#ITS IN 5 HOURS. FUCK. I AM SHAKING.
Photo
in b4 the premiere, if the MV incriminates him I am going to CRY
#haruka sakurai#milgram#cw blood#Tart Art🍂#ITS IN 5 HOURS. FUCK. I AM SHAKING.#HELP ME SOMEONE HELP FOR THE LOVE OF LEAF
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
I refuse to learn the lesson that i need to ask for help more because the consequences while bad are also very very funny
#greentext time in the tags. be me. busy day at work. someone texts asking members of my team to carry boxes#see text 3 min after its been sent and find one giant box and 0 relevant authorities. assume i am especially late and pick up the box#box in question is too heavy for this 7 min walk across campus but i proceed#fail to find shortcut and in process fall down like 5 stairs. also incredibly congested so my nose is running#local campus safety woman sees me on the floor shaking and sniffling. thinks i have really injured myseld#i reassure her and repack the box. proceed to fuck ton of stairs. panic and call only team member i have specific number for#tell her i might be late w the box. shes like. what box. im on the other side of campus#i say. well itll take too long for you to get here to help anyway. proceed. legs at this point screaming#drop box off at building. no one is there. go back. everyone is running around looking for the one single box#there was only one box. i say oh i got it. then i work my six hour shift. now. legs hurt#this sounds sad but genuinely it is so funny to me rn. like. dude what is your PROBLEM
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
well i stupidly agreed to work 5 hours tomorrow on my one day off this week . lets goooooooo.
#meaning my next days off are wednesday andthursday of next week. but........#its...... (shaking horribly) its ok.#Its Ok. I just Work Opening to Midday Rush For The Next 5 Days.#ok actually. luckily i avoid the big midday rush most of these. but holy fuck. 5:30 am 7 hour shifts multiple days in a row#lets GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO (falls dead on the floor)#my boss did a few interviews today tho if he doesnt find multiple people to work im going to literally die . yay!#txt#ok WHATEVER. complaining.
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
not me shaking screaming crying abt going back to episode and actually stumbling upon a really good, really heart-wrenching official (or atleast user made turned official) book
#viola musaraj author has got me shaking screaming crying abt that one with the emotions#GIRL HELP ITS 5 AM I NEEDED TO SLEEP 3 HOURS AGO BUT NO. I AM JUST SILENTLY WEEPING UNDER MY BLANKET RN#also just to say i finished reading her heartbeat a day ago and im so fucked up. local meowsie is shaking screaming crying abt all these#usually cliched and deeply mind numbing stories and yET girl hELP???#personal.txt#ok that is IT i am going to sleep
0 notes
Text
Not Strong Enough
Alexia Putellas x reader
Warnings: angst, relationship issues/breakdown
“Well I’m fucking sorry I’m not her Ale.”
“No you’re not your just a fucking disappointment.”
You stood frozen looking into the fridge cleaning up from a dinner you had made hours ago that Alexia hadn’t even bothered showing up for. You turn slowly looking at the clock behind her head “I don’t want to do this right now.” Alexia shook her head “no I’m so fed up with you, why honestly why can’t you just be like her.” You shook your head looking at the floor feeling your throat close “I don’t know why, I am the way I am I’m sorry I’m not her.” You couldn’t believe you where apologising, you had done nothing wrong but she was Alexia Putellas, La Reina she deserved someone who could match that she deserved Jenni Hermoso and no matter how hard you tried you never got close enough. You shook your head as Alexia just stared at you looking for a fight but you didn't have the energy instead looking up at the ceiling thinking of the ring that burnt a whole in your dresser wishing to be used, you had it all planned out but you saw that future slowly slipping away as Alexia began shouting again so loud you could barley here the song "Boys Don't Cry" playing from the speaker.
You turned to look at her as continued shouting about how much of a disappointment you where to hear, how you would never be enough and you wanted to look at her and hate her for her words but you found yourself believing them and therefore you couldn't hate her if you agreed with her. As the older girl continued to compare you to her ex you couldn't help but think of how you would never be able to be enough for her like Jenni was, you didn't play football, you weren't famous or an influencer you worked a desk job, a 9-5 week in and week out, you didn't have trophies or medals adorned with your name across them you simply had an office where you added up numbers how could an accountant from A Coruna.
You where simply an angel not a god like Jenni, no never a god
You couldn't move as Alexia shouted out all of the ways Jenni was better then you and you felt yourself suddenly begin to realise what was about to happen. This was it the ring in your dresser wasn't screaming at you to get out and be placed on Alexia fingers your mind wasn't telling you to fit the energy was gone.
"SAY SOMETHING" you looked up at Alexia as your eyes refocused and you where pulled back to present time "What do you want me to say Ale" you sighed heavily tired of it all "See this is what I mean at least Jenni would talk to me, communicate her feelings with me you shut off." you subbed your eyes god did they feel heavy. "Theres no point." you moved to the drawer taking out your car keys before heading upstairs to pack your bag.
Alexia stood shocked as you waled past her to the front door "At least Jenni would fight for us you are walking away such a disappointment." you turned shaking your head. "Yes Alexia such a disappointment like you already said, like you have said since this relationship started, I'm done I...I can't take the constant fights after you realise I'm not here and then feel the need to take it out on me its...its not fair.. and the sad part is I tried to be her but I'm sorry I failed at that because I can't....I am me and I thought you loved me for that but clearly I was wrong." Alexia shook her head "Don't make it out like I'm the bad guy you....you only got with me for my name for my status." You looked at her in disbelief how could she ever think that.
"I have loved you before your injury, I have loved you during your injury and the sad part is I will love you long after this injury is healed and you are back to La Reina but I won't be in the stands, who would want such a disappointment of a girlfriend screaming for their return no."
You chucked the keys at her as you walked out the door. Done with never being enough for her always being a disappointment and falling short for always only being an Angel and never a God, for never being Jenni Hermoso
#awfc#woso#woso fanfics#woso one shot#woso imagine#alexia putellas x y/n#alexia putellas#la reina#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas imagine#Alexia putellas x you#barca femeni#la roja
517 notes
·
View notes
Text
i dont know how to deal with this pain in my chest that's a constant. i dont't know how to take this much hurt.
i was a child of war, i type out and then i say to myself no, i am a child of war. its a funny story i tell people, how when i was to be born they bombarded our city the whole night. the gas that my dad spared so they could take my mother to the hospital was stolen, siphoned from the car, so what happened was that my mother's water broke in the back of a military vehicle that my dad's friends-colleagues-soldiers drove us all in to the hospital. i was born almost 12 hours later during a night when they bombarded my hometown from every mountain around it. it doesnt really matter; they bombarded us all the time.
my mother is a doctor. she worked in the hospital the whole time during the war and she worked relentlessly. she tells the stories of that time with a detachment that used to be curious to me when i was younger and is now just horrifying. "mom," i said to her years ago, "im learning about porphyrias." - "oh," she says, eyes lighting up, "the first time i encountered a case of porphyria was during the war, when we were shut in the hospital for 5 days because they kept bombarding us and we couldnt go home. one of the doctors not on call when we got stuck came with his daughter, drove to the hospital because his daughter was unconscious and we determined she had porphyria. it was really interesting to see." she doesn't see my horrified gaze. she doesn't know what she sounds like. she still doesn't, to this day. i stopped begging her to go to therapy one day when she looked at me, eyes far away, and said "if i go, where do i start?"
my friend was 5 when the war started. she asked me on saturday "are you always afraid of everything?". i shake my head. she said she wakes up sometimes gripped with fear and has to list out all the things in her life that are alright and asks her husband to hug her and still it doesnt help. she thought she was the only one to feel that way and then she tells me a new phrase she learned. generational trauma. i nod and remember her telling me how a grenade hit their building when she was 8, in the year i was born, and how she still has the burn scar on her leg from the shell.
my high school teacher told me a story once. it was war and she was 15, and it was a friday and they stopped bombarding for three days. the youth gathered at the main square on the date that used to be a celebration of youth. her friend had strict parents, "but whose parents arent strict in a war," she says with a laugh, and they all decided to walk her home before her curfew. a bomb hit the square, civillian target, and killed over 70 people. the youngest was 2. he died because a shrapnel pierced his heart as his mother was clutching him. she didn't notice until it was too late. i know her and her husband. i see them around the town sometimes. my mother worked in the hospital that day, when they brought in the wounded. my father brought them in. "thats what i always remember when my kids say im too strict," my teacher says and laughs. i laugh along. what else am i supposed to do.
the year my sister was born another genocide happened. the world looked away then too, like it does now. when the war in ukraine started my gynecologist tells me about it; about a woman who came in and said "i have 5 children." my gynecologist said "what do you mean five," lookimg at the four surrounding her. the women said "i had to leave my wounded son behind. it was the best chance these other four had to survive, if im with them". she has a placid smile on her face as i look at her in horror. "i learned not to ask stupid questions then," she says, and laughs, and i laugh along because what the fuck am i supposed to do.
i dont know how to take this pain of palestine right now and still i look. i look at the victims, thousands of innocent children and people murdered by israel's carpet bombing. i look at the ethnic cleansing happening in front of my eyes, all our eyes. i look at the world which refuses to call it what it is - an ongoing genocide of a whole population. i dont have the privilege of looking away. i opened my eyes into a war when i took my first breath, and i cannot in good conscience look away. war is in my blood; i am a child of war.
there is no point to this except to say somewhere what hurts me the most right now.
from the river to the sea, palestine will be free. it has to be. anything else is unnaceptable.
#its about palestine but i dont want to put it in the main tag because this is just my grief right now#cw war#and everything it entails#personal#effervescentdragonrants
307 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Cassandra Complex : Chapter XII : Venus
Series Masterlist : Moodboard
(Din Djarin x F!Reader)
A/N: I realized shortly after posting chapter 11 that I’d made a small mistake in the timeline I’m intending this to follow. I included a line from Din saying Paz had already tried to take the Darksaber from him and failed, but where we’re at now, chapter 5 of The Book of Boba Fett hasn’t happened just yet. So I’ve gone back and deleted that small detail from the previous chapter, and why am I even telling you this, idk, but if you guy could do me a solid and pretend to forget my fuck up, I’d love you forever for it.
Writing Star Wars is hard
Also, the indomitable @dirtysouvenir has rendered the most gorgeous artwork imaginable of Din and Sithy, and I still can’t quite believe my eyes every time I look at it. Everyone please go show Jonis all the love and praise she deserves.
Anyways… like always, forgive me for the wait. I love you all for being so patient with me. And shout out to chapter four of Someone’s Wife in the Boat of Someone’s Husband which served as inspiration for this. You will always be famous to me!
Rating: Explicit 18+
Word Count: 8.1K
Read on AO3
Tip Jar
CHAPTER XII : VENUS
What are we doing here, and why are our hearts invisible?
Anne Carson, Kinds of Water
“Just like that, yes. Good girl–keep doing what you’re doing.” His hand slides to circle your wrist, leather and the thick weave of your tunic, the slight shake of your nerves caught between. “Grip it firmly, but squeeze it gently. Yes– yes, good. You’re doing so well.”
You suck in a trembling breath, too hyper aware of the feel of his chest plate brushing against your back, the cap of his left knee gently bumping the back of your own, his arms wrapped in a loose and careful cage around your frame where he’s helping you direct the blaster at the target he’d set up several meters away for practicing. He’s got one of your wrists wrapped in the leather of his fist, the other cupping the underside of your elbow to keep your shaking arms steady.
“I don’t know why I’ve never been very good at this,” you whisper over the sound of the burning desert winds lashing you in the brow. “It’s just never come very easy.”
“That’s alright. That’s why we’re practicing again.” The hand cupping your elbow moves slowly to your waist, all his handling of you these past few days has been so intentional, cautious and patient and aware of himself and you and your reactions. Your heart beats, thumps and thumps hard enough to make you a little dizzy, a little sick. “Keep your right arm firm, but fluid. Try not to lock your elbow, let the recoil move through you steadily.”
He’d covered your hair and face in soft white linen wraps to keep you from being scorched by the sun and sand, and his voice is so deep, head pitched low so that the modulator is vibrating right at the level of your ear, the sounds of him sluicing through the linen to curl around your ear. You shiver again, squeezing your fist too tight around the butt of the blaster. You’d asked him if he’d help you practice just before you’d made planet fall a few hours ago, and now here the two of you are. A few clicks outside of Mos Eisley, he’d found a cluster of sandstacks to land the Crest amidst for a couple hours of target practice—near an area he’d told you is called Beggar’s Canyon.
You’re not sure if it’s just an excuse to have him touch you, but here you are now, in the circle of his arms, shivering with nerves and heat and want. The sun burns, but the places where he grips you burn worse, and your heart rings in your skull.
“Focus your gaze between the eyeline, eventually, it’ll come naturally, your aim, but for now, use the field the blaster sets. Squeeze gentle–” He grips your now healed elbow firmly, anchoring your arm, the hand holding your wrist moves to your waist, securing you in his hold so that when you pull the trigger, the zing of the blaster bolt leaving its chamber moves through your limb, into your chest cavity, electrifying your heart, and his hold is steadying all the way through. He’s there to keep you up, keep you strong, and so it’s almost thoughtless when you do it, a gut instinct or some muscle inside your brain desperate to flex and stretch or come awake because faster than you can blink or think, you take hold of that bolt of plasma with your mind, freezing it midway between where the two of you stand and the target he’d set.
You feel his hands flex around you, but he keeps still and silent, watching, waiting for what you’ll do next. And your heart beats faster and faster, the bright of the sun gleaming and nauseating, refracting off the sand, the plasma, your eyes. The bolt screeches and writhes and defies the laws of nature by your hand, and it does not feel good, but it does feel right.
The first time you’ve really wielded the Force since the night you escaped.
There’s something painful and uncomfortable and familiar about it coming back to you. Your breath goes fast within your chest, the taste of the desert on your tongue and the grit of sand sneaking beneath your clothes, sweaty line of anxiety down your spine, and his steady, calm breaths up against your back every other moment, this power inside of you that’s always been the cause of everything bad and only some things good. It vibrates in everything, moves through all living things, the Force, within you, within him.
“Let it go, cyare. It’s okay if you miss.” You shut your eyes and let it fall away and now it’s not the Force or you or anything else, it’s only him keeping you up against the rest of everything.
The two of you, like grief and the mountain.
-
“How did you meet this woman again?” You ask for about the third time, seemingly unable to keep your mouth shut and your nerves to yourself.
“She’s been keeping up maintenance on the Crest for a while now. And she helped out with the kid, watched him for me a couple times—I trust her.”
“Peli,” you repeat the name contemplatively, taking in the sight of him as he checks the pre-landing codes, flipping switches and punching toggles a little too roughly. He’s agitated, covered and swathed in it. You know he’s worried about you, the way you’ll feel being around someone else, scared you’re still feeling fragile or tired or weak. And you’re accepting it for now because you are. You are tired and you do feel fragile and you do need taking care of. If only for the time being, if only for a little bit longer. A sort of end feels very near, and you’re still working out what that such end is going to be.
“Peli,” he sighs, hitting the last button and finally swiveling in his chair to face you, and you eye him suspiciously, you know that sigh and head tilt. “How do you feel?”
“Fine.”
“Not tired?”
“No.”
“Your shoulder?”
Hurts. “Fine.”
“Cyar’ika.”
