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cherry-leclerc · 6 months

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true temptation ☆ cl16

genre: sainz!reader, humor, nnn (mommy, i can explain), smut, fluff, whipped!charles, established relationship

word count: 2k

Your boyfriend makes a decision to participate in NNN, but immediately regrets it when he realizes just how difficult it is to stay away from you.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...car sex, riding, fingering

req!... probably the longest drabble i’ve done so far, but i hope you all enjoy!

“You’re never going to last.”

The Monegasque’ eyes challenge you as you stand there unimpressed, hands on your hips. It had all started with him barging in on you and calling an ‘emergency couple’s meeting’.

Pacing the room, he goes back and forth, mumbling slowly, as if creating a plan up in his head. As far as you’re concerned, he was never going to actually do it. The man was obsessed with you.

“Have a little faith in me,” he groans, hands brushing his hair back in despair.

His so called - ‘emergency’ - was that he would be taking part in No Nut November. No kissing. No sex.

Or anything remotely related to it.

Walking up to him, you pat his chest. His hands find their way down to your waist, doe eyes staring back up at him.

“I will… But I’m going to make your head spin.”

He started off strong. He even felt a bounce in his step when he entered Ferrari Hospitality; he swore he felt like he was walking on sunshine.

“You’re actually doing it?”

Joris, too, had no hope for his friend. He had seen the way the green eyed boy would cling onto you as if it were the only thing he knew how to do. The way he talked about you, even when you weren’t around.

“Oui. Why? Do you not think it’s a good idea?”

His friend tilts his head to the side as he thinks about it for a minute. “Not sure. All I know is that your and Pierre’s bet on who can last longer is never going to end up good. You can’t even go a single second without kissing her!”

“He said he could last longer than me? I have to prove him wrong….” His mind slips over to the last part. “I can live without her kisses for a month. It’ll be fine.”

The Ferrari driver makes his way to his team, properly analyzing what faults his car had and how he can make the best out of it. Frustrated, Charles rubs his eyes.

“I will do the best I can, but I can’t promise a podium. Not with a car like this.”

Taking notes, Xavi nods as he walks away. “Hi, Xavi!” The sound of your voice instantly makes him ease up as he searches for you. His jaw goes slack.

“What are you wearing?”

Smiling wide with eyes crinkled, you rush over to him. “It’s only a dress.”

But it wasn’t just a dress. He knows you did it on purpose, wearing the little black dress he had last fucked you in. It’s the way it fans your thighs as the wind gently teases anyone passing by.

“You’re supposed to be on my team. Are we really going to let Kika and Pierre win?”

Rolling your eyes, you tippy toe, naturally about to kiss him, but stop yourself before you do. He frowns.

“You are sooo right!” You comedically screech as you slap your hands against your cheeks. “I do want us to win! Forget the kiss, my mistake.”

He chuckles darkly, shaking his head.

“You’re a fucking nightmare.”

He’s a week in and he’s finally starting to lose his grip.

“You’re sweating buckets, mate,” Daniel points out as he lets out a loud laugh, doing a muppet dive. Charles unbuttons his collared shirt.

“It’s the heat, it’s the heat.”

The Aussie furrows his eyebrows and he raises a hand up to feel the air. Light breeze. Shivering, you strut over to your boyfriend.

“Can we leave? It’s getting too cold.”

And he hates the way that dress clings onto your body, your figure being completely shown off. Nothing but dirty thoughts have entered his mind from the moment he first saw you.

“Sure.”

Kicking off your heels, you throw yourself onto the bed, face first. Shooo tirefff, you mumble against the sheets. He purposefully takes a seat across from you, knowing he’d be tempted to cross the line if he didn’t.

Tossing over, you reach out for him. And he’s about to turn you down, but he notices the way your nose is painted pink - your cheeks, too - and soft, tired eyes meeting his. His heart melts at the sight. So, he reminds himself that a hug with his girlfriend is nothing bad.

Climbing onto his lap, you dig your face into his chest, short dress riding up. He physically has to stop himself from letting out a loud moan. Instead, he traces his fingers up and down your spine. You shudder.

“Are you sure we can’t fuck, Charlie?”

Right there, is his breaking point. He’s ready to kiss you, finger you, eat you out, fuck you, anything. But you giggle teasingly as you pull back, a wicked smile drawn.

“Whoops. Never mind.”

He’s known you wouldn’t make this easy on him. It’s almost as if you’ve made it your mission to screw with his head - and while he would normally love it - in this case, it was killing him.

Dance with me, you would beg him and you sway in front of him. It was a rare moment of it just being you two, so naturally, you took advantage of it. You showered, did your skincare, watched a movie, but the moment you heard Sparks by Coldplay echoing from his phone, you immediately jumped up like a bunny.

Then, his heart would melt, and melt, and melt - and melt some more. It would only be a reminder of what a perfect match you both were. He would memorize your face once again; no makeup, eyebags due to long travels with him, a small cut on the bridge of your nose from earlier when Lando had accidentally hit you with his frisbee, pink lips he so desperately missed.

He would oblige, the way you knew he would. He found home within you as you would both sway, your feet on top of his as he would lead you both, you having to do nothing but close your eyes and feel his heartbeat. And it was so sweet to know that it was only yours.

I love you, he would remind you as if he didn’t already tell you a million times before. As if it were a way to make up for all this. And you would say-

“I know.”

“How are you keeping up?”

The Frenchman smiles proudly as he takes a sip of water. “I’m actually doing fine. You?”

Charles gulps, green eyes following to where you stand next to Kika.

“Good.”

“It’s actually not that hard.”

Kika and you had been touching up on your boyfriend's challenge. She would say it as if it were the easiest thing. You slump against your chair.

“That’s not fair… Mine has the most beautiful face ever!”

“Hey!”

You squeal as she aims a pillow at you. I’m sorry! The Portuguese laughs too, sticking her tongue out. You sigh. “I do miss him, though.”

“Yeah…”

“Have we seriously just been talking about how horny we are?”

“Don’t say it like that!” She bites her lip. “We have.”

“Why did they ever think this was going to be a good idea?”

Propping her arm against the table, she beams. “It’s not, but I heard from Pierre about how much Charles is struggling.” You groan.

“Yeah, well that’s nothing but his own fault.”

It’s now been 2 weeks and he’s already given up. His pleads were convincing.

C’mon, baby. Let me fuck you.

It’s been too long. I miss the way you taste.

But you stood your ground.

“No, no, no.” You shook your head, running away. Seeing Carlos, you hide behind him. “You brought this onto yourself! Now you’re just going to have to deal with it.”

Confused, Carlos questions you both on what you’re talking about. It’s just that your sister won’t let me-

“Stop! That’s my brother!”

The Monegasque shrugs as Carlos turns to you. What is he talking about? Your face burns up as you brush him off. “Nada, nada - he’s just being a jerk.” And so, he believes it and walks away, too tired to deal with any of it.

You let out a squeal when Charles plunges towards you. He picks you up, carrying you to his motorhome.

“Let go!”

Dropping you onto his small bed, he stares down at you like a lion salivating over their prey. You suppress a whimper, clamming your legs shut. He raises a brow.

“You’re telling me you don’t want the same thing I do? I promise I’ll do it just the way you like it.”

Closing your eyes, you can picture it. You can feel him already, pressed up against you. You do want it, you do. Opening your eyes, you shake your head.

“Just two more weeks to go.”

“We lost.” Taken aback, you snort. What do you mean? Your friend blushes before dragging you to the corner. “I mean that last night Pierre and I went out for dinner and one thing led to another and-”

“Okay, okay, I caught on!”

Giggling, she shimmies her shoulders towards you. “What are you going to do?” You pout as you stare back blankly. She sighs. “I’m talking about you and Charles! I mean you both already won - you could do whateverrrr you want.”

Stuttering, you cough before saying, “You made it loud and clear, thank you very much.”

Shivering, you climb into the passenger's seat of his Pista as you thank him for opening and closing your door. As soon as he climbs in, he turns on the heater. The Monaco streets were lonely, everyone already in their homes, sheltering from the light rain that had picked up.

“You want to pull over?”

You sound so sweet asking that he almost thinks he’s hallucinating or that any second now you’re going to surprise him with a, just kidding!

But he quickly could tell you weren’t and he doesn’t want to let the moment slip away. Not when he’s been waiting for so long. Screw it if he lost.

Pulling over on the side of an isolated street, he hauls you onto his lap. You thank the universe for skirts. Pushing your panties aside, his long fingers slide against your wet folds. You let out a wail.

“Fuck, you don’t know how I’ve missed hearing you.” He slides two fingers in. “Feeling you.”

Dazed, you find yourself grinding on his fingers. Every single time they would brush against your g-spot, you would kiss him harder. He slips them out, bringing them up to his lips.

