 

The third day he’s actually kind of pissed. If you two have something in common it’s how stubborn you can be and suddenly he’s mad at you, for no real reason, he supposes he’s just sick of feeling sorry. 

And then there’s that dinner. 

He wants to kill that ignorant, snooty, little man more than he’s ever wanted to kill a person. He wants to make it last, it’s been a long time since he’s killed something, he would enjoy killing Kodo.

But all that rage goes away when he catches a glimpse of your expression and it’s replaced with fear. He’s never seen you look so small and suddenly he’s terrified that you’ve lost that fire. He’ll go back and massacre Kodo right now if he truly did extinguish your flame. 

So he breaks the silence. And asks if you're okay. 

And he’s relieved when you ramble on, even though he wishes so desperately he could wipe your tears away. Of course you’d be harder than that to put out. His light is okay, and that's all that matters. 

So he leaves you your book. 

He had gotten bored and read one of them. The Smitten Paladin. It was racy but it’s what she had gone to get in the first place so why not. But that isn’t enough. Not after what you just went through, so he opens the cover and leaves his favorite color, green, written inside, it’s the least he can do. 

✩

He goes into the next day with the intention of apologizing. Not entirely sure what for. 

Sorry your husband is a scumbag. You should leave him for me. 

Doesn’t exactly have a ring to it. 

Before he can think of what to say you come out of your room and he’s thankful for the helmet because his jaw would be on the floor. 

Maker, did you wear that just for him?

The green dress clings to the outline of your torso and it feels like he’s been punched in the gut. Actually, he’s been punched in the gut plenty of times and this is worse because your hair is down and it’s all he can do to not tangle his fingers in it and drag you back into your room. What kind of game are you trying to play with him? Dressing in that color, making yourself irresistible, what the hell is your angle? He’s cautious and slow when he greets you. He remains on edge all the way to the library.

And then you take out the fucking book. 

You can’t be serious. 

This can’t be happening. 

You can’t just do this.

You can’t just sit there in that dress. With your hair falling so exquisitely across your face, begging to be brushed behind your ear, reading porn directly in front of him.

If you’re trying to punish him it’s working. This is torture. If you used this method to interrogate him for information he would have folded immediately. He sits there for hours, sweating his ass off as you perch in that little nook of yours, it would be so easy for him to just bend you over it and lift up the skirt of that lovely little gown. Is that what you want? He’s getting dizzy. Why else would you do this and then read a fucking erotic novel in front of him? Is this some kind of test? 

Then you look at him. It’s easy to forget since he’s always wearing a helmet that you don’t know when he’s staring right at you. You glance up at him through your eyelashes and you don’t look away. He’s so hard he’s pretty sure he’s about to burst through the front of his pants. What is your goal here? Your face is turning that delicious shade of red and you haven’t so much as looked at the pages in front of you for minutes at this point.

If this is some game of chicken he isn’t going to lose. No matter how badly he wants it, he won’t lay a hand on you unless you ask him for it. Did you just squeeze your thighs together?

For god's sake, ask for it. Ask for anything he’ll fucking do it.

He can’t take it anymore. So he speaks, teases you. It’s innocent enough. 

Keep it innocent. 

So you go back and forth and it’s safe. For a moment. He manages to adjust himself in the chair so it hopefully isn’t too obvious that he’s pitching a tent severe enough to camp under. And then he can’t stop himself from asking how the book is and before he knows it you’re asking if he had to take a vow of celibacy. 

This isn’t okay.

And then you ask if he can take the armor off. 

For Makers sake you’re married.

He needs to ask about something else. Anything else.

“The book, what’s it about?” 

Yeah, let's talk about the porn again. Dumbass. 

And then you say the words that make him want to just abandon his post and quit. Get as far away from this planet as possible.

“I wasn’t really stuck on anything… I suppose I was just trying to figure out how he fits it all in there?”

Fuck. Does she know? Is she trying to be coy?

You can’t know. He hadn’t seen your eyes dart between his legs. This can’t be happening, this is so bad. Kodo would have him killed for this. So he plays his last card, that he read the book. And thankfully it actually works, you’re so distracted by the fact that he read your book that he manages to get you out of the library and back to your chambers. 

He can’t get back to his cabin fast enough.

Cold shower. Bed. That’s the order of events. Nothing else. 

But he can’t get away from you. It’s worse when he sleeps because in his dreams you are so much less confusing. 