“Din.” Another sigh. Another shake of his head. You’re sure he’s rolling his eyes at you beneath that stupid lug of metal he wears on his fat head. But you hope that he’s smiling too, and you give him a soft, small one of your own, twisting your fingers together tightly in your lap. You want to reach out for him, to go to him and sit with him and kiss him again like the other day. But you don’t feel ready again. Again, fragile, tired, a weakness of heart within you that you can’t understand the source of, or you can, but you don’t want to accept it, you want to be able to move on, to get over it, to be like you once were. But that you also know he’ll let you feel for as long as you need to.
“I promise I feel okay, and that I’ll tell you if I don’t.” The target practice had left you tired and awake, and there is something moving inside of you—a recognition of sorts you can’t pinpoint exactly, but which you know is going to show or tell you something about yourself soon, the Force, the things you’d done or the things you’d do. And there’s patience too, a waiting, a readiness to receive whatever this would be without pressure or urgency. You feel entirely strung tight, a knot about to be set loose, entirely at ease, as well. Something strange about the anxiety you carry within yourself, like it doesn’t really matter much anymore and is only waiting for the right moment to be expelled.
He gives a soft grunt and turns back to face the control panel. The rolling golden sands of Tatooine like an ocean before you, and then there in the distance, the littered smattering of sand blighted little buildings that make up the spaceport of Mos Eisley. He directs the Razor Crest towards Hangar three-five, the ship jostling with the lowering of the landing gear.
“What if she doesn’t like me?” You ask nervously, following him down the ladder once he’s eased the ship into the landing bay, fretting over this ordeal of having to meet someone else from his life, a friend, which wasn’t even something you were aware he knew how to have. You hear the heavy thud of his boots against the durasteel, and then his hands are circling your waist and pulling you down the rest of the way, paying no mind to your indignant squawking.
He’d been strange with his touch, as well. As if he couldn’t help himself some moments, overcome by habit and familiarity, and then afraid and cautious in others. And you can’t understand how you feel about this either. Grateful, a sort of soft that makes your eyes smart and your cheeks bleed with heat. He’s so aware of you, so aware of what you might want or need, but then overcome, as well, needing you, wanting you. And you feel so afraid you won’t be able to give him those things—the ones he wants or needs, that you won't be able to find your way back to the way things had been between the two of you before.
“You’ll be fine,” he says, little compassion to be found for your fretting. You stick your tongue out at the back of his head, rolling your eyes and steeling yourself as he lowers the hatch, and a chirpy little voice calls, Mando!
The plank lowers, and lowers, and lowers, and finally, a mess of springy dark curls come into view. The small woman, Peli, claps her hands excitedly and spreads her arms in wide welcome of him, and something in your heart throbs.
A friend, indeed.
“Peli,” he greets her, heavy, swaying gate stomping down the gangplank, voice serious and not all matching her enthusiasm. You roll your eyes at him again as the reverberations of his steps tickle your feet through the soles of your boots.
“Hey, look everyone! It’s Mando,” she says to the chittering droids whirring around her. You follow him slowly, slinking directly behind him so that the breadth of his shoulders conceals you for a second longer before, “And who do we have here? Another unlikely companion?”
He pivots, letting you step into full view and brave shyness, a hand coming up to hover around your waist, urging you forward, but not actually touching you. The sound of your name rings in tune to the thump of your heart through the modulator. Careful, so careful, and it makes you hurt at your own self. Wanting to touch you one moment, unable to stop himself from ripping you into his arms; another, afraid, feeling like he can’t even put a gently motioning hand on your body, and how will you ever fix this? How are you going to ever be able to get the two of you back to where you were?
You take a hurt little step away from him, swallowing the heat in your throat several times before you can force a smile onto your face.
His body shifts and sways towards your retreating one.
But the small woman steps towards you, pit droids spinning and skittering frantically around her, and she claps a work hewn hand on your shoulder. “Let Peli take a good look at you.” Her gaze is cheerful, full of a youthfulness that belies her age and an even more cheerful, gap toothed smile. “Pretty girlfriend, Mando.” She waggles her bushy brows up at him. “Brought me another set of bright eyes, didn’t’cha?”
“It’s nice to meet you, Peli.” Your throat feels humiliatingly tight when she takes your hand in her smaller one, giving it a swift shake, no gentleness about the way she handles you, and there’s something comforting about the forsaking of the kid gloves. Your fracture isn’t obvious for the whole world to see, there’s still normalcy to be found for you.
She looks up at Din as you avoid his burning gaze, laughing scowl on her sunny face. “Who woulda thought you had it in, ya, huh?” She thumps a fist on his chest plate, shaking her head and moves to take a look at the Crest. “To what do we owe the pleasure? Chasing down some elusive bounty? Carbon scoring’s worse than last time.'' She chatters a million miles a minute, pulling out some sort of electric scanner, assessing the old gunship.
“We had a long trip,” he sighs, hands fisted on his hips as he watches her impatiently, turning his gaze back to your face every few moments. You want to bare your teeth at him in a snarl and tell him to stop fucking worrying. You want him to take you into his arms or hold your hand.
“Long trip, sure. That’s what he always says,” she tells you over her shoulder with a roll of her eyes. “Turns out it’s usually a gun fight or something just as idiotic.”
You snicker, enjoying the easy way she handles your Mandalorian’s surliness, grateful for the cheerful buffer she provides between your own internal angst and his overzealous worrying. “It was a long trip this time, I swear. We’re coming from the Core,” he grumbles, and the two of you follow her while she inspects the damage on the ship, and in a moment of bravery or desperation for normalcy or closeness or just him, you reach up to grip two of his thick fingers in your fist. His hand immediately adjusts and curves to wrap around yours, intertwining your fingers and taking you securely in his grip. You feel him turn to look down at you questioningly, but you refuse to look back. This is normal, this is how it should be, this is what feels right even if you need the barrier of his gloves to feel like you can breathe.
“The Core! Long way’s.” Hmm, she muses as she goes. “Got a fuel leak.” Again. He huffs. “Taking a vacation now?” She turns back with another smarmy smirk.
“Something like that.”
“Nice little honeymoon?” She teases. “I could use one of those myself.” She scans something else, and the pit droids chatter and chirp around her, almost full her height, she’s so small.
“Peli–” he grumbles. Your grumpy, shy boy; you wonder if he ever blushes under that thing, squeezing his hand in yours as tight as you can.
“Yeah, yeah. No droids, I know. When are you gonna get over that nonsense, huh Mando? It’s about time, you know!” She bends to inspect something closer near the landing gear, covered in carbon scoring here too, examines her scanner again, then clips it back to her utility belt. “Alright, here’s the deal–” But he cuts her off, pivoting while pulling his blaster in one fluid motion to shoot at a poor little droid that's gotten too close. “Hey! Hey! What’ve I said before? You damage one of my droids, you’ll pay for it!” She shouts.
“Din–” you scold, gripping the thick of his arm to pull the weapon down.
“What’ve I told you?” He barks.
“No droids. No droids. Blah, blah. You have got to get over that! I’m tryn’a make a deal with you here, ya womp rat.”
He jerks aggressively towards another little droid that wanders too close, sending it skittering away in terror, and you pinch his arm beneath the thick duraweave, frowning up at him, be nice, when he looks down at you, giving him a jut of your eyebrow and thrusting your chin at Peli. He groans, cursing low and grumpy in Mando’a. “Fine. What’s the deal?”
“If you let them work on the Crest–” She jerks her chin at the little pit droids quivering behind the crates strewn about the hangar in abject terror of the mean Mandalorian.
“No,” he cuts her off, stubbornness in every line of his frame.
“Din!” You scold again, bumping your hip into his.
“Come on, Mando! I’ll charge you half price–”
“Deal,” he cuts her off again immediately, the cheapskate.
“Ha!” She hoots and claps loudly. “Droids! Get to work on this lovely man’s ship. Lemme see the cash.” She holds out a grubby palm, wiggling her fingers. “He’s pretty easy, you ever notice that?” She says to you conspiratorially.
“Constantly,” you can’t help the laugh in your voice. Your first laugh in what seems like years.
“Loose knickered is what they used to call it back in my day.” And you have to turn your face into his arm to muffle your cackling, listening to him start up another string of curses beneath the helmet.
“I’ve literally never heard anyone say that before, ever,” he mutters sullenly.
“Well, you’re young.”
“Not that young,” you provide helpfully, big cheesy smile that feels slightly unnatural and rusted spreading across your face.
“Whoopee, Mando! I like this one! You really do know how to pick ‘em.” She claps him roughly on the shoulder, her little paw slapping loudly against his pauldron. “Anyway, I’ve got somewhere to be for the next couple of days, you see. I’m dating that Jawa again—the one I’d told you about,” she announces, proud as anything, big smile across her leathery face.
“A Jawa?” You repeat, making sure you heard right.
“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, bright eyes. They’re quite furry… very furry, but…” She clicks her teeth together, “You know…” Grins.
You look up at Din, squeezing his arm in your grip. “Guess I gotta try it.” You’re pretty sure you hear him grumble something to the effect of over my dead body, before he’s agreeing to Peli’s deal with a clap and a shake, and the promise of two hundred and fifty Imperial credits and absolutely no harm done to her droids while she’s gone and they work on the Crest.
“Treadwell, get in there!” She shouts, and the little pit droid chirps fretfully, trembling behind an R5 unit. “You can’t say no, you’re a droid. Oh, he’s not going to shoot you. Stop being a coward! What is this, a democracy all of a sudden?” Losing the fight, the droid wheels forward to get to work. “Yeah, thought so.” She turns back to you and Din. “You two can stay here, look after the shop while I’m gone? It’ll only be a few days.”
“We have some resupplying to do, but we’ll stay until you’re back,” he promises.
“And you’re not going to shoot my droids?”
“And I’m not going to shoot your droids,” he agrees, but later, you catch the too rough nudge he gives one of the little droids with his boot when he thinks no one’s watching. This man and his droid complex, you roll your eyes.
“How’s the N-1 keeping up?” He asks as she’s packing up to go.
“Just how you left her. That honey’s faster than a fathier. You should take her out while you’re here, give that baby a spin. Oh! And I added that turbonic venturi power assimilator I’d mentioned before. Remember? S’how I reconnected with my Jawa,” she nudges you with a wink. “You’re gonna be the fastest ship on the Outer Rim.”
“You got a new ship?” You ask curiously.
“Just a side project we took up while I had some spare time.” But the way he says it is a little strange, making you pause to look up and try to read the blank face of his helmet. Ah, and he smooths that same hovering hand from before along the line of your spine, an attempt to soothe or quell your curiosity without actually giving you the gift of his touch.
Peli leaves a few hours later, and she really does have a Jawa lover. The little critter comes to collect her right before the suns set, off to catch the sandcrawler before it journeys off into the desert, leaving you alone with only Din and the little pit droids for company.
And suddenly, that shyness from earlier is back for some reason. The distraction of travel and the buzz of hyperspace lost to the calm silence of the quiet spaceport as the suns set over the horizon and night settles in, cool winds coming in on the sand gusts from deep in the desert. After hours of work, Din posing as the menacing overlord barking orders and complaints, intruding on their work when it isn’t up to his ridiculous standards, the droids finish up for the night, and Din engages the hangar security system, and then the ship’s, locking the two of you in safely for the night.
“Dinner?” He asks as he moves slowly around the hull, pulling the cloak from his shoulders, a river of sand sluicing in a rain sheet onto the steel floor. The sound of it has a shiver moving through you as you lower yourself to the floor, crossing your legs beneath you at the edge of your makeshift bed. You desperately want to crawl between the covers without a shower and find the peace of evasion through sleep, secure in the knowledge that he won’t follow you into bed. He’d refused since you’d reunited, even though you’d invited him several times to share the much more comfortable pile of blankets than what you know his pilot’s chair or bunk provide. He’d not taken you up on the offer yet, and right now, fluttering heart and hot eyes and sweating nape, you’re glad for it.
You don’t know what’s wrong with you—or you do. You’re overwhelmed with want and fear, of him, of his touch, of having lost what the two of you had before. And as you watch him start to pull his armor from his body, first one pauldron, then a vambrace, then a thigh guard, no sense of congruity to the pattern with which he divests himself of his Creed, it’s suddenly like he’s standing right in front of you, and yet you miss him anyway. Miss him in a way that makes you sick and devastated.
You must make some sort of sound, a funny look on your face or a change in your breathing because he turns suddenly, a too worried, “What’s wrong?” on his tongue.
“Nothing.” You look up at him from your spot on the ground, head falling back on your neck, and you can feel the wet of your eyes, trying to force yourself not to blink so that they won’t fall—the tears. “Nothing’s wrong.”
He comes to a slow crouch before you, long legs folding down, down. “What is it? Tell me.” Half missing his armor as he poses now, it’s like he’s half him, half yours, half only-man, half Mandalorian. A little bit like what you feel yourself; half, half, half.
Pulling one glove from his hand, he lifts it, palm spread towards you, showing you his intention before he carefully cups the side of your face; thumb at your pulse, pointer and middle fingers giving your temple a soft pressure, pinky poised at the bridge of your nose. Your lashes brush against his index every time you blink, and his skin is smooth and rough at the same time, and warm—sun-hearted man.
You press your face harder into his palm, letting him support the weight of your head, nuzzling against the rough of his calluses, blaster blister scratchy against your carotid, and heat pulses all through you from the crown of your head, sliding down the length of your, still yet, too long hair, the back of your neck, your chest, pooling to settle deep in the pit of your belly.
And yet there’s something missing or different or off, like you feel empty but too full of trepidation to conjure up that old desire you’d always had, that need for him to fill, fill, fill you. Like the heat is there, but it’s remembered, not necessarily present. It all makes you want to cry and scream and go to sleep.
The truth, and plainly: you’re terrified of anything that might hurt, can’t fathom the idea of it.
Your heart beats in your throat, you taste it on your tongue, and it mixes with the sad when you say: “Do you remember when we were on Kashyyyk—when we sparred?”
“I remember,” he says, voice deep and low—through the modulator. You hate his helmet. You wish you could get beneath. You wish you were brave enough. The feeling of it coming on sudden and unexpected, thought, bitter and foul and not something you’d necessarily felt before, certainly not so viciously. It’s just that you hate that all this has happened—you want to feel the press of his lips at the crown of your head and the wash of his breath like heat moving through your hair—that you are not in the same place you once were, that you’re too afraid to move forward.
“When we switched weapons—”
He hums: “Yes.”
“It was so green there.” You turn your face further into him so that you’re speaking into his palm now, words pooling there in the cup of it like a well of truths and fears.
“It was.” The pointer and index stroke your temple, press once, twice, thrice—harder on the latter. It feels good, it feels real and reminding. He lets a heavy silence pass for a moment, he’s thinking of something, contemplating a push. “Do you remember—” He passes a swallow you can hear the thickness of, “Do you remember how I had you in the dirt—like a fucking animal? How you let me do whatever I wanted, however I wanted.” He gives the hardest press he’s given yet, at your temple, you think you feel the press against your brain, and you open your mouth to let the edge of your teeth dig hard into the meat of his palm. He growls a rough sound, a hungry sound, a sound like one he’d have made when he had you in the dirt like a fucking animal.
You drag your teeth along the hill of his palm, closing your mouth at the end. You don’t give him the wet of your tongue, you don’t feel ready to taste his skin like that just yet—an assimilation of violence.
“Yes,” you finally say, realizing that he understands what you were thinking without having to say it, or knowing how to, that you’re full of memories of past desires and how badly you want them back and how out of reach that all feels, but also, that suddenly now, in a single blink, the heat in your belly isn’t remembered, but present, alive, awake. That you’re cunt clenches once, twice, thrice around nothing—harder, hungrier on the latter. That you’re wet for him. “I remember.”