And he moans in a way you’ve never heard before. So fucking sweet. Blushing, you lean in to kiss him. You can still taste yourself.

“Charles, please - do something.”

Never during your entire relationship has he ever fucked you as hard as he did that day. His grip on your waist hurt, but it hurt so good. His cock would continuously brush against where you needed him the most, so much so, he left you seeing stars. Drooling all over him, you hold onto his shoulders, bouncing up and down rapidly.

“So tight – So warm.” He chokes when you ground your hips deeper. “So fucking good.”

Then, he finishes inside of you. His fingers slide down to your clit as he rubs it. You finish with a loud cry. Kissing you one last time, he slaps your ass. You scowl playfully.

“Admit it - you’ve missed it, too.”

“Just a few more weeks and you would have won!” Pierre clicks his tongue before kicking his legs up against the table in front of him. Charles rolls his eyes.

“I’m never doing that again.”

Kika smacks the Frechman’s thigh. “You both lost, remember? Only, you did before him.” The Monegasque quickly springs up.

“You’re saying we won?”

“You’re acting as if this were the fucking Olympics, Cha.” You drag him by the arm to sit back down as he starts celebrating his ‘accomplishment of the year’.

“What are we clapping about?”

Your brother strolls over to an open seat as he opens up a water bottle. Hurriedly, you screech, “Nothing! Only that the season is almost over-”

“He’s yapping about how he won No Nut November, except, he didn’t. 2 weeks and fucking does not count.”

“You did what?”

Jumping up, Charles trips over his feet as he tries backing away from the angry Spaniard. “I think I forgot my phone! I’ll be right back!”

Chasing after him, your brother yells out, “That’s my baby sister, cabrón!”

#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc f1 #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader

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jemandrr · 1 year

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With manifest v3 approaching at depressing speed, i pray to the gods that firefox adopts more chromelike feature/UI options. Like drastically lower the minimum custom tab width to support the range that chrome supports, and being able to run personal browser extensions without also using the less stable dev build.

I’m sure there’s more, but I feel like there’s a timer cutoff fast fast approaching and not much sign (that I’m aware of) of Firefox actively making an effort to catch chromium users by expanding features (or, in the cases listed, simply enabling some values that are literally already coded and accounted for - both of these things are possible in official firefox buiilds, just not in the settings for normal firefox).

Like, don’t just wait for your competitors to do bad, also put effort into qol and providing a variety of UI options to completely whittle out snares of little conveniences and utilities people are used to. Privacy and control of your browsing experience are important, but it shouldn’t (and won’t, because face it, people are creatures of habit) just win by default for everyone on that merit alone. There’s nothing I’m aware of stopping them from having easily customizable settings to create chromelike experiences in terms of like...Google owning all the features of Chromium (in the first place, Chromium is open source too). Especially since the above two are still maintained features, just not enabled by default.

I’m sure if you poll a lot of chromium users you could find a lot more features to implement, many of which are probably already supported, just inconvenient to access.

Another feature that I’ve seen some people try to fix on a personal level is how firefox’s ‘remember your last session’ is a lot wonkier than Chrome’s. Since it has one and it just doesn’t work as well, I presume there are more things in the way than the other issues, so I set it aside for the end. I don’t really remember what’s different, I think it doesn’t save as long, isn’t as consistent? I just remember getting frustrated with it (among other things) when I was seeing if I could make the jump to Firefox early. Ultimately, without manifest v3 here yet, the privacy tradeoff isn’t good enough for me to bear the massive UX decrease, and while adblock is too important for me to hold off forever (transition starts next month and is supposed to finish in 6 months), I’m really not looking forward to it after I gave firefox a fair month of trial earlier this year.

On a mostly unrelated note: Edge for some ungodly reason has it so that Alt-Tab goes through individual tabs in a window by default. This is a setting, but literally why. Literally who asked for this to be enabled by default.

And yes I know open source, but these issues have all been brought up by way better devs than an amateur like me, so I’m fairly certain they’ve specifically been ruled against, nor am I qualified to manage my own version of it anyway. And maybe I’m treating firefox contributors too much like a collective who would actively make decisions to increase usability to migrating laypersons to improve crossover and retention, but I’m mostly just venting and frustrated and not expecting anything of it so

Also: If anyone tells me to write my own css to customize stuff like the amount of vertical/horizontal space a tab takes up, you’re losing sight of what normal people can/will do for basic UX.

#are there any other browsers left that don't run on chromium #and are run by trustworthy people #also like firefox hasn't promised not to deprecate v2 for v3 ever right just that it doesnt plan to right now but it will support v3 so #iunno is the internet truly just doomed to get narrow and narrower and more and more corporatized #i miss the early 2000s freedom #firefox is supposed to make a better v3 but its very far away so i wont really have faith in it til its here #and ofc im not smart enoguh to analyze that #its not like i dont trust mozilla but i do think that they and their core community can be rather bullheaded and #invested in their own superiority #which is how they end up falling so far despite having the most important features #cus they neglect the random stuff that builds into a user experience #and the community can be actively hostile if you say you prefer it like it was in your previous browser #which i guess is #one of the main types of open source communities #i feel like tribalism is partly what creates the drive in most major open source things #i'm unsure if i prefer rude but will tell you how to get into the settings and override limits and rewrite things if they know how #or that it can't be changed without making a whole new version #vs the open source communities that are nice but will just say if you want something done you have to figure out and do it yourself because #hey the codes all there #firefox #chrome #manifest v3 #also chrome always seems to run faster by a significant margin #im not sure how to benchmark this or if its just feel #i wonder if this is part of why firefox limits tabs the way it does #in chrome i have had literally 300 tabs open across 3-4 windows and not had any trouble browsing #when i was doing a research paper at the same time as researching something out of personal interest #and then on top of my normal hoarding behavior where im too lazy to open all the game-related forums and news and social media only when im #actually checking them #like i hear normal people just like open one site and finish and another and then end p trapping themselves in a loop

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pellucid-constellations · 3 months

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If It All Fell (5)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst, PINING, references to nonconsensual situations (very brief, nothing graphic, and not Az)

a/n: Hope this clears some stuff up ;) More to come and especially more Az to come. Thank you forever for reading and sharing your thoughts! This is getting me through the semester <3

Part 1 ♡ Part 2 ☆ Part 3 ✶ Part 4☼ Part 6 ♡

Series Masterlist

Azriel walked you to your room.

He knew exactly where to go, which corners to turn and which to pass, which was very convenient as you still found yourself struggling with the task. The House of Wind, as everyone so lovingly called it, was practically a maze for someone with no memory of its twists and turns. But Azriel had absolutely no trouble getting you to your room.

Once you got to your room, however, he appeared to have many troubles.

“You can come in,” you prompted, looking over your shoulder to find the shadowsinger with his shoes at the threshold. “I promise I just cleaned it. Or, at least I’m pretty sure I cleaned it. It’s hard to know where to put things when I only just started…”

Your voice trailed off. Upon further inspection of the man standing just outside your door, you found that he didn’t simply look hesitant to enter. He had his hands pressed to the doorframe, his head slightly leaned into the room, and his eyes were slowly trailing along your belongings. The expression on his face read as forlorn, but his body read as tense.

He had been here before, obviously. Of course this would be hard for him. You probably had everything in the wrong place and he had just told you about the difficult time he was having—how close the two of you had been before you lost everything.

“Um,” you began, pressing your lips together tightly when his gaze flickered to you. “Maybe you could… or would you mind maybe telling me where my bags are? If you know. Mor gave me a surface-level tour, but she didn’t seem to know everything.”

Azriel looked down to the ground beneath your feet. He blinked back up to meet your eyes. “Of course,” he replied, with so much practiced restraint in his tone you weren’t sure how he gritted out the words.

When he stepped in the room, it felt as if something shifted. He walked between tables and furniture and he fit like a puzzle, his wings never brushing anything, his eyes never casting down to analyze his body in the space. He looked like he belonged—he looked like he completed the space.

Something finally felt right.

Nothing felt right… but this did.

Azriel pushed open the closet doors, rifling through a cabinet you had only glanced at before. After a few silent moments, he walked out with bags in hand. His shadows hadn’t followed him. They drifted towards the bed instead, burrowing into the blankets and pillows until the plush surface became dark.

Azriel zeroed in on them as he placed the bags by your feet, staring off at his shadows as you brought your attention back to him. This close, you were able to catch his scent—the cedar and night-kissed air you’d recognized many times in recent days. But it had been so faint before, like he had been gone for weeks and the scent still lingered, or he had been in the room but only for a brief time. Nothing like now, with his chest only inches from your face.