In his dreams you join him in that cold shower and you warm him up in several different ways (and several different positions) and he can take off his helmet and look at you unfiltered. You're the leading lady of all of his dreams, since the day he met you he has never had a break from you. 

That isn’t always a good thing because he wakes up from those dreams he has to go see the real you. The one that hates him. As you should.

✩ It was already a rough morning, there is nothing as humbling as waking up to find you’ve cum in your pants like some pent up teenager. 

The morning only gets rougher when he goes to retrieve you and you aren’t there.

Fuck.

What’s the protocol for this sort of thing? He doesn’t even bother trying to figure that out because his hand is already on his blaster and he’s throwing doors open. This isn’t the time to panic, he needs to pull himself together.

And then he throws open the right door and you’re sitting there in the tub with your hand shoved between your legs, your head tilted back ever so slightly with your eyes shut tight. You’re his dream come to life and simultaneously his worst nightmare. He wants to look away. He needs to look away but he’s a goner the moment he sees your soapy chest. 

This has to be a record breakingly bad morning. 

And yet by some miracle he fixes it. Or rather, the garden fixes it. You couldn’t pay him to look away from your face. He wants you to look like this all the time, beaming, curious, truly happy. And he can’t help himself, he doesn’t deserve it, but he’s greedy and he wants to know more about you, wants to hear your voice. So he suggests the game and Maker, you play it. 

Gods, he’s weak. Why do you make him so weak?

The moment you ask for a question if you win he knows what you’ll ask. He hadn’t planned on letting you win, but you looked so content, he could just tell you but he passes on the last question. He wants you to know what it means. 

It’s selfish to ask for anything else, he shouldn’t be rewarded for this kind of behavior, but he does it anyway, and he asks for more. He asks for more days, just the two of you, and you say yes. 

And when you ask what sarad'ika means he’s sure this is where he gets what he deserves, this is where you’ll spit in his face, call him a creep, and tell him to leave. But you don’t. Instead you politely say good night to him. 

This can’t be real. There’s just no way. But there you are, each morning, in your much simpler gowns that suit you so perfectly, and you ask him to read because you don’t want him to be bored and how could he possibly say no to you. You could ask him for the moons and he’d find a way to give them to you.

But it has to end eventually. 

And it does on the fifth cycle as reality crashes in and he has to escort you to dinner with your husband. 

She’s married.

✩

It keeps getting worse. He’s asked to leave. He can’t. He can’t just leave you in a room full of drunk men, especially these drunk men. Especially that drunk man. His mind is racing at light speed but he can’t think of a single argument for why he should stay. 

And then you look at him with those pleading eyes and his heart starts pounding out of his chest.

Maybe he could take on six battle droids.

But he doesn’t, of course. Because what if you got caught in the crossfire. You hadn’t produced an heir, you were still expendable to Prince Harand. And he has to leave you alone with him. 

It’s the longest two hours of his life. 

He wants to tune it out, to turn off any exterior sound on the helmet but he can’t because what if something happened to you? So he listens to every word.

He’s never felt so small. 

It’s a pitiful feeling. To go through your entire life being used to doing things a certain way to protect the ones you care for. And then when it comes down to the person that means the most to you you can’t do a thing.

For a man who has solved nearly all of his problems in life with a blaster, to suddenly be unable to do so? It’s pathetic. 

They could punish her if I intervene.

They could kill her. 

They could kill me.

Lock me up.

Who would protect her then? 

Maker, he hasn’t felt this crushing sensation in his chest since he had to say goodbye to the kid. He can’t breathe. 

He’s supposed to be the strong one.

Yet he has been conquered by a fucking door. 

He doesn’t even realize you're out. Or that you’ve kicked him. Or that you’re suddenly sitting between his legs. He’s too far gone. It isn’t until he feels his helmet adjust that he snaps out of it. 

Because you’re real. And you’re okay.

No thanks to him.

And he can’t stop the words that pour out of his mouth. Never in his life has he been reduced to this, afraid like this. You should be disgusted. That the Mandalorian sworn to protect you had been diminished to this. Just a man.

But you aren’t. You’re warm, and gentle, and soft, and real. 

He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve you.

So he stands. And he helps you up.

He needs you to hate him again. It’s the only thing that keeps him grounded. 

So he escorts you to your chambers, and you turn to him and say those five damning words. 

“Do you wanna come in?” 

He’s weak. And he’s selfish. Don’t do this Mando.

But he isn’t a Mandalorian right now. He’s just a man. 

