#-hesitantly cracks knuckles-
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Hope you know I forgot about the fucking daddy asks. Promptly went down my drafted list and choked on my coffee cauSE THATS TWO NOW—
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He Chose You (Pt.1)
Lucifer/Reader
Hazbin Hotel AU where Lilith never existed, Lucifer has been lonely for over a millennia and Charlie will be born one way or another. Rated E for explicit sexual content of the raunchiest variety in later chapters and also weird old people.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13
There was a knock at your door. It sounded like someone rapping their knuckles against the wood whimsically, as if following the beat of a song you couldn’t hear.
The methodical folding of your clothes into garage sale-quality drawers came to a halt. You looked over your shoulder, shifting on your feet hesitantly.
It had been little over a week since you moved into the grand old Donner apartment. Apart from a quick tow-in of shoddy furniture from your hired movers, no one had come calling.
You definitely weren’t expecting anyone either, not in a brand new city you’d spontaneously decided to live in.
After another moment of uncertainty, you pivoted to the door and inched it open to a slit you could peek through. “Hello?”
Your brow furrowed as you stared at the empty space ahead of you. Pulling the door open fully, you peered down one end of the hallway to the other.
Nothing but cracked and crumbling crown moldings on wainscoting, a matted-looking saxony carpet, the same musty, stale air…
‘Quack’
You nearly jumped out of your skin, head snapping down to see a real, live duck standing just outside your doorframe.
“Oh!”
You immediately squatted down to marvel at the animal. It gazed back up at you with beady red eyes and a curious gait.
“Hey little guy,” You cooed, smiling despite the incongruous image of a waterfowl in your building.
You raised a hand and reached out slowly, instinctive desire to pet the cute little creature warring with a minuscule yet no less embarrassing fear.
Were ducks typically friendly? You knew so little, ornithology not being your thing.
“Will you let me pet you?” Your fingers hovered over the surprisingly patient animal before it decided to nudge itself under your palm.
The duck shivered with delight at your touch, all-white feathers ruffling excitedly and tail wagging, looking akin to a very happy dog.
“Oh my god.” You gasped, heart melting. “You’re so cute!”
Soft feathers brushed against your bent knees as the duck drew close enough to rub its body against you. It had gone from doggish to cat-like effortlessly, and you couldn’t help giggling over how silly it looked.
“Where did you come from?” You asked after a bit of cuddling, glancing from side to side once again. The hallway remained empty, no one running to fetch what you assumed was a beloved pet.
‘That’s… weird.’ You thought. ‘So, who knocked on my door?’
It was tempting to ask the bird that was currently bouncing on its webbed feet. You couldn’t help but snort with laughter before positioning yourself so that you were sitting. In an instant, the duck made to climb into your lap, allowing you to carefully lift it onto your legs when it couldn’t reach.
“You’re so silly!” Grinning, you continued to stroke its head. “Your owner is probably worried sick about their silly little guy.”
‘Quack’
The duck burrowed its head against your stomach as it settled on your lap, and you sighed. “I’d love to keep you, but I don’t know how to take care of you, sweetie.”
Little red eyes bore into you from below, seemingly wide and beseeching. It was too precious, and too perfect (to the point where you idly wondered if someone was somehow scouting a way to scam you via adorable duck shenanigans).
Aside from the guttural, sad ‘wek’ you got in reply, a slow creak of hinges drew your attention back up. The door across from you had visibly opened the barest amount. You squinted, just able to make out frizzy red hair and a red-rimmed, down-turned mouth in the dim lighting.
“Oh hey, hi!” You stopped yourself from standing, instead of bracing the bundle in your lap close. “Is this your duck?”
A tingle went up your spine as the door opened fully and an old woman appeared. She was dressed in green capri pants and a ruffled tan blouse, hair red as an open flame and barely kept in-check by a cheetah-print scarf. The makeup she wore was caked on, harsh red lipstick smeared around her thin lips and black kohl-rimmed eyes popping out of her wrinkled face.
The sour, almost suspicious look on her face softened but did not completely go away, even when she smiled.
“Oh Lou!” She cried, making you jump. “You didn’t get very far, did you? I almost didn’t notice you were gone, you little scoundrel!”
“Well, thank goodness for that I guess. He’s got those little legs, ya see,” She nodded down at your lap, “but he’s so darn fast anyway, might as well be a midget racehorse!”
You chuckled and smiled politely. That persistent tingling at your back had you holding back a shiver, and the skin on your arms prickled and rose.
“I didn’t know we could have pet ducks in this building.” Your words belied a confidence, as well as interest in having a conversation with this woman, that you didn’t truly have.
As a matter of fact, despite the inner scolding you gave yourself for being judgmental, you were quite off-put in the woman’s presence. The want to return to your apartment and shut the door in her overly-painted face was rising like a lump in your throat.
“He seems to really like you, that’s so sweet. He’s not usually this friendly with anyone but my hubby. That’s Mr. Farrow, honey, have you met him?” The woman - presumably Mrs, Farrow, leaned down just a few feet away.
She still looked to be examining you and your avian companion, the bland pleasantness oozing yet unable to suffocate the shrewd glint in her dark eyes.
“Oh, uh, no. I’m afraid I haven’t -” You started.
“Oh, that’s alright! That’s fine! Matter of fact, he’d get an earful from me if he was talkin’ to a pretty thing like you without me knowin’!” Mrs. Farrow laughed. “Just kiddin’, honey. You’re new to the building though, aren’t you? Well, welcome! It’s nice to see a new face here! ‘Specially a young one!”
“Thank —”
“Maybe that’s why Lou is so taken with you! Animals just thrive off energy and sunshine and all that. Not slow, almost dead things. I’m sure you’re birds of a feather that way.”
Again, your soft laughter is polite, teetering on nervousness.
You took a moment to rise, humming apologetically when Lou squawked as he was jostled. On your feet, you instinctively stepped back. One foot over the threshold and solid in your apartment.
“He is really sweet.” You said, holding the animal out as carefully as you could. “I’m glad he didn’t get lost.”
Mrs. Farrow stared, arms falling to her sides. She didn’t attempt to take the bird from you for a long, long moment.
Confusion and disbelief clouded your mind as you stood, waiting, watching as Mrs. Farrow’s throat bobbed when she swallowed forcefully.
What? Was she afraid of the duck?
In a split-second, she returned to smiling animatedly and waved a geriatric hand in the air so flippantly that the uncomfortable moment ceased to exist.
“Oh honey, you can put him down if you want. He’ll come back over now that our door’s open.” Mrs. Farrow laughed. “Lou’s not my biggest fan. He’s such a prideful thing, you know. Just like Mr. Farrow - it’s probably why they get along so well!”
You blinked, then slowly bent at the waist to let Lou down. The duck made another disdainful quack, red eyes looking at you morosely.
It’s little legs eventually rowed through the air in an effort to gain footing. You lightly placed him over the carpet and let go, allowing Lou to jump down.
The duck began waddling away, though it appeared to hang its head as it did so. Occasionally, he turned to look at you, somber and sullen as if bidding farewell before walking on death row.
“Aww, poor little thing.” Mrs. Farrow drawled. At your side. “Looks like my Lou is sweet on you! Poor guy, I can see why! Again, a lovely young thing like you is probably a gift from above in this stuffy old place.”
“Say, how long have you been here?”
You turned to the old woman. “About a week, I’m still getting settled.”
Mrs. Farrow nodded vigorously, eyes bright but mouth pursed. “A week, a week?! A week and no one’s introduced themselves to you?”
“Holy Toledo, you must think we’re all a bunch a’ snobs in here! That’s no good. Oh! Why don’t you come over for dinner sometime and me and my mister can show you some proper hospitality?”
“Oh, that's really nice of you —”
“Sure! Sure! It’ll be great, how ‘bout tomorrow night? It’d give us some time to get prepared, have things cleaned and settled. Do you like steak? That’d be perfect, actually. I’ve got some in the freezer just waitin’ to be defrosted.”
“Um, well — That’s a little short notice…”
“I’m sure Mr. Farrow won’t mind. He’ll be glad for the company, and if he isn’t, well he will be when I’m done with him.” She chortled. “Just another joke, honey. He’s always dyin’ to talk to someone that isn’t me. It’d be a real treat to him. Treat ta me too! What do you say?”
Your mouth opened and closed as a light sheen of sweat broke over the nape of your neck. Mrs. Farrow’s sharp eyes were wider, attempting to beguile you while your head was still spinning.
“I-I guess, maybe —” You stammered.
“Wonderful!” The eccentric woman’s eyes lit up like fireworks, cigarette-smoker’s voice becoming truly raucous in her delight. “I’ll go ahead and get started. You go get back to what it was you were doing before Lou and I interrupted you! And don’t worry about a thing! We might be old timers, but a good meal and good cheer never go out of style.”
Mrs. Farrow laughed, pretending to shoo you away until you were back inside your apartment and she was pulling your door to a close for you.
“Have a good night, honey! We’ll see you tomorrow! 6 o’clock, don’t be late!”
Before you knew it, you were staring at the back of your own door again.
‘What the fuck just happened?’
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Hi, could I request a Lucifer morningstar x darkness demon overlord reader? She lurks in the shadows like a boogeyman, she acts like morticia adams from the adams family, how would he meet or act around the gothic queen👁👁✨
LUCIFER X OVERLORD! FEM! READER
Part two
Lucifer was just wandering around hell, unknowingly entering a territory of an overlord.
He doesn't know okay? It's just a forest of dead wilted trees with ominous aura.
His first instinct is to investigate.
This is his first time coming here, he only discovered this area after flying by to return to the palace.
Lucifer was walking around the dense forest, with his guard up.
The forest was quiet. A little too quiet.
He isn't afraid, unfortunately. He knows he can kill any demon who would try to mess with him.
Crack. A twig snapped
His head whipped to the direction of the noise, “Who goes there? Show yourself!” he threatens, wings in full display.
Shadows moving around him and finally stopping in front of him, morphing into a figure.
Lucifer expected a lot of things, but this.
A very tall and gorgeous woman, large deer antlers on her head. Sultry eyes and a smirk on her face.
Oh fuck, she's beautiful. Dangerous. He can sense the power she has.
“Good evening your highness, I didn't expect to see you here wandering around my home.” the woman says with a chuckle, making the man become a little flustered.
“Your home...?” he asked hesitantly and the woman nodded.
“Yes, this is my home or rather my territory. My home is somewhere around here. I just sensed a presence around these grounds and decided to check. I didn't expect to see the king of hell to be here.”
“M-my apologies, my lady. I simply didn't know.” he stammers a bit. Ah, calm yourself Lucifer. You're more powerful so you shouldn't be intimidated, he says to himself internally.
“It is alright, if you don't mind. Do you want to join me for a cup of tea? I just so happen to have finished brewing some.”
Lucifer is cautious around sinners, especially her. He doesn't know why his heart is palpitating this much. The best reason he got is fear loud incorrect buzzer noise
“I don't want to intrud—”
“Nonsense! You're not intruding.”
“But—”
“Do not fret, I am not going to hurt you. I should be the scared one as you are much more powerful than me. I am sure you can obliterate my existence with a flick of your finger.” the woman laughs softly, a kind of laugh that reminds him of the books he's read. The kind of laugh that draws you in.
“How about this, how about we get acquainted with each other? So that you'll be more comfortable?”
Lucifer's eyes narrowed, “Why are you so insistent?”
“Well, I just love making friends and you my dear seem to be an interesting character that I don't mind befriending.”
Lucifer rolls his eyes but eventually nodded, “Fine, My name is Lucifer Morningstar.”
“Wonderful, then... It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Lucifer, my name is [y/n]” She says before gently holding his hand and placing a small kiss on his knuckles.
With a smirk on her face as her eyes looked at him as she did so.
Lucifer's cheeks reddened, quickly snatching his hand away from the demoness.
“So, about that tea?”
Lucifer is beginning to see a pattern.
A type even.
It's been a few months since he's met the deer demoness.
Surprisingly he managed to get along with her, despite her... Rather questionable actions.
He often visits her mansion at the middle of the forest where he met her or the other way around.
She often surprises him by popping out of the shadows with her presence concealed.
She's playful, mysterious, dangerous, beautiful.
And tall.
He likes his women tall okay?
And he likes them a little deranged.
Anyways.
She keeps teasing him.
Just like the other day, he came to visit at the wrong time and she forced him to help her get dressed.
It was inappropriate! She only asked him to zip the zipper of her dress.
Poor guy was blushing.
She didn't make fun of his obsession with rubber ducks.
She even made ducks out of shadows and made it swim around his room and of course, he made one too with his powers.
The shadows and gold dust ducks swimming around the room and in the air.
It was... Cute...
Lucifer has gotten to know the woman better too, he has gotten the chance to see many sides of her.
Lucifer isn't stupid, he can tell he's developing feelings for her.
He's afraid, he's afraid of getting hurt again or hurting her.
He has issues he needed to fix first.
Though, he is slightly a flustered mess around the woman.
Can you blame him? She calls him endearing nicknames! She calls him sweetheart and it just makes his heart flutter.
He is cautious around her not because he's afraid of her but because he fears his feelings for her would accidentally be known.
And she just appears out of nowhere!
It took awhile for him to sort his emotions and he thinks he is finally ready to confess.
But first, Lucifer needs to find hints if she feels the same way.
“Thanks for the coffee, [y/n]. It tastes amazing as always.” Lucifer says, admiring the duck shaped cream that is floating on his coffee.
“It is a pleasure, sweetheart. Drink to your heart's content. I know you've been stressed lately.” She says with a gentle voice.
“I have a question.” he started, already planning a discreet way to ask her.
“Hmm? Go ahead.”
“What if let's say... You have a close friend and you've only known him for a couple of months but they fell in love with you and now they're planning to confess to you? Would you date him?”
Don't mind him guys, he's trying his best.
[y/n] tilts her head slightly, confused before giggling.
She's not stupid but she kinda wants to tease him.
“Depending on who this friend is.”
“Just answer.” he deadpans.
“Yes, would you confess though?” she asked as she leans forward to reach him across the table, holding his chin. Lips just a few inches away from each other.
Lucifer.exe has stopped working.
“Y-yes...” he stammers, beginning to feel shy as his cheeks heat up.
“Do you want a kiss?” she asked teasingly.
“Please...?”
“Good boy.” she says before finally pressing her lips against his.
It was the most addicting kiss he ever experienced.
“I like you.”
“I like me too.”
“[y/n]!”
“I am just joking, I like you too.”
#lxkeee hazbin hotel masterlist#hazbin hotel#lucifer#lucifer hazbin hotel#lucifer morningstar x reader#lucifer magne#hazbin hotel x reader#lxkeee answers#lucifer morningstar
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only you || s.r.
pairing: steve rogers x reader (brief platonic!nat, sam, and bucky.)
*navigation/directory | request box | taglist | masterlist
word count: 7.1k
summary: only a few weeks after a breakup, you go out for the night with the team. steve doesn’t show up, and he’s been purposefully not showing up to anything non-work related after the breakup. however, tonight you drink a little too much, and insist that steve pick you up.
warnings: angst (breakup, talk of bullying, body image issues), swearing, drinking, *smutty implications.
"I'm sorry, I just didn't know who else to call," Sam explains, his voice raised to speak louder than the blaring music.
"She keeps asking for you, and she won't go with anyone but you," Bucky adds as he and Sam lead Steve through the crowded dancefloor.
The blond sighs and shoves his phone into the pocket of his jeans. "It's alright, really, but just how drunk is she, exactly?"
Before Sam can respond, they come to a stop right in front of the team's reserved booth. Bruce had only come for all of an hour of the night, but Clint and Tony had left about thirty minutes prior to Steve's arrival, leaving your well-being in Natasha, Bucky, and Sam's hands.
Steve looks over you and Nat; you're laid down on the long, cushioned seat with your head resting on her lap. Her jacket is slung over your lower half to cover your exposed legs from your dress rising up on your thighs. You're looking up at her adoringly, reaching up to twirl strands of her hair between your fingers as you mumble about how pretty her hair is.
"That answer your question?" Sam whispers, chuckling slightly.
Another sigh falls from Steve's lips, and although his heart aches, he has to stop himself from cracking a smile. "That it does."