“They seem to like my bed,” you laughed, just a small, breathy sound. An attempt to diffuse some of the untouched tension in the room.

The side of Azriel’s mouth curled up. You watched it rise, silently relishing in the heat of his body as it radiated into the space between you. “I can see that.”

He wasn’t a man of very many words—that’s something Mor had thankfully shared with you—but you wanted to fight against that. You wanted to hear the soft, low rumble of his voice. You wanted his laugh to spark in the air, to feel his words against your skin as you had just a few moments earlier. Azriel told you he didn’t hate you, that he was close to you, and suddenly the space between you felt impossible.

You just wanted to hear his voice.

“Have I changed things much?” you asked, heart thudding when he brought his gaze down to you. “I don’t know how much time you used to spend in here… or currently spend in here, I suppose—it’s only been a few days—but I’ve moved a few things. If you could tell.”

Azriel took in a long breath. “Actually, you—” he shook his head with an expression you could only decipher as baffled “—you put everything back. Cassian and Feyre, they moved a few things around when you were being brought home. Things that might have… well, we just didn’t want you to be overwhelmed.”

Overwhelmed.

“We should have known that was a ridiculous idea. You’re too brilliant, even without the context.”

Warmth flooded you; one compliment from Azriel and it was as if nothing mattered. You didn’t need your memories, you only needed this.

Azriel’s cheeks colored as if he felt the rush of emotions himself, his eyes bright.

No, that wasn’t right—you needed your memories. You needed to remember each and every time he had looked like this.

“Probably didn’t help that there were a bunch of empty spaces everywhere. If you leave nails on the wall it becomes quite obvious that something belongs there,” you quipped, a small smirk playing at your features.

Azriel laughed. Not a full laugh, but one that you had no idea you were missing before. “I will be sure to pass on the message.”

“Good. Cassian has many messages coming from me, it seems. Conflicting ones as well.”

“Right, of course. I will convey to him that you missed his presence earlier, but also that he is awful at hiding things from an amnesiac.”

“Perfect, thank you, Azriel.”

He gazed upon you, eyes flickering to every corner of your face.

They rested on your lips and then your eyes, trailing up until his hand followed to move the strand of hair that had wisped across your forehead. He brushed it away with delicate fingers, not a touch of hesitancy in them. Like it was natural for him, normal.

And maybe it was.

“I don’t know what to pack,” you whispered, trying to keep some of the lightness in the room. “Can you help? I haven’t a clue where most of my things are and you appear to be much more knowledgeable.”

Azriel drew his hand back, his eyes closing for a few long moments.

You wished you could delve into his mind the way Rhysand could—that you could understand some of the pain written in the tight clench of his eyelids.

“Of course I’ll help you.”

It began with him gathering things from the connected washroom. He entered the tiled room and opened drawers without fault or mistake, collecting perfumes you had been gravitating towards and zipping up products you hadn’t even found yet. He packed your brushes and jewelry as if he’d done this all before, as if your request for help wasn’t really a request, but an expectation.

“Have we traveled together before?” you found yourself asking as you followed behind the shadowsinger, a bag hanging from his arm.

Azriel smiled, turning to you with a glint in his eye. “A few times.”

You were very close friends, then.

Azriel led you back to the closet where he pulled a few articles of clothing from the hangers, holding each out for you to approve before he neatly folded them. You denied nothing, rather surprised by his taste and sense for whatever the weather was like in Day.

He moved further into the closet, half of which was sparsely filled. Maybe you filtered out your clothes with the seasons.

Or maybe something was missing.

Azriel paused.

You watched his scarred fingers brush over the purple dress you had worn on the first day you spoke to him after waking up. He rubbed the material against the pad of his thumb once, and then twice, before closing the closet doors and taking an abrupt step back. You stepped with him.

The shadowsinger said nothing.

“All done?” you asked. “Anything else I would need at Day?”

His shoulders rose and fell. Some of his shadows returned to make revolutions around his body.

“Azriel?”

“I—I’m sorry. Give me a moment.”

The shadowsinger stalked over to the bed, went to sit, but then seemed to think against it and began pacing instead. You tucked your fingers into your palm as you watched him, trying to hide the discomfort you felt as his clear unease.

Had you done something wrong?

Maybe you were being too familiar. This friendship between you was new and comfortable and exciting, but that was for you.

For Azriel, there was a gap, an immense amount of pain and missing connection.

He didn’t hate you, and that was… wonderful news, but this was also uncharted territory.

Maybe you shouldn’t have asked for his help—shouldn’t have invited him in.

“Azriel, I—”

“I need to explain this to you,” Azriel began, running a hand through disheveled locks. “I need you to understand why this is so hard. I don’t want you to assume this is your fault or that this is anything other than what it is.”

You nodded, but he didn’t look up to see your confirmation.

Azriel sighed and his wings flared slightly, returning back to his body in a quivering motion.

“I am terrified, y/n.”

This time, Azriel did look up to catch your gaze.

“I am terrified because this has happened before. It’s like I’m reliving it. Like you’re reliving it but you just don’t remember.”

Your fists unfurled as your brows met a point. “No one’s told me—“

“I know,” he breathed out, defeat the most prominent emotion on his beautiful face. “Last time this happened, the more we told you about the past—about certain aspects of your life—the more it hurt you, y/n. You’d… you’d scream until your lungs gave out every time we tried to share something new. It was like that for weeks.”

The Illyrian forfeited his internal battle with the bed, dropping down into a seat on the foot of it. Unsure of your place within your own room, you simply followed him, standing in front of his bent knees, eyes prompting him to continue.

He watched you as you moved.

“Has anyone told you what you do for this court? Your job?”

You shook your head.

Azriel continued. “You work as an emissary between courts and continents, but that’s more of a cover—a more comprehensible title for those outside of our circle. It’s hard to explain, but that power Rhys mentioned? It’s—it’s as if you have this intuition. For everything. You look at things, at people, and you just… know them. You look past lies and you pick up on things that are seemingly impossible to catch.”

Your head shook as Azriel fumbled over each of his words, confusion swirling in your gut. “That doesn't make any sense. Mor said that Rhys found me working at some boatyard by the Sidra. She said I used to help build vessels—there’s no way I have a power like that.”

“You do,” Azriel affirmed. “Rhys only went to find you because he heard of a girl building boats from memory. You took one look at him and knew what he wanted. Rhys said he barely had to offer you the job.”

It was a struggle not to grind your teeth together in frustration.

You used to know everything.

And now you knew nothing.

Your head began to hurt, or maybe you were just noticing that it had never stopped hurting.

“You said—” you started, tone heavy with vexation. Your eyes couldn’t find a solid place to land “—you said this has happened before. What does that have to do with these powers?”

Sensing the rise in your mood, Azriel seemed to even his own out. A balance between the two of you. You became agitated, he became calm. But you could tell he was struggling.

“Around 270 years ago, after you’d been working for the court for a few decades, Rhys sent you to Day. It was routine. You were going to gather information for a High Lord’s summit meant to take place there, but really, Rhys wanted you to scope out the area. To get insight on any plans, any secret dealings. You were meant to be gone for a few days at the most.”

Azriel’s fists clenched atop his knees. His face remained impassive.

“You were gone for six months. Gone. No one could reach you, Helion had assumed you went home already. It was right after you and I… became friends, so I was worried for you. More than the others, but no one was without worry. We found you eventually, but you—”

Something choked. Azriel choked. His head hung down and you replayed the last few of his words in your mind—the way they tightened and then tapered off.

This was too much.

Conveying comfort in the only way you knew how—in the way this family tended to love—you stepped between Azriel’s legs and brought a hand to his cheek, raising his face until his glassy eyes came into view.

“You don’t have to talk about this,” you whispered. “If it’s too hard, we can stop.”

Azriel’s jaw quivered. His next words seemed to tumble from his mouth without warning.

“Fuck, I miss you.”

It was simple instinct that led to your reply. “I’m right here.”

Something stirred within you, tugging lightly. Your heart, you deduced, beating so fast it was playing tricks on you. The shadowsinger in your hands twisted slightly, just barely so that the corner of his mouth touched your palm. Your heart tugged again.

“You didn’t remember anything, like now,” Azriel revealed, speaking just as you were about to pull away. You stopped yourself, feeling as if your touch was an encouragement to speak. “It was worse though, you were in so much pain. Any time you tried to remember anything, or even just tried to learn, it was like you were being pierced through the skull. You—you screamed so much.

“But it didn’t take us very long to figure it out. My spies in Day found the culprit and it was easy to capture him. He was weak. Strong powers, but weak in every other sense of the word. It was another Daemati—like Rhys. He became infatuated with you during your time in Day. He knocked you out, found a way to use your powers against you, to make them hurt.”