With you he's just Din.

So he nods.

#din djarin smut #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin/reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian

[lulucutie2nitexd]

I'm back with a Diluc request and am in the mood for Vindictive!Reader. When Jean started her affair with Diluc, she had assumed that you were a meek, submissive housewife she can easily browbeat into divorcing Diluc. So, when Diluc tells her that you want to meet up because you found out about their relationship, Jean decides it was the perfect chance to bully you into divorcing Diluc. Much to her surprise, she finds a confident, assertive you; a you who declares that while you accept her relationship with Diluc, you have no intention of giving up your title as wife, so Jean will have to settle for being the concubine.

Orderly roles.

Unfaithful (bit possessive) Diluc x Vindictive Reader ❤️

Also reader x whatever character you insert

Tw: cheating, hints of sexual advances

Reader is gender neutral however there is hints of being female and them having kids with Diluc

Not proofread btw

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Your mirrage was perfect, up until the point you noticed that your husband was acting unfond of you. Even Infront of your own children he is not kind to you like he used to be. The gentle yet well put together man you once knew and loved separated from you more day by day. You knew it hurt your kids, you know it'd hurt yourself to leave him too. Unfortunately what bound you to Diluc was the fact you're financially dependent on him.

So when you found him undressing a particular beautiful, strong and resilient blond woman you didn't even bat an eye. You just kept doing what you where, wether it be reading or baking you'd stay away from them. You've always known you're just her replacement, so why would you even bother to be upset to begin with? You've seen the way they look at eachother, even on your wedding day. You love Diluc, but he is definitely not yours by heart.

Unfortunately for Jean, he's not hers legally either, and what She did not plan on was your stubbornness about leaving diluc. From attempting to bribe you to bullying you to divorce him, but you did not budge. Going as far as offering to have the knights fund you to be able to live comfortably without diluc and yet you turned it down every time. Effectively putting Jean in her place with every rejection.

By then some of the towns folk where starting to notice the separation. Thus some young men began to attempt to pursue you. Courting became quite common when it came to other men, and yet for some reason it upset Diluc. If you talked to a handsome young man, striking simple conversation Diluc couldn't help but feel jealous. But he didn't understand. Something else he didn't understand is why you wouldn't leave. Partly that he secretly doesn't want you too.

Eventually you meet a fine man, strong and sweet. You found yourself falling for him, spending time with him or to bake him treats. He'd take you on adventures and teach you things you never thought where possible. He was aware of your relationship, you told him everything because you trust him. With that, is how you began to also pursue this man. And it made Diluc's blood boil. Diluc couldn't understand why he's be mad.

Shouldn't Diluc be happy that he can be with Jean alone finally? Despite everything you never divorced him. Jean wasn't quite happy about this situation, and neither was Diluc. Diluc's heart aching knowing you're with another man, and yet he doesn't know why, he doesn't know why after he's cheated for so long, tried to leave you and such. And yet he feels so upset. Perhaps he's mad that he was replaced.

Although you considered taking your kids and running away with your lover, you decided to rub salt in the wound and come home to make dinner every night to spite diluc for ever cheating. Sure you may love each other deep down inside, but he brought thus into himself. It's only payback for him cheating on you. All that is to come from this is an annoyed Jean and a emotionally wrecked Diluc.

Diluc wasn't good enough anyway considering he never spent time with you or his family.

#genshin impact #angst #genshin x reader #x reader #angst with comfort #comfort #fluff #diluc ragnvindr #diluc #genshin #diluc x you #genshin diluc #angst fanfic

[xbalayage]

if you’re inspired, silvio + insomnia ily

7.  INSOMNIA :  for one muse to find the other still awake at 3am.

It was late in the night, and definitely not planned for. Time had escaped him during a scheduled inventory sweep of a recent shipment; due to an injury caused by a worker of his, failing to follow safety protocols, the anticipated time ended up taking longer. Luckily, instead of it escalating any further than needed, Silvio was able to talk the guy into his silence and sent for a physician to check on his injuries which ended up not being life-threatening. He heaved a big sigh, brushing his hands together at a job well done, everything accounted for and a bullet dodged all in one night — all he wanted more than anything now, was just to lay up with the woman he loved and hadn't seen since early morning.

As the days grow by of finally accepting his feelings, you filtered through his mind more often than before, always wanting to spend every waking minute with you and as much as he love nothing more than that, he had responsibilities that needed tending to that he trusted no one else to perform than himself. Giving the dazzling sea of stars a glance over, he strode back towards an already called upon carriage to head back to his home of a palace. A home he shared with you.