He steps closer to the booth, taking in the sight of you with softened eyes. Typically, you never let yourself get this drunk, not in the public eye at least. Even though it's clear you've had more than a bit too much to drink, the sight is endearing.
Nat directs her attention from you and up at the three men approaching the table instead. Her expression is one of amusement with a slight hint of relief as she looks down at you again. "Hey, look who's here, honey," she says softly to you.
You turn your head in her lap and let your hands fall back down, finally releasing her hair from your gentle grip. Your eyes land on Steve and you blink up at him before a wide, drunken smile spreads on your face.
"Steeeeve!" you exclaim in a slur, reaching your hand out for him. "You came!"
He crouches down next to the booth, hesitantly taking your hand into his. "Hey, doll. 'Course I came, I always will. Looks like you've had fun tonight, huh?"
You nod excitedly and your smile spreads into a grin. "Nat's hair is sooo pretty, did ya know that? 'S soft too, like a pillow," you ramble, your words somehow not coming out scrambled.
"I bet," Steve says, watching Nat brush your hair out of your face. "Let's get you home, yeah?"
"Your home?" you ask in a softer voice.
Right. His home.
"I don't..." Steve starts before falling into silent contemplation.
He looks up at Nat who's already looking back at him, her expression apologetic and soft. Then his eyes shift back down to you, and his heart clenches in his chest. Your eyelashes flutter as you blink at him, your eyes light up and twinkle in a way that they only do for him, and your lips part a little as you take slower breaths.
How could he say no to that?
"Sure, yeah, we'll go back to mine," he concedes gently, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb.
You smile again and scramble to sit upright. Nat lays a hand on your back to help keep you balanced, Steve taking your other hand in his free one to pull you up gently. When you're sat up straight, he takes Nat's jacket off your legs and helps you tug your dress back down.
He slides your phone off the table and into his pocket before throwing your arms around his neck. You take the hint to hold on as he slides one of his arms under your legs and the other behind your back.
Effortlessly, he lifts you into his arms. You clasp your hands together behind his neck and a giggle slips out of your lips- a sound that was once music to his ears which had now become one he longed to hear again.
"G'night, Nat," you say sweetly, turning your head to look at her.
Steve's body follows the direction of your head, turning towards the table so you don't strain your neck. Her eyes meet yours and she smiles at you once more.
"Goodnight, babe. Text me tomorrow, alright?" she requests before looking up at Steve and saying, "Make sure to get some water in her, we had to trick her into drinking some by watering down her tequila."
"Will do-"
Your gasp cuts Steve off effectively, her words only just now sinking in. "That wasn't tequila?!" you exclaim, your voice coming out quieter than you realize.
The three at the table laugh a little- even Steve lets out a low chuckle of his own.
"I'll let you in on a secret," Nat starts, her voice dropping to a whisper before continuing, "It was definitely tequila, but you know these guys are no fun, so we can't tell them that."
"Ohhh, right, right. I can keep a secret- you're the world's bestest adult sitter," you reply softly.
"The best, huh?" she questions with a half smirk.
When you nod, she takes a sip of her drink, placing the glass down before saying, "I'll be expecting my plaque soon then."
"You wanna say bye to Sam and Bucky?" he asks, looking over slightly to meet your eyes.
You hum in response and he walks you over a few steps to Bucky and Sam who are sitting at the other end of the table. The pair smile at you, though it's more of an amused grin on Bucky's end, and you return the gesture.
"Bye, Bucky," you say, sleep and intoxication ridden in your voice.
Bucky chuckles and rises to his feet to ruffle your hair playfully. "Bye, doll. You get some good sleep, alright?"
Your nose scrunches at the feeling of his hand in your hair. "Always good sleep when with Stevie."
Bucky sits back down, and Sam starts to speak, "Punch it in," he instructs, raising his fist up to your level.
You oblige happily, curling your hand into a fist to the best of your ability and bumping it against his. "G'bye," you slur, nuzzling your face into the crook of Steve's neck.
"Call us if you need us," Bucky says to Steve.
"Yeah, thank you for watching over her," Steve responds appreciatively, "Goodnight, be safe getting home."
"'Night," the three say collectively, smiling at him in a way that's bordering apologetic.
Steve forces a smile before turning to walk away. He makes his way through the crowd, holding you tight and protectively against his chest.
"You can go to sleep if you want, I can tell you're sleepy," he murmurs low enough for just you to hear him.
A small whimper emits from you, making a warmth spread through his body. He looks down at you adoringly before looking back up, shifting his focus back to the rather slow journey to the exit. Although some people part to make way for who they know to be Captain America himself, most of them are too drunk to care. So, Steve focuses heavily on navigating through the maze of bodies.
When he steals a glance down at you again, you're sleeping peacefully and your head has fallen back away from his neck. You must've felt him move though, because you immediately nestle your face back into his neck, and the warmth of your breath against his skin makes him shiver. The scent of the alcohol you'd been drinking lingers, but it's mixed with the familiar fragrance of your vanilla perfume, and it creates a blend that only you could pull off.
When you reach the exit, the cold, autumn night air hits both of your faces. Steve adjusts his grip on you to make sure you're comfortable and then walks to the car he ordered that dropped him off. The driver steps out, and opens the passenger side door for the two of you, allowing Steve to slide you comfortably onto the seat.
He thanks the driver as you whine at the loss of contact. You melt sleepily into his touch when he reaches in to brush your hair behind your ear to let you know he's not leaving. The bright city lights reflect in his blue eyes, and a soft, but achy, smile plays on his lips at the sight of you. Careful not to wake you or pinch your fingers, he fastens your seatbelt, making sure you're secure before closing the car door.
He walks to the other side of the car and gets in, choosing to sit by the window instead of next to you in the middle seat. As the car starts up, he can't help but look at you and admire you. The admiration quickly turns into longing, though. He takes in every part of your face, his mind plaguing itself with the memory of just over two months ago.
"I don't think I'm right for you."
The words flow easily from your mouth like water between open fingers. Steve looks at you, utterly confused and hurt. His jaw tightens, his eyebrows furrowing as he opens his mouth to speak, only to close it again when he can't find the words.
He gets off the couch, rising to his feet and looking at you from across the room. "You want to leave, to forget everything from the last year and a half, just because you don't think you're right for me?"
The weight of your decision and his words sit heavily on your shoulders as you slouch over, putting your face in your hands for a moment. "I... I'm no good for you, Steve, and you deserve better than me... I can't be what, or who, you need."
"What are you talking about, y/n? You're perfect to me, I wouldn't trade you for anything," he explains, trying to keep his voice soft and reassuring despite the fear and irritation building up in him. "Please, tell me what I can do to make you feel better and I'll do it, I'll do anything-"
"You can't do anything!" you finally snap, your emotions being misdirected towards him. You let the warm tears that were welling up fall freely from your eyes as you continue, "There's nothing you can do, Steven, I'm not the person you need, and I never will be. Drop it, just leave it at that, and move on."
"'Leave it at that?'" Steve repeats back in bewilderment. "We have been together for almost two years and you expect me to drop all of it just like that?"
All you can muster up in response is a quiet, "I'm sorry."
He watches you stand up and sling your purse over your shoulder. Desperately, he scrambles for the right words to say to make you stay. "Baby, please, tell me what's really going on here- this cannot be it for us, I won't let it be."
Steve takes long strides towards you only for you to back away from him. For some strange reason, that small action hurt worse than any of the words that came, or could possibly come, out of your mouth. He stops dead in his tracks, trying to search your face for any sign of changing your mind. When he doesn't find it, he bites down on his tongue to save himself more heartache from the useless begging he wants to let out.
"I'm sorry, Steve. You deserve better, and you always have," you mumble, wiping the tears off your cheeks and walking quickly to the front door.
"I love you," he says, only to receive no response other than the front door slamming shut as you walk out of it.
“You alright back there?” the driver’s voice snaps Steve out of his thoughts. “You need heat or air? Seat warmers? Anything?”
Steve shakes his head slightly, snapping himself out of it. His hand reaches over to you, and he rests the back of his hand on your forehead. “A little heat, thanks,” he says with a smile after nothing the tinge of cold your skin has.
“Of course,” the driver says with a returned smile as he turns the heat on.
As he avigates the familiar route to Steve’s apartment, with the sleepiness Steve feels, he's thankful for the fact that there's only a minute or two remaining of the drive. And on the other hand, he’s sulking about the short time left because that’s two minutes closer to you being gone by the time he wakes up.
He turns his gaze back to you, still peacefully asleep with your head resting against the window. The soft hum of the engine provides an almost calming backdrop that yet does nothing to soothe the ache that persists. Focusing on the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest always seems to soothe him though, and it still does so now.
The car comes to a stop in front of the apartment, and Steve reaches into his wallet to pull out some cash. He pulls out his keys too, to make it easier when he gets to the door. Then he hands the cash to the driver with a grateful nod before getting out of the car and making his way to your side. Gently, he opens the door, reaching up quickly to lean your head back on the headrest.
You grumble a little, and he's quick to ease you as he unbuckles your seatbelt. "Sorry, sweetheart, but we're home now."
"Home?" you murmur, still half asleep.
He carefully lifts you into his arms once more, and you instantly cling to his jacket. "Yeah... home."
The building's lobby is quiet as he enters through the automatic doors, the night shift doorman giving him a knowing smile. Steve offers nothing but a small and short nod in return, his focus solely on your drunken state. Luckily the elevator ride is short, but every second feels like an eternity to him.
The weight of your body curled up in his arms provides a comforting familiarity. It's a familiarity he soaks up though, having not seen you outside of work during the few missions you had together. In fact, you hadn't spoken to him outside of work since you left either.
Even during missions, you were short with your comments. And when you picked up your things from his apartment, of which you were actively moving into, you did it on a day when he was gone. You'd left your key under the mat and shot him a brief text letting him know. He replied, only asking how you were doing, but he got no response back.
The elevator dings, snapping him out of his thoughts again as he steps out, taking long strides until he reaches his door. He turns to the side, bending down ever so slightly to unlock the door with his keys in the hand hooked under your legs. He twists the doorknob and pushes the door open, carrying you inside with practiced ease.
The soft glow of outside city lights filters through the open windows. Paired with the dim tv, the lights cast a cool ambiance over the living room. With a deep breath, he heads straight to his room and slowly lays you down on the bed.
The bedroom is dark except for the blue and green aurora projected on the ceiling from the starlight projector you insisted he get since his room was too 'plain.' At first, the light kept him up at night because he found it too distracting, but since you'd left, he couldn't sleep without it on. After all, it was the only piece of you that you left with him other than the few shirts and undergarments.
Steve sighs deeply, taking your heels off your feet and placing them next to the bed. He covers you with your favorite blanket from the foot of his bed, and with a heart heavier than typical, he makes his way to the kitchen to fill up a cup with water. He then carries the glass back to the bedroom and sits it on the bedside table.
He takes a moment to simply watch you as he sits on the edge of the bed next to you. The soft features of your face relaxed in sleep makes him contemplate waking you up- you were always a peaceful sleeper, and he hated disturbing those few moments of peace.
Before he can attempt to wake you, you begin to stir, your eyelashes fluttering as your eyes slowly open. You blink slowly a few times, allowing your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, and then a sleepy smile forms on your face when you see Steve.
"Hey," he greets you softly, reaching over to offer you the glass of water from the nightstand.
"Thank you," you say.
It's obvious that you're still not sober as you take the glass and sit up too quickly, the sudden movement resulting in your head throbbing as you groan. "Ouch," you mumble, pressing the palm of your free hand against your forehead.
"You okay?"
"Think so," you reply, sitting up much slower than before.
The cool water soothes you a little as you take small sips of it. A contented sigh falls from your lips, your body appreciating the non-alcoholic beverage. You place the glass back onto its spot on the nightstand and then focus your attention back on Steve.
Your eyes reflect the projector's lights as your eyes rake over him for a few seconds. Slower than you realize, you raise your hand and brush it gently over his cheek in admiration. "You're like... like an angel, but a reaaally handsome one," you croon.
Steve chuckles, a mixture of amusement and genuine joy spreading across his features. "I'm flattered, but you're the angel here, honey," he says with a smile.
He captures your hand in his and brings it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your palm. You giggle in response, the alcohol still evident in your system, and then your happy expression fades away. You look down, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious.
"I'm sorry for, uhm, causing a fuss t'night. I never meant to ruin your night..."
The look on his face becomes one closer to sympathetic as he drops your hand, now reaching over to cup your cheek. Carefully, he forces you to look at him as he speaks. "Hey, you didn't ruin anything, alright? I'll always come when you need me, and I'm just glad you're okay."
Missing the feeling of his skin on yours all too much, you lean into his touch, letting his warmth soothe you. "Thanks for...everything."
"Anytime, truly," he replies.
There's a comfortable silence that falls between you, the weight of the obvious unspoken words lingering in the air. You look up at him, trying to keep yourself awake. Steve drops his hand and tries to memorize every detail of your face. He knows that tomorrow things will go back to how they were, and he's not sure he can stomach that.
It only takes a few more beats of silence before he breaks the said silence, his voice low and gentle. "Can we talk?" he asks, his blue eyes searching yours.
You hum for a moment, taking a slow breath before saying, "Jus' for a minute, very sleepy."
"I just... I have one question, that okay?"
"Hm?"
Steve musters up the courage to speak, only breaking apart from your gaze for a second. "Could you maybe tell me why you left? Like why you really left?"
When your eyes flicker with hesitation and sadness, he starts to regret asking. The air feels heavier than it ever has, holding the weight of everything spoken and not yet said, but he breathes it all in. Right as he's about to tell you to not worry about it, you take a deep breath and smother your vulnerability with the knowledge that he deserves the truth. Slowly as to not give yourself another headache, you nod.
"S'like I told you, that was the truth, 'm not good enough. You look at me with so much love and admiration, and I know...I know I could never live up to what you think of me," you explain, drawing out each word a little more than you would if you were sober. "'M holding you back, always have been, and you deserve better."
His eyebrows furrow as he takes in your words, his gaze intense and sharp. "I look at you like that because of who you are, not because of who I think you should be," he says in an attempt to reassure you. He reaches out to take your hand in his as he continues, "You're always been more than enough, honey. I mean, hell, you're more than I deserve, and-"
"No, no, you don't get it!" you exclaim lowly, cutting him off and taking your hand out of his grip. "Y-you're perfect, you're America's golden boy, and 'm jus' me. I hate my body, my mind, an-and everything about me. Could never be good enough for you, Steve. As if I don't already hate myself enough, everyone says and sees how much more you deserve, except for you."
Steve's mind races and his heart tightens as he takes in your words. The obvious pain in your voice cuts through him like a scalding knife, the tears welling up in your eyes cutting him even deeper. He's now sure that nothing could measure up to the pain of hearing you talk about yourself in the complete opposite way of how he thinks of you.
Silence passes as he dwells on your words. Then it clicks.
"Who's been saying that?" he questions sternly.
You avoid his gaze like the plague, immediately breaking the eye contact you were holding. Physically, you can feel yourself shrink. Whether it's the guilt from your outburst, the shame from everything you've heard and thought about yourself, or the intensity of his gaze- you're not sure.
His jaw tightens in anger, but not directed at you. "Who, y/n?"
A deep and heavy sigh falls from your lips as your eyes dart around the room. "Phone," you say quietly, holding out your hand to him.
Steve looks at your outstretched hand, confusion covering the concern etched on his face briefly. He pauses for a moment before reaching into the pocket of his jeans and pulling out your phone. Placing it in your hand, he watches closely as you unlock it with shaky fingers. Your eyes scan over the screen, but it doesn't take long for you to find what you were looking for, and your expression tells it all.
You hesitate to hand the phone to him, but you do so anyway, lying down on the bed and curling up into yourself as soon as the phone touches his hands. And, not that you see it, but his eyes narrow as he reads over everything rapidly. You'd had it all saved in a little folder; every message, every media report, every post made about you.
He's not sure what's worse of the situation, to be honest. To know that you'd felt this way about yourself for God knows how long and not have said anything about it was painful, sure. However, the words written about you were downright cruel, analytical, and simply not true at all.