“Good. I remember every single thing we’ve ever done.” You roll your face in his palm so that you can look up at him now, feeling something like brave. “Every word, every breath, I remember all of it. Alright?”
“Alright,” you say quietly.
“And if you need me to help you remember too, then I will.”
“Alright.” And then: “What if I can’t, though?... What if we can’t ever have that again? What if I can’t remember? What if I can never give you that again?” A tear slides over the bridge of your nose, and now it’s not only truths and fears cupped in the palm of his hand but the saltwater of grief too.
“Then we’ll find something new. A new way, a different way. We’ll do it however you want now.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, cyar’ika.” It’s very much a promise, a new Creed being established here.
“Okay.”
He nods, “Okay.”
-
The water is warm verging on hot verging on scalding. It feels incredible slithering over your tired and sore muscles, the ligatures in your arms still trembling from the blaster practice earlier today, from your overwhelm of emotions.
You hate that you’re not good at it, that the only weapon that seems to become you is a lightsaber.
The suds of his earthy smelling soap slide through your hair, slipping down your spine, over your ass and along your legs to pool around your feet and disappear down the drain. You shiver once, as though letting something fall away as you slide your hand down, over the swell of your belly, to cup the palmful of your cunt, wedging your hand between your thighs. You pet slowly at the wet curls there, realizing some of it is also the sticky slick of your desire. You were right, you’re wet for him and your clit pulses, slightly swollen and wanting. Your body is awake and hungry for him for the first time in what feels like eons.
You explore slowly, your cunt slightly trembling at the feeling of being prodded and touched for the first time in you can’t remember how long. Moaning softly, you pull your fingers from between your legs, hands sliding up now to cup the weights of your breasts in each palm and squeeze tightly. Oh, you want him, you want him, you’re afraid. Your head falls back on a thump against the fresher wall, loud enough that you hear his lurking voice through the door, you okay in there? And instead of being annoyed at his overbearing caution, his hovering, you shiver again, something coming back to you now.
Your desire.
You shut the water off, grabbing one of the soft linens he’d slung over the warm pipe for you to wrap yourself in. He knocks a knuckle against the wobbly little door, “Cyar’ika?”
Looking at yourself in front of the steamy mirror, too long, naiad hair, bright, strange eyes, you want him, you want him, you want to feel alive, awake, anything. You can’t deny your shortcomings, fears, whatever they might be called, but there is yet still a soft place inside of you that they’d not snuffed out, that wants Din still.
You turn to slide the fresher door open just as he’s readying to knock again.
He’d showered before you, after he’d fed you your soup and your disgusting fake bread he’d promised he’d find a real substitution for soon enough, and you’d needed a moment alone to sit in your grime and silence, digest your feelings. He’s clad now in one of his soft, dark undershirts, his flight pants and the helmet, opposite your towel and water dewed skin, steaming from the hot fresher.
You watch a swallow pass through his throat, words caught, slow and heavy. He clears it once, twice, tilts his head down to take in the state of you, before he says, “You alright?”
You nod, wide eyed awake. He’s standing right in front of you and you miss him and you want to shock him wide eyed awake too. “The water was too hot. I got dizzy,” you lie, swaying towards him a little, letting your lashes flutter dramatically.
Not all the way, but enough, just a little, as much as you can bear, that’s what you want from him right now.
His hands come up to grip the sides of your arms immediately, his bare hands, soaking up the wet of your skin. He pulls you into himself, pressing you carefully against his chest, and you shiver and shake against him, teeth rattling with a sound entirely lacking temperance. Your blood feels like it’s boiling, there’s desire alive and writhing in your tummy, and you squeeze your thighs together tightly, shifting from one foot to another while you drip a puddle onto the cold floor.
“Come here, sit down,” he murmurs, gently moving you to your bed, easing you down onto it slowly. “You need to take it easy,” he clucks over you, gripping your elbow to let you down carefully, keeping his hands on your bare skin until the last moment. “You’re pushing yourself too hard. You’re still tired, you’re still recovering. And you never listen. You have to listen to me when I’m trying to take care of you. You don’t eat enough, and I know your shoulder still hurts, little liar. Your elbow is barely better, and I saw you making strange faces when you were walking up the plank the other day. Your hip hurts doesn't it? Or your knee, something. No, don’t answer. I know you’ll just say no.” He talks and talks and talks, and you love him and you think that—
There’s a name for this…
He’d told you he loved you and he’d not said it again, neither had you, it felt too huge a thing to talk about again just yet while there was still so much left to discuss and bridge, but what does it matter if your body sings or screams in pain when you have the love of this beskar titan? What could you care for all the rest of everything?
Yes, Din. Yes, Din. Whatever you say, Din, as he huffs and puffs and arranges you, brings another pillow and blanket from the bunk, his only one in there, not that he cares, lovely man.
And it’s not only that you feel like you need to give him the things he wants or needs, because of course you do. You love him, you need to be able to give him things, everything, you want to be able to give him the whole galaxy. But it’s also that you want to. That to give him what he desires is to feed yourself, to live together, to be together, to give each other the things you need to stay alive.
You let yourself fall back onto the soft blankets slowly, this nest where you’ve always felt so safe and so protected and so loved, even when neither of you knew it was love that was holding you here. And you watch him for a few anxious moments as he pulls the covers this way and that, tucking them here and there, trying to avoid looking at the bare expanse of your dew damp legs. But then, taking hold of his hand, you still his nervous movements, and he finally looks up at your face, letting go of his fretting, taking hold of the bravery in the palm of your hand.
Shy—but brave. Brave—and wanting.
“We’ll take care of each other, won’t we?” You want to tell him you love him again, but there’s something slightly terrifying, gloriously intimate and fragile about the words.
“Always.”
“And we’ll keep each other alive?” Maker, I hope we keep each other alive.
“Yes.”
You take hold of the edge of the linen covering you, revealing your naked body to him slowly, exposing your soft underbelly. You hear his breath hitch, exhale on a groan that sounds like dying. His grip on your hand goes tight to the point of bone crushing pain for one brief, brief moment before he remembers himself and gentles again. You shiver at the pain, belly swooping and quivering with fear and nausea and lust.
You wish you could see his eyes, his face, his want.
“You—” he stutters, swallows, “You don’t have to, my love.” My love. He doesn’t need to say it out loud again now with teeth and tongue, he says it in all the things he does.
“You have to know that I want you so much. That I want you more than anything, Din.”
“I do know,” he says immediately. “I’ve never doubted that.”
“I want to show you.”
“You don’t have to. I know—” His other hand comes up to grip yours with both of his, caging your limb within the strength of his fists—to keep himself from touching you anywhere else, you think. But you can feel the intensity of his gaze along your skin, over your bare breasts, quivering with your hitching breaths, water droplets translating the frantic beat of your heart in their trembling on the surface of your skin. The line of your belly, the slope downward to the soft place between your thighs.
He’d seen the scarring on your hand, it was inevitable as much as you’d wished you could hide the deformity they’d left. As much as you wish you could’ve kept it from him, held an illusion for the rest of your lives together to spare him from the reminder of the things that’d been done, happened, chosen. But now… now he is to be subjected to the whole truth of it. Scars like cobwebs, strangely shimmering in silver lights beneath the surface of your skin—they’d been clever and ingenious in their torture���covering the whole circumference of your left hand up to your elbow. But also, from the lowest point of your last rib, over your right hip, traversing lower down the contours of your skin to wrap around the uppermost swell of your thigh.
They’d left their mark like they’d intended, and it wasn't something you could ever hide from him, the reality of what’d been done, what you’d chosen. It was obvious in everything, etched into your skin, a chasm in the still present distance between the two of you.
You feel like a bruise; tender, vulnerable, incongruously desperate to press on it harder and feel that dull throb, dark and ugly and on display.
His hands go tight around yours again for a moment, before he’s snatching them back to grip his bent knee, white knuckled, silent anger on display when his eyes reach the scarring.
“It’s okay,” you whisper, smoothing a hand over your hip down to your thigh to grip yourself there, digging your fingertips lightly into the plush softness. Your skin vibrates. “It doesn't hurt now.”
“What did they do?” His voice is like gravel, restrained fire-full fury.
“They wanted to see what it’d take to leave a mark. They figured it out.” The helmet turns away sharply, a short, brutal curse spit from his mouth. The tongue of his mother, beautiful despite his violence.
“It’s okay, Din.” You take hold of your thigh, pulling it up and apart, spreading yourself for him. Brave, wanting heart, be brave. He turns back immediately. “I want you to see how much I want you,” you whisper. “How much I still need you.”
You let your fingertips flutter lightly over your swollen, needy sex, and you can hear the obscene, sucking sound of your wet lips spreading apart when you part your legs wide enough for your sex to bloom. Cunt hungry and weeping for him.
Fuck, he spits, leaning closer, and his hand snaps forward to grip your ankle all the way around, pulling your foot up onto the uncompromising muscle of his thigh—your only point of contact.
“Show me, cyar’ika. Show me how much that pretty cunt missed me,” he growls.
You start slow, wide eyes fixed on the dark tee of his vizor, fingertips swirling around your clit slowly, it pulses and throbs and beats to the rhythm you can feel his own heart beating at within his own chest. But you pet it slowly, teasing both of you, and then feel lower down to the clenching mouth of your cunt—fuck, he spits again—slicking your fingers in your sticky wet. You start to rock your hips against the flat of your hand, the sound of your cunt, loud in the quiet hull, nothing to interrupt but the too desperate sound of your mutual panting. His fingers around your ankle are so tight they’ll leave a sore spot, and you can't think of the later hurt now, afraid it'll scare you out of this, all you can focus on is the beat of your cunt, the way it cries for him.
You swirl your fingertips at your opening, again, again, “Put them inside. Let me see you fuck yourself.” And it’s a demand.
You start with one, slow and tentative, a little, shocked gasp as you probe shallowly within the tight, little hole. Then further, wiggling inside until you’re impaling yourself with your own small finger, the first thing inside of you in so long, and suddenly, you wish it was him. Your eyes fill with tears at the thought, spilling over at the wish that he could’ve been the first thing inside of you after all this time, but the reality that you’re just not ready for it yet. The salted proof of your inevitable shortcomings slide back along your cheeks to drip into your ears.
“Another,” he demands. “Oh, it sounds so pretty, little one. Give it another.” You pull your single finger out, sucking, wet-cunt sound that he groans in tune with, to press another one in, mewling at the pinch and stretch of it, the slick slide. Yes, just like that. You’re doing so well, he says, a mirror of his earlier words to you today during target practice. “Roll your hips, ride your hand.” You hitch another sob, “Don’t fucking cry,” he grits, pressing your heel hard into the meat of his thigh. “Don’t cry, don’t cry. You’re going to come for me, you’re going to let me see it.” He spreads his thighs wider in his kneeling crouch, pushing his hips forward into nothing, drawing your gaze to the heavy bulge behind the plaquette of his flight pants. He’s so hard.
You crook your fingers inside yourself, hill of your palm against the swell of your engorged clit, fingertips against the spongey ridge at the front of your cunt, rolling your hips faster, chasing the orgasm you need to give him. Your foot feels numb in his grip, your cunt, on fire, so tight it hurts. Your belly hitches and heaves, open mouth gasping and you cry his name, moaning and writhing wantonly, your stomach slick and glistening again with sweat now instead of water. One of your palms reaches up to take hold of your breast, nipple caught between your fingers, squeezing tight, tight, tight. And suddenly he’s surging forward, letting go of your ankle to lean over you and rip his pants open, freeing his furious erection. The tip is red-purple and swollen fat, drooling a thick string of sloppy, white precum, and he wraps one massive fist around the angry thing. Din, Din, Din. He beats at his cock furiously, the sound of your name, the slick thwack, thwack, thwack of it sends you spilling into your orgasm, belly pulling tight, cunt twisting even tighter.
“Fuck, fucking come—fucking come,” he snarls as he twists his fist cruelly around the head and the thick white viscosity of his semen starts to spill from the fat head, bubbling up and over his fist and between his fingers, splattering heavy and hot onto your spasming cunt, coating your fingers so that you’re pushing the thick of his come into yourself, slicking you further. “Yes, yes, yes, like that. Let me fucking see it…Look at what you do to me.” And there's so much furious want in his voice, and he’s so big, long and thick, and you know it’s going to hurt when he puts it inside of you for the first time again—you remember how it hurt before, how you loved it—and you’re afraid you’re not going to be able to handle any sort of pain ever again, not even the sort you’d been so hungry for before.
But your womb pulls tight, pulses and throbs, and suddenly your two skinny fingers arent enough, you want the thick heft of his cock fucking hard and fast and deep inside of you, punching at the deepest spot within you.
His orgasm ends on a fierce groan, panting, thick chest heaving, his head hangs low between his shoulders. You pull your shaking fingers from your clenching hole, and he gives a few last lazy strokes, squeezing the last drops of come from the slick tip to splatter against your pussy. “I fucking missed this—your cunt covered in me.” His dripping cock bobs so close, and you have the sudden insane thought of him just shoving it in, holding you down prone and fucking all of his spend into your sloppy cunt, forcing you to take it and be his again. “I can’t wait to eat it. I can’t wait to fill it with my come again and eat it out of you.” There’s a part of you that might want it, that might wish for it.
“Maker, Din…” you moan, rubbing the thick semen into your overstimulated clit, your mound, up the curve of your belly, slicking yourself in him.
If you can’t have his touch, this is enough, and you bring your sticky, soaking fingers up to your mouth, sucking the come from them. He groans, not fair, sitting back on his knees, spent cock hanging obscenely from his open pants, wet and glistening. He reaches behind his head to tug his shirt up and off, leaving his sweaty chest bare and gleaming. Your eyes flutter shut, cupping your cunt in the palm of your hand, covering the slick curve of it, and you arch your back, spreading your thighs further, putting yourself on display for him.
“Gorgeous, cyar’ika,” he says between pants. “So pretty, my love.” He reaches down to squeeze his half hard cock once more. “I can be patient for you, I promise. You’re so worth it.”
-
He lays beside you in the dark, stretched out long and entirely clothed, but here with you, forced and convinced to share your bed with a line of pillows as a protective moat between the two of you at his own insistence.
You’re on your side, hands folded beneath your smushed cheek, wide eyes searching fruitlessly for the shape of him in the pitch dark. You want to say something else. You want to tell him you love him again, to hear the words fall from your tongue.
“What are you thinking?” He asks.
“Nothing.”
“Liar.” You hum a barely breathed laugh. And then, “I know you’re scared or regretful or worried that we’ll not get back to where we were,” he reads you.
“Yes.”
There’s a name for this…
He sighs long, goes quiet for longer, and then finally: “What’s happened’s happened, which is an expression of faith in the mechanics of the galaxy.”
“Fate?” You muse, a little unbelieving.
Dark red—
“Call it what you want. We met, we separated…you were—gone. We waited. Now we’re here again. It’s meaningful, isn’t it?”
“Yes. You believe in this—fate?” I didn’t think I believed in anything anymore. But I believe in you.
“Call it what you want, but yes.”
—String.
There’s something about this that you need to consider, chew on. The fact that you’d felt, all your life, cursed to know how a thing would happen, be, end, always. Something like fate, perhaps, the whisper of it making a home for itself within the shell of your ear, and now the truth that he too believes in this thing you’ve always lived with. Destiny, what have you—you believe in the same things, you believe in each other.