Azriel shuddered. His mouth got closer to your hand like he was leaning into it.

“It took a few weeks to get him to fix it. But those months, y/n—the time you were gone. You don’t remember them. I can only imagine what you went through. And when we brought you home you hurt so badly. So that's why… why us going back there is hard. Because this is all so similar and if it’s happening again I can’t…”

“Azriel,” you softly called, sure that this was the most amount of speaking the shadowsinger had done in a while. Sure that he needed a break. A respite. “It’s not the same, is it? You know that. My head hurts, but not like that. I don’t struggle to be reminded of the past. I learn new things. There is no evil villain waiting to take me away.”

“Y/n—”

“It’s not the same. I might not have access to these all-encompassing powers you speak of, but I can tell you that much. I’m sorry for what you went through before—that you had to watch a member of your family go through that then and then now… but it’s different. It’s different and I’ll be okay.”

His pond water eyes stared back at you as you attempted a reassuring smile. You felt his knees press against your thighs where you stood between them, and the pressure spurred you on. You ran your thumb along the high point of his cheek, relishing in the flutter of his lashes, gravitating towards him to relish in that closeness as well. This moment felt like yours, and something was telling you it was yours. That no one else could have this with him.

But you didn’t have your powers, your fae abilities, so maybe that feeling was nothing but hope.

Your thudding heart lulled you into a long breath.

“Maybe, if it would put you at ease, you could stay with me while we’re in Day? At my side, I mean. You could whisper everyone’s names into my ear so I don’t look like a fool and make sure I don’t get lost—”

“Yes,” Azriel replied, sure and resolute with no traces of the impending tears that had made his hazel eyes a pretty pool just moments before. “I won’t leave your side once. I promise.”

His devotion made you pause, surprise evident in the rapid blinking of your eyes. You wanted to protest, to tell him he didn’t need to promise something so taxing, but determination had set in his brow, and Azriel—your friend—wanted this. Needed this.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Thank you, Azriel. For telling me all of this even though it was hard. For being here for me even though I know that’s hard, too. You’re a wonderful friend. I can’t wait to continue to find that out. I promise to be just as wonderful.”

“You are already the most wonderful thing in my life.”

Part 6 ♡

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel angst #acotar fanfiction #azriel #if it all fell

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tojipie · 1 year

Text

prison bf series linked here !

hii ! not rly phone sex, but sex nonetheless. i’m rly loving this series <33 prison toji unboxing fic coming someday in the distant future.

content: nsfw + phone sex

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the sudden vibrations of your phone’s ringer rips you from the boundary between sleep and awareness. you groggily reach for the device from it’s place under your pillow, clicking the off button twice to end the call.

the number rings again, then a third time before you finally pick up, ready to tear into the poor soul on the other line. it’s a facetime call from an area code you don’t recognize, probably just a misdial if you’re lucky.

you hesitantly accept and tilt the camera towards the ceiling, shielding your face from the stranger.

“hello..?” you mumble sleepily, trying to get a good look at your phone without revealing too much of yourself. the person’s screen is grainy from the lack of light, probably calling you on an older model.

the stranger’s camera pans down, revealing familiar tufts of straight raven hair. toji stares up at you from his bunk, shirtless with the sheets bunched up to his chest.

“you too good to pick up the phone now?” he asks, clearly teasing. the inmate’s voice is quiet, coming out in choppy rivets as his dated microphone picks up what it can.

“toji!?” you whisper scream, sitting up to turn your beside lamp on. the additional light helps illuminate your figure better, you notice his eyes perk up at the clearer sight of you.

“mmmh, happy to see you babydoll.” he grins, leaning closer to get a good look at you. your eyes are puffy with the promise of rest, giving you that extra bought of softness he loves so much.

“oh shit, were you sleeping? m’ sorry.”

he doesn’t sound sorry at all.

“nono i’m awake.” you reassure the older man, taking in the sight of him laid out on the narrow cot. your boyfriend had aged since the beginning of his sentence, though you figure that’s not out of the ordinary for someone serving time. “how’d you even get a phone?”

“s’ a secret.” he muses, clearly finding the situation amusing. “i get to talk to my baby though, isn’t that nice?” he states plainly, shifting to prop his head up with his hand.

“it is, actually.” you mumble apologetically, feeling bad at your initial lack of a greeting. “m’ happy you called me.”

you pause, choosing your next words carefully “don’t you have bunkmates?” you wonder, searching the background for any signs of other men in the dark cell. the promise of being ratted out by a cell mate was one that wouldn’t end well for either of you.

“nah, lawyers said i’m too dangerous to be staying in D-block with everyone.” he states boredly, shifting again to lie on his back with a grunt.

“wh— are you serious?” you whine, already mulling over the countless conversations you’ve had with him regarding his nasty fighting habit.

“pfttt, no?” the inmate chuckles, throwing his head back with a hearty laugh. “last guy in the cell got out on wednesday, ‘s just me in here till’ my sentence is up.”

he stills, looking you up and down quickly.

"fuck." he grumbles, you look real pretty right now."

you sigh in relief, ignoring the compliment to continue grilling him. “so you’ve been getting along with people?” you ask, skill skeptical.

“you know—hah- how i am.” he tells you, clearing his throat before continuing. the screen begins to wobble a little, blurring his figure for a moment. “when have i —fuck- ever been out of line, huh? ”

“i think you were pretty out of line when you went to fucking jail.” you tease, pausing to analyze his hurried breaths on the other line.

“toji? do you feel ok?” you ask, wishing you were there to check up on him.

“yeah—mmgh- why? his camera starts to pan up shakily, phone slipping from his hand. the last of his facade shatters as a pleased groan rings out in the tiny cell.

“fuck.” he whines, “fuck— oh my god. you’re gonna make me fucking cum.”

“show me.” you command, finally piecing everything together.

the older man flips the camera and brings it right up to his hard cock, stroking it from the base up with vigor.

his tip is an angry pink, weeping milky precum down his shaft to glaze his knuckles. the sounds coming from your phone are absolutely filthy, a hot mix of pants, groans and expletives .

“oh my god.” you giggle, propping your phone up to watch better. “is that all for me?” the dips and hills of his abs jolt as he laughs.

“all for you.” he pants, bucking his hips up every time his fist meets his tip.

“is this why you called me?” you tease, watching his cock bob back and forth in his hand. the older man stops to thumb his slit, massaging milky pre into the tip before starting up again. “you just wanted to get off? didn’t wanna talk to me or nothing?”

“no—hah. i mean—.” he groans, clearly too out of it to answer. “fuck. fuck i’m close.”

you squeeze your legs together to quell the ache between your thighs, content to just watch him enjoy himself.

sharing a room with 4 other people means little to no time alone, that much you knew from your visits. it wasn’t rare for him to pitch a tent during your supervised phone calls, squeezing his cock behind a glass barrier while you gushed about your day.

a hearty groan knocks your train of thought loose as ropes of cum stream down his knuckles and onto the sheets. you watch in awe as he milks his dick, slapping it onto his stomach for the added simulation.

you wait until his breaths even out to speak, watching him grab a towel from off camera to clean himself up.

“feel better?” you ask, so badly wishing you were there to kiss him in the midst of his afterglow.

“so much better.” he sighs, shifting to lay on his side again.

“they definitely heard you. i mean those rooms don’t have doors right?”

“of course they fucking have doors.” he grumbles, clearly embarrassed at the thought of getting caught dick-in-hand.

“did you..” he trails off, rubbing his eyes with a soft yawn.

“too tired.” you state plainly, shifting the focus from your pleasure to his.

“i don’t deserve you.” he mumbles, dark eyes barely open.

“course you do baby.” you whisper. “you wanna head to bed? i’m coming up on thursday to visit.”

“you are?” the excitement in his voice is adorable.

“mhm, might even bring you a charger for that piece of shit burner you swiped.”

the jab earns you a booming laugh, lulling you back to the precipice of sleep.

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tag list ! <3 🏷️

@honeybee54321 @m150-50up @kuryoomi @t4naiis @serendippindots @sillyalo @levixbby @powerrwa

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vampiresfromxenon · 7 months

Text

Kiss It Better

Astarion x gender neutral! Reader/Tav

Around 2.2K words

Tags: Fluff, kissing, blood, soft!(ish?) Astarion, hurt/comfort, angst, 3rd person, no use of y/n

CW: Blood, deep wound on hand, existential thoughts (?)

Summary: After accidentally cutting your hand on your blade, Astarion is the only one in the camp to help you deal with it. You’ve been seeing him for awhile now, but this is the first time you’ve ever seen him actually care. Perhaps he does feel the same way about you…

With the daylight fading, you rest just outside your tent, wiping the blood off of your blade with a damp rag. As you sit there, shining it to perfection, you can’t help but analyze your reflection, thinking about the events that led you to having newer, fresher scars on your face. It’s been a few months since the start of this nightmare, since the start of having these things inside your head. The tadpoles weren't that bad to deal with, but your feelings were worse.