But the amount of things that were written and you had saved for you to read at your whim, only reaffirming whatever untrue things you thought about yourself? That was a different level of hurt that he could imagine hurt you hundreds of times worse than it does him.
Unable to stomach anymore, he places your phone face down on the nightstand. Silently, he scoots up on the bed to be closer, reaching out to place his hand on your cheek. You flinch at the contact at first, but his touch is gentle, a stark contrast to the words you've been subjected to.
"I'm so, so sorry, my sweet girl," he says softly, trying to force down tears of his own.
You take a shaky breath in and out, your voice barely above a low murmur. "Didn't want you to leave me, so I left first."
Steve's heart sinks at your admission, his thumb gently stroking your cheek to wipe away the stray tear that escaped your eye. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, a gesture that's meant to offer some kind of comfort and reassurance.
"I would've never left you, and I still won't, okay? I know you care about what they say, but I don't. Nothing could ever skew my image of you, angel, you're my definition of perfect- you don't have any image to live up to in my mind," he promises with a soft-spoken tone.
You can't find it in you to respond even though you want to, all too scared of your voice failing you. Sheer pain radiates from you to the point where it's almost suffocating. While he's more than aware that no words can take back anything you've read or heard, the simple fact that he can't undo what has already been done riddles him with guilt still.
If he could, he would take all of that ache and bear it all for you.
"When did all this start?" he inquires, waiting patiently for your answer.
"I don't know..."
"I know you do, honey, you can tell me."
"Only... Only a week after we got together, got worse after I started moving in here."
"Scoot," he instructs gently, careful to control his tone with you although he feels a deep rage.
You oblige and scoot over slowly. Almost instantly, he lays down behind you, curling up so that his body molds with yours. He brushes a few pieces of your hair back before wrapping his arm around your midsection to hold you protectively against him.
"Can I ask you one more thing?" he asks, adding on, "And you don't have to answer if you don't want to."
After thinking about it for a second, you nod. He tries to find the best way to ask what he wants to ask. Deep down he wants, but somehow already knows, the answer, yet he doesn't want to make things worse. Nor does he want it to seem like the subject is the only thing he was thinking about.
"Is…is all of this, meaning what people have said and what you think about yourself- is this why we've never, you know, done anything together?" he inquires with furrowed brows from the overwhelming amount of emotions. "I'm just asking because I never thought this would be why, I thought I was doing something wrong or you just weren't ready."
Your body tenses at his question, and you have to steady your voice before answering, "Part of it. Never felt good enough, and I didn't want you to see me like that and be disappointed."
Steve frowns, sighing lowly as he presses a gentle kiss to the back of your neck. The gesture is simple, but it effectively conveys the depth of what he feels.
"I don't care how long it takes me to convince you, but I'll spend forever trying to get you to see yourself even a fraction of the way I do if I have to," he says as his thumb traces circles on your side. "You're absolutely breathtaking, angel. Fuck anyone who says you're anything other than beautiful."
A quiet giggle slips from between your lips, unable to hold contain your momentary amusement. For the first time in a while, he smiles a real, genuine smile. "You don't know how long I've missed the sound of that pretty laugh."
"You said 'fuck,'" you tease, trying to soak in the temporary joy.
He chuckles and the sounds rumbles through his chest. "Sometimes I can be a little hypocritical, especially when it comes to protecting you."
The smile you hold fades again, and you're left with nothing but the sadness and warmth of Steve's body behind yours. "Thank you," you whisper.
Steve tightens his hold around you and presses another gentle kiss to the nape of your neck. "You don't need to thank me for telling you the truth, it's what I'm here for, and I meant every word."
The two of you lay there in silence for a while. The room stays filled only with the sounds of your delicate breathing and the occasional passing of a distant car. This time, the silence isn't agonizing though. Steve's presence makes it feel comforting, and his words make your brain go mute even if just for tonight, making the weight of the world lift just a little.
"Stevie?" you murmur, breaking the silence.
"Hmm?" he responds.
Your fingers wrap around his wrist. "Don't wanna be alone t'night," you admit.
"Then you won't be," he promises softly. "Do you want me to help you out of that dress? No pressure, of course, I was just thinking it might be more comfortable for you to sleep if you changed. I think you've still got a shirt here or you could wear one of mine, and like I said I could leave if-"
"Steve?"
"...Yes?"
"Don't think I could get out of this dress by myself right now if I wanted to, and I'd love one of your shirts."
Steve smiles at your response, relief washing over him at your comfort with him. He unwraps his arm from around you, sitting up slowly before helping you sit up. When he slides off the bed, walking over to his dresser to find a shirt, you scoot yourself slowly to the edge of the bed. Your legs dangle off the edge and your shoulders slouch as you try to keep yourself awake.
With a worn-out gray t-shirt in his hand, he walks back over to you. "Alright, sweetheart. Let me take care of you," he says.
He places the shirt on the bed and reaches behind you to unzip your dress. You allow your head to fall against his chest, trying to soak in his warmth. His movements are slow and delicate, precise too, ensuring that he doesn't cause you any discomfort.
Once the zipper is down, he leaves his hands resting on your back to help you slide off the bed. Then he slips the thin straps down your arms, allowing the dress to fall to the floor, leaving you in just your underwear.
Crystalline, icy blue eyes rake over your body for a moment as he bends down to pick up the discarded fabric. It's not a sexual ogling, and you know that; he's simply admiring you the way he has always wanted to.
Suddenly feeling bashful, you avoid his gaze. You look at anything but him or your body, opting to focus on the street lights outside the big window. He catches your slight shyness immediately and quickly tries to soothe you.
"Hey," he coos with concern written on his face, one hand resting on your waist and the other cupping your cheek, "You're perfect, angel. Are you feeling uncomfortable, do I need to step out for a minute?"
"N-no," you answer promptly and force yourself to meet his eyes. "'M jus' not used to being looked at like this."
Steve's gaze softens, clearly showing he understands the vulnerability you feel. He leans in to press a lingering kiss on your forehead. "If you let me, I'll help you get used to it- and I'll make sure you never feel unsafe or uncomfortable with me. How's that sound?"
The corners of your lips manage to quirk up into an appreciative smile. "Sounds nice, Stevie," you reply, your voice low but still audible.
Returning the same appreciative look, he picks up the t-shirt and says, "Thank you for letting me see you, and touch you, but let's get into something more comfortable for right now. You need some sleep."
You nod and raise your arms up in the air so he can slide the t-shirt onto you. It's then that you notice he'd given you the same shirt you wore the first night you ever spent the night at his place, and almost every time since then, threatening to make you cry.
The fabric is as soft against your skin as it always has been, and the scent of Steve's cologne envelops you, providing a sense of security. A warm feeling spreads through your chest at how he cares for you.
Steve takes a small step back to admire you in the shirt, and just to get another look at you. A fond smile plays on his lips as he looks you over once more. "Always has looked better on you than it does on me. Good to know it still does," he says, honesty obvious in his voice.
Again, your eyes lock with his. You search him for any sign of anything negative, coming up with nothing almost instantly. He searches you for any look or hint of discomfort, but he finds nothing other than sleepiness and adoration in your gaze.
Silence passes over the two of you like it had just mere minutes ago. The quiet environment feels even more natural and comforting than it did before, though.
He clears his throat, trying to prevent the eye contact from becoming awkward for you. "Uhm, let's get you into bed, alright?"
You step to the side so he can pull the comforter back, your hands playing with the bottom hem of the shirt. He turns to face you, and you take a wobbly step towards him, balancing yourself by placing your hands on his chest. His hand flies to your lower back to offer you more support, and you look up at him through the eyelashes of your sleepy eyes.
Slowly, tracing your way up and down his chest once, your eyes stare into him with something he'd never seen in you before. In fact, the look is so intense that it could make any man weak, he's sure of it. His eyebrows raise ever so slightly at your sudden touchiness.
"Are you feeling okay?" he asks, somehow oblivious to exactly what look it is that you're giving him.
"Mhmm," you hum, drawing out the 'hm,' with a voice laced with a soft and sleepy seduction from still being tipsy. "Y'know, 'm not thaaat tired."
"Oh? The way that you're hardly able to hold yourself up says otherwise, angel. We have all of tomorrow to talk, let me just help take care of you tonight."
A giggle slips from between your parted lips in response to his cluelessness. "S'cute when you're so sweet," you croon.
"Do you, uhm, do you need something before bed? Like an Advil maybe?"
Instead of a verbal response, you grab onto his jacket and give it a slight tug. You take a step forward, pushing him back gently to force him to sit on the bed. He looks up at you in confusion, but you don't let go of him as you slowly straddle him. With your weight being supported by your knees on the bed and his legs under you, you lean in, nuzzling your face into his neck.
"Angel, what're you-"
Your lips brush lightly under his jawline, leaving a trail of tender kisses as you gradually make your way down to under his chin.
Steve's breath hitches, and his free hand comes to rest on your waist with a delicate, but firm, grip. "O-oh," he murmurs in a sigh.
You nibble gently on his jaw. "Jus' need you," you mumble before pressing your lips to his.
He lets you kiss him, unable to resist the feeling because, well fuck, how could he?
The taste of your lips is all too familiar, and as his lips work against yours, his hands find your hips. His hold on you is secure, and it does nothing to ease the arousal building up in your stomach. You whine from the contact, and he tugs you closer, still careful to keep you steady on his lap.
His resolve weakens, and he becomes hyperaware of your vulnerable state again. So, he breaks the kiss, looking down and into your eyes.
"Y/n, I'm not sure if-" he starts, only to be interrupted by you dipping down to bite on his neck. You suck harshly on his neck as you reach down and palm him through his jeans.
A low groan emits from his chest, his voice husky when he speaks. "God, baby.”
Thoroughly enjoying the reaction he gives, you whimper against his neck. He can feel the corners of your lips turn up into a slight smile. His other hand is on the other side of your waist, gripping it firmly, as soon as you start grinding down onto his thigh. He loses himself in the moment for just a second before reminding himself of your inebriated state.
“F-Fuck,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “Wait, wait- stop.”
You bite down once more, whining slightly before pulling away. The sensitive spot on his neck pulses, rushing with blood from the sucking and vibration. He tenses up with a mixture of both surprise and arousal at your forwardness. Then he lets both of his hands find your hips and settle on them, his hold tightening on you.
"D-did I do somethin' wrong? Did that not feel good?" you ask with a deep frown.
"No, no. That's not it, I promise; everything you've done feels amazing," Steve reassures you, quickly shutting down your negative thoughts.
Once again, he clears his throat in an attempt to regain his composure. "Angel, you're just… not in the best state right now. I won't take advantage of you, and I don't want you doing anything you might regret," he explains as he looks down to meet your gaze.
You're staring up at him with those big puppy dog eyes that you always use as an effective method to sway him. Tonight, though, is vastly different.
"C'mon, doll. Don't look at me like that. If you still want me in a few hours, when you're sober, that is, then I am all yours," he promises, trying to bargain with you.
You stick your lower lip out a little unintentionally, giving him the cutest pout he's ever seen. "Sober..." you repeat, looking away almost in shame as you add, "Promise you'll still want me then?"
Steve tilts your chin up with his finger and forces you to lock eyes with him. "I can promise you. I've never wanted anything more in my life than I want you. And that's never going to change."
Tantalizingly, he runs his thumb across your lower lip, a small smile playing on his lips. "But, I need you to be sure that this is what you want. I want you to remember every moment, not just bits and pieces of it, and know that everything we do is your choice," he says softly.
After taking a moment to process his words, you nod in understanding- noting the sincerity in his eyes. The room fills itself with an assortment of emotions, ranging everywhere from desire, uncertainty, and just a touch of venerable fragility.
Steve brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his expression one of soft neutrality. "Alright. Let's get you tucked in," he whispers, his voice a low murmur.
You let go of his jacket after he scoots back on the bed, bringing your knee from the other side of his leg and lying down. You curl yourself into a ball, and Steve's eyes never leave you as you do so. He takes a moment to appreciate the mere sight of you back in his bed, and a wave of warmth rushes through his chest. His earlier desires are still very much present, but so is the respect for the boundaries he set for your well-being.
He gets up briefly to pull the blankets over you before sitting down in the comfy chair in the corner of the room to take his shoes off. The chair you'd begged him to get as well to fill up the empty space in the room.
After sliding the boots under the chair, he makes his way to the dresser to change into some loose-fitting sweatpants. When he's about to put a shirt on, you grumble a 'no,' that catches his attention and makes him turn to face you.
"No?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow up questioningly.
"Nuh-uh," you respond with a shake of your head.
He chuckles lightly. "Why not?"
"Warmer without it, not a bad sight either," you say softly, following it up with a yawn.
Steve smirks in appreciation of your usual playfulness. "If you insist," he concedes, deciding to forgo the shirt. He slips the shirt back into the drawer and walks back over to the bed.
He settles himself in beside you and lifts his arm up, allowing you to scoot into his side and rest your head on his chest. Happily, you hum, soaking up his warmth and focusing on his steady heartbeat. He then reaches down with his free hand to pull the blanket over himself.
"Uncomfortable?" you murmur, sleep laced in your voice.
"No, I'll be alright as long as you're comfortable."
A second passes by before you speak again. "Thank you."
"For what, angel?"
"For being so...you."
You feel Steve's chest rise and fall with a deep, contented sigh. His fingers trace slow circles on your back through your shirt. "Always," he whispers, his soft voice lulling you even closer to sleep.
The room stays wrapped in a soothing silence, the only sounds heard being the quiet breaths from both of you. As you lay there trying to sleep, you can't help but marvel at the man beside you. Everything about him is truly perfect, from his basic concern for your well-being to the way he has always taken care of you.
Your eyes begin to feel heavy, slowly shutting fully as you find yourself on the brink of slumber. Just before you succumb to sleep, you muster up the energy to mumble, "Steve?"
"Hmm?" he responds, his chest rumbling under your cheek.
"'M glad it's you."
"Wouldn't trade you for anything, sweetheart," he murmurs, placing a kiss on the top of your head. "And, for the record, I'm glad it's you too."
Steve continues to run his fingers over your back as you fall asleep. His fingers create a rhythmic pattern that mirrors the peaceful in and out of your breathing, only making your rest more soothing. He looks down at you and smiles to himself, reveling in the sheer joy of having you back, even if it's only for tonight.
Often the weight of his responsibilities feels too heavy to bear, but with you, there's a sense of solace that transcends the chaos of the outside world. Everything about you and your presence is a sanctuary. It's all a nice reminder that, after everything he does for everyone else, he's worthy of a little tranquility at the end of the day too.
Steve presses another gentle kiss into your hair before closing his eyes, savoring the sweet moment. "Goodnight, angel."
He hears your tired, softly grumbled response before he falls asleep. Though he tries not to let himself get too wrapped up in the moment, too used to your presence again, he does anyway. If there is anything he wants for the rest of his life, it's you next to him.
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#steve rogers#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x reader angst#steve rogers angst#steve rogers smut#marvel#marvel fanfiction#fanfic#fanfiction#captain america#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers × you#captain america x reader#captain america × reader angst#angst#captain america angst#natasha romanoff#sam wilson#bucky barnes#captain america x you#captain america x female reader#steve rogers x female reader
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now... can we get that jealous Aiden but with Tyler?
Thank you❤
Jealous!Tyler Hernández x gn!reader
warnings: swearing, bad grammar, kinda short
summary: you got to a basketball court with Tyler, his teammates coming along as well when one of them decides to be a bit too touchy
A/N: i know he plays baseball but I made him play basketball for this fic haha
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You sat in the shade on the bleachers, watching Tyler and his teammates practice for an upcoming match with another school. You believed in them since they played with that school before and to say they were kinda bad was an understatement. You take some photos of Tyler in secret, and smile down at your phone. “How is he always so effortlessly pretty?” You think to yourself and put your phone away and decide to draw. You weren’t half bad at drawing, mostly drawing backgrounds and clothing designs. You were in your own world, lost in your thought when you feel a presence next to you. You look up to see one of Tylers teammates who was watching you with a smile. You smile awkwardly and wave; “Hey..?” You say hesitantly and close your sketchbook. “Hey, you’re Y/N right?” You nod and pray for this awkward interaction to end. “Yep, that’s.. uh.. that’s me.” You say and fiddle with your fingers, eying Tyler who was on the other side of the court.