“Will you hold my hand?”
He turns over, reaching to twine his fingers through yours; large, rough palm against small, soft palm. You want to tell him you love him again, you want to hear the words for him, but they feel trapped, tender, timid.
You’d always thought your destiny fixed, poised, on the tip of your tongue. A thing was what it was birthed unto the galaxy in perpetuity, and no amount of desire could absolve you of its sunken teeth. But this—this desire is like the creation of myth, that dark red thread that goes by the name of fate being pulled taught, humming in accord with a frequency heard only by the two of you.
Now: “Will you kiss me?” A beat of silence, his fingers around yours going tight, tight.
“Come here,” his voice blends with the darkness, and tugging you into himself, protective border between your bodies and his hand around your jaw, he slips a kiss onto your tongue. His mouth holds the hot recollection of being alive; the drag of his teeth against your bottom lip, the taste, your fingers weaving through his hair, your names sounding together, a pair because they belong on the same breath.
You pull back, and it’s only a small brevity, but it’s enough, and that confusion from earlier, that shiver of letting something go or taking it back into yourself, settles.
You’re afraid or regretful or both, yes, sure. You also find yourself to be, suddenly, forgiving, full of empathy. You won’t be able to have him unless you take possession of yourself first, and on the tail end of a comet breaking across the sky: I love him, but I must also love myself. He deserves someone who loves themself, but more than that, I deserve it too. To be able to give him the things he wants and needs: I deserve to be in love with myself.
You let the Tartarian memory become nothing.
Love manifests itself primarily in forgiveness.
Netherfeildren's Masterlist
Updates Blog
#TCC fic#din djarin#din djarin fanfiction#din djarin smut#the mandalorian fanfiction#din djarin x female reader#din djarin x reader
191 notes
·
View notes
Text
| Genshin Men
| Waking up with them
| fluff, sickly sweet fluff, cuddler kuni is canon im hoyo, id isekai just to feel tighnaris tail, a post after 2 days of staring in the air?? i say its a development, swearing cuz its me, no dialogue
Ft. Zhongli, Childe, Wanderer, Kazuha, Tighnari
| Genshin Impact Masterlist
| Main Masterlist
ZHONGLI - is like having a housewife
You either wake up with him or wake up to him making food. When you wake up with him, you would most likely be either in the same position as you slept or moved a little and changed how you face him and the other side. He definitely isn't a mover when asleep. And when he hugs you when you both fall asleep, you're not getting out hun. So he's probably the one keeping you from falling out of the bed or moving too much if you move too much when you sleep. When you don't wake up with him though, you wake up to the smell of tea. He's a morning person I bet, wakes up really early and prepares tea and food, whichever you like. He'd be wearing a cute apron if you decide to play with him, but he'd most likely still wear it. On most days, he'll wake you up wearing that cute apron and help you freshen up, but on some days, especially when you seem upset or something bad happened or when you had a disagreement, he'll bring you breakfast in bed. If you have work, he's never gonna let you sleep in. He's a personal alarmclock you can't turn off, those '5 more minutes' won't work on him. He might just consider it but when time's up, it's up. When he wakes up, he'd already be preparing tea and yoir clothes. Zhongli is the type to remember your schedule, too, so don't even think about telling him you don't have work just so you could sleep in. So waking up with him is definitely like a housewife, or a mom.
CHILDE - is a mission
Man, this guy is very busy, so he tends to make it up when sleeping. You cannot tell me he doesn't have certain issues regarding having a romantic partner, like safety issues or something. His grip's harder than rock, girly. He's the one to be really afraid of you getting taken away when he's sleeping so he unconciously does this while hugging you to sleep. Why am I talking about this? Cuz you aren't getting out of his arms that easy when you wake up hugged by him. When you get out of your dazing state and decide you're hungry or want to go to the toilet, you'll move and realize, oh, you have fucking iron tied to your body, oh actually, it's just Childe! And when you begin to struggle to get out, he wakes up and them boom, it just gets harder from that especially when he's on break or vacation. This man's not letting you go easily. Tell him to let go? No, he's comfortable this way. Tell him you need to go to the toilet? Oh, you can hold it for a few more minutes. Tell him you're hungry? You won't die not getting to eat for a few minutes. Tell him you're going to get sleepy again if you don't get up? Then sleep and cuddle with him again. Tell him you have work? You aren't going to get kicked out from being late for a day (it's like this everyday) (you aren't getting fired because harbinger things). Tell him he has work? Considers it but his subordinates won't die from him being a few minutes late. The best option is to either kick him in the balls and run or give up and hug him for a few minutes (hours). So yeah, waking up with him is a mission.
WANDERER - is cute
SO AAAAAAAAAAAA let's calm down. You know how he probably gets nightmares when he sleeps? YEAH THOSE ABANDONMENT ISSUES AND ALL. He'd probably be the type to unconciously hug you when he's having them. Then you'll wake up to him shaking or scared and you wake him up. I feel like others think he'd get all embarassed and shit when he notices he hugged you and get all defensive and tsundere mode, but I like to think that if he really trusts you enough, him waking up from a nightmare beside you would be an intimate moment. Hell, him even sleeping beside you is. You would have to be someone he really trust and all to get him to sleep beside you and be vulnerable. So when he wakes up you get all emotional scenes and everything and you definitely cuddle to sleep. And when you wake up it'll be sooooo cuteee. Like, you'd be waking up to him all cuddly to you and you could admire his pretty face without seeing him scowl or frown. This guy is legit gorgeous and beautiful, who wouldn't want a chance to stare at him when he doesn't want to hurt you for it. So as those kinds of nights happen, his body would probably unconciously get used to the feeling of holding someone for comfort and it turns normal. MAAAAAAN WAKING UP WITH HIM IS CUTE.
KAZUHA - is romantic
Now this man will normalize butterflies on your stomach every morning. Oh, just you opening your eyes and seeing him staring and smiling at you. AAAAAAAAA got my heart falling and falling! You'd either wake up to him like that, or you'd wake up to him probably making a poem with you as his muse. Imagine Kazuha making you his muse. Be happy bitch. He'd definitely br the type to see you wake up, say goodmorning and all those sweetly sickening shit that gets your head spinning, heart rocking, and stomach tingling. Like, he's be whispering, "Goodmorning, love." I'D FALL ASLEEP AND WAKE UP ALL OVER AGAIN TO HEAR HIM SAY IT. When he realizes you're still dozing off, he'd place his hand on your back as support and sit you down so you wouldn't fall asleep again. But when you say you still want to sleep and cuddle how could he resist. So he's there listening to your requests and brushing your hair with his fingers. A true gentleman he is. Dreamy Kazuha is everything. Waking up with him is romantic, the best kind.
TIGHNARI - is comfortable
Imagine waking up with his tail and arms around you, awwww. That tail looking very cuddly and all. Although, it would probably be hot when it's like, summer summer and all, but when the weather's fine, oh, seriously, who would want to get out of his cuddles in the morning? You'd get to admire his pretty face and feel his fluffy tail. Cuddling with tighnari is probably very sweet too, like, he'd go along with you wrapping every limb you can to him, arms, legs, and all, and he's do the same just to get back, but it ends up with the both of you sleeping that way and waking up that way. As long as it's not too hot, waking up with him would feel very comfortable. I don't think he keeps a too strict schedule like others think he does. He probably allows himself to lay down for a bit, so when he wakes up, you both don't immeduately get up and just lay down there cuddling and when your systems start waking up, you'd start talking about random things until you both decide to get up.
#genshin zhongli#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact#genshin x reader#zhongli x reader#childe x reader#tighnari x reader#wanderer x reader#kaedehara kazuha x reader#kazuha x reader#genshin impact x you#genshin x you#lazyalani#genshin fluff#genshin#kunikuzushi#genshin headcanons#sumeru#liyue#inazuma
515 notes
·
View notes
Text
Forgive Me (Pt. 2)
Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x female reader
Summary: After reconciling in your bedroom, Miguel disappears on you for a week. Giving up on any hopes of romance, your friends plan a night out for you to cheer up. Too bad your boss makes an appearance and catches you with an attractive stranger on a stormy night. Read Part One: here
Word Count: 4463 words
Content: Miguel being a rude bastard, Miguel asking for forgiveness (again), arguments, possessiveness, alcohol consumption, tobacco consumption, 18+ (minors DNI), no p in v but things get spicy at the end, female fingering, finger sucking, misogyny, insecurity, swearing, hurt and comfort, office sex (no p in v), questionable Spanish
Note: ANGST! Got carried away once again. Lowkey not proofread. I love angst and Miguel being vulnerable. If you are into angst, you will enjoy this. Feel free to correct my Spanish and ask for any other cw to be added. Thank you for the 1K+ notes on Pt. 1. Have fun, horndogs ;)
It has been seven days since you last saw Miguel O’Hara.
After spending a full 48 hours by your side, he had gone back to work. You decided to join him at Alchemax the next day but found his office empty. At first, you thought he was occupied with Spider-Man business, so you kept yourself busy with answering his overflowing email box. Slowly the sun set behind the skyline of Nueva York and the messages ran out, leaving behind a feeling of uneasiness in your stomach.
You [sent Friday, 6 pm]: Hey, are you coming to work today?
You [sent Friday, 10 pm]: I’m going home for the night. Call me when you are home. I miss you :)
You [sent Saturday, 5 am]: Are you okay?
You [sent Saturday, 1 pm]: I’m getting really worried. Where are you?
You [sent Saturday, 5 pm]: I emailed you in case you lost your phone. Call me asap.
You [sent Sunday, 7 pm]: I’ll see you at work tomorrow.
You [sent Monday, 9 am]: Lyla said you’re okay but won’t tell me what’s going on. Says I don’t have clearance. Please call me.
You [sent Monday 10 am]: Are you actually ignoring me?
You [sent Tuesday, 1 am]: My best friend you’re an asshole and I should never let you near my pussy ever again.
You [sent Tuesday 1:23 am] Are you ghosting me? You know we work together, right?
You [sent Tuesday, 3:30 am]: I hate you Miguel O’Hara.
Friday rolled around and your best friend had enough of your drunk late-night facetime calls. She gathered a group of your high school girlfriends and decided a night out in the town would be the perfect remedy. “Fuck him, babe,” Katy states, sliding a shot glass across the table. “You should report him to HR for being an ass.”
You laughed and tipped the glass into your mouth. The tequila burnt its way down your throat. “I’m just going to find a new job. I can’t be dealing with this shit right now.”
Your friend Soo let out a burp. “Did you let him hit it?”
You shake your head. “No,” you cough. “We came close to it, like above the pants stuff— do you think that’s why he’s ignoring me? Because I didn’t put out right away?”
“Bitch,” Katy chides, slapping the tabletop, “be fucking for real. You look like a busty, hot secretary from some comic book. He should be lucky you let him touch your tits!”
Your friends nodded along in agreement. Katy grabs the sides of your chair and spins it around, facing you to the restaurant bar. “You see that guy there?” she points at a man with messy blond hair in an open-collar white shirt. “He’s been eyeing you all night. Go talk to him right now.”
The tequila must have heightened your bravery as you found yourself walking across the dimly lit restaurant and to the wall. Stealing a glance at him from the corner of your eye, you ask the bartender for, “a rum and coke please.”
“You can add her drink to my tab,” the man says just like you hoped he would. “I hope you don’t mind. I saw your friends fussing over you earlier and you looked like you needed a drink.”
“Is it that obvious?” You ask, letting out a laugh. “You’re right, I do need a little pick-me-upper tonight.”
“My name is John,” he says.
You introduced yourself and slide in the empty seat next to him. “So, what’s going on with you?” he questions, sipping his beer.
You carefully lift your drink from the bar top and circled the rim with your index finger. “I’m not sure if I wanna’ trauma dump on a stranger.”
“Sometimes talking to strangers helps.”
You contemplate his words and sigh. Your friends would kick you if you said the name Miguel O’Hara again in their general vicinity. You chose to divulge a little to the mystery man. “Things got a bit complicated with someone I really cared about. Everything was going well and then he disappeared suddenly, and I don’t know why.”
John listens to you carefully, nodding to himself. “You know what I do when I’m confused?”
“What?”
“I take a smoke break to chill out,” he answers, standing up. “Care to join me?”
You downed the contents of your glass and follow him out a door that open to a back alley behind the restaurant. Rain pours down heavily, and you both huddle under a dingy metal shed. The cold air bites your arms sharply as John lights the end of his cigarette and brings it to his mouth. “It can be frustrating when you’re left without answers but a girl like you has nothing to worry about.”
You smile at his words. You take the cigarette off his hand and take a drag. The smoke fills your lungs, making your head spin a little. The light-headedness reminds you of how you felt last time when Miguel was in your arms. Airy, free, and light. No matter what you do, all your thoughts lead back to him. You shake away the memories and pass the cigarette back to John.
“What the hell are you doing out here?” a stern voice asks.
A man melts out of the shadows in the alley and into the light shining from a streetlamp above. You recognize him. “Miguel?”
He doesn’t look at you and keeps his eyes focused on John. “Who is he?” he asks with a deep frown.
“Listen, I’m off work right now,” you clear your throat, sticking your nose up in the air. “I don’t have to explain—”
“Look, man,” John interrupts, “no need to get all worked about this. We are just talking.”
Miguel lets out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, right,” he spits and gets in his face. “You could have done that at the bar. Why the fuck are you out here alone with her? What were you planning on doing?”
“Mr. O’Hara!” you exclaim, stepping in between them. “You are out of line!”
He raises his eyebrows at your formality but keeps his attention on John over your shoulder. “Buddy,” John says, wrapping an arm around your waist and moving you to the side. “She is allowed to talk to whoever she wants. I suggest you leave us alone now.”
The touch doesn’t go unnoticed by Miguel. His nostrils flare and his eyes turned red with anger. He steps closer to John until he is looming over the poor man. You often forget how big your boss is compared to everyone around him. The scene looks almost comical with how John tries to puff out his chest. “Te calmas o te calmo,” (Calm yourself, or I’ll calm you down) Miguel snarls.
Whatever John sees in his face is enough to make him reconsider. He holds his hands up in surrender and backs away slowly. Stopping in front of you he pushes the half-burnt cigarette into your hand and whispers, “If this is the guy you were talking about, then maybe it’s a good thing he disappears. I’ll be inside if you still want to talk.”
He walks away from the alley and into the restaurant, leaving you with Miguel alone in the alley. You watch in silence as his body trembles, and you can’t tell if it’s from anger or the rain hammering away at his back.
He breaks the silence. “So, you’re letting strangers into our private business?”
You snort loudly. “You don’t get to speak to me like that,” you tell him, taking another drag. “Especially after disappearing on me. You can’t just strut back into my life and tell me who I can confide in.”
“I was tending to some urgent matters,” he says, brushing his wet hair away from his forehead. “So I took the time to handle them. I can’t be around you every second of the day acting as your lap dog.”
The heat from the cigarette burns your skin. “What the hell is wrong with you?” you raise your voice, throwing your hands in the air. “You’re acting like I want you on a leash! I just wanted to know you were okay.”
“Clearly I’m okay,” he replies, rolling his eyes.
Your lips tug into a deep scowl at his tone. “Did you ever stop to consider how your actions affected me? How lost and confused I felt waiting by the phone every day?”
“It wasn’t intentional,” Miguel matches your tone. “You know I am a busy man, and that I have responsibilities. But you’d rather live in some fantasy land where I’m just some monster out to hurt you! You can’t begin to understand the weight I carry on my shoulders.”