You’ve grown to love all the companions you’ve met along the way, laughing and enjoying their company as you travel across the land, searching for answers, for a cure. You all keep each other safe in one way or another, and while you hate to get too attached, knowing this won’t last forever, you feel as though you found your family, especially since you can’t remember your real one. God, your real family. One you once knew but now have no memory of. Your past is a mystery, and it haunts you, much more than the gnawing idea that you could become a mind flayer at any waking moment.

You want to remember. Oh, so desperately do you want to remember, but you can’t. That is not an option for you. And besides? What good would that do you now? You can only confront the horrors that lie before you. The thought of losing your friends, the thought of losing yourself. The thought of losing… No. You can’t bear the thought of losing him.

You find your heart sinking in your chest at the thought of him turning into a mind flayer. Your chest aches at the thought of where you promised you’d stab him if, Gods forbid, he turns. Looking into his eyes and seeing nothing, no life, no character, but a vessel. A vessel for these wretched things. It was becoming too much to handle. Your body begins to tremble from these false images enveloping your thoughts, these twisted and sickly ideas corrupting your mind for far too long. You’re so distracted by these terrors that you fail to notice the fact that you started to scrub the blade harder, or even more pressing, the fact that you dropped the rag.

In one swift movement, your palm forcibly glides across the blade, drawing both blood from your palm and a string of curses from your mouth. The images disappear, fleeing your mind as you pick up the rag and crush it into the palm of your hand to stop the bleeding. The blade was no longer important in this moment, tossed off to the side for later. You storm into your tent, clutching your hand, searching for any sort of healing potion or power that you could find. Shadowheart and the rest of the camp had left to explore the town for the night, leaving you all to your lonesome, or so you thought.

You sit on a cushion, exasperated and upset with yourself and your doomed existence. Removing the cloth, you take a closer look to see just how bad the wound is, trying to ignore the stinging feeling. Distracted by the blood, you fail to hear a visitor’s light footsteps approaching.

“Oh dear, what happened to you?” A charming voice rings out.

You turn to see a pale, slender elf standing in the opening of your tent, his white hair perfectly styled as always, his piercing red eyes invading your soul. Shoving the rag back into your burning palm, you attempt to hide your mistake, though you know he smells the blood from miles away.

“I had a moment of clumsiness, nothing more.” You stated in a nonchalant tone, attempting to downplay your embarrassment.

You turn your hand away from him, your eyes drifting around your tent, avoiding his gaze. He slowly approaches you, kneeling down on the cushion you are sitting on. He moves his head to meet your gaze, not wasting a second of eye-contact.

“Mind if I take a look, darling?” He purrs, asking more nicely than usual.

Your heart begins to race as he leans over you a little, prying into your personal space. If it were anyone else, you would push them away, but he invited himself in so much that you couldn’t help but miss it when he left. However, in this moment you did not want to feel this vulnerable, this embarrassed at your mistake; you couldn’t help but push him away just a little. After all, he is not known for having the best 'bedside manner’, if any at all. Meeting his eyes, you give him a knowing look.

“I’ll be alright on my own, thank you, Astarion. Besides, I thought you went into town with the rest of the camp?” You inquire, suddenly aware of just how much your feelings of being alone may have been an illusion.

“I had no need to go, and honestly I couldn’t take any more of Gale’s whining about ‘needing to eat magical artifacts’. I know everyone complains about my diet, but let’s be realistic here for just a moment…” He looks away smirking, proud of his own snarky comment. Turning back to you, there is suddenly a shift in tone on his face. While he still has his typical look, one that is oozing with flirtatious energy, he looks a bit more serious, concerned even. You’ve never seen this side of him before, and it shocked you considering just how insignificant he’d find a wound like this normally.

“Let me see it, please.” His voice was low, softer than usual, but commanding. One of his hands reaches across you, his hand ghosting over yours. You can’t help but lift your bloody hand so his palm touches the back of your hand. Never breaking eye-contact, he pulls your hand closer to him, gently pulling the rag from your white knuckles. Looking down, he notices just how bad the cut is, taking up most of your palm.

“Oh, my dear… How did you do this?” His voice is more concerned now, his thumb gently rubbing circles into your wrist. His eyes soften, and you can’t help but think back to what put you in this mess to begin with. Your body trembles once more, eyes breaking his gaze as you stare down at your hand.

“My hand slipped while cleaning my blade. It’s alright, I just need to wait for Shadowheart to come back…” You trail off.

“Why wait for Shadowheart? I can make you feel better, you know…” His free, slender hand reaches down and grabs your chin, gently raising your head to face his again. You blush from his touch, his willingness to command your body. Your mouth falls open a little, unsure of what to say or how to respond to such a comment from him. You were used to his flirting, but this unlocked a whole new feeling in you. He could sense your speechlessness, and so he did the one thing he knew how to do best: make you even more flustered.

“Would you like me to kiss it better?” He asks in his normal, teasing tone. This offering catches you off guard, breaking your immersion in this intimate moment. You can’t help but laugh, thinking now that he was only just charming you like he does everyone else. Continuing to laugh, you call him out.

“Very funny, Astarion. Hilarious. Need I remind you of when I was opening up to you not that long ago and you said almost the exact same thing? Seems to me you’re running out of tactics here.” You roll your eyes, not amused by his antics.

You feel his grip tighten on your bleeding hand, pulling it closer to him. Looking to see what he is doing, you connect with his eyes one more time, seeing an almost predatory look. You stop laughing, your face heating up once again, your heart pounding as his soft lips connect with your wounded palm. It still stings, and you wince a little at the contact, but you can’t seem to look or pull away from him. He kisses all along your palm, and you can feel him gently sucking at the blood. Not only was he kissing you better, but he was feeding on you.

If you weren’t so attracted to him, you’d be much more upset. Instead, you sit on this cushion while the vampire of your desires kneels before you, kissing and sucking at your wounded palm. You can feel his tongue lapping at your skin, his fangs ever so slightly poking out from behind his lips. Yes, he was feeding, but was he… actually kissing you too? His hands continue to massage the back of your hand and your wrist, trying to provide you comfort without completely invading your space. Eventually he stops, planting a final kiss on your wrist, his mouth covered in blood. He licks his lips, and you can’t help but tremble now but for a whole new reason.

“Better?” He asks, smiling enough to show his fangs this time.

“You just wanted an excuse to suck at my hand, didn’t you?” You raise an eyebrow, an attempt to see through him.

“I am always looking for any excuse to suck at any part of you, my sweet.” His voice is low once more, a rumbling laugh escaping his lips.

He finds a section of the rag not absolutely soaked in blood and pushes it back into your, now much cleaner, palm. Your whole face is flushed now, unable to think of any more witty remarks or comebacks. For the second time in just a few small minutes, he found yet another way to leave you completely speechless. The sly vampire decides to take advantage of your silence once more.

Letting go of your hand, he leans forward, his lips connecting with yours. It’s soft, gentle, and new. To be fair, while you have spent a few intimate nights together, this moment here alone feels so much more real, so much more genuine. Almost as if he was kissing you… because he wanted to. A real, genuine want. His hand caresses the side of your face, his other landing on the small of your back as he continues to kiss you. Without hesitation, you lean into the kiss, your body elated by his touch. It’s not long before he deepens the kiss, his tongue parting your lips, wanting more from you.

He tastes of iron, what more could you expect, but for once you don’t hate the taste. You invite it more into your mouth as he continues to lean even further over you. He begins to push you back, your body relaxing into the cushion. He breaks from the kiss, planting small kisses on your face, trailing them down your jaw and to the side of your neck. You can’t help but close your eyes, softly sighing as he kisses at your skin, sucking softly, his fangs once again poking you. He had been feeding off you almost every night now for weeks while you were dead asleep, and while it was unusual for you two, it was so much more enjoyable to experience it this way. He lifts his head, meeting your eyes as a way of warning you he was about to bite. He opens his mouth, his fangs protruding, ready for the taste of your flesh and blood.

“Helloooo? Astarion? Tav? We’ve got some goods!” Yells out Karlach, just a few meters away from your tent.

Shit. He sits up, kneeling over you, looking dissatisfied. You sigh and throw your head back into the cushion, frustrated. His cool hand caresses your cheek before tracing down your arm. He leans in close to your face one last time, his breath warming your skin.

“Shall we finish this later tonight, my love?” He purrs, not even remotely finished with you.