The guy inches closer to you, putting an arm around your waist and your whole body stiffens. Your mind goes blank and every muscle in your body is as stiff as a rock. “Why are you here all alone? Why not come and play with us?” He asks and smiles at you, this fake, eerie smile. “Oh, I don’t really know how to play.” You quickly answer and try to keep distance between you but this guy really didn’t know what personal space is. “I could teach you..” He grabs your wrists and puts his chin on your shoulder. “When you wanna shoot for the hoop you put one arm here.” He guides your arm down and puts the other higher than the other. “Then when you want to throw it you do..” He gets cut off by someone yelling his name and he lifts his chin up to look in that direction. He doesn’t let go of your wrists and you just look down, feeling humiliated. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, huh?” You hear an oh so familiar voice that you love so much and thank the gods that sent this angel to your rescue aka Tyler. “Hey, I was just teaching them how to play man, what are you so mad about hm? You’re acting like they’re your partner.” Tyler looks at him with a pissed of expression, pushing him off of you.
“Hey the fuck?!” The guy yells as you quickly gather your things and get off the bleachers. The guy was quite aggressive and pushed Tyler back, earning another push from Tyler. That seemed to even worsen the situation and the guy punched Tyler right in the nose. “Oh hell no.” Tyler says and throws the guy down, punching him repeatedly. There was blood everywhere, Tyler finally stopping after he heard a satisfying crack from the guys nose.
Tyler rubs the blood off his nose and grabs your wrist and leaves the court. You walk with him, staying quiet the whole way to his house. He unlocks the door and walks upstairs into the bathroom. “Sit.” You tell him and he looks at you and softens his expression, still kinda annoyed. You grab the first aid kit and grab bandages and some rubbing alcohol. You clean his bruised knuckles and wrap them in some bandages and clean his bloody nose, handing him a tissue to stop the bleeding.
You sit on the counter where the sink is and just quietly stay there, letting him collect his thoughts. It was an awkward silence so you finally decide to say something; “Hey i’m—” “Are you—” You both say at the same time and you shut your mouth so he can tell what he wants to say. He rubs his neck and waves you over so you come over, standing between his legs as he looks up at you. “Hey, I’m sorry for lashing out, I didn’t mean to make a scene.” He says and frowns a bit. You smile and kiss his forehead, bringing him into an embrace. You breath in his scent and relax under his touch. “No, it’s fine really, i’m grateful that you protected me. Another second with him and I swear he would be dead.” You say and hear a low chuckle escape his lips as he plays with your hair. You stay like that for a bit until he picks you up and walks with you to his room. He closes the door behind him and lays you down on the bed, laying down on top of you. He mumbles sweet nothings into your ear, kissing your neck. You rub his back look up at the ceiling, lost in thought. Tyler notices that you were a bit too quiet and looks up; “Hey you okay amor?” You nod and simply smile, still not looking at him. “I’m fine, just thinking about how lucky I am to have you as a boyfriend.” He smiles and peppers your face with kisses, making you giggle. “And I’m lucky to have the best partner in the world.”
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#tyler hernandez x you#tyler hernandez x y/n#tyler sbg x reader#sbg tyler x reader#sbg tyler#tyler hernandez x reader#tyler hernandez#tyler sbg#sbg x reader#sbg fanfic#sbg#sbg (webtoon)#school bus graveyard requests#school bus graveyard x y/n#school bus graveyard fanfiction#school bus graveyard x reader#school bus graveyard
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guitar lessons.
chapter one; does he take care of you?
(you can read chapter two here!)
synopsis: you decided to take guitar lessons from your boyfriend nate’s best friend, chris, while he’s away at college. but one night, things go too far. loosely based off the song sex by the 1975.
warnings: suggestive, heavy petting.
what the fuck where you doing.
the freezing winter breeze hit the back of your neck and tips of your ears, as you knocked your heavy boots onto the porch to rid of the snow caked beneath them. it was late, the dim porch light and streetlights your only source of illumination. winters in boston were relentless, and besides the fact you had lived there your entire life, you’d never be used to it’s cold bite. it was almost as if mother nature was punishing you, and well, it was pretty justified.
you had found yourself on a familiar doorstep, one you’d been to many times, but usually with your boyfriend nate at your hip- your safety net. chris, nick and matt had been friends with nate for years and you had known the boys since highschool. you’d consider them friends, but not really your friends. they were kind, but you’d much rather hang out with your own friends. the only reason you were usually dragged along was because it was some of the only times you could be with nate. now that he was in college, an hour drive away, things had become incredibly hard between you.
it was only a passing comment you made, last week, that had gotten you into this. a regular night of driving around aimlessly with nate, the boys, and you had mentioned how you wanted to learn guitar. of course, chris had piped up to say he’d teach you, and stupidly you agreed. it god, what would nate do if he knew you were here? what was wrong with you? it was 8pm on a tuesday, you should be in bed.
you rap your knuckles on the christmas wreathe adorned door, and step back to quickly hugging your hands around yourself, your shaky breath coming out as soft puffs of smoke. the door cracked open slowly, revealing chris in a black hoodie with words you couldn’t read scribed onto it, grey sweatpants and clunky brown ugg boots.
“you made it.” he smiled, running a hand through his floppy hair.
“i did.” you smiled back, as he opened the door wider to let you in.
you knocked your boots a few more times at the door before kicking them off.
“you look great.” chris commented, seemingly just being polite.
you smiled back awkwardly, shuffling your socks on the floorboards. “oh, thanks.”
“fuck, it’s cold out there isn’t it?” he commented, as he began to walk you down the hallway. it was adorned with photos of the boys, their family and friends, that you presumed their mother had hung. you’d been here so many times, but this time it felt like you were really present, and not just following the leader. you found yourself observing much more than you usually had.
“yeah, it’s insane.” you agreed, as you both walked through the empty kitchen and dining area, with all of the lights switched off.
you wondered if nick and matt were already asleep, or if they were out and would come home any moment to see you alone with their brother. you also wondered if his parents were away, or if they too would come home to find you with their son, your boyfriend nowhere to be found. god, you didn’t even want to think about it.
you both quietly walked up the stairs and towards his room, which was the last one down the very end of the hallway. you had never been in his room, the usual hangout spot was always the living room. you felt so guilty, as you head into his room hesitantly behind him. chris’ room wasn’t what you had expected, it was quiet and cozy, a juxtaposition of himself. his double bed was shoved in the corner, with plain black sheets, and a desk beneath the window with a matching drawer set on the opposing wall, his guitar lay against the wall beside his them.
“so, did nate end up convincing you to come?” he asked, breaking the thick silence between you.
nate doesn’t know i’m here. you thought, biting your lips.
“no, actually. it was all me.“ you tell him, kicking your feet awkwardly.
“huh, i didn’t think you’d come.” he said, grabbing his guitar.
“me neither.” you chuckle awkwardly, “but thanks for doing this though, i really appreciate it.”
“all good.” he says calmly, “i did promised i’d teach you.”
“you did.” you repeat, smiling at him. you watched the way his hair was falling softly over his eyes, and he had to keep pushing it back with his hand.
chris handed you the guitar, and you sat down on the edge of his bed. you balanced it on your thigh, “is this how i hold it?”
“yeah, just make sure it’s pressed a little closer to you.” he explains, sitting down beside you. you do as he says, pressing the instrument close to your stomach, trying to get used to the feeling.
“so, how about you give me a song you want to learn and we’ll start there. one with easy chords if you can.” chris says, his voice slightly softer than usual. you wondered if it’s because he was tired, or if he truly was being patient with you, as you’d never seen him so calm.
you think for a moment, back to the songs you were listening on the drive to his house. “do you know fade into you? by mazzy star?”
“yeah that’s a good one, just give me a second to work it out.” he says, pausing as he looked to the ceiling and waved his finger around as if he was writing imaginary chords and trying to piece it together in his mind.
you admired him up close now, as you had never been able to. you always saw him in conjunction with his brothers, but never alone. you noticed how his nose differed and was slightly more button like, and his lips were plump and fuller, his hair a little darker.
“okay, that’s not too hard, but i’ll try and make it as easy as i can. you’re only going to be using C, D, G and Am’s.” he told you, and it took everything in you not to melt on the spot. god, what was wrong with you? you inhaled deeply, finding your composure.
“here, it might be easier if i show you first.” he says, softly taking the guitar from you and placing it in his own lap. he held it much more comfortably than you, and he grabbed the pick that was between the strings at the neck. he held it between his teeth briefly, as he tuned the guitar. his hair fell over his eyes once more, and you were grateful for this as he wouldn’t see you gawking at him.
eventually, he started to strum the first chords. “watch how my fingers are placed on the neck, that’s the important part.”
chris began to play the familiar opening of the song, and you’re completely mesmerised. you watched his lips mouth the words softly under his breath, as if he didn’t notice he was completely lost in the song. you sat with your legs crossed, facing him fully, and rested your chin on your palm. he looked so at peace, like this was what he truly loved doing. you knew this is how nate felt with hockey, and it made you remind yourself just how insane you were acting.
he abruptly stopped by holding his palm on the strings to stop them, and looked up at you to meet your eyes. you blinked at him, blankly.
“you alright?” he asked with a smirk tugging his lips.
you nod, looking away from him. “yeah just, out of my depth i think.”
“it’s cool. what if i show you like this-“ he starts, reaching over to put the guitar back in your lap. he crawled around to sit behind you, but his legs were crossed, establishing a boundary. one you secretly wished wasn’t there.
you could feel his breath on your neck, and the cold winter breeze was a thing of the past. he peered over your shoulder to look down at your hands on the guitar, and began to move them into place. “you’ve got to hold the strings like this.”
it was so intimate, and you couldn’t help but wish things where like this with you and nate. the way chris was so tender with you, so patient, not that nate wasn’t- things were like this, at the start. but you felt you’d grown so distant, and things didn’t get you hot and bothered like they used to. but this, this made you think thoughts you wish you could bury deep down into the pits of your stomach.
chris assisted your hands in strumming the chords, explaining to you which chord was which as you moved your fingers against the strings. his hands were so warm, so inviting, his fingers long and slender and-
“are you getting this?” chris asked, breaking you from your daze.
“um, not really.” you said bashfully, ducking your head. “i’m sorry, i just…”
chris sighed heavily, removing his hands from yours and coming around to sit beside you once more so that you were face to face on the edge of his bed.
he pursed his lips, furrowing his eyebrows. “why did you really come? because it seems to me you’re not here for guitar lessons.”
your eyes went wide, and you began toying with the guitar strings mindlessly. “i did, it’s just…”
“it’s okay, you can tell me.” he urged, and you felt your stomach drop in guilt.
“i…” you begin, but couldn’t articulate yourself. “i don’t know.”
you placed the guitar onto the ground, sighing. “i’m sorry, i guess i just wanted company.”
“is everything okay? is it nate?” chris questioned, rubbing his face.
“no, nate’s great it’s just…” you pause, truly unable to string together a sentence. not with chris in front of you, so beautiful yet so unknowing.
“are you…not being taken care of?” he asked, his voice low.
there was a thick pause between you before you answered. “how do you mean?”
“you know exactly what i mean.” chris said in a knowing manner, tilting his head.
“i’m not talking about this with you.” you huffed, trying your best to act nonchalant. to make invisible boundaries for yourself, as you weren’t so sure how long you could hold it together.
he tutted, rolling his eyes. “why?”
“i’m fine, he’s only an hour away. we have phone sex like, all the time anyway.” you were blatantly lying at this point. there was something deeply wrong, or you wouldn’t be seeking out attention elsewhere. here.
chris chuckled, crossing his arms. “i might not be a smart guy but i can tell you’re frustrated. you’re looking at me like you’re going to pounce me any moment.”
you scoffed, although he was right. “what? you’re delusional.”
“am i?” he said, smirking. he was enjoying this. and a sick twisted part of you was too.
you groaned, running your hands down your face. “i feel so stupid talking to you about this.”
“it isn’t stupid.” he assured you, “now spit it out, what’s wrong?”
chris was ridiculously convincing when he wanted to be. just like how he had roped you into coming tonight. there was something about him so deliciously dangerous, that made you question your sanity and morals.
you let out a heavy sigh before you spoke. “it’s been months.”
there was a pause, as chris widened his eyes at you once he realised what you were talking about. “months?”
“yes. it’s never been this long, but i guess it’s because he lives so far now.” you explained, your cheeks flushing at the thought. things with nate used to always be so fun, you would sleep together multiple times a week, never be apart- but lately? you felt like you’d been left behind.
“do you think it’s because he’s busy with college?” chris asked, surprising you with how seriously he was taking you.
“yeah, i mean he’s trying so hard, and there are scouts at nearly every game now so he’s thing even more. then when he’s got college break and drives down here, i think by the time he sees me he’s just exhausted.” you blurt out, beginning to feel a little less weight on your chest like it had been holding you down to keep all of this inside.
chris nods, and reaches towards you to touches your back, “it’s alright, i mean i’m sure it’s nothing against you…he’s just busy.”
“i know, but that’s the problem. i never see him, and when i do he never wants to go out or do anything because he’s always so tired. if he’s not training he’s playing, and if it’s not that he’s studying, and it takes up all of his time.” you complain, but are soothed by the feeling of his hand circling your back.
“that’s a shame, for a girl like you…” chris trailed off, like he knew if he kept talking he would be crossing the line. but the lines were blurred at this point, anyway.
his hand slowly trailed down to your lower back, the thick material of your sweater a barrier to his soft touch that you ached for more of. it was so reckless of you, to be revelling in another man’s touch- but it felt so good.
“i could make you feel good.” he continued in a subtle whisper, biting his lips as he gave you a once over, your body is basking in the warmth of his gaze. this was wrong, so so very wrong.
“chris.” you warned him, as he brought his other hand to clasp over yours which rested on your thigh.
your breath was slightly disturbed, stuttering in your throat. god, why did this have to feel so good?
chris’s hand that was on your back now trails upwards to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. you hadn’t noticed how close he was, but hated how much you loved him invading your space.
“he doesn’t have to know.” he told you, brushing your hair away from your neck, his breath fanning your skin.
“i cant.” you croaked, as he slowly pressed his warm lips to the skin behind your ear.
it’s as if your brain shut down and your body took over, letting out a soft moan as chris kissed your skin, then continuing down to the junction of your neck and shoulder. he pulled your sweater to the side, giving him better access.
“hmm, chris we can’t.” you protested, a hand coming to rest on his shoulder gently.
“shhh.” he hushed as he pulled away from you, locking eyes. “let me take care of you.”
you looked at him with so much pain, yet so much longing. he held your face gently in his hands, stroking your cheek. “he won’t know.”
chris pressed his lips to yours softly, and you let yourself sink into his arms. he helped you onto his lap, your kisses becoming feverish and desperate yet still passionate. you found your hips slowly grinding down onto his, earning deep moans and slightly more aggressive kisses. you rolled your hips down onto his growing hardness, the friction through your clothing feeling euphoric.
chris pulled away for a moment, combing your hair back with his fingers so he could look at you. his eyes were dark, pupils blown and his lips glistening and plump.
“you’re so pretty.” he mumbled, “you’ve always been.”
you wanted to die, having this beautiful man beneath you at your mercy but a loyal boyfriend waiting for you only an hour away. your mind was becoming fuzzy, blurring what your body needed and what was right. you suddenly pulled away completely, getting off his lap and holding a hand to your forehead.