Anger surges through your body. “How am I supposed to understand when you don’t tell me anything? Hell, your AI knows more about you than I do. It’s like you only care about missions or work and nothing else—”
“Sometimes in life, personal matters have to take a backseat,” he cuts you off, harshly. “Not everyone can put on a short skirt and high heels, waltz into work, type a few memos and then call it a night.”
“You misogynist fuck!” You scream back at him, resisting the urge to slap him silly. “I hate you!”
“I hate you too!” he yells back in your face with bloodshot eyes.
You spin on your heels and begin walking towards the main road. Rage begins to bubble inside you and reaches your throat. You turn around just as you reach the sidewalk and call out, “You know what? It doesn’t matter if you disappear again because I have hated you since the moment I met you. I hated you when everyone at work warned me about you. I hated you all those times you dismissed me like an afterthought. And I hated you when you came to my room that night begging for a second chance. So, I don’t care if you hate me, or think I’m useless or unimportant cause have hated you longer and harder and for better fucking reasons!”
You take another drag from the cigarette and then crush it underneath your pretty high heels. You make a right at the end of the alley and begin walking up the street. Warm tears spill down your face as you shiver in the rain. Katy was right, he was an asshole. An asshole that made you feel dumb for having a normal job or human emotions. But maybe you were just an idiot for falling in love with a man who didn’t respect you. Love wasn’t supposed to be this hard, but here you were feeling small and crying at the side of the road.
The sound of screeching tires brings you out of your self-pity. A sleek black car pulls up on the other side of the road and the passenger window rolls down. Miguel’s face emerges from behind the glass. “Ven aquí!” (come here) he calls out.
You ignore him and keep walking ahead. You have no idea where you are going, but you would rather eat rocks than speak to him.
From the corner of your eyes, you see Miguel make a sharp left, almost hitting oncoming traffic and pulling up beside you. “Get in the car!”
Your feet don’t stop moving so he slowly inches his car to match your speed. “Estoy harto. (I’m sick of this) Let’s talk!”
Honks and yells filled the night as people grew frustrated with his speed. “Stop,” you hiss, bending down to the window. “You are embarrassing me!”
“Get in the car then,” he says, with a clenched jaw. “You’re gonna’ catch a cold in the rain.”
“Stop pretending like you care,” you snarl, kicking the side of his car.
“A-YO LADY!” a man yells out of his yellow cab. “Get in the damn car! Your boyfriend is holding up traffic!”
A pleased smirk spread across Miguel’s face at the man’s remarks. You let out a frustrated grunt and yanked the door open, slipping into the passenger seat. “Put your seatbelt on,” he says, picking up speed.
You begrudgingly obey but wished that his car would get rear-ended so hard that his fat head would go through the windshield. “You look like you want me dead, babe,” he commented with a nervous laugh.
“Don’t call me that,” you snap, adjusting the belt over your soaking dress. “Where are we going?”
“Back to Alchemax,” he points at the GPS screen. “The freeway flooded, and it will be a while until it clears up. I have a spare set of clothes I keep in the office for overnighters. You can change while we wait for the storm to blow over.”
“I don’t want your charity,” you grumble, crossing my hand over my chest.
“I know,” he says. “I just want to take care of you.”
You disliked how your stomach felt at his words. “I left my bag behind at the restaurant.”
“I picked it up, it’s in the back seat.”
“I didn’t pay my tab.”
“It’s taken care of. Your friends know you’re fine, too. Just relax.”
Miguel leans over to turn your seat warmer on and warmth spreads across your chest and down your limbs. He drives in silence with only the soft white noise of radio static playing in the background. Occasionally you tear your gaze away from the furiously working windshield wipers and steal glances at his face. The headlights from other cars make the slopes of his cheek and the plumpness of his lips visible even on a stormy night. His warm complexion has turned pale, and you ponder if it was because of your interaction earlier.
You both pull up into the Alchemax parking lot and get out of the car. The security team must be watching through the cameras, wondering why one of their lead engineers was coming into work late at night with his drenched secretary. You quickly follow him into the elevator and up to the floor with his office. He opens the office door, and you slide inside into the dark space.
“Lyla,” he calls out and the room illuminates on command. “Lights.”
Miguel walks up to a storage cupboard and retrieves a towel in one hand and fresh clothes in the other. He passes them to you, and you quietly enter the adjacent washroom to change. You peel your damp dress off your skin and shiver as the chilly air hits you all over. Rubbing the towel quickly over your cold skin, you slip into an oversized t-shirt and shorts. It takes two knots of the drawstring, but you manage to keep the waistband tied around your naval.
You find Miguel waiting for you outside. He had changed into a shirt that hugged his slender waist and pants that hung dangerously low under his taut stomach. He pulls the towel out of your hand and drapes it over your head. His hands gently rub the threads against your wet hair in soft, circular motions. You lean into his touch involuntarily. “I can do it myself,” you complain but made no move to reach for the fabric.
“I know,” he replies. “I want to do it for you.”
“Please don’t.”
“Hmm?”
“You’re doing that thing again,” you said, “and it’s messing with my head.”
“What thing?”
“The thing where you start acting kind after being mean,” you explain in a small voice. “I don’t like it. It’s confusing”
He tugs the towel back so you can look into each other’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” he speaks, gently. “I just lost my shit when I saw you with him.”
“You cut off all contact when all I wanted was to know if you were okay,” your voice shakes as you stare at your feet. “You left me all alone, what was I supposed to do? Wait for you to change your mind?”
“I know I messed up, baby. I was wrong” he sighs, inching down his forehead to meet yours. “I should have communicated with you, but sometimes on missions, things get complicated. I don’t always like the things I have to do, and recently I’m having a difficult time making peace with it. It’s like the harder I try to do the right thing, the more damage I do. So sometimes, it’s just better to be alone rather than pretend I’m okay around other people.”
His words hurt your heart. You knew that his missions take a toll on him. In the past whenever you tried to inquire about its contents he wouldn’t answer. You wouldn’t push, afraid that he’d pull away, but it seems that he was pulling away regardless.
“When you’re gone,” you clear your throat, trying to speak through your narrowing trachea, “I worry that you might be laying dead in some universe, and I’d be none the wiser. I know that being Spider-Man is a sacrifice, but I don’t care about the world. I only care about you. So, when you treat me this way, it’s like I can’t breathe.”
He cups your face and places a soft kiss right on your cheekbone “Forgive me.”
“You say that a lot,” you remind him with a frown.
“I know,” he nods, “and I still mean it. I’m just an idiot who doesn’t know how to find the balance in life. I love that you care about me, and I want you to continue caring about me.”
“I don’t know, Mr. O’Hara,” you said. “I can’t ignore the way you speak to me at times. It feels as if you think we’re not equals. I am not some idiot. I am not beneath you just because I work under you.”
He groaned at the sound of his last name. Every time you called him that, it made the space between feel bigger. “I have seen a million universes, nena, (babe) and you are not beneath me in any of them,” he curls a damp strand behind your ear, “Unless we are in bed, then you’re definitely under me.”
“Miguel!” you chide, punching him in the stomach. “No es broma! (It’s not a joke) I’m being serious!”
He lets out an oof and backs away. His fangs poke out from underneath his curled lips and in that moment, he looks as carefree. He wraps his large hands around your arms and holds your attention. “I know broken trust isn’t easily mendable, but I’m going to try my hardest. I won’t leave you out in the dark or make you feel small. I’ll think twice before I open my stupid mouth. I’ll even ask Lyla to give you full access to my missions. Wh-when you see what I have to do- what I must do, please don’t hate me.”
“Miggy,” you pout, reaching for his face. “I was really, really angry when I said those things to you. I can never hate you. My heart won’t let me.”
His toothy grin appears again, and Miguel draws you into him. His smooth lips find yours and he cranes your head back to find the angle that leaves you breathless. You run the pads of your thumb gently across the slopes of his cheeks. It never ceased to surprise you that his skin was so soft under his stubble. Without breaking your kiss, your shuffle back and walk him to his desk chair. You smile into his lips as he shakes his head when you move him back and down to sit. His hands wrap around your wrists. “D-don’t leave,” he cries out.
You shake your head and take a seat on his lap with your legs dangling off the side. Miguel’s hands find your jaw and he turns your mouth to his. You wrap your fingers in his hair and tug him closer. You let out a content hum as his fangs softly dig into your lips, breaking the skin. The taste of metal fills your mouth, and you pull away to look at him. He sits in your embrace, with red-stained lips and is just as breathless. “Sorry,” he sheepishly says. “I usually have them under control. It’s just you’re in my office and in my clothes. It’s making my head spin a little.”
You laugh at his words and gently pull his hair back. Pressing a wet kiss to his exposed throat you ask, “Miggy, how come we haven’t had sex yet?”
“Honestly?” he lets out a choked moan.
“Honestly,” you hum, licking his jaw.
His hands suddenly grab you by the elbows and spin you around on his lap, so his chest is facing your back. His warm breath hits the nape of your neck. A shiver runs down your spine. “I haven’t fucked you yet because once I’m inside you,” he whispers into your ear, “I’ll never want to be anywhere else. I wouldn’t want to eat, sleep, work, or be Spider-Man. I think I’ll just want to stay buried in you all the time.”
“Miguel,” you moan, clutching your thighs together.
“Tsk-tsk,” he clicks his tongue. “Don’t hide from me.”
His large hand slips between your thighs and pushes your legs apart. He turns the chair around until you’re both facing his work desk. “Up,” he commands, slapping the side of your thighs.
You gingerly obey and place your bare feet on the edge of his desk. His hands slip under your shirt, and he fumbles with the knot. Impatient with the knots, he uses a sharp claw to cut through the drawstring. Your breath hitches as he pushes the loose shorts down your legs and off your feet. He wraps his fingers behind your knees and draws your legs apart. He puts his chin over your shoulder and bunches your shirt up to get a good look at your pink underwear. “Baby,” he coos. “You gotta’ let me have this once we are done. A little souvenir for when I’m away.”
Your stomach tightens at his suggestion. You glance at him and then the office door,. “Someone will see us,” you nervously gulp.
“You let me worry about that,” he says and presses a kiss to the side of your forehead, “and just relax. I’m not gonna’ let anyone else see my girl spread out like this.”
He runs his knuckles down your bare stomach and across the clothed cunt. Electricity shoots up your body and you almost curl up in his arms. Miguel’s fingertips find a quickly dampening spot on the fabric. “Huh,” he huffs. “Is this me or rainwater?”
You cry, arching into his touch.
“I guess it’s just me,” he grins against your shoulder.
He slides your underwear off your legs and tosses it on the table. It lands on a pile of paperwork you had put aside from him earlier in the week. Miguel stops breathing at the sight of your glistening, swollen pussy. A loud moan escapes your throat as his fingers part your folds and glide back and forth. You were sure that the security guards patrolling this floor would have heard you down the hallway. You almost miss his question over the sensations of pleasure spreading through your body.
“Do you want my finger inside you?”
You nod against his cheek and reach behind to clutch a fistful of his hair to brace for impact. He lowers his down until his thick, middle digit is nudging your opening. You must have been soaking his thighs with how easily his digit sinks inside. You bit your lip harshly to contain the sounds threatening to escape your mouth. It’s your turn to hold your breath when Miguel’s other hand begins to stroke your clit. Once, twice, thrice.
When he speaks, his voice is hoarse. “You clench around my finger every time I flick your clit.”
Not that you needed proof, but Miguel does it again and you shake with pleasure. “See?” he gasps, and captures your lips in a sloppy kiss.
He he pulls back to hold your eyes and you breathe his shaky breaths in. You close your eyes and imagine how it would look to hold his hard cock in your hands while he played with your pussy. He tears you away from your fantasy by hooking his fingers inside on an angle. You almost arch completely off his lap. He moves his free hand away from your clit and presses you back into him. His hard bulge pressed into your ass.
“Here?” Miguel moans and licks your lips. “Tell me where? Right here? Ah, here.”
His fingers find that spot again and he massages his fingers against it. You nod furiously and my hands move to claw forearms. He softly bites your shoulder in retaliation and his free hand resumes working against your clit, picking up rhythm. “Can I put another finger inside?” he asks, breathing hard. “I promise it will feel good.”
“Oh-kay,” you gasp, rocking your hips on his hand.
His index finger slithers into your pussy, and you forget how to speak. You begin to twist and turn in his lap. He pulls away from your clit to press down hard against your stomach so he can keep you in place. You slide your ass over his crotch with every movement of his fingers.
“Mig-Mig-Mig,” you pant, moving your hips to his set rhythm.
“Good? I bet that feels so good.”
“Gah—”
He presses soft kisses onto your cheek as you sink into his arms. You begin to tighten further around him. You realize that this is exactly how you always want to be—full of Miguel’s fingers, touch, and love. His tongue slips into your mouth as his fingers begin curling into you faster. Your moans and groans echo through the office. His left hand leaves your stomach and reaches for your clit again. It takes seven swipes, one for each day he left you alone, for you to seize around his finger. His mouth never leaves yours as he drinks all of your pleasurable cries.
Slowly, the current leaves your body and you’re able to take in your surround. Your cheeks burn with realization. Miguel had just fingered you open on his desk at your workplace. The very same desk you set up for him every morning. Your fingers slide up to his hair and you hide your face in the crook of his neck. “Don’t be shy now,” he chuckles, “One day I’ll fuck you all over this office, nena.”
You shriek and lightly slap his arm. Miguel gently slides his fingers out of your cunt, eliciting a soft groan, and brings his to his mouth.
He hums with eyes closed at the taste. “You taste so good,” he mumbles around his fingers.
“Ugh,” Lyla gags at a distance. “Be glad I activated noise cancellation.”
A/N: Thoughts?
#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel ohara#spider-man 2099#angst#migurl o'hara angst#spider man: across the spider verse#miguel o'hara fic#spiderman#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel o'hara x f!reader#miguel o'hara x female reader#atsv#miguel spiderverse#spiderverse#my fic#fic rec#my post#miguel o'hara spice#miguel o'hara headcanons#miguel o'hara fluff
783 notes
·
View notes
Text
It's all my fault
Paring(s): Lo'ak x twin! Reader, Neteyam x sister! Reader, Neytiri x daughter! Reader, Jake sully x daughter! Reader, Tuk x sister! Reader, Kiri x sister! Reader, the sully's x reader
Genre: angst, kinda fluff
Warning(s): Character death, wounds, blood, crying, sad, fighting, get punched, swearing
Word bank: Y/N- your name, Ewya- great Mother
Notes: I am so sorry that this has taken so long for me to write/post and the reason for it is because I've been having some trouble finding ideas on how this part 2 is gonna go but thankfully I found some and I really hope u enjoy. Also I put a link to part 1 if Ur new to this mini series. P.S it was kinda rushed so it may suck.
(Listen to this while reading)👇👇👇
Part 1
TAG LIST: @sully-stick-together , @users09, @bobojojoba69 ---- I am so sorry I couldn't add some of the people who asked to be added 🙏
Y/N ran for what felt like forever, even though in reality it was just a few minutes. Tears stained her face but she didn't care about that since more kept rolling down from her yellow eyes. Her heart was pumping in chest, shallow breaths could be heard. She tripped on a fallen tree branch, her body trembling to the floor. Y/N didn't bother getting up, so she just curled up into a ball and sobbed. She thought back to the earlier event with Lo'ak. Never in her whole life had she seen him so angry, and never has he ever snapped at her once not even when she was annoying.