You nod, still unable to speak from the last few eventful minutes. He kisses your cheek before standing. “Find me in the woods at our little spot, just after everyone has gone to bed. Don’t keep me waiting.” He flashes one last cheeky smirk before exiting your tent.

“Hello, Karlach. Gale find any boots to devour today?” He quips, and you can’t help but laugh when Gale offendly responds.

The camp erupts in conversation, and you find yourself leaving your tent after a few minutes to track down Shadowheart. She heals you in her tent, though she has quite a few questions. Giving vague enough responses, she accepts them and lets you be on your way, but she’ll definitely be curious about it for a while.

No matter, the only thought you could think of now was what Astarion had planned for both of you tonight; you knew exactly what was going to happen, but there was this whole new sense of excitement now that you could tell there was something deeper, real, and authentic going on between you two. You lie there in your tent, waiting for the snoring and sleep talking to begin to resonate throughout the camp, eager to scamper off into the wilderness with the elf you adore.

Author's Note:

Hello! I haven't written any fan fiction in a loooooong time, and none of it was ever good to begin with- I've been struggling with writer's block for awhile now, and this was the first thing to break me out of it... lmao. I am very new to BG3 in general honestly, and I just barely started act 2. Please no spoilers, but also if Astarion is sorta OOC, I hope that explains why too :)

I've only had Astarion for what, two, three weeks now, and this man is just so whewww. I thought of this fic idea right as soon as I started a longer drive, and I started recording my thoughts on video so that way I wouldn't forget anything before I could start writing hahaha- I blushed so hard writing this, hope y'all feel the same

Hope you enjoy!

#astarion #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion fic #astarion x mc #astarion x you #astarion soft #astarion fluff

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fooled-around-and-fell · 1 month

Note

your geto fic is super cute 🥰 if you're taking more requests, may I request a sukuna fic please? maybe in an au where he's a gangster and reader is of a classy, rich family so reader's parents don't agree, but then sukuna appears in one of their events in a suit and looking dashing as ever!

ooooooooo it's 3 am but i have to write this down!!!!!!!!!

shadows and silk.

summary: sukuna shows you and your parents that he is absolutely the right and the only man for you (whether they agree or not) genre: angst/fluff pairing: gangster!sukuna x female reader warnings: cursing, modern day au, not a great parent-child relationship, ooc sukuna

Masterlist

-----

your father doesn't even bother to hide his disapproval. "he has tattoos on his face. what if he's in the mafia- what have you brought our family into?!"

"father-"

"i am," sukuna clarifies, "in the mafia. my father is the leader. and one day, it'll be my time to lead."

your parents gasp in shock, surprised by sukuna's brashness.

"that wasn't a threat," he clarifies again, holding your hand. "i love your daughter, and i'd like to have a good relationship with you both. because it's important to her."

you smile appreciatively and grasp his hand, looking at your parents with hope.

"you're fucking insane."

-----

it was probably not the wisest decision to ask for your parents' approval, knowing what kind of people they are. being one of the richest families in the country, it's hard to have... any kind of life outside of what they had planned for you. like a pawn in their game of chess, your choices have been made for you since the very beginning.

unlike sukuna, you grew up "perfect". you aced your piano lessons, easily graduated from your violin school, and got straight As in all your grades. every day was the same for you; wake up, school, extra lessons, homework, sleep, and repeat.

that's actually how you met sukuna. one day, there was something wrong with the traffic so your driver was late. you'd been waiting for an hour, and sukuna just happened to finish his detention.

"hm?" his eyes caught you standing by the gate. "aren't you that rich kid?"

you looked up at him and analyzed his face -- high school student with face tattoos, you don't see that very often. "who's asking?"

"tsk, tsk." he chuckled, "so much attitude for a little person." he ruffled your hair before walking in the other direction. "wanna come? i'm gonna go have some fun."

fun... the word was so unfamiliar to you. you'd never talked to him before, and though it really was probably dangerous to just go with someone whose name you didn't even know, you couldn't help yourself. especially not when he turned around with a smile, urging you to come with him.

he took you to places you've never been before and made you feel things you've never felt. you felt free from your parents' chains, for once you felt like you could do whatever you wanted.

and sukuna was glad he could make you smile. you, the girl who always kept to herself in class, quiet, polite, almost scared. you made him feel things, too.

you got an earful from your parents that day, but the cute keychain sukuna won you from the night market was worth it.

now, the keychain hangs on your favorite bag, one that he also got you a few weeks ago. though you already have multiple designer bags that are much more expensive, the bag sukuna gave you was priceless.

"morning, baby." sukuna greets you, kissing your cheek.

"morning," you smile at him. "i'm sorry for how yesterday went. my father, he's-"

"let him be," he says. "nothing can keep me away from you, understand?"

you smile at his words and nod, "you better keep it as a promise."

sukuna smiles and kisses you, "i swear it."

he wonders what he could've possibly done to deserve someone like you.

-----

"what do you mean i'm getting married?"

your father sighs. "don't be difficult. the gojo clan is the most powerful, you should be thankful they're letting you marry their son."

"but father, i have a boyfriend, and i just graduated college! i- i can't marry, i still have so much i want to-"

"enough!" he yells, "you're marrying gojo satoru by the end of next month and that's final."

you're lucky that you have your own apartment. dialing sukuna's number, you get into your car and drive home where sukuna says he's waiting for you.

"ugh, unbelievable!" you throw your keys on the table, letting it slide off and annoying you even more.

he grimaces and sits you down, handing over a glass of water. "so it didn't go well..."

you sigh, "...they're arranging a marriage. with the gojo clan."

sukuna's jaw clenches, anger evident, but then it disappears. "that makes sense. they are the strongest and the richest."

"they're not giving me an option, like always-"

"gojo satoru is pretty handsome," he continues, "blue eyes, tall, quite built.. he's not a bad bachelor."

you squint your eyes at your boyfriend who seems like he's talking nonsense... or not really. "what are you trying to say?"

sukuna sighs. "we should break up."

the words that come out of his mouth after that are all blurry to you. something along the lines of...

"we've been together for years."

"it's time to get a fresh start."

"aren't you curious what it's like to date other people?"

"i'm getting bored to be honest."

and it all just seems like bullshit. bullshit because why is he looking at you like that when he's breaking up with you? why does he look like he's still madly in love with you and saying all that stuff is killing him?

why does he look like he's lying?

"tell me you're joking."

sukuna, unfortunately, doesn't humor you and leaves you alone in your apartment without saying anything else.

the rest of the month feels like hell. you tried running away from your parents, the guards they sent after you, but to no avail. somehow, they've repurchased your apartment and now you're back to living with them.

you met gojo satoru once throughout the entire month. he's decent, and actually a good guy like sukuna said, but he's not sukuna. he doesn't leave a random flower he picked up on the way to your place, he doesn't shower your hands with kisses when he sees you, and that's all expected -- because it's not supposed to be a loving relationship. it's a contract. once you marry him, your parents' company will merge with the gojos and become even richer.

today's the engagement party. your mother has chosen the perfect red gown for good luck, and she's made all the preparations for the party -- you, like always, never had a say in anything.

you feel like an object for them to trade with. compared to the gold bars sitting in their safe, you're probably worth less.

"i know you also didn't agree to this," gojo satoru whispers as you're both sat down in the middle of the ballroom while everyone else enjoys their meal. "but you look beautiful."

you offer him a polite smile, which turns rather sad. hidden in your sleeve is the keychain sukuna got you. your mother managed to throw away every cherished memory you had of him except for the keychain.

you wonder what sukuna is doing right now... if he's enjoying his life, if he maybe has a new girl by his side...

"sorry to shit on your party," your head snaps up the moment you hear that familiar voice, and a gasp escapes when you see the even more familiar tattooed face with pink hair. "but i'm going to have to kidnap your fiancee for a bit. maybe forever."

"..ryo." you stand up abruptly, letting your chair fall and hit the ground. he's dressed in a white suit, black vest, black shirt, and a matching black tie. he looks like he's ready to be your groom.

giving you the smile you miss most, sukuna stands in front of you and grabs your hand. "hi, princess."

"what are you doing here?" you whisper, tears about to fall from your eyes.

"saving my damsel in distress." he softens when he sees your lip tremble, kissing you gently. "i told you nothing can keep me away from you."

"but you-"

behind you, gojo satoru clears his throat, motioning to the many guards surrounding both of you, ready to pull you two apart by force.

"let my daughter go right now." your father demands.

you grasp sukuna's arm tightly, not planning on letting him go any time soon. in return, he has his arm around your waist, pulling you to him gently before he snaps his fingers, revealing rows and rows of armed men ready to fire.

the guards immediately stand down, obviously outnumbered. they let you and sukuna leave without a fight, and you stop for a second to spare a glance at your parents, looking at you disapprovingly.