“i’m sorry…i…i cant do this.” you confessed, shaking your head.
chris opened his mouth to speak, but you didn’t allow him- darting out of his room quickly and running down the stairs. your breathing was so loud it was in your ears, your heart thumping in your throat and the walls feeling as if they were closing in on you. you grabbed your boots and burst out the front door, trudging through the thick snow in your socks. you threw your shoes into the passenger seat and jumped into your car at record speed, quickly starting the ignition. chris didn’t follow you.
you drove home in complete silence, your breathing becoming more rapid and the world feeling as though it was going to collapse around you. you got home and made a beeline for your room, changing into your pyjamas at record pace. guilt riddled you as you crawled into bed, cuddling yourself under the sheets and hiding from everything and everyone. you just wanted to stay there and rot.
you found yourself texting chris, wanting to have proof that you declined. that nothing else happened. that you ran away.
you: i’m sorry, that shouldn’t have happened.
it was only a few moments before he texted you back.
chris: no it shouldn’t have.
you: that can’t happen again.
chris: not until next time.
your eyes widened, no, no no! this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. he was supposed to have regretted it to, and want tp bury the memory deep down. you ignored him, laying your phone next to your head as you tried to close your eyes, hoping it would go away. until your phone buzzed, lighting up.
chris: meet me at mine tomorrow, 8pm?
your stomach dropped, and you held your face in your hands as you let out a silent scream. no, you couldn’t encourage this. but nate was an hour away, how would he know? it could only be while he’s away, then when he gets back you could pretend nothing happened! oh god, you were going to hell.
you: okay.
(chapter two.)
#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo edit#sturniolo smut#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo imagine#sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo smut#christopher sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo oneshot#chris sturniolo x you#christopher sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo imagine#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x fem reader#guitar lessons
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૮ ͈>◡< ͈ა warnings — suggestive, minors dni 18+, characters aged up to 20s, established relationship, pda, isagi just feeling you up in public, possession, manipulation (? kinda), fem!reader - i just wanted to write some cocky isagi again :(
idk i just… isagi likes that you adore him, he likes to show that off. you’re his precious little thing, you belong to him — and he loves that you think the world of him.
he knows what it’s like to win. to devour an opponent whole and crush their soul until it’s nothing but dust. but nothing could compare to the feeling of winning you over, having you pick him above everyone else. he can’t help but want to boast the fact to the world.
isagi knows how his teammates look at you, with wondering and jealous eyes when you bound up to him on the pitch and smack a wet kiss on his cheek. you’re so tiny when you press yourself up against him (he’s shot up since the start of the blue lock project), hands on his chest while you sing your praises to your boyfriend. ‘’m so proud of you ichi!’ followed by ‘you were so good out there!’
isagi knows that everyone’s watching when he grabs handfuls of your ass right then and there — leaning down to your height to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “can you say that again for me, precious?” he coos as your words lick at his ego, an air of cockiness blazing through him.
“yoichi…” you murmur hesitantly, your eyes shimmering with nervousness. “your friends are watching.”
isagi notes the daggers rin glares at your back, the way kunigami cracks his knuckles and kaiser rolls his shoulders. they should be jealous. of isagi and of you.
“c’mon baby, just one time. you know what i like to hear.”
he’s teething on your lower lip, pulling you flush against him because isagi likes dangling his precious gem in front of his friends like a carrot in front of a horse. letting them know that he’s on a whole other level to them. above them. where only the best can get the unattainable. only the best can get you.
“please baby, tell me one more time?” he goads you with innocent ocean eyes — slightly hazy from the thought of your praise.
“you’re the best yoichi, no one is better than you.” you stutter out, lips pushed into a sweet pout that just makes him want to devour you until there’s not a trace of you left.
someone curses not too far off from your side, either pissed off at how much you praise blue lock’s star player or how lucky he is to have a loyal little thing like you — one that clings onto yoichi’s every word like it’s the truth. he notices you wavering, flipping between shrinking away from your boyfriend to avoid riling up his teammates and asking for a kiss.
so cute, so loyal. like a puppy dog. “c’mere precious,” isagi’s voice dips an octave, his tone sultry with a tune taken straight out of the pied piper’s book. you let him man handle you closer, squish your cheeks between a finger and his thumb before he tilts your gaze up to meet his. “keep looking at me, only me, okay precious?” it’s more like a command than a question but your head nods along of its own accord. “i’m the only one you cheer for, got it?”
“you’re the only one i want to cheer for. you’re the only one i want to win, ‘ichi!” you squeak, saliva pooling on your tongue as he entices you with a kiss.
you sing his praises and they go straight to isagi’s head, inflating his ego much to the dismay of the other blue lock boys. “such a good girl, all for me, yeah?” he breaths, sealing the deal by pressing his lips to yours — tongue prodding at them so you open up, let him have his heated way with you.
and as expected, you trip over your own feet to have more of isagi, desperate to taste him before practice resumes. the others scoff and roll their eyes… jealous because isagi is the centre of your world, your everything and the very idea of that makes him a monster on the field.
#isagi x reader#isagi x you#bllk x reader#blue lock x reader#bllk x you#blue lock x you#isagi yoichi x reader#isagi yoichi x you#isagi fluff#isagi yoichi smut#isagi smut#isagi yoichi thirst#yoichi isagi x you#yoichi isagi x reader#✧ ₊˚੭ — writing#tteokdoroki#✧ ₊˚💭੭ — aali just posted
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♪ — 𝗪𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗜𝗡? - part four
max verstappen x reader (fluff)
“. . . when he wants to be normal, he can count on you, stranger.”
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"Hey, hey. It's ok." The man who you were unable to recognize tried to comfort you. "You're safe. You're okay." The blurry figure assured, gently pulling your hand that was covering your mouth and the other that was clutched to your chest in his hands.
"See, you're ok." His soft voice assured, his thumbs gently running over your knuckles to show you you were ok. You kept your blurry, tear-filled eyes on your hands, watching him turn your hands palm up and slowly count your fingers. "1, 2, 3," you quietly counted with him till your breaths evened and the ground stopped spinning.
"Do you know where you're staying?" He asked, gently wiping your cheeks and eyes dry. You shook your head no. "You don't know?" He was so gentle with you as if you were made of glass, brushing your hair from your eyes. You shook your head, grabbing his sleeve when he stepped back. You don't know why you did.
"You don't want to be alone?" The man asked further and you nodded hesitantly. You were too busy looking at the concrete floor to see Max's eyes soften and return your hesitant nod. The dutch had no idea what to do but he knew that he couldn't just leave you like this after someone tried to drag you away.
He was glad he found himself at the same club as you the night of the Monaco Grand Prix, celebrating the race. If he wasn't keeping an eye on you here and there, he wouldn't have noticed that the random guy who you'd made friends with was crossing some boundaries.
He'd jumped in and pushed the guy off and pulled you somewhere safe before anything could happen. And now he was carrying your sleeping body as he walked into his apartment building, struggling with the elevator and keys but he'd rather let you sleep.
When you woke up, it took a few seconds for your memories to click back. You'd let a stranger carry you, and you're assuming you're in his home. What confused you the most was the feeling that this person wasn't a stranger. Almost as if it was your Amilian. But that was impossible, Amilian isn't in Monaco. It must've been someone who sounds or talks like him.
Sitting up in the clearly expensive bed, you looked around the room. The blinds were drawn leaving slithers of light fighting to enter though the gap at the bottom. Your headache came crashing as if someone had hit you straight with a mallet. But you couldn't let that stop you, you had bigger issues to deal with.
Where are you? Whose house are you in? Should you greet this unknown person? Or should you just change and run for the front door? If you find the door.
And what are you wearing?! How'd you get into this?
You furrowed your eyes as you looked down at the Red Bull shirt, clearly confused because you for sure had worn a dress and the stiletto sandals you were excited about.
Your mind raced for a few minutes as you looked around the clearly owned-by-a-male room, trying to figure out the next steps. You could've very much been standing in the dark room for 30 minutes if the noise at the door didn't catch your attention.
Cracking the door to the bedroom, you found a cat looking back up at you just as scared and confused by your presence as you were. But this was a cat, that was a definite green flag. With the little courage you had, you stepped outside the room to search or scope or whatever. You had no idea what you were doing. But you had to at least draw a map, no?
A guy was definitely living here alone. His gaming setup had its own space with no traces of femininity. A woman wouldn't be too happy with such a huge gaming setup that would probably take all his attention. Three screens that are literally curved with a mini Red Bull fridge?
Not even you wanted a guy who probably spends all his time on his screens. But it was a cool set up for sure. Setting the cat down you took a closer look at the cockpit-like setup. This guy must've been a huge F1 fan because even had a replica of . . . Max's trophy. Oh.
"Sassy! That's not food! Well it is food— but not for you." You heard who you were dreading yet praying for call as he chased the other cat. Jimmy (you’re assuming), the other cat who was rubbing into your ankles, abandoned you in favour of his father. Who'd froze in his spot like a statue upon seeing you stare back just as awkwardly.
The two of you could've been standing there like statues for hours as far as you know. You were in deep internal shock, trying to process the fact that you were unable to break eye contact with the three time world champion that you take time to watch on your TV every weekend and were standing in his apartment. In his Red Bull shirt that he probably never takes off!
Holy shit! He was the one comforting you last night! He saw you all crying and weak and— you felt so embarrassed! So anxious! You could probably run out if you had the strength to cut eye contact.
Max on the other hand was praying that you didn't notice his heating face. When he asked his sister to help him help you get into something comfortable, he did not expect Victoria to put you in his team shirt that looks way too good on you. He wanted you to keep it on and wear it everyday.
"Did you?" you asked quietly, pointing to the shirt, silently asking if he changed you. The blond shook his head quickly, setting his cat down.
"M-my sister was here so I asked her. If that's okay. I didn't want you to be uncomfortable." He clarified, scratching the back of his neck. You nodded briefly in thanks. The awkward silence dawned again.
He cut the silence the second time. "I was making breakfast." He cleared his throat, pointing to the kitchen. "I'm trying to make your favourite," He would tell you but Max Verstappen doesn't know your favourite food. He's not Amilian right now. He's the athlete you've been slowly growing fond of. He shouldn't have known you exist. But he does.
"I'm allergic to peanuts." You mumble and Max was so close to answering with "i know", instead he just nodded and told you he didn't possess any in the flat. You followed him to the kitchen seeing the half mess he had caused trying to gather ingredients.
"Crepes." He muttered, looking through the online recipe. You purse your lips in thought, looking at the eggs, flour and vanilla (?) he was trying to collect.
"Can I?" You pointed to the kitchen and Max nodded, gesturing that it was all yours.
"Please." You took a deep breath looking around before starting to gather and mix while Max fed the two cats. "Wait 2 eggs?" The blond questioned, watching you crack a second. You nodded, with a little smile showing him the batter. "Oh, yeah. That makes sense." He nodded, looking in the bowl with a pause. ". . . Is it obvious that I have no idea what's going on?" You tried to hold in a chuckle at his confused expression.
"Kinda." You shrugged going back to adjusting the batter.
You'd soon enough relaxed around the man, seeing the soft and sunny side he really was all about. You found yourself cracking a smile or a giggle each time he made a little joke or comment, warming up to him.
You ate the crepes standing at the kitchen island with the blueberries he washed for you. You felt warm in this space, petting the cat that lazed on the counter for your head scratches. Never in your life did you imagine standing and eating crepes with Max in his apartment, wearing his shirt and no pants. You never even imagined breathing in the same room as him, but here you were.
Max felt the same way. His heart was beating so fast and he was scared his irises had turned into heart shaped from how much he was admiring and staring at you. You were so beautiful and calm with such an aura he would think you were an angel.
And to him you were. You are an angel. A gift. It might have taken some ice breaking, but you made Max feel human and normal. You made him feel as happy and sunny as when he's Amilian. Only now, he didn't want to go back to being Amilian.
Max didn't mention anything, he wanted things to stay as it was right now, playfully pushing you as you tried to do the dishes and push him away. The tug of war (more like push of war) lasted a few minutes with you winning and sending Max off.
It was 15 minutes later after Max freshened up did he find you playing with Sassy and cuddling with Jimmy, waving the stringed feather so the cat could chase while the other happily sat in your warm stomach. Your giggles and laughter were music to his ears. He felt so giddy just by seeing your smile, the same one he's been imagining for years now lighting up his world brighter than the sun and all the stars in the sky.
He didn't want to interrupt you. He wanted to keep you away from time so he could keep you, and spend time and have fun with you. He didn't want to let you go. He'd feel empty now that he got a taste of you. Max gently sat beside you, scratching Jimmy on your belly. You blushed watching him.
"You know, they've never been so comfortable with other people." He says looking into your eyes. You felt yourself blush deeper, looking between his two sapphire eyes.
"I'm kind of a cat whisperer." you joke, pulling a smile and giggle from Max. The two of you looked into each other's eyes for a little, enjoying the moment.
"I really like you, Y/n. Maybe we can spend time like this again in the future?"
You were taken aback by the request. The question of how he knew your name long drifted from your brain, leaving a big smile and blush on your face as you nodded.
credits to the lovely @classiclitfreak as always <3
#‧˚⊹🪴 ଓ :: 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀 ‧₊˚⤾#🐈 ﹒wired in? ﹐♫#max verstappen f1#max verstappen#max#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen x you#f1#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 x you#formula 1#formula racing#mv1#mv33#max verstappen fanfic#mv1 x reader#mv33 x reader#mv1 fic#mv33 fic#max x reader#max x you#f1 fic#formula one x reader#formula one
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Safety In Your Arms
Dando x Reader
Genre: Hurt-comfort, maybe spicy via implied smut
Summary: Sometimes things go horribly wrong, nothing like what you expected, and it sends you hurtling towards emotions you never asked for. Lando and Daniel hate to see her this way.
Warnings: implied sexual content prior to and post incident, r@pe, anxiety, panic attacks, worried partners
Notes: Not sure this is exactly what you wanted because I don't write r@pe fantasies... regardless I hope the requester likes it :)
Side Note: Please leave notes! I think I might have been shadow banned recently as my fics are not being interacted with as much as they used to. Maybe it's just me being self-conscious because I know I couldn't care but I do.
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Her heart thumping in her ears is all she can hear. Just last night, this had been something special and intimate. It was beautiful and loving. Now a stranger thinks he take something that isn't his.
Daniel and Lando are the only ones aloud to touch her like this. Their touch sends shivers down her spine in a pleasant way. This man makes her burn. His grip keeping her pinned to the wall feels like lighter being held against the bare flesh of her hips.
She was almost to the room. Back to the safety of her boys. Just up the stairs and down the hall. Curse the elevator for not working.
She's not sure where the adrenaline comes from. Her fight or flight response is pulling from some unknown energy reserve. It's enough for her to push him off her.
He falls backwards down the stairs. He's disoriented but still conscious. He looks like he might fight his way back to her and finish what he started.
She bolts. Her legs carry her to the door of her shared room. Fists bang on the door in terror.
The door to the stairwell slams open. She leans her weight into the door and slides down. Tears stream down her face at the hopelessness she feels in this situation.
The door flings open. Daniel on the other side catches her crumbling body before it hits the ground. She pushes inside and finds the farthest corner of the room.
She sees the silhouette of the man come to face Daniel. Lando is crouched down in front of her, trying to coax some kind of explanation out of her. She's too worked up to respond.
The loud crack of Daniel's knuckles fills her ears. Her attacker stumbles backwards once more, this time he's out cold. His body falls to the ground, with a soft thud muffled only by the carpeted floors.
Lando exchanges a few words with Daniel. The ringing in her ears makes it hard to understand. It's not until Lando hands her his sweatshirt to hold and Daniel is on the phone that she registers the safety.
"He - He - I was -" She can't even get the words out. Not without realizing how pathetic she sounds.
"Okay, breathe now love, you're safe." She takes a few breathes with Lando. "Can we try some yes or no questions?"
She hesitantly shakes her head yes. Slowly, she reaches to Lando. He intertwines his fingers with hers and both of them relax.
"Did her hit you at all?"
Yes. When he first got her against the wall.
"Did he touch you anywhere intimate?" Lando looks like he's trying not to cringe.
Yes. Everywhere. It burns still.
Lando look on the verge of tears. He's always been empathetic, hurting with them. "Did he - did he rape you?"
She breaks. Burries her face in Lando's sweatshirt and wails. Lando is careful not to touch her in any harsh way; lets her lead him.
Daniel clambers onto the floor with them. She doesn't look at him, but she knows he's there and that's enough. "Love, I'm so sorry this happened to you. The authorities are on their way to take, whoever that was, away. The question now is how you want to go forward." Daniel takes a heavy breath before continuing when she doesn't respond. "We have to go to the hospital, love. I don't want you to suffer any more than you already have."