She felt like she had pushed too hard on him but deep deep down she knew it wasn't his fault, it was his. Soon her red, puffy eyes started to close as sleep took very quickly. Y/N could hear the soft breeze flowing though the trees and brushes, it also tickled her skin as her neck hairs stood up. But little did the young girl knew a massive Strom was coming and it wasn't just any ordinary Strom, this Strom started long before any one of her siblings were born this Strom has been going on for a long time. And it was ready for its revenge.
~timeskip~
Lo'ak didn't know where his twin was, no one did. His mother and Neteyam had been looking for her for atleast 2 hours and there has been no sign of her anywhere. Worry and guilt started to fill his stomach as his mind conjured up the worst case scenario. Her dead. Non-breathing Unmoving. Her blood everywhere. He tried to shake that thought off but it was still there lingering around the back of his mind.
In the background, he could hear Tuk crying as Kiri tried to comfort her but he knew she needed to be comfort juts as much. He knew it was his fault. He knew what he did was wrong and that he shouldn't have done it. He knew he needed to find her cause somewhere deep down in his stomach he knew where he was. So he slipped away making sure no one saw him as he ran off into the forest to find his twin.
~back to Y/N~
When she woke up again, she hadn't realised how long she had been asleep. Y/N didn't even know where she was. Suddenly large hands grabbed her, pulling her roughly up on her feet. She tried to scream but before she could cold metal touched her skin.
"You so much as scream or yell out for help... I'll blow your brains out" his voice was deep, sounded like he had no soul. Y/N just nodded not wanting to provoking him and possibly getting killed. She looked up to see atleast a glimpse of her so called kidnapper. She noticed the human like clothing he was wearing. He was an avatar. Probably from her father's past. She just hoped her father and mother or someone would find her before it becomes too late. But she knew that if someone didn't find her in time the worse will happen. So, she did the most stupid thing she has ever done. She bit down on his arm, hard. Very hard. The guy yelled out in pain before he turned around to face her. "You fucking bitch!"
The next thing she knew a loud bang could be heard and then everything went black.
~back to Lo'ak~
He could hear someone yelling in the distance, sounded human? He been in contact with fake Na'vi before and he definitely didn't like them. Lo'ak pulled at his knife, grip tight around it. He prayed to Ewya that Y/N was okay, she had to be, she needed to be. He couldn't lose her. She was the only one who understood him and never thought of him as a fake.
*BANG*
His head moved towards the direction of the loud bang, his briads covering his eye. His heart was beating so fast and so hard against his chest he thought it was going to pop out. He started to run towards the danger not caring about the out come he just needed to know that his twin, his ride or die wasn't at the end of that bullet.
A body soon came in view, it seemed to be covered in blood. As he got closer he finally saw who that body belong to. It was Y/N. His twin. His best friend. Tears started to form in his eyes as he pushed his legs faster. Faster to get to her. Faster to make sure she's live and not dead.
"Y/N!" Lo'ak's voice was shaking, fear feeling his stomach. He dropped om to his knees hard. Probably gonna leave a couple cuts on it but he didn't care all he cared about is her. "L-lo'ak?" Her was so quite, also like a whisper. He carefully moved her head onto his lap, making sure to put pressure on the gun shot wound on her lower abdomen. She let out a pained sob as more pain shot through her body. "Sorry, sorry. I know it hurts but I have to put pressure on it"
Y/N just started up at him still trying to process what happened just a few minutes ago. Her eyes slowly started to feel heavy but she tried to fight it just for a little longer. "Keep your eyes open" he spoke sternly, panting as he desperately spoke to her. Fixing his hand on her bleeding wound to try and stop the blood from leaving her body. Not once had she seen him look so vulnerable, so desperate. "Stay with me, don't-don't close your eyes" his voice was laced with something unfamiliar, a tone which Y/N had never from him before. Desperation was it? No, it was something more, something more painful.
"Y/N damn it" he cursed under his breath, holding her limp body now on his lap. His voice now filled with panic, "Please" that one word. That very word seemed to be so much more painful than the wound on her stomach, was it his tone? Was it the way he said it? Or was it the way his eyes looked, the way his eyes stained with tears.
Y/N could barely think, but everything looked clear despite the tears that clouded her eyes. The pain in her heart was greater than the pain from her stomach. Y/N wasn't ready, she wasn't ready to leave him, not ready to leave her family, not when she still had so much to live for. "Lo'ak" her weak voice called out for him. Perhaps his mind was playing a trick on him but he saw that same old smile om her face, a weak smile but it was still the same. "No" he cuts Y/N off, he couldn't hear what she was about to say, he refused to. Lo'ak knew exactly what she was planning in saying and he's far from accepting it. "Save your energy, don't-"
"I'm sorry, L-lo'ak"
"Y/N you can't, I can't" tears started to fall faster down his face now. "I'm the one who should be sorry, you have nothing-" Y/N cut him off by placing her hand on his cheek, wiping the tears that slipped away. "No. You don't have to apologise, Lo'ak" he cried quietly, but he felt everything all at once at that moment. Nuzzling his face into her now cold hand, weeping uncontrollably, no caring about who saw. "I can't do this without you. I-i'm so sorry about yelling at you, I d-didn't mean too just please don't leave me"
"Y/N please" he pleads, but he knew she was growing more weak by the clock. "Lo'ak. Y-you have to let me go" her hand slipped from his face as her eyes relaxed as her pupils widened, the blood stopped gushing out from the wound on her stomach and her heart stopped just as her chest went flat with her very last breath. "Y/N?" He looked down at her now limp body. "Y/N?! NO, NO, NO! PLEASE!" Lo'ak let out a pained scream, a scream that could be heard from the village. That scream got the attention of his family, making them run off into a sprint trying to find the source of the pained scream.
Neteyam and Jake were the first ones on scene and the site in front of them made their whole worlds come crashing down in one blow. Jake's body went numb, his expressen was emotionless, but his eyes told another story as tears rolled down his face. He started at his daughter, he couldn't except the fact that his babygirl was gone for good. He could hear his family's sobs from beside him, as he watched Lo'ak pulled his twin closer to his chest begging for some sort of sign that she was still alive but he knew that she was with Ewya now. "Y/N NO PELASE! OH, GREAT MOTHER PLEASE!" Lo'ak's voice was scratchy, shouting Y/N's name over and over again. His sobs were loud and controllable, he cried out for their great Mother begging her to bring his twin back. But deep down he knew she was never coming back. Neytiri moved closer to their son and fallen daughter, taking her limp hand into her own trying to find that familiar warmth that was always there but it cold.
Neteyam moved to sit next to Lo'ak with Y/N's unmoving body still in his lap. Neteyam knew that he and thier father had to move her body but he was frozen in place. He couldn't process it, no one could. He watched his father moved slowly towards Lo'ak to try and get their sister out of his grip. But surprisingly Lo'ak let go without trying to fight it. He looked so empty, almost like a shell you find at beach. It broke Neteyam's heart to see his brother like it but he knew he couldn't do anything to help with the pain Lo'ak was feeling m.
Neteyam watches as his mother sobs and screams over their loss as his tears fall onto his little sister's thigh. He places his hand on lo'ak's shoulder trying to comfort him in some way, but he knew that even himself couldn't stop the feeling of emptiness in his heart cause he too had that exact same hole in his. Lo'ak started at his shaking hands that were covered in his twin's blood. His head tilts back as he realised he just lost his twin sister, the one person who was always there for him when he had a nightmare or when their father would yell at him. She was the one soul that never thought of him as a freak or as an outcast and now she was gone. All beacuse of him. She was died because of his stupid mistake.
~sad bonus~
(Set four weeks after Y/N's death)
Lo'ak barely slept or ate, and even if he did he would just wake up screaming or throw up the food he actully ate. Neteyam and Kiri had tried over and over again to try and get him to atleast sleep for a few hours or eat something even if it was small. But everything they tried didn't work. Lo'ak just stayed in the same stop, staring out at the ocean, not moving an inch. This concerned the whole family but they knew in time that he would heal.
After everyone had left Lo'ak tried to get some sleep knowing that Y/N wouldn't want him to do this. He smiled for the first time in weeks at the thought first her yelling at him about this is unhealthy and that he could die too young. His eyes soon fall as sleep took over his mind. When he woke up he was in a dark room with only one bit of light and under that light was a young women just around his age or maybe Neteyam's.
"Hello?" He called out to the mysterious lady but only to get ignored. Until she turned around. Lo'ak's eyes widened in shock as tears started to form. His legs started to move on their own as they walked towards her. Y/N. His beloved twin.
"Y/N"
"Don't"
"It's not your fault, Lo'ak"
"..." lo'ak looked down at his feet and stared to play with his finger, a trent he had picked up from her when she died. "You have to let me go"
"I can't- I won't hear you out"
"Lo'ak, please"
"Just- just a little bit longer. Let me hold onto you for just for little bit longer. Please" the tears he had been holding onto finally fall, rolling down his cheeks. He didn't want to let her go cause if he let her go he wouldn't be able to see her smile or hear a laugh again. "Lo'ak I'm dead. Let me go"
"No, no, no please- please don't let me leave. I need to be here with you" his voice held so much pain as his spoke. Y/N just turned her body to the face the other way and started to walk away. "Wait-" before he could get the words out a strong wing started to blow him away, pulling him back into reality once again.
Neteyam had just came back from the beach to check on Lo'ak and see if he had moved from his spot. He was just about to walk in when he heard a loud sob from inside. Without thinking Neteyam ran inside to find lo'ak gripping his chest, his breath heavy, tears rolling down his face. Neteyam felt his heart break even more from the site infront of him. He couldn't stand to see his little brother like this. None of them could.
Without thinking he moved towards Lo'ak and pulled him into his chest, hugging him tight. He shushed his brother and whispered sweet things in his ear trying to calm him down. Lo'ak just held onto his brother as he cried out for his twin to come back. But he knew she was never coming back.
#avatar way of water#fypツ#jake sully x daughter!reader#neteyam#lo'ak sully x twin! reader#neteyam x sister!reader#neytiri x daughter!reader#lo'ak#sully family x reader#kiri#tuk#jake sully#Neytiri#x reader#x twin reader#sad#Spotify
276 notes
·
View notes
Text
part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8
When they get to the lake an hour later, Eddie is the first to come spilling out of Steve's car.
He walks several paces away from it, tuning out the post-drive chatter of his friends, his arms stretching above his head as he walks closer to the lake, stopping a few feet away from its shore.
Eddie inhales deeply, enjoying the fresh air and admiring the sunrays twinkling on the water. He can feel them on his bare arms too.
So.
Maybe the world won't end because he said a bit too much about how good he thinks Steve Harrington is.
Steve came out to them last year, on a sunny afternoon when they'd all been lazing around, reading magazines on Steve's living room after spending all day in his pool. Nancy and Eddie were arguing about how hot some actor was.
Eddie can't remember who it was now, but what he does remember is Steve casually saying "I can settle this argument, lemme see", and crawling on all fours to where Eddie and Nancy were laying practically on top of each other.
They must have worn the same perplexed expression when Steve declared "He's hot", because he then took a look at both of them and shrugged, said "I like both. I like whoever" and that had been that.
So Eddie knows Steve would not make a big deal over him basically saying he finds Steve attractive, but he's still worried, because their sexualities don't automatically mean Steve will like him like that and Eddie would never assume that, but now Steve might think he did.
He looked uncomfortable in the car and it's the only explanation Eddie can come up with.
And Steve's never been particularly receptive of Eddie's gestures, Eddie tried flirting a few weeks after Steve came out and Steve froze, whenever Eddie pays him a compliment Steve gets a little weird like he did in the car, Eddie's tried asking him to do stuff together like go on a hike, or Eddie teaching Steve to play guitar or he's even asked him to dance but Steve almost always backs down when the activity involves touching Eddie.
And it's fine. Eddie can understand, he's not everyone's type, it's cool. He just wishes he could shake the attraction off, but so far he's had no luck. If anything he only feels more attracted to Steve with every day they spend together.
And Eddie doesn't want to make him uncomfortable.
So Eddie needs to be careful not to let it show too much, because then Steve would feel forced to verbally reject him and Eddie just knows that Steve would hate that, not to mention he would be devastated himself.
Steve can't know.
After all Eddie said in the car, he'd been thinking maybe it had been a terrible idea to come along on a week long trip to a remote cabin with Steve. He'd already shown too much of his hand by gushing about him to everyone who would listen, Eddie spent the whole trip kicking himself over it.
But, as a dragonfly circles him, Eddie thinks of his friends, and he decides he can be an adult about this. He'll clear things up and apologize if Steve's still uncomfortable and they'll have a normal week.
This is meant to be fun and he always does have fun with his friends, Steve included. He always has fun with Steve especially, and he won't let his dumb feelings ruin that.
Eddie listens to quick steps coming up behind him and then a small but firm hand slaps his back.
"Are you alright?" asks Nancy, coming to stand next to him.
Eddie scoffs, doesn't turn to look at her.
" 'Course I am," he supplies "why wouldn't I be?"
Nancy gives him a withering look.
She was the first to find out about his crush, already knowing Eddie so well within a couple of weeks of their friendship.
Eddie fondly rolls his eyes, finally looking at her.
"I'm fine." he assures her "It's fine."
He offers her a smile and turns back to the lake.
Nancy gives him a once over before she wraps her arm around his waist.
Eddie sighs into the touch, her warmth comforting even in the mid day heat.
"Don't lose my fucking scrunchie" she threatens.
Eddie chuckles "I promise I won't" he lies, probably.
"Stop making promises you can't keep." Nancy shoots, untangling from Eddie's side "We should get you your own."
"Maybe I could make some!" Eddie suggests, "To replace the ones I've lost,"
"How did we switch from you buying them to this?" Nancy asks, her mouth tilting into an amused smirk.
"Oh come on, this way is more fun!" Eddie protests, almost stomping his foot in his excitement.
"You don't know how to sew" Nancy reminds him.
"Do too!" he protests, thinking of his many customized jackets and jeans. Though, he'd never made something so delicate as Nancy's pretty hair accessories.
"And Buckley said she'd teach me!" Eddie concedes.
That startles a laugh out of Nancy, "Yeah, I'd like to see how that goes" she says.
"Oh, I bet you would" Eddie shoots back winking at her. He gets shoved for it.
"Shut up." Nancy demands, giggling.
As their laughter dies down and Eddie straightens up, Nancy turns to the lake.
"It's so pretty here" she comments, looking out at the forest tree line beyond the water.
"Sure is" Eddie agrees, watching birds fly by.
After a while Nancy slips her hand in his and interlaces their fingers.
"C'mon," she says "we're the designated lunch ladies"
"Oh?" Eddie asks, following as she tugs him along.
"Yup! Steve and Jonathan are unpacking and Rob and Argyle called dish duty"
"Thank god for that," Eddie quips
Nancy laughs "That's exactly what I thought"
part 3
#steddie#steddie headcanon#steveddie#steve x eddie#stranger things#the next two parts of this are ready too but im getting a migraine so you'll have to give me until tomorrow okay? okay. love u. gn!#.#pushing the ''Eddie and Nancy are best friends'' agenda#steddie lake fic
378 notes
·
View notes
Text
Max Verstappen X HornerDaughter!
Part 7, here’s the LINK for part 6.