-----

you're sitting on sukuna's bed. you've only been to this place a few times, considering he moves around a lot. he's helping you with the infinity amount of hairpins you have stuck in your hair while you take off the red gown you're wearing.

"ryo," you call him.

he hums to acknowledge you, mouth full of hairpins.

"...why did you break up with me?"

taking out the last piece of hairpin (he thinks it's the last), he throws them away before sitting behind you, arms snaked around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder.

"i... i thought i was doing you a favor," he admits, "with my job... it's not easy being with me, you know? i'm scared you'll think i'm a monster for what i do - it still terrifies me."

"so i thought if i just pushed you away, it'll make things easier for both of us," his grip on you tightens, "but it didn't. at least not for me. and i know i'm being selfish here by wanting you back, i know i don't deserve it, but i just... i can't imagine living without you. i'm sorry. i'm so sorry."

you turn around to face him, straddling his thighs and kissing him softly. "if being selfish means i'm stuck with you, then you need to be more selfish."

he grins, arms wrapping around you. "i love you."

"i love you more, ryo."

#ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x female reader #jjk sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x female reader #sukuna fluff #sukuna angst #ooc sukuna #sukuna jjk

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murdrdocs · 1 month

Text

she’s driving me crazy

description. STILES STILINSKI finally gets another chance with you, and he won’t take it for granted

includes. SMUT 18+, riding, car sex, fem!reader, protective p n v, lots of making out, loser!stiles, awkward stiles, bi!stiles, exes getting back together, slightly manipulative reader, reader has easily malleable hair, reader wears makeup, drinking (but no drunk intercourse), bickering, scott guest appearance

wc. 6k+

a/n: long awaited stiles fic. bestie boo this one's for u. title from confidence by ocean alley. art credits unknown.

Stiles knows he fucked up.

He had you, after almost a full year of tortuous pining, and he let you slip through his hands. All of it, your relationship with Stiles, really didn’t last more than two months. Two months where date nights were rain checked and eventually canceled. Sleepovers were lackluster, and nothing more than a movie playing in the back while Stiles worked over something that wouldn’t rest in his brain, leaving you alone in the center of his unmade bed. Promises were made, and never kept. It was a mess, a horrible, murky mess of Stiles’ own creation.

He knows this. But he still allows himself to mourn what could have been. He grieves what was. All while nursing a warm beer that doesn’t sit well in his stomach, mostly because of the sight he has been doomed to acknowledge—also his own doing as he could definitely turn his gaze elsewhere.

You’re tucked under the arm of some guy who looks nothing like Stiles, and he doesn’t know if that makes him feel better or worse. Is that your dream guy? Or are you forcing yourself to branch out and try something that wasn’t him? He tries to resist the spiral that sends him on, and is only able to start crawling out of the self-deprecating and insecurity tunnel through Scott’s voice beside him.

“What’re you staring at?”

Scott reeks of alcohol and fruit-flavored syrup. If he wasn’t a werewolf, Stiles knows his best friend would be unable to stand straight by now. But Scott stands like his usual self next to Stiles, a big grin on his face probably from the attention he’s been getting from Kira. (It was sickening for Stiles to watch but he forced himself to be happy for the strong relationship his best friend has.)

Stiles’ immediate instinct is to lie. “Nothing.” He says it a little too fast. He tries to cover his slip up by taking a sip of his beer, but the flavor is unappealing to the point where the face of disgust he presents makes him look more guilty than he really is.

Scott stares at Stiles, waiting. Stiles knows he won’t lie to Scott, not about something this small anyway, and it is only a matter of a few seconds before Stiles sighs.

“Look,” he points at you and your suitor. “Don’t you think he’s making her uncomfortable? Look at that. He’s all over her. Probably reeks of Axe body spray.”

It’s then that the guy cracks another joke, your head throwing back in laughter just before you rest your ear against his chest. It’s so affectionate. As if you’ve known this guy for years, and not just mere minutes.

Stiles flicks his eyes over to Scott, expecting to see his best friend analyzing the situation with at least a small amount of attention that Stiles is. Instead, Scott is looking over at Stiles, wearing what Stiles can only describe as a knowing smirk on his lips.

Stiles steps back, a little bewildered. “What?”

Scott, annoyingly, shrugs. He sips his drink, one he has solely for taste as Stiles knows, and only responds once he’s taken a long, slow swallow.

“She seems fine to me. I thought you guys were broken up anyway.”

“We are!”

“Then why do you care so much?”

Stiles can’t help but petulantly roll his eyes. He turns to face you and your human shaped bag of bricks once again, gesturing for Scott to do the same. His mouth opens, lips parted and tongue ready to spew out the analytics he’d been gathering this entire time in lieu of an excuse.

Then Scott interrupts.

“Do you want me to see what’s going on?” Scott throws a finger up towards his ear, one eyebrow lifted as he waits for Stiles to gather the implications and then make a decision.

It takes Stiles longer to complete the latter than the former.

He waits, thinks, looks at you and the guy. And then remembers the strict ‘no listening’ rule you all have set in place, the one he most definitely won’t betray in the name of jealousy, even if you aren’t particularly aware of all of the intricacies.

When he sighs, it’s defeated and with his entire body. He knows he’s pouting, he assumes he resembles his teenage self—mopey and brooding. He doesn’t mean to speak through gritted teeth, but he ends up doing it anyway.

“No. She’s probably … fine. I guess.” It hurts to admit, deep in Stiles' jealousy-filled gut. Scott’s way of comforting him is by clapping a hand on his shoulder, and telling him that you’re a grown adult who is allowed to make her own decisions, the same as him.

Scott’s intentions aren’t understood until he points at someone in the opposite direction of you. A guy who, from the looks of it, has been eyeing Stiles for a while. He’s Stiles’ type. Exactly his type, actually, and Scott knows this.

“Instead of sulking around …” Scott doesn’t need to finish his sentence in order for Stiles to understand. He only lingers for a few seconds, and then is pulled back towards the larger group by Kira’s eyes and grin.

The guy on the other side of the bar is still watching Stiles. He’s smiling a small but confident smile, like he knows Stiles wants him as much as he wants Stiles. He tilts his head in a beckon, and Stiles is close to letting the guy pull him over there. Until he sees you step away from the man, smile dismissively up to him, and start towards Stiles instead.

Instantly, it’s like a flip has been switched.

He starts to feel the effects of the alcohol, even though he’d been nursing the same bottle the entire night. Still, he chooses to attribute the buzz flowing throughout his body to the overpriced beer and not excitement of finally having your attention.

He watches your path, trying not to feel too disappointed as he takes notice of the way you’re struggling to walk in a straight line.

You fall into his arms in a fit of giggles. Your head resting on his chest, your hands circling around his back.

“Stiles,” you sing, long and drawn out and definitely drunk.

He repeats your name in the same tune, placing his drink onto a tabletop next to him and abandoning it for good. Keeping you away from self destruction is his new main priority.

You slump against him even more, turning yourself around and leaning back against his body. Your position leaves Stiles with nothing else to do other than stand stiffly. He knows that if you were sober, you wouldn’t be nearly as affectionate as you are now. He ignores the way your ass brushes against his crotch. He ignores the smell of your perfume wafting up to him, a scent he had the privilege of seeing you apply a few times before when you were dating. (The image of you getting ready for the day, lathering yourself in the oils and lotions and scents that worked to create your unique scent will never leave his brain, for better or for worse.)

He does his best to remain unaffected, but then you tilt your head up, the crown of your hair rubbing against Stiles’ shirt as you look at him. As soon as he glances down, he sees you pouting, clearly over exaggerated but it’s a look he, pathetically, will never be able to resist.

“Why won’t you touch me?” You manage to sound pitiful, as if you had lost every single thing you hold dear to your heart in the last couple of minutes.

In his response, he tries to remain neutral. Drunk or not, you know the game you’re playing, and Stiles foolishly believes that his knowledge of the ploy makes him insusceptible.

“Because you’re drunk,” he platonically rests his hands on your shoulders and encourages you off of him. “And we aren’t together anymore.”

You turn around to face him, grinning up at him like the cat with the canary as you tell him, “it didn’t stop us last time, right?”

That, and the way you almost throw yourself at some guy walking past, is enough reason for Stiles to link his hand in yours and pull you towards the others. Scott stares down at your interlinked palms for only a moment before Stiles explains his plan, which entails getting you back to your apartment before you do something you could regret.

This isn’t an excuse for Stiles to continue hanging out with you. He makes sure he clarifies that to himself and his best friend before he’s pulling you out of the bar and towards his Jeep.

You’re both less than ten steps away from the entrance to the bar when you suddenly have your lips pressed to Stiles’.