She's still crying as they bundle her up in Lando's sweatshirt and Daniel's sweats. The soft baggy ones she steals from him all the time regardless.
"Dan, what about... him?" Lando stares at the man lying on the floor. She has to will herself not to vomit at the sight of him.
"I'll meet you there, okay? The police should be here soon." Lando looks hesitant to leave without Daniel. The Aussie plants a reassuring kiss to his forehead. "Take care of our girl, yeah?"
By the time they get checked in, Daniel texts that he's on his way. She hasn't said anything else since the hotel room, but Lando kindly offers her one of his airpods. The music helps, if only a little.
The nurse takes her back to the room alone. She wails the entire time until they let Lando, now with Daniel on his heels, back with her.
She dissociates through the entire visit. Not coherent enough to answer anything but yes or no questions.
The next few days are more of them same. Only getting out of bed to sit in the shower. The water hot enough to burn away her skin.
Daniel tells Max they had an emergency but doesn't go into any details. Max lets them fly out with him. She doesn't talk to him. Too tired to use any energy on conversation.
Daniel and Lando respect her space. They ask before touching her. They announce their presences, especially if they are behind her.
The bruises fade eventually. It's not like the physical evidence was going to remain on her forever. Still, with his handprints gone for her sight, they burn her every time the area is touched.
She doesn't wear anything aside from Lando and Daniel's clothes that are too big on her. Not until they are back in Monaco for the summer break. Four months after the incident.
Daniel gently coaxes her out of the warm clothing. The boys give her space until she's ready to join them and respect her boundaries when she asks not to be touched.
Her skin still burns.
By the end of summer break, she's had time to work her way up to new things. Small bits of skin-on-skin contact and hugs are quickly becoming her new lifeline. She missed being able to not fear the touch of another. Her mind tends to forget she's safe and fights anyone who tries to get to close.
By September she's able to sleep in the same bed as them without waking up panicked that they are going to hurt her in some way. The nightmares remain, but now she clings to the two males when she wakes crying.
On a particularly charged night filled with celebrations. The three of them work through it at her pace. She sets boundaries like her therapist had told her to do. Daniel and Lando tell her everything they are going to do before they lay a finger on her.
She missed this.
She missed them.
Their hands don't burn her skin anymore.
#x reader#f1 fic#formula 1#f1 fanfic#lando norris#lando norris x you#lando norris x reader#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x daniel ricciardo#daniel ricciardo x reader#daniel ricciardo#daniel ricciardo x you#daniel ricciardo x female reader#daniel ricciardo 3#daniel ricciardo imagine#daniel ricciardo x lando norris#daniel ricciardo x y/n#dr3#dr3 x reader#dr3 imagine#redbull racing#lando norris f1#mclaren f1#ln4#lando norris fanfic#lando norris imagine#ln4 imagine#ln4 x reader#ln4 fic#mclaren lando norris
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warnings!: angst, mentions of self hate. hurt comfort.
on days when he cannot discern between his body and his shadow, chan tries to keep away from you for as long as possible.
it's not that he doesn't love you--the opposite actually. sometimes he thinks the dead thing in his chest beats only for you. beats and beats and beats, pumps blood into veins he feels he is unworthy of because how then would he be able to hold you? to kiss you?
but on days like this, he is ashamed.
his knees buckle under the weight of his own existence. how could he hold you, kiss you, when he felt like a mere shell of the man he once was? how could he offer you anything when he struggled to find value in his own existence?
it's crippling. this feeling. this weight. this him.
so when you find him sitting on the edge of the bed in the dark, he winces. turns away. the dark circles stretch under his eyes like black holes and he's in the same shirt he'd pulled on four days ago and the light that comes in through the crack in the door you just opened is blinding him and he's ashamed.
"what're you doin' here?" it comes out as a croak. he cringes at the sound of it.
but all that comes out of your lips is a small, "baby.."
you say it with so much love but all it does is repulse him. how could you still have love for a rotting carcass? it's the reason he's opted to stay in the dorms rather than your apartment these past few days. he's almost certain the boys had something to do with your presence here now.
"m' fine," he says, turning on the bed, away from the light, from you. he can't really tell the difference.
you close the door behind you, bathing the room in darkness once more. you take a step closer, the floor creaking beneath your weight. chan flinches, his shoulders tensing as if bracing for impact. he wants to disappear into the shadows, to fade away until he no longer exists in your world. to shield you from the festering ugliness inside of him
but when you step forward, towards him, his body reacts, legs opening so you can stand between them.
your hand hesitantly reaches out, fingers brushing against his tense shoulder. he catches it, pushing it away.
"i haven't showered," he mutters, head bowed, unable to meet your eyes.
"chris."
"you should probably leave. this happens all the time, i'm fine." he's telling you to leave but his fingers are clenching around the hem of your t-shirt so tightly his knuckles turn white. "i'm fine."
"chris," you say softly, your voice a tender caress in the dimness of the room. "look at me, baby, please."
he doesn't. can't bare to, so you have to nudge him gently with the palm of your hand, cupping his cheek. his eyes are dark, haunted, and they flick away as soon as they meet your gaze.
"you're not okay," you say, heart aching.
"i'm trying," his voice cracks. "i'm trying to be."
your finger grazes his jaw. "i love you."
and then he's clutching your hips, drawing you close to him, and the tears come like tidal waves. his face is smushed against your stomach, and you hold him, you feel the tremors coursing through his body, the weight of his anguish pressing against you. you don't flinch, don't pull away. instead, you hold him tighter, letting him know that you're there, that you're not going anywhere.
"i love you," you whisper again, your words a soothing melody in the darkness. "i'm here, chris. i'm not ever leaving you."
he clings to you desperately, as if you're the only anchor in a stormy sea. his sobs echo in the quiet room, mingling with the hushed sounds of your reassurances.
on days when he cannot discern between his body and his shadow, chan tries to keep away from you for as long as possible. he doesn't want you to see the ugly he knows is inside of him. but you do anyway. you see the ugly, the part of him he tries so desperatly to hide. you don't flinch. you don't turn away.
in your love, he discovers his own resilience, his capacity to rise from the depths of despair and embrace the light once more. and though the journey may be fraught with obstacles, uncertainties, and moments of darkness, he knows that as long as you're there, holding his hand, he'll never have to face it alone.
#skz#straykids#straykids fanfic#stray kids soft hours#stray kids scenarios#bangchan x reader#chan x reader#bangchan angst#bangchan fanfic#bangchan fic#bangchan imagine#bangchan headcanons#bang chan#bang chris#bangchan imagines#bangchan fluff#bang chan angst
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“Oh, shoot, sorry. Go back to sleep. Sorry.”
Nico shifts, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. The light in the infirmary is low, and strangely soothing. It’s almost hard to keep his eyes open. But he manages, rubbing his knuckles under the curve of his eyesockets, and searches in the dark until he finds what woke him up.
Will stands a couple feet away from his bed, figure curled and shadowy, owlish eyes wide and almost unnaturally reflective in the dark.
“‘S’okay,” he mumbles. “Couldn’t really sleep anyway.”
“Oh.” There’s a shuffling sound, and suddenly Nico feels warmer where Will has stepped closer. “You in pain?“
“No. Just bad at sleeping.”
“Hey, me too.”
Surprise at Will’s easy admission and a little bit starstruck at the bright flash of Will’s grin, Nico doesn’t have the chance to beat himself up over being so flippantly open. His teeth seemed to glow as much as the whites of his eyes, which would be creepy, except it’s hard to feel anything but calm as a cool night breeze wafts the scent of lavender from the sill planters in every inch of the infirmary, and it’s hard to think of Will as anything but warm. Especially the hand he places, briefly, on the curve of Nico’s knee.
“Insomnia?”
“Something like that.”
“Still. Sorry for waking you up.”
Nico hums, fiddling with his skull ring. “Why were you up, anyway?”
“Oh, I won’t have time to sleep for another couple days.”
There’s a mellow cracking sound, and then all of Will’s knuckles begin to glow a soft, sunset yellow. Nico startles.
“Apollo thing,” Will explains. A smirk is now visible at the corner of his mouth, forcing a dimple on his right cheek. In his hands, almost hard to see under the glow, are three small vials of something Nico doesn’t recognize. “Getting meds and salves in order.”
Hesitantly, Nico drags his gaze away from the clinking glass bottles, forcing himself to meet Will’s eyes. They’re ridiculously bright. Is that an Apollo thing, too?
“Why does that mean you can’t sleep?”
Will gestures to the myriad of occupied beds outside the curtains Nico has pulled up. “Shitton of injured, man. I got way more people than I got stuff. I prepped for the Romans beforehand, obviously, but I didn’t have a good hand on their numbers and didn’t prep enough. I’m short on supplies. Haven’t slept since Gaea did.” At Nico’s look of alarm, he quickly assures, “But don’t worry, I had Cecil brew me something strong. It’s disgusting, so I think it might be his Coffee Redbull Matcha Heartstopper Special, With A Shot Of Crushed Caffeine Pills For Good Measure, but I’m not sure. Hands are only a little shakey, though, feel.”
In a mirror of a few days ago (fuck, Nico hopes he’s kidding; how long can people go without sleep?), he darts out and rests his hands under Nico’s. Sure enough, they’re trembling, although nothing nearly as bad as before.
“Dangerous levels of sleep deprivation aren’t as bad as delivering a baby, huh.”
Will shudders. “Don’t even joke.”
He looks so genuinely horrified that Nico can’t help but laugh. All they’ve seen, all they’ve suffered — and golden boy is gagging at the miracle of life. If Nico wasn’t so sure that he’d seen at least as many gory nightmares as Nico, if not more, he’d tease him for being squeamish.
…Actually.
“What kind of school nurse wannabe is squidged out by birth?”
“Nurse?” Will squawks, snatching his hands away (Nico finds his own hands, strangely and suddenly, cold). “I didn’t go to seven years of med school to be called a school nurse wannabe!”
Nico narrows his eyes. “You didn’t go to med school. You’re fifteen.”
“As I said.” He grins teasingly. “I didn’t go.”
It takes Nico a second, but when he gets it he cannot physically hold himself back from kicking him. Solace, weak from muffled laughter, stumbles sideways into a lamp.
“Ay! Be careful, you wanna kill the camp’s only brain surgeon?”
“If he’s being annoying,” Nico bites back. He can’t quite stop smiling, and he’s embarrassed about it, but thankfully the darkness hides his face. “There’s no way you’ve done brain surgery.”
The shitty cot Nico’s been coerced into camping on for the next three days creaks as Will perches on the edge of it.
“Have so. In the woods, two years ago, removed a brain tumour. Stressful as shit.” He flashes another sideways grin. “Couple dozen more medical emergencies under my belt, and I might actually be as qualified as a nurse in this country’s garbage medical system. Thank the gods for them, honestly. They do a shit lot more than a lot of doctors claim to.”
Sensing the topic change for what it is, Nico doesn’t press any further. “That what you wanna do?”
“Aw, man, I don’t even want to think about it. The idea of someone else running this infirmary gives me a stress ulcer. Y’all do a lot of stupid shit and frankly some of the procedures I have performed exist in no medical textbooks anywhere, medical or no.” He snorts. “Anyways.”
His hands are blazingly warm again, almost like sun through a maginifying glass, when they pat his shin twice. He stands, stretching — more bursts of light appearing along the length of his spine, lighting what his fading knuckles leave out.
“Try to sleep again, Neeks. You’ll need it.”
“Maybe I should be the one to say that to you,” Nico says. Will waves his hand dismissively, and in a fit of impulse Nico reaches out and grabs it, meeting his raised eyebrow with a stubborn set to his jaw. “I mean it, Will. No one’s awake right now. I just woke up. Why don’t you crash for an hour or so? I’ll wake you if anything happens.”
Will hesitates. “If anything happens, that’s on me. It — I can’t let it be on me.”
“Do you trust me?”
Stupid question. Of course Will doesn’t trust him, Nico let someone die in front of his eyes, Nico is the bringer of death and darkness, why would he —
“Yeah.” Will sighs. Nico looks up, startled, but the medic is eyeing one of the few spare cots, face screwed up in consideration. “You’ll wake me?”
“Immediately,” Nico assures hastily. He nods his head at the bunk next to him. “Sleep, man. You look like you need it.”
“Oh, well, just what I’ve always wanted to hear from you. You look stunning, by the way.”
Nico knows it’s a joke, but he flushes anyway. Thank Hades again for the dark infirmary, and the length of his hair.
“Whatever. Sleep or don’t.”
“I’m going, I’m going.”
In seconds he’s out of his flip-flops, slightly-scratchy blankets turned up and wrapped tightly around him all the way up to his neck.
“Thanks, Nico. I owe you.”
In the next breath, he’s out, all that’s visible of him the flutter of his light eyelashes and the tangled mop of blond hair. He snores, slightly, with every puffed exhale; a tiny, stuttered sound, not unlike a cat. It’s kind of cute, and Nico’s smiling before he realising.
“You don’t owe anybody shit.” He shakes his head fondly, leaning back onto his pillows to keep an eye out. “Goodnight, Will.”
#i think nico would be very protective very early. and i am correct#pjo#percy jackson and the olympians#hoo#heroes of olympus#pjo hoo toa#nico di angelo#will solace#solangelo#nico di angelo/will solace#nico/will#will/nico#nico di angelo & will solace#smart will#will i lvoe u like so much truly#100 ways#100 ways to say i love you#my writing#fic#longpost
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𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥! - 𝐒𝐄𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄
❤︎ simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader ❤︎ wc: 2.4k ❤︎tw: mentions of gore, suggestive ❤︎ tags - snowy valentines, heavy making out, pining, drunk confessions, aggressive!simon, but sweet as well :)
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"You know today's Valentine's Day, right L.T?" Your words slurred together like pudding, and Ghost could smell the faint scent of whiskey, along with the remnants of some strawberry dessert, on your breath as he leaned down to hear you better.
He'd brought you up to the rooftop from the raging party downstairs, figuring it be easier to avoid any questions from Soap or Price about just why the two of you were standing so close. He looked up, stretching and rolling his neck from side to side, and was taken back by just how clear the sky was. It'd been months since he'd been able to make out any sort of constellation, and just about everyone had gotten used to the gunpowder-filled clouds and polluted air, but Ghost hadn't.
"What about it?" He said firmly, looking down at you and watching how you ever so slightly fisted the hem of his t-shirt in your hands, and every so often, your knuckles would graze the skin of his stomach, making his whole-body tense.
You smiled, your doe eyes and dilated pupils staring up at him with the most drunken affection that he'd seen in a while, "Do you have anyone?" You bit down on your chapstick-doused lips, enjoying the slight cherry flavor. Ghost watched you work; he could almost feel your tongue moving around on his just by watching your lick your lips.
He sighed, not annoyed, but a little anxious. He just didn't know how to act around you, he didn't know why you made him feel so different from everyone else. It'd been years since he had a friend, let alone a woman, an attractive one no doubt, clawing at him for more, practically begging for him to just pick her up and take her to a random closet to show her just how much he was willing to give. At this point, Ghost couldn't care less about the fact that you'd forget most of this in the morning. He loved the way you made him feel, even if there was a chance you didn't mean it.
"You're drunk, soldier." He gently pried your wandering hands off his body as you grimaced at the fact that he just called you soldier. You whined in response, hands instinctively shooting up to hug him around his neck, and Ghost allowed it, because he wanted it so badly. He wanted you so badly.
"Come on, just tell me already! You're no fun when you keep secrets." You were practically hanging off of him, your toes barely touching the ground, and even though he could've wrapped himself around you and lifted you up even higher, his hands stayed in fists planted at his sides. You leaned even closer to whisper,
"Do you have a valentine or not?"
A small smile stretched across Ghost's face, and for once, he was actually thankful for that thin piece of fabric covering it. Precious, he thought. You were the one thing that could unlock Simon's buried affection, and whether you knew it or not, you were the ticket to making his entire being feel better. He was bloodthirsty on the field, a man-killing machine known for his deceitful tactics and disgusting tricks for cracking a neck just right, but it disappeared in your presence. Not because he had to hide it, but because he would just much rather focus on you, the most perfect thing, right in front of him.