Once arriving back, you've made him hyper aware of how his steps carry through the halls and the sounds of his jewelry echo with each step, so in times he comes home late like this, he tries to be sufficient at lessening those sounds; partially because surprising you was a fun endeavor as well, getting to see the sudden smile breach your features made his long day worthwhile.

Some nights, it was hard to really give a certain time of when he'd be back home, so you'd often stay up, awaiting for him to enter the doors to your shared room, curled up warm by the candlelight with a new book in hand and the moon's caress shining from the windows onto your body. He could already picture the beauty of the sight now— his ethereal, bookworm looking goddess. The sight was even more pleasing when you didn't hear him coming.

So when he approached the doors, he went to open them quietly. However, to his surprise, the butterfly feeling in his stomach twisted to a gut wrenching one when he didn't see you in bed, in the bathroom, or on the balcony. Anxiety and panic suddenly flooded his rational thinking, leading his thoughts into multiple directions: did you finally get tired of him, were you hurt somewhere alone or had a kidnapper come to use you for ransom? He had to shake his head and pinch the bridge of his nose.

Stop being pathetic and think. She wouldn't just vanish on ya even if she was tired of you. She'd give me a piece of her mind before that. There's no way in hell she's hurt, I have the best people to watch over and treat her in a worst case scenario. And if someone had the brain the size of Glumskull's, they'd leave a ransom note at least and I don't see shit anywhere. Think; where else could she be this late at night?

And that's when it hit him.

He didn't leave any more time to think and acted, making quick work leaving the room and heading down the hall with a mission in mind, not paying any mind to his footsteps and the jingle of his necklaces. He just hoped he learned you enough and his intuition was correct.

Once pushing the door open, he hadn't realized his heart had been racing as the minutes passed but it finally relaxed and fell to a soft rhythm again once his eyes reached your form in the corner of the library, curled up by a single light of a candle with your nose in a book. It must be a good read because you didn't even notice him enter the room, your eyes probably adapted to only the area around you. It was a little chilly tonight, why weren't you wearing anything more to warm yourself?

He mentally clicked his tongue, immediately moving to undo his cloak as he approached you, wrapping it around your shoulders. You jumped at the sudden presence of another person, finally relinquishing your gaze from your novel to look up at the man you'd been awaiting for his return. He could tell from the look in your eye that sleep was teetering at the seems and you had been trying hard to fight it back.

"Why didn't ya bring a blanket? Are you tryin' to get sick? How come you came to the library? The bed's more comfortable and warm than this cold room."

You rubbed at your eye and allowed a yawn to escape your lips. He couldn't help but smile at how adorable you were being.

"The bed was lonely without you. I was just trying to pass the time until you came home, I didn't want to go to sleep without you."

Ah, damn it. A blush crept to his cheeks upon hearing your honest words. It was crazy how bad you were for his heart. Without a second more, he scoops you from the ground and into his arms which you gladly allow him to do, finding yourself comfortable in his embrace. You breathed in a deep whiff of his scent before adjusting deeper into his arms. "Mmm.. I missed you."

How can you still say such embarrassing things? You say them even more when you're on the verge of sleep too. He hopes you know that one day, you were going to be the death of him. He couldn't help his smile. You were like a vulnerable child in his arms; so honest and innocent. He leaned in, leaving a loving kiss to your forehead that lingered a few seconds long before speaking once more.

"Ha, I missed you too, silly. C'mon, sweetheart, let's go to bed."

#silvio #silvio ricci #ikepri silvio #ikemen prince silvio #ikepri #ikemen prince #asks. #fics. #my fics. #ikemenlibrary #I MISSED WRITING SILVIO I FELT INSPIRED TO WRITE TONIGHT AND I'M SO GLAD I DID #TUMBLR I WANT OTHER PEOPLE TO ENJOY SOFT SILVIO WITH ME fhdjsakfd

[palmofafreezinghand]

kitchen observations

Bella and Esme chat as Esme cooks dinner for her granddaughter, and Bella finds out Edward may have left out some relevant details about Carlisle and Esme's life stories. on ao3 here.

January, 2006. 

Kitchens had always been Bella’s sanctuary. Even long after she no longer had a use for any of the devices in the room she found herself gravitating to the Cullen’s kitchen, spending most of her free time reading at the bar or inviting her husband to a game of chess in the breakfast nook. 