Max throws a luxurious 26th birthday on a yacht in Monaco. Despite it being a fairly civilised meet up the drinks flow a little too easily when the majority of guests have retired for the night. Leni finds herself being one of the party goers drinking with Max until the late hours of the morning. Things only get a little too out of hand from there.
warnings: no spoilers but obviously alcohol consumption, swearing, Max and Leni are giving each other the eyes 👀 mentions of specific antics I will not go into detail about.
Taglist: @ironmaiden1313 @callsignwidow @fangirl125reader @norassimpingzone @roseseraj @eugene-emt-roe @copper-boom @its-elias-world @cassiopeiia24 @larastark3107
“Happy birthday! Happy birthday!” I cheered, the birthday boy holding a hand out for me as I climbed on the boat, handing Max the biggest bottle of alcohol and a card over.
“Leni!” He exclaimed catching a sight of the present. “You didn’t have to!”
“No it’s fine, you should celebrate with it.” I wobbled slightly before setting my feet down on the ground below. “Thank you.” He smiled, rubbing my arm slightly. “It’s okay.” My voice cracked slightly as I had to force myself to tare my eyes to the other guests on the boat. Amongst them were Max’s mum and sister, whom I’d got along with so well over the years. I was relieved to see them here, alongside a couple more familiar faces I’d met over the years.
”Leni, it’s been too long!” Victoria stood up, welcoming me in a tight hug, one which was followed from his mum. “I know it’s been ages. When did I last see you both, last year?!”
“In Abu Dhabi!” Vic immediately began snorting out laughter as I attempted to muffle mine, the memory of how plastered we both were after Max had been crowned champion was hilarious. We did things that were super messy and ever since it had been our inside joke. “Oh..” I cleared my throat. “Was it really that long ago?”
“Yes. I’m surprised you’re not still hungover.” Her voice wobbled from laughter. “What, I don’t get it?” Max approached, touching my back gently before sitting down besides where I stood.
“You wouldn’t.” His sister responded. “I probably am.” I answered her question with a giggle before we returned to our seats. I purposefully sat a little away from Max, especially seeing as his family was here. I didn’t want them to think anything was going on between us, not that it was- but I did want something to happen. Well, partly, the other side of me was playing devils advocate and told myself it was too early after his previous breakup. Even I was in a full fledged relationship only 5 months ago, hell I didn't think I’d thought about my ex once in the past two months, but I had to rationale the time frame before letting myself fully grow feelings for Max.
My mind was a goldmine for overthinking. It was hard not to, even when he was next to me, the warmth of his skin would brush against mine and I’d move away, but only after I’d experienced the way my cheeks warmed, or how my heart would skip a little, stomach would churn, or I’d experience the overwhelming sensation to move closer to him. Fuck!
“Are you still with your boyfriend then, Leni?” Sophie asked me as I smiled gently, shaking my head. “No, we broke up a couple months ago now.”
“Oh.” She nodded as I awkwardly smiled, gripping my glass of champagne.
“He wasn’t a really nice boy though, was he? You could do better.” When she did that, I noticed how she eyed Max up slightly who sat besides me, innocently swigging his beer.
“Probably… has my dad been telling everybody about this or?”
“Actually Max told us.” She nodded as I almost choked on my drink. Max looked towards her as if to say ‘shut the hell up’ before I began laughing.
“You’re just as bad as my dad.” This time, I placed a hand on his arm. “They gossip all the time!” Victoria added on as my hand slipped off, shaking my head. “And they say girls are bad…”
“Well are you going on dates, Leni?” Sophie asked again. Max let out a groan, “mum, we don’t have to talk about this now.”
“No it’s fine.” I reassured Max. “I’m not, nobody’s asked me.”
“Max ask her on a date.” Sophie immediately spoke, speaking deadpan serious. Victoria and I began laughing at the bluntness behind her words, but when I glanced over to Max I knew I’d needed to save him from such an awkward situation.
“No, no, I’ve seen a couple guys, but I wasn’t really interested.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll find somebody very soon…”
As the night continued we’d sailed further out, lingering not too far from the harbour when we’d dropped a few people off to go to bed. It was 2:30AM and despite the fact we weren’t allowed to play music, the 7 of us that were left were playing all kinds of stupid games.
“I’ve got a game! I’ve got a game!” Maria, who was a girlfriend of one of Max’s friends announced excitedly. “It’s like would you rather, but it’s not would you rather, because we don’t play kids games anymore.”
“Okay..” Ben, her boyfriend waited patiently. “So you have to say like ‘Ben would you rather drink this drink or that one’, and whatever you pick you have to do.”
“Alright, alright.” Max agreed, clearly pretty drunk if he was agreeing to play. “Would you rather, Ben, jump in the water or drink three of them.” Max pushed forwards 3 cans of beer.
“Well, seeing as we’re not allowed in the sea…” he reached out for the alcohol, making a start with his chugging skills. I cringed, praying I wouldn’t get such a difficult question. Who would’ve thought the game would turn so silly so quickly, when people began kissing each other, I’d already polished off way too many drinks.
“Leni!” Somebody called out. “Strip off your dress or take your underwear off.”
“Oh my god.” I laughed, knowing some of the other girls had already done the same. “Neither!” My response was met with protests. “You just want everybody to go commando!” I pulled on the strings of my underwear, not believing I was doing this at all. People wolf whistled and I rolled my eyes, sticking my finger up at Henry who had sent the request out of several other girls. From besides me Max was snickering like a child.
The game was still going heavy with four of us left, Ben and Maria, and Max and I. I found myself with a blanket Max and I shared wrapped over both our shoulders, huddled closer together.
“Leni sit on Max’s lap or give him a lap dance.”
“I don’t know how to give a lap dance!” I exclaimed in my defence, feeling Max’s arm shift down onto my lower back as I shuffled onto his lap, sitting across him with a casual arm over his shoulders comfortably. The alcohol was making me fidgety, I’d craved nothing more than this, I didn’t care about any prior doubts I had. When Max’s other hand rested on my lap, beer in hand, I gulped nervously.
“Max, now kiss Leni or throw her in the sea.” Despite my lack of sobriety I knew I was blushing a vibrant pink colour, giggling towards the Dutch man. “You can throw me in the sea, Max.” I teased. Max was smiling, borderline grinning in amusement. He took my cheek with the hand that still held it beer and we shared a peck on the lips, one that ended so fast I barely even felt anything.
“Oh, do a real one!” Maria groaned, swaying. “Like this-” Ben pulled her in closer, arm wrapping around the back of her neck as they shared the most sloppiest kiss I’d ever seen. Max and I both grimaced, blinking away. They weren’t stopping. “Ew.” Max muttered as I laughed.
“Go around the other side of the boat if you’re gonna do that!” The driver exclaimed as they actually stood up, ‘sneaking’ away on Max’s half-joke.
“Oh my god.” I exhaled in amusement, glancing back to Max. My legs were fidgeting slightly, and being alone in a position like this was making feel all hot and bothered.
“Jesus.” Max muttered as I glanced back down to him, amusement spread across both our faces. Max’s eyes fell to lips and I felt a burst of energy, excitement, an overwhelming desire to lean in. It must have been a mutual feeling, because his hand reached up to touch my face again, bringing me in for a kiss which happened so quickly my drunken mind couldn’t comprehend it.
The kiss was warm, his lips were plump and smiling against my own. We laughed as we kissed one another, butterflies filling my stomach as I placed another hand on his chest. At first it seemed playful, borderline not even real. We were giggling into the kiss like we knew we shouldn’t have been doing it. It seemed to come out of nowhere, but I wasn’t complaining. Max was a good kisser, even if we were both shit-faced. His lips moved against mine, beer discarded to one side as he deepened the kiss, pulling me in closer to his lap with a hand on my waist.
We were giggling, like children, and when a funny noise emerged from the two stumbling around on the other side of the ship I turned away and let out a louder laugh. Max exclaimed one of his own too, hugging me closer with a hand on the side of my hip. I felt his chin rest on the bare skin of my shoulder, eyeing my body up from where I sat.
“They’re so drunk.” I managed to squeak out, like the two of us weren’t absolutely rat-arsed. “I know.” He snickered, I turned back down to him and we shared a few more kisses. “What’re we doing, Max?”
“I dunno.” He laughed, kissing me again. I hummed out a giggle, deepening the kiss. I could feel his hands beginning to press on me, finger tips digging in as he pulled me even closer. Our tongues moved against one another’s, and we were fully making out. In fact, when I’d shuffled even further onto Max’s lap, I could feel something pressing against my thigh. He was fucking hard, oh my god. The thought felt alien to me, the fact I was sitting on my good friends lap, making out and he had a whole fucking boner. It turned me on to say the least.
It wasn’t until the boat docked up at the harbour that we broke apart, his hand digging deeper into the flesh of my thigh, as though he was desperate for more. My core was throbbing for him, I hated to sound so crude, but I was so desperate for him it was pathetic. Maybe it was a good thing that we were both a little too drunk, Max attempted to swig the last of his drink, but in return he heaved all over the path on the way to get a ride home.
“Oh, no, Max!” I scurried away in a fake disgust. Truth be told I went home and threw up more than I’d liked to have admitted that night (or morning) and passed out on the bathroom floor. Only future Leni would have to worry about the events of the night which just unfolded…
#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen fanfiction#max verstappen x oc#max verstappen x hornerdaughter#F1 x reader#f1 x OC#f1 x hornerdaughter#Horner daughter
168 notes
·
View notes
Text
A HH Lucifer-centric AU 14/?
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, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22
The next part might be a pov from the hotel with Charlie and co.
----------------------------------------------------
It's not going well.
Everyone is close to their breaking points. Lucifer curses under his breath as another overlord and a Goetia pass out.
They've been performing the ritual for 4 hours straight and every time they manage to possibly succeed, a stronger wave comes out- the worsening poison of the miasma sure isn't making things easier.
His infection throbs.
Paimon: My Lord! Another Goetia has fallen!
Asmodeus: We're losing numbers, Luci! We should retreat for now!
Lucifer: No! We can't afford to lose a Ring.
Shit! Even with Goodie's powers, it's not enough. Lucifer begins to think that maybe he should've tried with Heaven- No. He shakes his head. Heaven would rather sacrifice humanity if it would mean destroying all of Hell.
Lucifer: Goodie!
Goodie: I cannot give more of something I do not have, angel. I warned you that my support alone will most likely not stop this.
Lucifer: We should at least be denting it!
At that moment, the sea of flowers let out piercing howls bringing everyone to a stop, hands flying up to their ears to block the noise. Lucifer himself felt his own ears bleed from the sound.
Dark roots began to move upward, carrying the screaming flowers to the skies. It went up until it reached the giant pentagram in the sky, essentially forming a giant tree. Some sort of whole then opened itself up at the bottom- like it's giving way. Like it's-
Lucifer: A door.
Someone beside Lucifer yelled for him.
Leviathan: Luci! Your marks!
When he gave the Sin of Envy a confused look, Alastor summoned a mirror for him to use. The radio demon's smile never leaves his face but Lucifer can see it strained.
Alastor: Sire, it seems that I have lost in being the first to devour you in your entirety.
Lucifer ignores the TV guy's indignant 'what the fuck?!!' in the background, instead he focuses on his reflection. It looks like Alastor was talking literally and not making a weird innuendo.
The infection he got from touching Roo's remnants has now reached his face. His right eye has turned black from the infection, and it's slowly making its way to the left.
The King doesn't feel it until he sees it. He vaguely hears Belphegor's cries, noises of disbelief, and the pained groans of the demons around him.
There's still a way.
Lucifer: Goodie. What do I need to do?
The Good of Humanity produces a piece of paper and blows it in Lucifer's direction. It melted to his skin as soon as it made contact.
Goodie: This might be the only way to stop my sister. That is an ancient seal from before the Nothing- strong enough to render God and beings like Roo weak.
Satan: Huh?! Then why didn't you just let us use that from the start??
Goodie: Because there is a condition.
Lucifer: And what's that?
He asks but he has a feeling he already knows.
Goodie: It must be performed from the inside. It needs to be as close as possible to the one you are sealing. The hold will be stronger with proximity. And with you being the highest power here...
Belphegor: Then that means-!
Lucifer: I need to be the one to go in there.
Immediately after he said it out loud, multiple protests erupted. The Sins are trying to talk him out of it while Paimon and a few Goetia are yelling at Goodie.
Mammon: Mate, this is fucked-
Satan: I'll go to Heaven myself if I have-
Belphegor: There must be another way-
Asmodeus: We'll save our strength. Lust can handle-
Beelzebub: You're crazy! You're gonna die-
Leviathan: I am not letting you go on this suicide mission, Luci!-
All the while, he and Goodie never broke eye contact. Lucifer stares, looking for something he doesn't really know in her expression. He raises his hands and everyone quiets.
Lucifer: Are you sure this will stop her?
Goodie: You are the key, angel. It must be you.
Lucifer finally looks at the camera in the sky. It had been there the whole time, probably by the TV demon. He thinks of his little girl who is probably watching with worry at the safety of the hotel. He can only hope that his next course of action won't hurt her in the long run.
----------------------------------------------------
that's suspicious.
that's weird.
#hazbin lucifer#hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#hazbin charlie#hazbin angel dust#hazbin husk#hazbin lilith#hazbin vaggie#hazbin cherri bomb#hazbin nifty#hazbin sir pentious#paimon helluva boss#helluva boss asmodeus#helluva mammon#helluva boss beelzebub#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel lucifer#hazbin hotel alastor#radioapple#hazbin hotel fanart#hazbin hotel fandom#hazbin#hazbin spoilers#hazbin hotel 2024#hazbin hotel charlie#hazbin hotel vaggie#hazbin hotel angel dust#hazbin hotel niffty#hazbin hotel cherri bomb#hazbin hotel sir pentious
98 notes
·
View notes
Text
GUILTY CONSCIENCE | sim jaeyun
now playing ☾⋆⁺₊🎧✩°｡ guilty conscience by 070 shake
⁺ ⋆˚ genre: idol!jake x nonidol/femreader, just angst man am i sorry, established relationship
⁺ ⋆˚ warnings: lowercase intended, cursing, being drunk, infidelity, gaslighting(?), baby is used as a nickname, one suggestive text, jay is mentioned BRIEFLY
⁺ ⋆˚ word count: ~1.2k
⁺ ⋆˚ message from nic: i know i already did a piece ab cheating but all of my works are inspired by songs or i try to connect them to a song,,, i just feel it sets the tone of the story and its fun to connect a story to a song!! and since this song is one of my favs atm i HAD to write ab it. i definitely recommend u guys listen to the song while reading or even listen to it after. kinda ironic how cheating is one of my pet peeves (i fr despise it sm dont get me started) yet here i am writing ab it lmao. i promise i'll write something more lighthearted and/or anything that isn't angst soon LOL. but hope y'all enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!