Ghost's hands hesitantly moved to the small of your back, but then slowly dropped them again before raising one to pinch the bridge of his nose as you let go of his neck, crossing your arms in annoyance at the fact that he just won't grab you.
"I know you're pouting because I'm not paying much attention to you, but I have to be gentle with you for now. You've had drinks, yeah? Maybe a few too many. Even if I wanted to, I can't touch you."
You looked up at him, the grimace resting on your face was a little more relaxed, "But" you started, "Do you want to?"
Ghost looked back at you, and his lungs felt like they'd burst into flames if you spoke one more sentence in that voice, the voice that's dripping with desire and demand, for him and only him. He whispered, "Of course I do. Of course, I want to touch you, I want to touch every part of you." His voice grew louder at the end of his words, making your eyes widen at the volume.
"Just because I'm being gentle right now, doesn't mean I always will. The things I want to have happen, the things I want to do to you, aren't sweet things. They aren't nice, they wouldn't be beautiful or sentimental. I wouldn't be careful. Do you understand?"
You craned your neck up at him, in a certain way that made your cheek bones shine perfectly from the dim light of the moon.
"I understand, Lieutenant," your voice was nothing more than a quiet sigh.
"Get some sleep. Tomorrow's role call is an hour earlier," Ghost said as he started to walk back to the door to the stairs, "Be there."
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You groaned in pain as an alarm rang through your room, off the walls and into your ears. Every part of you hurt, from your toes to your shoulders. I couldn't have done that much, right? You thought, slowly slipping out of your covers and top quilt before walking to the bathroom.
6 AM, and for what? Breakfast and a flag? Couldn't they wait an hour? I sure could. Your hair wasn't as dirty as you'd thought it be, thankfully, and it was easy to manage into a tight bun before tugging on boots and a warm winter coat and heading to the main hall. As you walked, crunching on a small layer of snow with every step, you tried to think back to last night. What even happened? You were kicking yourself, because you knew this would be the case. It happens every time. You're just more of a lightweight than you'd like to admit, and you remember it every morning after you drink.
You could remember the rooftop, being escorted up there by none other than Ghost, which wasn't out of the ordinary, but there were some parts of your conversation that just didn't make sense. It was all a blur but, there was something about being gentle? And Ghost mentioning that, sure he's being gentle now, but if you let him, he'd be the farthest thing from gentle with you.
But there was no way that happened. Fever dreams, drunk dreams, they're all the same. They're all vivid, and scarily accurate, but fake, nonetheless.
Once you arrived at the hall, a wooden door creaked open upon your entrance, along with the sound of your boots hitting the floor in attempt to shake the ice off. The room was packed to the brim with people, rescue dogs that didn't behave, and squeaking chairs moving round for roll call. Hot coffee was being poured and whistling kettles being turned off for tea were some of your favorite smells in the world. The dim fluorescent lighting woke you up fully, and if it were any brighter, it may have set you over the edge. No matter how hungover you were, snowy mornings were like a restart.
You made your way down the precise middle aisle, eyeing an open chair by Ghost and speedwalking to grab it before anyone else.
Once you sat down, you started shedding your large coat and draped it behind you. Ghost finally noticed and took a double take once he saw just who was sitting next to him.
Somehow, by some crazy unearthly miracle, even after a terrible hangover, you were still the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He was almost frustrated at this point; you looked like you'd never drank a day in your life. Your hair was perfectly pinned, clothes beautifully ironed, which allowed for every curve to be hugged like a glove and shown off to every man in the room.
Ghost was borderline salivating. You smelled like you always did, lavender; and your morning voice as you said hello to him was just raspy enough to make him crazy, almost like crackling firewood. Even in the snowy, freezing weather, just by you being there, he felt perfectly warm.
"Morning," he said back, adjusting his pants that had somehow shrunk a few inches since you took your place by him.
The cup of coffee in his hand looked minuscule compared to the one in yours, which let your mind wander to other places, thinking about things that you shouldn't be. Like how small your body would feel enclosed in arms, and how those very same hands that were inches away from yours could destroy you within seconds.
Before you knew it, one of Ghost's arms raised and placed itself on the back of your chair, making you dizzy just at the contact. His skin wasn't even on yours, but you could feel the weight of his heavy forearm on the chair, and the way it gently ruffled the sleeves on your shirt. His breath was closer, practically pouring down the side of your neck, which made you automatically lean in closer to him. You could feel your heartbeat and was sure he could see it popping out of your chest every second.
"Hey," he whispered in your ear, making your eyes flutter at the deep tone speaking from a mouth inches away from you.
"If I left, would you follow me out?"
You looked at him, eyes wandering all over his face until resting in deep eye contact. You could tell all he needed was one word, one nod, and he'd stand up.
"Yes," you whispered. Breathed, more like.
Ghost stood, his height growing like a giant tree, from his seat and stomped out of the large dining room, and into a small hallway towards the back. You discreetly watched every move, every step he took, every nod he gave to the unsuspecting soldiers, and the exact turn he took to start his descent in the hallway.
You sat for a minute before moving. I could just stay, avoid any unnecessary confrontation, and tell him he misheard me, you thought. Your legs fidgeted for a few more seconds, trying to decide, but in reality, your answer from the start was genuine.
You shot up, faster than you intended, and started walking in the same path that Ghost did. Nodding to the soldiers, shooting smiles and quietly opening a door that led you into the same dark hallway that he entered.
There were a few small windows lining the hall, and the snow falling made it seem brighter than it was. You walked a few paces slowly down the walkway, looking in empty rooms and peeping your head in open doors, wondering where he could've gone.
All the sudden, when you were looking towards the opposite direction, a strong pair of gloved hands grabbed you by the hips and pulled your body into a room before slamming the door with his foot and pinning you to the back of it.
Ghost's face was inches away from yours, "Mm, finally," he groaned, his hands desperately running over and under pieces of your clothing. He tugged at hemlines, the belt loops of your pants, anything he could grab to signal he wanted more, and he hadn't even started yet.
"Finally?" You teased, trying not to whimper at the feeling of his hands squeezing the meat of your thigh, "You act like you've been waiting for this or something." Your words got breathier with every second, and so did his. All he did was hum in agreement, words weren't ever truly necessary for him, especially when he'd rather communicate in touch.
He quickly lifted up his mask just enough so his lips were available to you, and you took the opportunity to utilize them as fast as you could. Once you saw them, plump and slightly wet lips, your eyes drowned in the sight of them. Your arms shot up to his neck, and you pulled him down to your level so you could kiss him properly.
It wasn't sweet like a first kiss, or something that you'd want to take a picture of and frame it, it was like a secret. His mouth opening against yours, the air between you mixing like it was never meant to separate, the two of you were hungry, hungry for each other and only each other. The pads of his fingers rubbed your collarbone, making you shiver underneath his calloused touch, and he loved it. His tongue gently massaged yours, sliding his lips back and forth and your teeth gently bit down on his lip slowly before the two of you broke the kiss and slowly opened your eyes again.
Ghost moaned against his closed mouth, shutting his eyes before resting his head in the crook of your neck. His long arms wrapped around you as if you were a present from Christmas, something that he'd always wanted but never believed he'd get. He almost needed a breather from the aftermath of it all. He couldn't stop, and he knew he'd never stop for as long as you were in arms reach.
"Do you remember last night?" He said from his spot in your neck, to which you started to nod. "Too much to not be slightly embarrassed forever."
You could feel his chest vibrate against yours from the huff of air he let out, and after he lifted his head to meet yours again, straightening his posture to tower over you, "Ask it again." He demanded as his hand planted itself behind your head on the door.
The smile on your lips was enough to make his knees buckle, all it did was remind him that every part about you was made beautifully, was made to its most perfect potential.
You sighed before rolling your eyes slightly and dropping your head in your hands for a minute out of embarrassment, "Do you have a valentine, Lieutenant?"
Ghost allowed himself to just bask in the silence, to soak in what you just said like a warm bath. How wonderful, that he was able to hear you say that same question twice?
"Yes, I do," he started, before taking your hand in his and carefully kissing the center of your palms, "And I think I'm set for life."
#ghost x reader#ghost x you#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley fluff#ghost fluff#modern warfare#simon riley x you#simon riley imagine#ghost x y/n#simon riley x y/n#ghost imagine#simon riley#circe69scribbles
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Sweet Dreams - Kai Anderson
x fem!reader
cw: somnophilia, non-con, pervert!kai is your leader
Kai’s gaze settled on your sleeping body as soon as he cracked the bedroom door open. Sprawled out in the tiniest pair of pink pyjamas, you snoozed peacefully in your bed. Kai took a step into the room, his heartbeat racing in his ears. He was nervous, but his compulsions had more control. His cock stood to attention beneath his sweatpants as he counted every soft breath you took. Kai turns to shut and lock the door behind him.
He couldn’t have anyone witness what he was about to do.
Stepping in closer, he positions himself on the edge of the bed. You don’t stir. You don’t even take any notice as the bed dips from his weight. Kai bites his lip as he reaches forwards hesitantly. His hand settles gently on your exposed hip. His fingertips tingle as they lift up your silk pyjama top. The fabric is almost as soft as your skin.
Kai exhales a quiet breath, trying to contain his excitement. He lifts your top, exposing your perky breasts to his hungry eyes. He shuffles over, just enough to be able to cup one of the warm mounds in his big hand. Still asleep, your body reacts to his touch. Kai pinches one of your now taut nipples gently between his fingers. His cock begs to be let free. It was paining him to be so soft with you. He just wanted to ram his cock deep inside you, to feel the pulse of your plush walls as they squeeze him in uncertainty.
Kai lays on his side, spooning you from behind. Your body is warm and welcoming and fits close to his like you were two pieces of the same puzzle. He moves your hair over your shoulder, and leaves a single kiss on the exposed skin of your neck. Your body erupts in a frenzy of tiny goosebumps. Kai’s touch travels lower. He cups the flesh of your ass in his hand, squeezing gently in an attempt to satiate his perverted mind. It’s still not enough, just caressing you would never feel as good as defiling you.
Kai pauses for a moment. He convinces himself that this is what you both want. And then he continues.
His fingertips glide between your legs, pressing down on your clit from over your tiny silk shorts. In your sleep, you mumble for the first time. Kai stops to make sure he doesn’t wake you. You fall silent again, so Kai takes the opportunity to tug your shorts down. Just enough to see what he needed to.
Taking another deep breath, his fingertips return to your centre. Wet. You’re dripping. Your white panties are saturated with your own arousal. He wonders what you’re dreaming about, and he hopes that it’s him. Kai toys with you for a couple of minutes, pressing the pad of his thumb between your folds and feeling the delicious pulse of your pussy. Oh fuck. More.
Kai pulls your panties to the side. As soon as the cool air hits your soaked folds, you breathe a sigh of relief. He hums softly to himself. You make the prettiest noises when you sleep.
Kai’s fingertips runs up and down your slit, collecting your arousal to smother across your beating clit. His hard and leaking cock presses against your back in an attempt to find some relief. You moan softly. The sound makes Kai’s heart flutter. So pretty.
Kai dips his finger towards your entrance, pushing it in knuckle-deep. Your pussy invites him in seamlessly, squeezing down on his digit as it invades your walls. He pumps it in slowly, the smallest squelch reaching his ears with every reluctant thrust. More. You’re so warm, so wet, so tight and most of all, so unsuspecting.
Kai retracts his finger, and uses his hand to tug down his sweats. With no boxers underneath, it gives him less to work with. Shuffling impossibly closer, he kisses your shoulder blade, almost as if to say “sorry”. His tip, flushed pink and seeping pre cum, runs along the length of your slit. He holds in the moans that bubble at the back of his throat. More. He has to have you. Entirely.
Testing the boundaries, he sinks the tip inside your tight, little hole. He exhales a shuddering breath as he manages to get an inch in. He thrusts softly inside you, stretching you out in preparation for more of him. God, the lewd sounds your little pussy was making. It was driving him crazy.
You begin to stir. Your back arches, pushing Kai’s cock further inside you. Even in your sleep you were a needy little whore. Kai’s eyes shut and his jaw goes slack. You deserve this. He was done being gentle.
Kai pushed his hips forward until they were flush with your ass. Your pussy takes him whole and gives him the pleasure of squeezing him tight. Kai plans his next move. In less than a couple seconds, he’s rolled you over onto your stomach and pushed your face into the pillow.
You’re awake now, but can’t see anything. Kai uses all his weight to keep you still as you reach behind you to see who was there. You don’t have much of a chance to wake up, or to think, before Kai is pounding into you. You let out a scream into your pillow as he fills you. A good scream. It feels so good how much he’s stretching you out right now. You deserve this, you were just dreaming about this.
Kai spreads you out from behind. His nails dig into your ass cheeks as he thrusts in and out of you. You begin to shake beneath him as the tip of his cock abuses your cervix. Kai let’s out an animalistic moan as you flutter around him.
“Shhh shh, it’s just me sweetheart. I’m taking care of you,” Kai’s voice whispers in your ear in an attempt to reassure you. You whine into the pillow, grasping at it hard enough to turn your knuckles white.
“You’re such a good girl for your leader, aren’t you? Such a perfect pussy, just for me.”
Kai’s cock glistens with your arousal. He pulls himself all the way out, just to slam back into you again. A loud gasp leaves your lips with every harsh repetition.
“I’m cumming, fuck, shhh, so deep inside your little pussy,” Kai’s eyes close as he finishes, emptying himself inside you. He pulls out, only to replace his cock with his fingers. He finger fucks his cum inside you, burying it deep enough so that there isn’t a chance it seeps out. He lives and breathes to breed you.
“Good girl, go back to sleep,” Kai caressing the back of your head when he’s done, and dressing himself, he leaves the room.
#evan peters#evan peters fanfic#evan peters fanfiction#evan peters requests#evan peters smut#evan peters imagine#evan peters x reader#american horror story#2nd person pov#fem!reader#kai anderson smut#kai ahs#kai anderson smut#kai anderson fan fiction#kai anderson x reader#kai anderson x you#kai anderson#kinky kai anderson#Ahs cult#ahs
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Tony Bramwell on Brian:
- Brian dropped in at the Cavern and, spoiled for choice, fell in love at first sight with each of the Beatles in turn
- Brian almost promised to love, honour and obey them.
- He never publicly showed his embarrassment with poor deals, but one could tell something wasn’t right because inside, he anguished. Chewed his knuckles and grew pale.
- He was a fiercely loyal and honourable friend to those he loved, and ruthless toward those he despised
- He was shy to the point of blushing and stammering, and theatrical to the point of ranting and frothing at the mouth
- His biggest problem, perhaps his only real problem, was that he was homosexual in a still very unenlightened era. It kept getting in the way. Whenever he sat down for a meeting with heavyweights like Sir Joseph Lockwood at EMI, or whoever, he felt they all knew. “They’re talking behind my back, Tony,” Brian said. “They don’t respect me.”
- Paul was fond of Brian and thought he was the best possible manager: one who was courteous, who didn’t interfere with their private lives, but achieved all he said he would do. He never criticized him—none of us did. Brian was a god. (It was only later that the façade cracked a bit, but even then we loved him. He was like family, and you accept your family for what they are and forgive them most anything.)
- his wonderfully fertile mind continuously thinking up innovative ideas and then worrying about them
- Brian was so different when around his beloved protégés. He became one of them. He was a friend, a chum, charming, trustworthy and kind. He set out to do what he promised and they all said it would never have happened without him.
- Brian bought an off-the-shelf company named Suba Films, which I virtually ran. It was way ahead of its time, the only independent company in England making music videos
- Whenever things got raunchy and out of hand around us, he would make his excuses and leave. At times, he almost ran.
- [on writing his biography]: “You don’t think John will think I’m raining on his parade, do you?” he asked hesitantly.
- I believe that Brian’s paranoia over the Beatles’ contract and his heavy use of drugs led him to think that it was only a matter of time before everything came tumbling down and he would be left standing in the ruins, with people pointing their fingers like kids in a playground.
- He was seriously ill and desperately sought to escape from the circus of his own creation.
- He was tormented by the idea of letting down his beloved Cilla and the Beatles, particularly John.