It had taken time for that particular kitchen, and the house as a whole, to become the uniquely comforting space it now was. When Bella first met Edward’s family their kitchen was sterile and slightly incorrect, like an unused television set. As she spent more and more time in the Cullen house, the kitchen gradually came alive, more accurately Edward’s ‘mother,’ Esme, breathed life into the room. 

Esme had approached cooking for Bella cautiously as if she were a frightened baby deer separated from its mother. The first time she offered Bella a baked good she used the flimsy excuse she had made too much for the PTA bake sale, Bella would only realize days later there was not a PTA bake sale. Then one evening when Bella stayed later than usual, Charlie was scheduled for the night shift and therefore her curfew was ignored for the night, Esme offered to make dinner, coincidentally having all the ingredients on hand. Again, Bella would only realize Alice foresaw this happening and that is why Esme had a stocked refrigerator days later. This trend continued, and one thing turned to another and soon Esme, with Edward’s ‘help,’ was spending hours cooking an entire Thanksgiving feast because Renee had, of course, bailed last minute. By the time Bella was one of the Cullen family in name and supernatural status, the refrigerator and pantry were always fully stocked, holding ingredients for the next half dozen meals. 

At first, Bella would hover in the kitchen out of guilt, offering assistance that Esme would very rarely accept, instead only utilizing Bella as a taste tester. Esme, however, never refused the offer of company while she cooked. It soon turned out that the hours spent in the pristine kitchen were some of the few times the two women bonded. Esme was more withdrawn than many of her family members, at least while Bella was still a human, which meant the few times Bella could convince her to speak freely was when she was distracted by following the precise steps of a new recipe. 

When the food was done, and Bella began to eat, Esme would half-heartedly begin to wash the dishes, using the location of the sink to watch Bella’s reaction out of the corner of her eye. After a few months, Edward off-handedly told Bella that Esme had to use all of her strength to restrain herself from asking Bella a thousand questions about the meal and her thoughts, instead controlling herself and only nonchalantly asking “Is it alright?” after a few minutes. Bella would always laugh when Esme asked this question, the food had never been just alright. Bella was unsure if it was due to her own basic cooking skills, the woman’s supernatural abilities, or the care Esme poured into every dish but she had yet to have a meal of Esme’s that was not wonderful. 

As Bella became more comfortable with Esme she would offer suggestions on recipes to try, comment on what spices she did not care for, or ask for specific meals. In turn, Esme would go on and on about the newest cookbook she was working through or the latest recipe she saw on the Food Network. 

The leftovers, of which there was always plenty, would be packed up in Rubbermaid in pre-portioned servings that Charlie would bring to work the next day. When he eventually realized — after far too long for being the town’s only detective — who was making the meals he became an even bigger fan of Mrs. Cullen, unfortunately still disliking her son quite a lot. Once he offered to pay Esme for a portion of groceries she had simply laughed. 

Bella had told Esme countless times she, and her father, was grateful but there was no need to go through so much trouble on their behalf. After the twelfth time Esme responded, “Truthfully, it is more for me than for you. I have missed cooking, and I can not tell you how nice it is to do it for someone who appreciates it.” That had been the end of Bella’s protestations. 

After Bella was no longer able to indulge in food, Esme still sent Charlie home with a week’s worth of meals each time he visited; but her main mission was attempting to convince her granddaughter that some food could be as enticing as blood. It had proved to be a much harder task than she previously anticipated. 

That day, Esme was making beef bourguignon — one of Bella’s favorites as a human and a classic for a reason — after discovering Renesmee was far more willing to, at the very least, taste meat-based dishes. 

Bella, keeping with tradition, was re-reading Little Women at the kitchen bar as Esme cooked. The sound of oil crackling, a well-sharpened Chef’s knife chopping carrots, and a tape of Julia Child’s television program playing quietly on the small television — despite the fact Esme had the recipe memorized — were comforting. 

Most of the family had fled the house for the afternoon, finding the smell of sauteeing vegetables grating but understanding whose name was on the deed of the house they lived in. Bella could hear the muffled clicks of plastic building blocks upstairs, where her husband and daughter were in the library building with Legos, one of the few children’s toys Renesmee would tolerate. 

“Have you read this?” Bella asked, holding the book cover up for Esme to see the title. This was how most of their conversations started. Bella asked a mundane question she had thought over dozens of times. 