"5 AM when i walked in, could not believe what i saw"
yn: JAKEY JAKE JAKEY pleaseee come tk the club rn i habent seen u since u got nack :(
jake chuckles at the message as he reads it. he glances over at the clock that reads 4:38 AM. he knows that clubs in korea don’t close until 8 but god damn how are you still partying with your friends this late? he figures that you must’ve had a little too much to drink and your party animals for friends don’t help at all.
jake: ik baby but we had schedules right when we landed and im so tired… how are u even still there rn???
yn: TOO MICJ FUN :D
yn: COME HAVE FUN WITH ME BABY ;)
jake: u make it rlly hard to say no to u
jake: ill be there soon<3
jake sighs as he rises from his bed, making sure not to wake jay who’s fast asleep. he envies how jay can be sleeping so peacefully when jake is experiencing the worst jet lag of his life. you being out at 4 in the morning and his racing mind doesn't help him try to get some shut eye either.
he dresses quickly, making sure it's quiet when he exits the dorms. it’s not his finest fashion moment but he could care less about what he looks like. he’s only going out to see you and to possibly save you from whatever crazy antics you and the girls are up to.
jake isn’t going to lie when he says he hasn’t made the best effort to see you after getting back from tour. but he also didn’t lie when he said his schedule was super jam packed these days. he should’ve immediately ran to you as soon as he landed but he just didn’t have it in him. guilt gnawed away at his heart as he hailed a cab to lead him to the club you were having the time of your life at.
jake enters the back of the club smoothly without drawing any attention. thankfully your friends secured a vip table upstairs in a secluded area, making it easy for clubgoers to not notice that an idol was going to a club at godforsaken hours.
approaching the table he sees you right away. it’s not hard to spot your beautiful red dress, hugging every curve on your body. your long hair flows as you sway your hips back and forth. jake smiles to himself. how did he manage to bag the most gorgeous girl in all of seoul, korea? it was clear you were having way too much fun, giggling and dancing with your friends and-
he quietly gasps. the scene before him makes him halt in his tracks. it was like time stopped and the flashing lights began to blind his vision. his heart rate slowed and his palms were becoming clammy.
maybe he was mistaken. there was no way you would do this to him, he thinks. but there you were cuddled up next to a man, drunk out of your mind. jake can't stand another minute watching you and the mysterious person grind up against one another.
in a blinded rage he rushes towards the guy and pushes him away from you with all of his power. “GET THE FUCK OFF MY GIRL!” you shriek and the guy stumbles backwards sending a few drinks flying off of a nearby table. “YOU MIND TO TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE YN?!”
your mouth is agape and your mind is scrambling to figure out what to say. you know you can’t explain how you were practically dry humping a stranger, too shocked and the alcohol still strong in your system. you're struggling to say something, anything to try to make things right.
“and you,” jake turns and gets too close to the man’s face. “she’s clearly too inebriated to make the right decisions. how DARE you take advantage of her like that?!” you’re confused as to why he’s flipping the script and blaming the stranger but jake rips you away from everyone too fast for you to think another second. you stumble as you’re dragged away to a dark corner.
the two of you are standing in awkward silence, no one daring to say a word. your eyes are looking everywhere but jake. you’re too afraid to see what kind of expression his face has. “jake i-” “no. you don’t get to speak right now. there’s nothing you could say to justify what i just saw.”
ragged breaths begin to come out of your mouth and your chest is tightening. “jake please baby i just- i was so drunk and these guys came up to us and…” your sentence trails off, every word you’re saying just sounds so ridiculous at the moment. he’s right. you couldn’t say anything to excuse your wrongful actions.
“and to think i came here at fuck ass o’ clock just to come and see you. i’ve barely gotten an ounce of sleep these days but i gave that up to come because you were BEGGING for me to be here.” his voice is angry and you know he has every right to be screaming at you. at this point tears are threatening to spill from both of your guys’ eyes. “jake… i know i know and i’m so sorry i swear nothing like that-”
“NO. no just no,” he pauses carefully choosing the words he’s about to say next. “you’re right. there won’t be a next time… we’re done.” the tears that brimmed your lashes are now falling. the alcohol that once ran through you is now gone. you move to grab his hand but he takes a step back. the distance between you two grows larger and he seems out of reach.
“jake please we can work this out! please don’t leave me because of this.” your pleas are ringing in his ears but he ignores them. “we can’t come back from this yn. how could you think i’d ever trust you from now on?! don’t contact me ever. have a nice life.” the loud music pounds on the walls just like your heart is in your chest. you’re left alone sobbing, wondering how you managed to fuck up the best relationship you’ve ever had.
jake stumbles out of the club, trying to clutch onto anything to help him out. the fresh breeze of the night blows onto his face and helps him regain his breath. he struggles to get his thoughts together as he walks down the sidewalk back to the dorms.
maybe he was too harsh with the way he spoke to you but he knew it had to be done. seeing you cling onto someone that wasn't him was his ticket out. he knows that you're absolutely going to be broken for awhile but you'll be okay, right? he knows that you're going to blame yourself for this for who knows how long but you're going to be fine in the end, right?
he convinces himself that it's better you than him because now,
he'll never have to admit what he was doing while he was away from you on tour.
"i caught you but you never caught me, i was sitting here waiting on karma, there goes my guilty conscience."
© fakeuwus 2023 do not repost, translate, or plagiarize
#nic's library ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚#fakeuwus#jake fic#jake enhypen#enhypen fic#enhypen angst#enhypen x reader#jake x reader#sim jaeyun x reader#sim jaeyun#enhypen au#enha#fanfic#fem reader
140 notes
·
View notes
Text
Get Some Relief
Credit: @theleomars
You came to the bedroom holding a can of ginger ale and some antiacids in hopes of being of help. You placed them on the bedsidetable and laid down on the couch with him, touching his thick thigh to let him know you were there.
“How are you feeling?”
He just looked at you and with a grimace on his face and closed his eyes.
*BBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRMMMMPPPPPT! BRRRPPTT!*
Two rumbles, one larger than the other, shook the bedframe and singlehandedly elevated the room’s temperature. The first one, 8 seconds long and resembling the sound of motorcycle, managed produce the stench of spoiled meat, while the second, only two seconds in length, somehow was warm enough to to undo a few of threads on the the couch.
You had to admit it was partially your fault too. You loved Angelo, but knew people would question you for dating a man with such powerful gas, so you asked him to hold it in in public, especially around your family. You knew very well what that meant once you returned home, he would let it all loose, and possibly destroy the apartment once again.
“I think today is gonna be one of the worst night babe” He said, before grabbing the ginger ale and taking a few sips
You already knew the drill, you quickly got up to to take the picture frames off the walls and try to ensure all glass was on the floor so it would not break from the vibrations caused by your boyfriends fart hurricanes. No sooner did you stand that you were knocked over by a huge invisible force.
*BBBBBBBOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRPPPP!*
His lips had parted to let out a large 5 second belch that had enough strength to know you over along the books on the bookshelf across the room.
“Ahh that’s better” he sighed with relief.
“I am glad my love” you said,regaining your composure and resuming your goal of ensuring the mess that was bound to happen did not get worse. You were comin in and out of the room, trying to put the plants out into the balcony, when you noticed he had his leg lifted into the air, knee touching his chest.
BrbrbrbrbBRBRBRBbrbrbrbrbrBRBRBRBRBBRBRBRBRBbbbbbrrrrrrrrrBRBRBRBRbrrr
A long, bubbly fart fluttered out his shorts, the smell of digested meat only getting more intense even with balcony door open. The sound was loud enough you saw the apartment walls shake a bit, the book you left on the coffee table being blown open and a few of the cars parked outside the building having their alarms triggered.
You saw ripples being sent down the his shorts’ fabric as the bubbly symphony went on for what felt like multiple minutes. Fuck, how did such a handsome man manage to rip such beastly farts? It continued for a few seconds until it came to a close.
“Sorry babe”
“It’s okay babe, just try and hold the next till i get all the plants out, don’t want any more wilting”
“I hope the neighbors don’t complain” Said Angelo with a hint of worry.
“Trust me, if I lived near someone with farts like yours the last thing I would want is to make that person upset” You said, trying to cheer him up.
Once done with the plants you move on to the frames. You two had learned your lesson after a particularly gassy night, where a forty second monster of a fart exited Angelo’s rear end and managed to shake the walls violently enough to cause most frames to fall an break.
As you were in the middle of it you noticed Angelo biting his lower lip, one eye closed and leg raised again, this time his knee digging into his belly.
*bbbbbrrrrr-
BBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRMMMMMMMMMMMMTTTTTTTTTT!!*
What started out as a small buzz turned into pure ass rippage as the gas rushed from Angelo’s stomach down to his anus and proceeded to make an scandalous exit. The fart lasted well over a minute, with the smell only getting worse. What shocked you the most was the sheer strength of it; however, as it managed to push you against the wall and hold you there throughout its duration.
After what felt like hours, his stinky symphony came to an end releasing you from your suspended prison cracks forming across the apartment walls. “Baby come to bed” your boyfriend spoke laying motioning you to join him on your smelly stained mattress. Before getting into bed you walked around ensuring anything that could fall was removed from high ground and opening every window in your apartment.
“It’s going to be a long night” you said while climbing into bed snuggling with your still booted boyfriend. You start rubbing his stomach hoping to help with his gas until,
FFFFFFRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOWWWPPPPPPPPPPPDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD
A loud burst of gas shook the bed and floor and stopped just as quickly as it started. “Sorry” Angelo says as you both drift to sleep in each other embrace. The suns bright rays signals the start of a new day as you turn to look at Angelo’s glowing face. You don’t take a second to kiss him and despite the constant needing the grab the sheets from flying away during the night. You turn over to look at your phone lined with notification.
“Good Morning babe” Angelo says smiling widely while stretching. “Whew I feel so much better now. What are you looking at?” You show him the countless reports about constant shaking throughout the night and a horrid odor that swept the street and currently still lingers. Angelo laughs nervously, “Well, better out than in, right?”
91 notes
·
View notes
Text
Candy - Chapter 5
Word count: 1182
Cassidy has found out someone paid her school bills for the rest of the semester...
The Contractor makes himself at home inside her apartment while she's gone.
MINORS DNI - 18+
Cassidy finally stepped up to the counter at her school office. It was time to pay for her last semester of school. Sure, she still had student loans, but it was a relief to know that she was almost done with her degree. "Hi," she smiles at the woman behind the counter, "Cassidy Turner." She pulls out her checkbook as the woman looks up her name on the computer screen.
"Ms. Turner, your school bill has been paid already."
"No..." Cassidy shakes her head, closing her checkbook to stare back at the woman. "There must be a mistake. I haven't paid my bill yet."
The woman looks at the screen once more with a sigh. "Looks like the bill was paid last week."
"Thank you," she offers to the woman, shoving her checkbook back into her purse as she stalks from the office. Joe could have paid it, but while his family was well off, he wasn't well off enough to do something like this for her. No... there was only one person that would have done this.
She pulls her phone from her purse as she stands outside the door of the office. Her suspicions are confirmed when she pulls up her student loan information to find the balance at zero. "Fucker!" She ignores the glances she obtains from a few other students as she furiously messages August. She knew she couldn't barge into his office, because Joe would wonder why she was there. And she couldn't invite him back to her place or show up at his place.
Cassidy: We need to talk. ASAP.
August: I'm sorry... who is this?
Cassidy: Don't fucking play with me.
August: Cass? Or Candy? Which one am I talking to?
Cassidy: Goddamnit Walker...
August: Watch your tone, or you'll regret it.
Cassidy huffed, hating the way his warning even through the phone elicited a gush of arousal in her panties. She rolled her eyes, typing in one last message before returning her phone back to her purse.
Cassidy: Peacock Café in one hour. You're buying me lunch.
August laughs at his phone, going over Cassidy's last message. He knew paying off her loans would force her to reach out to him. He calls up his old friend, The Contractor, waiting for him to answer.
"Yup..."
August rolls his eyes at the response, sighing. "She'll be out of her apartment for at least the next hour or so."
"On it," he responds, hanging up without another word.
"Okay," August scoffs, sliding his phone into his pocket as he stands up from his desk to pull on his jacket. He stops at his assistant's desk and the young girl flutters her eyelashes up at him. She was young, around the same age as Cassidy and just out of college. She was attractive; model features with long blonde hair and big blue eyes that would certainly look better looking up at him with her pink lips wrapped around his cock. But he didn't like to mix work with pleasure, despite how many times she tried to make it obvious to him she wanted more. "Cancel the rest of my meetings today. I'm going home early."
"Yes, Mr. Walker," she responds sweetly, making sure to lean forward to display her breasts to him in her blouse.
August leans on the desk with his palms flat on the desk. "What have I told you about flirting with me, Ms. Riggins?"
She blushes, straightening up in her chair at his tone. "I'm sorry, Mr. Walker..."
"Good." He winks at her, the blush now turning a bright shade of red as he chuckles, walking away.
The Contractor steps into Cassidy's apartment, breaking in easily. August had tried to pull records of her online, but she had changed her identity when moving to DC. He wanted to know more about her and that is where The Contractor came into play. Sure, August could do what he did, but August was a public figure. The Contractor could keep a low profile much easier.
He closes the door quietly and looks around the small apartment. It was modest and neat, everything in its place. He walked to the bookshelf in the corner of the living room, planting a small camera on top that covered most of the living room and small kitchen. He moved a few little knickknacks, some porcelain owls, just the slightest out of place to see if she would notice. He grabbed one owl, keeping it in place as he completely turned it to face the inside of the shelf, laughing to himself. Small amusements.
He opened the fridge next, taking a large swig of Cassidy's almond milk before turning the carton so the label faced the back of the fridge. After looking through a few cabinets and drawers, he diagnosed her with OCD and moved on to the bedroom. The aroma of coconut and lavender filled his senses as he entered, smirking as his cock jumped slightly in his slacks.
He begins to open dresser drawers, finding a pair of pink lace panties. He brings them up to his nose, taking a whiff, slightly disappointed at the fresh laundry smell. He folded them and neatly placed them back into the drawer and closed it. There were no personal photos anywhere in the apartment. No family photos or even of friends. He made a mental note of that and moved on to the closet next.
He found the small safe on the ground, in the back of the closet behind some dresses. "Bingo," he mutters proudly to himself as he lifts it to bring it back to the bedroom to send on the edge of the bed. It doesn't take him long to crack it open. He takes photos of the documents inside, finding out her birth name was actually Catherine Faris. "Hmm..." He doesn't touch the money she has neatly stacked inside, but takes a photo of her passport before placing everything neatly back into the safe and replacing it in her closet.
He stops in the middle of the bedroom, contemplating whether to put a camera in her room or not. Part of him wanted to, but he finally sighed, shaking his head as he decided to inspect the bathroom before leaving. He opens the medicine cabinet first finding birth control pills as well as Lexapro along with a few other antidepressants. "Hmm..." He picks up the Lexapro bottle, opens it to find it half gone, and checks the date. He places it back in the cabinet, turning the label slightly to the right as he chuckles to himself, moving all the pill bottles slightly off center.
As he turns to leave the bathroom, his gaze catches on a pair of red lace panties on the top of the laundry pile in the basket. He snatches them up and brings them to his nose, savoring the sweet, musty smell as his cock jumps to full attention this time. "Mmmm, that's the stuff." He shoves them into his pocket, making sure all the lights are off before leaving the apartment just as he receives a text from August, telling him that she was on her way home.
Chapter 6
Candy
Taglist
If you want to be added or removed from my list, let me know 🫶🏻
@identity22122 , @alicedopey , @propelkingkittentten , @critfailrolll , @mrsevans90 , @carrie80reads , @thearcana-moonlight , @devotedlythoughtfulanchor
#henry cavill au#henry cavill fanfiction#henry cavill#henry cavill xofc#chris evans#henry cavill fanfic#august walker fanfic#august walker fanfiction#august walker fic#lloyd hansen#dark lloyd hansen
57 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
avokado-or-avo
Avo or Avokado
malereaderjustimagine
Male Reader x Your Faves!
mulher-shaipe
Sem título
byesummer2020
“ I’ve loved you three summers now, honey, but I want ‘em