- He underwent deep sleep therapies at the Priory, being put under for days at a time with heavy drugs.
- Whether he managed the Beatles or not, he would still get 25 percent of their earnings from record sales for nine years. This subtlety had somehow escaped the Beatles, but it bothered Brian. It gnawed at his conscience because in his heart he knew he had conned them.
- [He] was abnormally distressed, convincing himself that they weren’t going to sign up again because they loathed him. Going through months of paranoia, he looked for reasons and forlornly asked the question, “Don’t they like me anymore?”
- It was so silly because it wasn’t like that at all. At different times, all of them commented to me that they would never have signed another contract as “Beatles” but they would have signed individually with Brian.
- “No, I think John hates me now. I don’t know what I’ll do if they don’t sign. What will people think? I can see the headlines now: EPSTEIN DUMPED BY BEATLES.”
- He was now seriously unhappy, not just troubled. His personality had radically changed.
- Brian had resident nurses, doctors who stayed, psychiatrists who lived in, all crowded into that little doll’s house, getting on each other’s nerves. At times he’d make an effort. He would sweet-talk everyone and then escape when they weren’t looking.
- [after Brian's death] Joanne was in shock. She had seen him first. The doors had been broken down and there he was, curled up on his side in bed with Saturday’s mail lying next to him. “We all knew at once that he was dead, but I heard myself say, ‘It’s all right, he’s just asleep. He’s fine,’ ” she said.
- It was unbelievable that the man who had got all this going—the vast money-making machine and the culture shock that had changed the world—was gone.
- The Summer of Love was over and autumn coming.
- I have been asked many times why it was that the Beatles didn’t just hire an office manager to handle their business affairs and pay him or her a salary. It would have made sense. But it never occurred to them. They just went blindly on, trying to find someone to replace Brian, like it was some kind of law. They seemed to think that they had to have a manager, to whom they had to give 25 percent of their gross income, or they’d be arrested or drummed out of the Brownies.
#knowing that joe lockwood was gay changes so many little things about the beatles dealings with him#brian epstein#tony bramwell#beatles books#the beatles
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- attractive things he does
suna rin , atsumu miya , kuroo tetsurou , sakusa kiyoomi
! the word d3ath, boys inlove, gn reader !
༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶
≈suna rin
•he talks about you extremely often
god bless anyone who asks ab u when u n rin r together,, holy shit. rin notices a lot of things about u, and even the tiniest , littlest details about u are so precious to him. u stick ur tongue out when ur focused? noted . ur good with kids? he’s absolutely inlove with u and thinking of u when he plays with or sees a child at one of his games. the boys will ask him yk, how’s yn, and all of a sudden they’re stuck for 1/2 hrs listening to tim talk about u.
“oh yeah how’s yn? it’s been a while”
“atsumu -”
*cracks knuckles*“ i am so glad you asked.”
he literally cannot help it , he doesn’t even realise that he’s talking sm bcus he just has so much to say about u? everything u do is just precious so now the guys just know not to ask or they’ll be screwed , lmao
•always makes eye contact when talking / loves eye contact
it lets him show u that he’s listening , since he’s not a huge talker . he doesn’t want u to think he’s bored of u speaking , or what ur saying , so he’s always, ALWAYS looking you in ur eyes when you talk. he does expect the same from u, ofc. if he’s talking and he catches u looking down he’ll stop, and when u ask why he’ll just flatly say ,” you weren’t looking so i assumed you stopped listening😐 ” and you just look at him like 😦 because it was only for like FIVE seconds .he truly doesn’t care what ur doing , he wants u to look at him when he’s talking - if you give him the eyes he will start stuttering 😔his gaze is always half - lidded, lazy almost, but it makes you feel like he’s seeing right into you. sometimes he’ll raise his eyebrows or scrunch them- but his main thing is eye contact.
•doesn’t treat you like everyone else
we all know rin is emo ☹️,so he does tend to give people the cold shoulder a lot . but u? never. if he’s stone walling his friends and you come up to him, he’s all smiles and ‘ hi, baby’ s . you just make him so so so happy. he’ll never call u annoying even as a joke like with his friends or act aloof- he expresses himself as much as he wants with u bcs ur his favorite </3 even his sister was so shocked when she over heard- y’all talking cus hes never that sweet to ANYONE. he’ll be clingy, he hugs u as soon as he sees u ( atsumu asked for a hug and rin flipped him off 😔😔😔✊), he wants u to know how much he loves u 24/7 cus you fr are special to him.
≈atsumu miya
•tucks your hair behind your ear/ brushes it out of your face
tsumu listens to u very tentatively when u talk, like he’s memorising everything that ur saying - the way ur saying it- what he’s feeling as u say it. he genuinely does wanna keep every moment with u tucked into his brain, so that when he’s lying awake at night thinking of u, he can day dream about u. when you glance up at him, chirping happily about your life to him, he can’t help but hesitantly move a large hand to your face and move away any hair in your face. his eyes flit away only for a moment- he’s still looking at you- just at a different part. he’ll blush a little when he does it for the first time , mumbling a ,” sorry, it was in your eyes.looked like it was botherin’ you.” truthfully,he wants to see your face properly, especially if you have bangs or something, tsum is moving it so he can see the way your eyebrows shoot up in excitement or knit together in frustration. he drinks in your expression, the story, everything in that moment he captures like a polaroid bc he just loves you so so much.
•doesn’t hold your entire hand- just a few fingers
because tsumu is tall it is kinda hard to lose him in a crowd. he will NEVER STOP using that excuse when it comes to holding onto u tho. he loves how your hands feel in his, the squish of your fingers, the way your fingers curl around his entire hand ( or attempt to. cus he’s so bloody large for absolutely no reason) without a thought. if your hands r smaller, he finds it so precious how your tiny little fingers are kinda just like , SWALLOWED by his hands . he thinks it’s so cute. if your hands are bigger/ the same size - it just makes him feel like a little kid to be holding a couple of ur fingers . bonus points if u run ur free thumb over his knuckles , he’s internally dying
•IS SO GOOD WITH KIDS AAA
if you have little kids in ur family they adore tsumu bcus he knows just how to entertain them lol. if he randomly gets tagged while theyre playing tag you best believe he’s SPRINTING. if they’re playing sally in the saucer , he WILL be sally and he absolutely will cheat and choose whoever he wants to be sally. secretly likes playing with nerf guns and is rly dramatic if he gets shot😔 he’ll fall on the floor and hold his ‘wound’ and choke out “ tell ,,, tell my yn,,,,, that i love them,,,,” “uncle tsumu it was a foam bullet🧍🏽” “shhhh hush yer trap” LMAOO he’s rly good with kids . also is amazing at calming down babies when they cry, like he’ll cradle them and make the most stupid noises, nuzzle them and all of a sudden they’re the happiest child alive.
≈kuroo tetsurou
•quips back at sarcasm
if there is no banter, tetsu doesn’t want it. keep ur relationship ✊😔. he literally adores the attitude, if he’s bullying you and you bully him back he’s already SMITTEN CUS WDYM ‘ you would be short too, if you weren’t made up of 90% bed head’ ?? WDYM BRUH THATS SO???🤭 if you tell him to stfu he’ll start giggling he’s literally insane. tetsu cannot help the goofy grin on his face when you don’t even hesitate to hand his attitude right back to him 10x worse, because it feels like you’re just his best friend having fun with him. it also shows him that y’all are similar and can relate to eachother, he rly eats it up. he’ll start pulling out scientific facts to cover up that he’s losing lmao💀
•knows you like the back of his hand
kuroo can read u like an open book, u can hide NOTHING from him. if ur upset he knows , if ur sad he knows, he knows when ur lying. you often times don’t even need to tell him if ur feeling uncomfortable or sad bcus he can just tell and will do anything to fix it. he understands ppl really well without them having to say much, he’s very perceptive. you being his partner means that he can do a lot more than just tell when you need some comfort- but he also knows exactly what you need to hear. so if ur upset, and if you’re comfortable, he’ll settle you down and ask what’s up. he’ll listen, comfort you and then tackle the problem. he is also ready to throw hands if someone’s upset you
•is a lovesick idiot with zero shame
when kuroo likes you, he likes you💀 the whole world, their mothers, their fathers and their sisters know about it , because of the way he acts around you. his face will contort into a sappy grin accompanied by dreamy eyes whenever you’re in the room, he’s always a lot more bright when you’re around, and suddenly when you’re around, everything is funny. even in a room of people he knows, you still get his undivided attention even if you aren’t speaking. everyone knows just how much he cares for you, and the best part is that he doesn’t even express anything verbally, it’s his actions that showcase the pit of admiration he holds for you deep in his heart . kenma’s heard everything about you atp, his grandma is SICK of hearing “ today yn and i-,” ,” nana you wont believe what happened with yn today-!” ,” nana, yn said i looked handsome today, can you believe it?”,” yn laughed at a joke i made today, they’re so smart, it was literally a college level chemistry joke and- HEY DONT ROLL YOUR EYES AT ME NANA”she’s EXHAUSTED 💀
≈sakusa kiyoomi
•pulls his mask down real quick to kiss you
as much as kiyoomi is stoic, it’s just because he isn’t super comfortable around a lot of people and he HATES anything socialising. it makes him feel icky, like everyone is watching him and it’s just too foreign. seeing you in a crowd makes it a lot easier for him, because he’s made you aware of his boundaries and discomforts, and you respect them as well as protect them. he values it a lot when people don’t see him as weird but rather particular. it’s honestly more of a comfort to him to be near you in public, but he would absolutely never say that. he’ll spot you, walk up to your group, put a firm hand on the other side of your head and pull his mask down☹️places a little peck on your forehead, muttering ,” hey , you” and then pulling it up again. you smile at your friends and take him aside - he swears you’re an angel for not making him talk to your friends. it’s a little gesture, but truthfully that’s what being with omi is. little gestures full of care, tenderness and understanding </33
•gets excited about small things
okay nOW listen to me . it isnt just any small thing . if the flower he planted sprouts a rose, you’ll hear a shout of ‘ YN, COME OUTSIDE RN’ coming from the yard and you SPRINT BCUS OMI RAISING HIS VOICE?????? but when you get there and you’re HUFFING, PUFFING , BLOWING THE HOUSE DOWN . his eyes are wide and he’s holding his phone up saying ,” yn, look. my roses are blooming,” he says in a tone that’s seemingly floating between excitement and wonder. your posture relaxes, seeing your 6’3 scary dog boyfriend fawn over his yellow roses just warms your heart </33 when you guys get a new cat together ( he is a cat person argue w the wall) he feels a part of him explode when the cat rubs it’s head all over him. he KNEELS to the floor of the adoption centre and holds the kitty’s head in his hands, stroking the little flat area in front of it’s little ears. he glances as you, eyes smile as he’s smiling behind his mask. ☹️☹️☹️END ME.
•picks up on small things
omi is observant as hell , so even when you guys are just friends he picks up on tiny things u do. when u make a weird face when u touch a weird texture or the way u try so desperately to end a convo with someone you ‘ like ’ he absolutely knows what’s going and he’s like “ huh, didn’t know they didn’t actually like that person” but doesn’t say shit. next time that person is around he magically remembers he needs new wet wipes for his gym bag and funny enough it’s on the OTHER SIDE OF THE MALL😔🤞🏻 oh you don’t like the yellow lemony candy in the bag?? that’s weird, funny how it’s all of a sudden omi’s fav one and now he’s eating it all from the bag so u don’t have to. ( he puts in his wedding vows that he actually hates them too but he did it cus he ‘ unfortunately is inlove with you’ , lmao)
raine’s thots ୨♡୧;;
the rose thing was inspired by my mother, she’s a cutie):also maybe one day i’ll proof read this,,, 🤭who knaaaurrrss n e ways this was fun, byebye <33
#haikyuu x reader#suna x reader#suna rintarou#suna rintarou x reader#haikyuu!!#haikyuu#haikyuu fluff#suna fluff#atsumu x reader#atsumu miya x reader#atsumu miya fluff#atsumu miya#haikyuu atsumu#kuroo x reader#kuroo tetsurou x reader#kuroo fluff#kuroo tetsurou#sakusa kiyoomi x reader#sakusa x reader#sakusa fluff#sakusa kiyoomi#haikyuu headcanons
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We all have seen how considerate hyunjin is. For example when he was sharing the bed with han and han wrapped the blanket around himself so instead of trying to take the blanket back he opted to wear a hoodie instead. That makes me think of him wanting you to finger him but not telling you because you like your nails long and/or struggling to grow them so he settled for his fingers until you catch him
he's such a sweet and considerate boy~
his dirty little secret probably started off with porn, as it always does, knowing the kind of stuff he was into he just searched that up and stumbled upon a particular one with fingering in it
the next day, his mind blown, he approaches you, only to remember
and he doesn't want to inconvenience you, doesn't want you to have to cut your pretty long nails that you often talk about how much you love, that you go and get done professionally painted, showing them off to him when you get home, asking him what he thinks,
he always says they look pretty-because they do, because they look so pretty when they're wrapped around his throat or his cock,
when they're brushing all over his skin, playing with his oh so sensitive nipples and roughly pushing his face to look up at you
he regularly fantasizes about your hands, about your pretty long nails, about the way they feel on him, the things they could do to him.
there's no way he could ask you to cut them. even if he wants you to finger him sosososo bad, even when that's all he can think about, when he can't stop thinking about it.
the video becomes regular jerk-off material for him, in secret, whenever he's home alone or you're doing whatever else, attention not focused on him for the time being.
even when it's not enough, even when he knows that you fingers will feel so much better, when he can only get off if he's imagining it's your fingers knuckle-deep inside of him, stuffing him so full.
he writhes on the newly cleaned sheets, video playing in the background even though he already knows it by heart. the lube is cracked open and sitting still open on the nightstand.
his body is covered in a sheen layer of sweat, his hair soaked with it, sticking to his forehead uncomfortably-
-if he could think of that.
if he could think of anything other than his fingers buried deep inside him, scissoring and stretching himself out.
he sobs at the feeling, head conjuring up things that he wishes were real.
your voice, comforting and a touch mean. your touch, warm and gentle, somehow so different from his own. your presence. controlling and all-encompassing, taking every ounce of worry from your babyboy. making his head go fuzzy, making him forget all his stress and think of only you; you and the pleasure you give him and how much he loves you and wants you and needs you.
god, god. he whines needily, grinding down on his fingers, pushing them deep inside of him. his other hand coming up to tease at his hard nipples.
"please,"
he begs. to no one in particular. to you, maybe? but you're not here. only he's here, left to his own devices, to his own fingers, wishing they were yours because he can't bring himself to ask you to cut your own.
"i need it."
he sounds pathetic, he really does, even to his own ears. you'd tell him that if you were here. call him pathetic and pitiful,
'can't even get yourself off, hmm jinnie~' he nods, sobs again, trying to go harder, his wrist burning, aching. 'dumb little puppy needs my help?'
"yes! t-touch me, please touch me!"
"you could've just told me puppy."
he jumps, pulling his fingers out when he realizes that he wasn't fully hallucinating. that the image he sees of you isn't just a vision his lust-addled brain come up with.
you step closer,
"now c'mon jinnie, use your fingers again."
hesitantly, he does.
he wonders where this is going, what you're going to do to him now.
"move them, find your prostate for me."
you come closer again, until you're practically leaning over him, brushing away his own hand on his chest, replacing it with your own.
with your hands with your pretty long nails.
he moans, long and deep, squeaking as he grazes his fingertips over the sensitive spot. "f-found it." he shakily gasps, eyes squeezing shut.
"good boy, now keep going."
"o-okay."
"so cute~can't wait until i can play with you myself." your fingers squeeze his soft lips, unable to help yourself as they fall open with a loud groan. "just wait until i cut my nails tomorrow baby."
you peck his lips. once. twice. your voice lowers a few octaves as you speak again, growing a rasp with lust. "it'll be so much fun."
#inbox💌#sorry it took so long to get to this#i promise i'll get to the other one soon#fangirlnation✧#hard thoughts#stray kids smut#sub stray kids#stray kids x reader#dom reader#sub hyunjin#hyunjin smut#hyunjin x reader#stray kids hard thoughts#sub idol#sub kpop#sub skz
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