Esme glanced up from the stove at the kitchen island where her carrots and onions were almost done cooking. “Dozens of times. I have only read the sequels once or twice.” 

“There are sequels?” Bella asked, placing her bookmark to hold her page. 

“Two. Little Men, which is about Jo’s students, and then there’s Jo’s Boys which is about the students and her sons in their adulthood.” 

“Do you have a copy of either?” 

Esme nodded, placing the seared meat back in her pot. “I think they should be in Carlisle’s study, they might be in the library, feel free to borrow them whenever you wish.” 

There must have been thousands of books in the house, Carlisle owning the most, Esme owning the second largest collection and the widest variety, and while Jasper’s collection was notable in page numbers it housed very few books. As a human Bella had been reluctant to borrow any, despite blatant permission, but now that she was facing an eternity she could not read through most of the collection fast enough. 

“Which March sister do you think you are?” Bella asked. 

Esme sighed, uncorking the bottle of red wine. “Now that’s a difficult question. My husband says I’m Jo, and I suppose he should know better than anyone, but I don’t believe anyone who calls themselves a Jo.” 

“I can see hints of Meg too.” 

“Your husband has told me that before,” Esme smiled, measuring out two cups of the Merlot. ‘Your husband’ in reference to Edward still made Bella smile months after their wedding. “You’re a Beth.” 

“You think?” Bella asked. 

“Absolutely. Do you know who I think is an Amy?” 

“Rosalie?” 

“Thank you! She fails to see it.” 

“Really?” It seemed a quite obvious connection to Bella. 

“Yes, I have tried relentlessly to convince her to no avail.” 

“Who is Alice?” 

Esme shrugged, throwing in bouillon and herbs and setting the stove to a simmer. “She believes Laurie and Jo should have gotten married so I no longer give weight to her opinions on literature.”

“She does not,” Bella gasped as Esme nodded. 

They grew quiet again, as Esme started to clean up the counter while the pot simmered. 

“Which Bennet sister do you think you are?” Bella asked after a minute or two. 

“Jane,” Esme said immediately. “More accurately I dream of being Jane.” 

 Jane made a lot of sense. From what very little Edward had told her of the days playing matchmaker for Carlisle and Esme, Darcy’s influence on Bingley and Jane’s courtship seemed an apt comparison too. 

“I like to think of myself as Lizzie if for nothing else but Mr. Darcy, but I think I am Mary most days,” Bella said. 

Esme laughed kindly. “I must admit I had never understood the full appeal of Darcy until I watched the PBS series.” 

“You don’t like Darcy?” Bella gasped, failing to understand how one could not like one of the best romantic interests of all time. 

“I always thought he was awfully indifferent and I could never imagine spending my life with that man, even for all the money in the world. Especially when compared to Bingley, but that Colin Firth,” she grinned, looking like the twenty-something she was. Bella laughed, having watched the PBS mini-series until the VHS tape threatened to give out. 

The back door swung open as Bella began to respond and she fell silent. 

“Hi, Lover,” Esme said, not needing to look up from her task at the stove to know the person entering the room was her husband. 

Despite having the same supernatural abilities, enhanced even, Bella found the infrequent glimpses of how inhuman the Cullens truly were, was still shocking at times. 

“Hello, Love,” Carlisle said, closing the backdoor. He waved to Bella, who waved back, pointing at the bouquet he was carrying with a raised brow in question. He pointed towards his wife who still had her back to him. “Apologies for interrupting.”

“We were discussing what Bennet sisters we were,” Bella said, not revealing their shared crush on Mr. Darcy. 

“Mary,” he said pointing at Bella, he turned to his wife, “Jane, unless you had an opportunity to court the PBS version of Darcy.” 

“That is precisely what we had established,” Esme laughed, a lighter-sounding laugh than earlier. The differences in Esme’s behavior when her husband was around were often subtle but impactful, the two seemed to gravitate around one another when in the same room, the same could be said for Carlisle. Bella often wondered if anyone could notice if her behavior changed and if it did at all when Edward was in the room. 

“Whatever that is smells awful,” he said, setting the flowers on the counter behind Esme. One of the few times Bella had heard Dr. Cullen express his distaste for anything was over his wife’s proclivity for cooking, and the smell of the hobby. 

“It’s bœuf bourguignon,” Esme said, walking over to the pantry to put away the wine and stock. 

“C’est répugnant,” he grinned, despite his wife not looking at him. 

“Your French pronunciation has somehow only gotten worse with age,” she laughed, “and for what it’s worth, I have learned when it smells disgusting it turns out well.” 

“Everything you do does.” 

Esme glanced over her shoulder so he could see her roll her eyes. “Has Emmett been teaching you pickup lines again?” 

Carlisle laughed, pressing a kiss to her cheek, placing a hand on her lower back as he passed her. 

Bella had always enjoyed people-watching but something about observing Carlisle and Esme in particular was uniquely entertaining. Listening to the way their conversation bounced from one to another felt like watching a professional tennis match. In moments like the current one, they operated as if others were not present. She presumed after living so many years with others who could hear every word spoken, no matter how quietly, and nearly every thought, the facade of privacy was no longer a concern. 

Carlisle walked over to a cabinet, opening the door to reveal shelves of vases and decorative plates. Tablecloths and cloth napkins were color-coded and hung on velvet hangers. He rummaged around for a minute, Esme glanced over to inspect the source of the noise as she closed the pantry. 

“Pick one, please,” he said, pulling two vases out of the cabinet. She looked over her choices, a white porcelain with hand-painted flowers, and a cut crystal. 

She pointed to the porcelain vase and he carried it to the sink. “You like to put a splash of salt and vinegar in the water, right?” He asked, turning on the tap. 

“Cold water, two teaspoons of sugar, and one tablespoon of white vinegar,” she said, lifting the pot lid to inspect how the dish was simmering. “And yes, those are two different tools of measurement.” 

“I used baking powder instead of baking soda one time,” he said to Bella, akin to an aside in a Shakespeare play. 

“They are very different things,” Bella muttered. 

“Thank you!” Esme exclaimed. “We have been having this argument for the past thirty-seven years.”

Carlisle said nothing — having been outnumbered in an arena he was clearly not the expert in — but was smiling to himself as he cut the ends off the flower stems. Esme slid the pot into the oven, setting the timer for two hours and thirty minutes. 

“Who are the flowers for?” Esme finally asked as she passed her husband to get to the freezer, where she retrieved a large Ziploc bag of frozen vegetable scraps.

“The most beautiful woman in the world,” he grinned, arranging the flowers in their vase. 

“Gene Tierney is buried in Houston, Texas,” she said plainly as she scrapped the scraps on her cutting board into the freezer bag, saving them to eventually make a stock. 

“The woman I think is the most beautiful woman in the world.” 

Bella assumed by the couple’s similar smiles it was a well-worn inside joke, like so many of the things they said. Esme paused her task to glance at her husband, who was standing at the sink holding the vase out to her. 

“They’re beautiful, thank you,” she said, walking to him, kissing him on the cheek, and then leaning down to smell the flowers. “What is the occasion?” 

“Let’s see,” Carlisle sighed. “Happy eighty-sixth anniversary,” he pointed to a flower, one hand on her back, “Merry Christmas,” he pointed to another flower, “Happy New Year,” he continued picking a new flower for every holiday he prattled off.  “Apologies for almost getting everyone we love murdered. Thank you for hosting everyone we know with such short notice. Hooray, we lived! Happy birthday. Happy baby’s birthday. My deepest condolences. And last but not least, thank you for not killing me when you awoke and learned what I had done to you.” 

“Is that all? There’s one flower left,” Esme laughed, leaning into his side. 

“I believe so, wait, Happy First Time We Met.” 

“Is that this month?” 

“January 29th,” Carlisle said with a soft, nostalgic, smile. 

“I would have sworn that was in March,” she said quietly, with the faintest of frowns. “There was snow on the ground?” 

“Very little. It had been unseasonably warm that month.” 

“Are you sure you are not thinking of another woman you decided to turn into the bride of Dracula?” Esme teased. 

“I am fairly certain there was only one of those,” he laughed, leaning closer to her despite their faces being mere inches apart. 

“Sorry for interrupting,” Bella said and the couple both snapped their attention to her. “But wouldn’t you two have met the day Esme was turned?” 

Their brows furrowed simultaneously. They glanced at each other and then back to her. From the confusion on their faces, one would think she had asked if they had seen hippos fly. 

“No,” Carlisle said hesitantly, in that delicate tone she imagined he used with all his patients, “we met ten years prior.” 

“What!” Bella exclaimed. 

This reaction caused hearty laughter from the two standing across from her. Esme set the vase on the center of the island, to prevent dropping it while she laughed. 

“Wouldn't that mean you met when you were a human?” She asked Esme, the one closest to her. 

Esme laughed even harder, nodding. “Did Edward never mention this?” 

“No!” 

Esme glanced at her husband, who had stepped up beside her, leaning against the counter in a way that was shockingly human. “Your son is an idiot.” 

“My son?” 

“When he is being  a fool, he is your son, yes.” 

Carlisle laughed fondly, as Esme leaned down to mirror his posture, their shoulders bumping against one another. 

“Okay, wait, so how did you two meet?” Bella asked, leaning forward. 

Esme had spoken of her human life very seldom, much more infrequently than most of the others, besides Alice. Bella knew Esme had been married, at least she assumed, she knew she had a child that tragically passed, and she had died by her own hand. Had they dated during those ten years? Who was the father of her child? Why had Edward never mentioned any of this? 

“Did you date for ten years? I mean Esme I thought you were marrie—” 

“She was sixteen,” Carlisle said quickly. “She was a patient. Our meeting was purely professional.” 

“He was my doctor,” Esme explained further. “I had broken my leg in a dignified and mature manner.” 

“Tree climbing.” 

“I was climbing trees in a dignified and mature manner,” she said pointedly, comically glaring at her husband. He bumped his shoulder against hers with a slight smirk. “It was not professional on my part, I thought he was quite charming, if not a tad arrogant.” 

“Says the one who corrected my French,” he scoffed. 

“Your French was, and still is, awful. You speak as if you’re on a French court in the 1700s.” 

“Perhaps because that is where I learned.” 

“Jay June,” Esme mocked. 

“You knew French as a human?” Bella asked before Carlisle could respond to Esme’s comment, attempting to prevent them from launching into their typical banter that could last for hours. 

From what little Esme had told her she presumed most of Esme’s impressive education had been postmortem. Bella had not been under the impression Esme as a teenager would have spoken French well enough to correct someone or be brave enough to correct a doctor. 

“My grandmother and her family had immigrated from France when she was a child and she taught me,” Esme explained. 

“Hence why a woman born in the middle of Ohio in 1895 is named Esme, improper spelling,” Carlisle teased. 

“Are we remarking on odd names, Carlisle?” 

He grinned at this but made no smart retort in response. 

“I presume you have more questions,” Carlisle said, noticing Bella’s frown. 

“So many. Like what did you think of each other? Did you remember him when you woke up? Did you think of changing her when you first met? Did you think of each other during the time that went by? Why were you climbing a tree?” 

Esme’s head fell on her husband’s shoulder. “Would you like to begin?” 

“It is your story,” he said politely. 

Esme thought for a minute, presumably debating where to start. “I was attempting to avoid my mother and my chores so I retreated to our family’s orchard…” 

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

Two hours and thirty minutes later the oven timer went off as Carlisle was speaking, “I think the pastor thought we were up to something nefarious.” 

“I always presumed he thought I was with child, and we were attempting to fool the public,” Esme laughed, standing to fetch the dish out of the oven. 

“He did think that,” Edward said, walking into the kitchen, his daughter on his hip. “He did not mind that. He figured you two were going to get married either way, but he was quite puzzled about who I was.” 

Carlisle and Esme laughed lightly. Esme pulled the pot out of the oven, sans oven mitts. Bella couldn’t help but shudder at the sight. Renesmee reached for her mother and Bella gladly took her, her daughter was almost too big for her lap so she gladly soaked in every moment. 

“It’s still hot,” Esme said, placing a bowl in front of Renesmee. 

Renesmee slightly grimaced at the smell of human food. “What do you say?” Bella coached. 

“Thank you,” Renesmee said, still frowning at the food. 

“I do not expect you to love it, but I would appreciate it if you took one bite before you decided you dislike it,” Esme said kindly. 

“Okay,” Renesmee said, blowing on the food to cool it. 

“Why didn’t you tell me they met when Esme was human?” Bella asked Edward, who had taken a seat on the barstool next to her. 

“It did not seem relevant?” Edward smiled sheepishly. 

“You thought the fact we met, I left, and she…” Carlisle realized his granddaughter was in the room, “her life turned out as it did, I felt the way I did about that, was not relevant to your situation?” 

“No,” Edward said, looking down, that endearing lopsided grin on his face. 

“Your son,” Esme told her husband, who only responded with a fond laugh. 

#esme cullen #bella swan #carlisle cullen #renesmee cullen #edward cullen #my stories