There is a moment where Stiles fails to resist. Where he reciprocates quicker than his brain can realize, acting on pure instinct and muscle memory instead of logic. He is unable to stop himself from getting comfortable, from linking this kiss to the last one he’d received from you. Hotter and messier than this one. (Lost in his appreciation to finally be kissing you again, Stiles fails to notice how you don’t taste like alcohol at all)

Only a few more seconds pass before Stiles reminds himself that you’re drunk, and that this is wrong. When he pulls away from your lips—regretfully, that is—he’s tempted into staying by the slight stickiness of your lipgloss and the almost-disgusting string of saliva that briefly keeps you two sewn together.

You try to lean back in, but Stiles stops you with his hands on your shoulders.

“You’re drunk,” he reminds you.

You’re fixing him with a look, one that feels strong and weirdly sober. His suspicions have more proof to back them up when you say his name with the same matter-of-fact tone he had just used on you.

“I’m not drunk.”

He scrunches his eyebrows together, the muscles in his face mimicking the movement as well. His lips part as he nonverbally exclaims his confusion. He lifts one of his hands from your shoulder to hook his thumb towards the bar entrance. He looks around, for nothing or no one in particular, but as if the night will have an explanation that you would surely be willing to provide if he asks.

He didn’t even need to ask before you provide an explanation. It’s cut and dry, matter-of-fact, spoken like it is the most casual thing in the world.

“I faked being drunk so you could take me home.”

Stiles knows what you mean. He’s not dumb. But he surely does feel it when he says, “If you didn’t feel well you could’ve just told Lydia. She would’ve taken you back to yours.”

You roll your eyes. “If you don’t wanna sleep with me, that’s fine. Just let me know before I waste my time.”

Stiles should stand up for himself. He should reprimand your attitude, and exclaim how unnecessary it was. Instead, he flounders and almost falls to your feet with the speed he clarifies himself.

“No. I do wanna sleep with you. Like, really bad. But … um … well,” you lift your eyebrows and Stiles clears his throat. “How many fingers am I holding up.”

“Jesus, fuck, Stiles.” He continues holding up his first three fingers on his right hand until you answer. “Three.”

You lean in but Stiles takes a step back. And then another. And then another, until he’s standing against the wall of the bar and you’re standing at the edge of the sidewalk.

“Walk in a straight line towards me.”

You don’t seem happy about it, but you place one foot in front of the other over and over again until you’re in front of Stiles. Nothing more has to be said before Stiles places his hands on your hips, pulls you flush to him, and finally allows himself to kiss you.

It’s been a while since Stiles had the privilege of kissing you. The last time, just a month ago, didn’t count in his mind. Sure, he remembered nearly every detail, but your shared inebriated state at the time overruled any legitimacy the encounter could have held. Now, it only acts as a reminder and motivator for Stiles to enjoy every moment of this that he can.

Eventually, it would be smart, and preferable, to leave the outside of the bar and actually take you home where you two could be alone. But for now, Stiles presses his hands into the middle of your back as a way to pull you as close to him as possible. He has his legs spread, creating space for your limbs to stagger. Your hands rest on his shoulders, then at the back of his neck, then in his hair. Both of you are attempting to get as close to the other as possible, all while engaging in the sloppiest kiss you’ve ever had. You both kissed cleaner when you were drunk.

Now, outside this bar with your closest friends inside, and with nothing but the night (and the bouncer) as witness, you submit to the other. There is a level of appreciation in the way your lips slide together. There is a level of gratitude in the presses of your tongues against each other. There is an exorbitant amount of longing that is solved each time you jerk your hips into Stiles and each time he reciprocates.

You thread your hands through Stiles’ hair the same time that he slides his hands down to your ass and squeezes, pulling you as close to him as possible and rubbing his thigh against the center seam of your jeans. You both groan into each other's mouths—Stiles from the way you tug just right on his hair, and you from the feeling of his leg between yours.

Sensing—knowing that he did something right, something good, Stiles does it again. And again. And again. The steady slide of his thigh between your legs does the job. You let your head fall, leaning the top of it against Stiles’ chest just right under his sternum.

The sound of you moaning Stiles’ name goes straight to his dick, with a few remnants traveling to his head, leaving him dizzy and with a steady growing semi. His actions make you grip his hair stronger. His actions indirectly cause pleasure for him, too.

It all disappears when the sound of spitting—loud and boisterous, almost cartoonish—breaks up the moment. Stiles stops his movements. He lays his hands flat on the back pockets of your jeans as he turns his head to the side.

The eyes of the bouncer meet Stiles and Stiles’ ears burn.

While the bouncer doesn’t say anything to him, Stiles knows the message he’s trying to communicate.

Get the fuck out of here.

Stiles is forced to push you back by hooking his fingers in your belt loops. He’s still touching you, at least an extension of you, but then your hands drop to your sides and Stiles can feel his body crying out for you. The same way his body calls out for vital needs—food, water, sleep, entertainment. He squashes his emotions for a second, plasters on a—truthfully sympathetic—face, one that comes off more as a tight lipped smile than anything else.

“Sorry, man. You — uh. You have a goodnight.” He throws a hand up to the bouncer, hoping it is received as friendly. When the bouncer returns the gesture, still with that same look in his eyes, Stiles heads down the street and pulls you with him.

The walk to the car is tortuous. His boner keeps rubbing against his jeans, leaving him to stop every few paces, face away from the street, and try to adjust himself. After the third time, you were voicing your frustration, claiming that it was taking forever to reach the car because of Stiles’ worry about who could see his erection. He tries things your way, ignoring the way his dick calls for his attention and instead focusing all of his attention on you.

The way your hips sway in your tight jeans. The way the wind blows your perfume to him and lifts the edge of your shirt in one, giving Stiles a peek of your skin. It’s such a small look, nothing more than a glimpse, and Stiles feels like a Victorian man the way he’s having to bite his fist at the next crosswalk to avoid groaning. The street lights illuminate your face in just the right ways, highlighting your makeup in an unnaturally ethereal way. Everything about you is driving Stiles crazy. There’s no way he’s going to make it to your house. If he doesn’t get to his car soon, he might pull you into the next bar bathroom that he could find just for a semblance of privacy.

If he could just get to his Jeep.

It’s then that Stiles realizes he’s been walking for far too long. He stops in the center of the sidewalk. You stop right beside him.

Stiles doesn’t say anything as he turns around and leads you three blocks down the street, one street over, and then into the parking garage elevator.

The way you’re grinning at him alerts Stiles of the words soon to come out of your mouth, definitely words that would be at his expense. He stops you while you’re ahead.

It’s nice to have the position switched. Your back against the wall instead of his. His hands are still on your hips, but he uses them to push you into the metal instead of pulling you into him. You have that part covered, your arms once more thrown over his shoulders, pressed into the back of his neck and head, drawing him in until the pressure of his lips against yours is a little painful.

In the rush neither of you have pushed the button, leaving the elevator stagnant on the ground floor. Stiles notices at the same time that you scratch his scalp. He moans, he really can’t help it. His mouth opens as you purse your lips again, and he feels a little bad but you aren’t deterred. In fact, you do it again, your nails scratching in just the right spot and Stiles feels like an animal the way he shudders and keens.

He’s more human when he admits, “Missed this.” He presses his lips to yours again, pulling back with a smack. “Missed you.”

Your lips slide against his with what Stiles can only describe as desperation. Pure, unadulterated desperation and desire. You’re breathing a little heavy, deep exhales through your nose and inhales in the in between moments, and it doesn’t turn Stiles off at all. He wants more of you. He takes more of you.

He doesn’t know how long you two are in there, but it is eventually you who pulls back first, your lips visibly swollen and lacking any of the makeup that was previously on it.

“Has the elevator been moving at all?” You could check for yourself. Just one look over Stiles’ shoulder and you could see that the small screen still displayed a digital ‘1’. Yet, you’re looking up at him instead. Like Stiles is the most important thing in the elevator. Like he’s the most important thing in the world to you. (Maybe it’s Stiles’ delusion talking, but he chooses to believe it either way)

Still, Stiles looks over his shoulder, confirms that he hadn’t hit the button at all, and leans back to correct his mistakes.

The elevator beeps twice, bringing you both to the third floor, and as much as Stiles’ wants to continue standing there and just admire you, he can hear the door daring to slide close. Again, he pulls you out behind him.

As soon as he turns the corner, Stiles is immediately made aware of the lack of other cars on the level. It’s a little eerie, and if he wasn’t about to get his dick wet he would possibly be on the lookout for potential threats that could turn one of the best moments of his life into another inconvenience.

Your hands are on his shoulders, his back, his arms, as you hold onto him.

“Why did you park all alone? Did you plan this? Were you trying to get in my pants all night?”

Stiles digs into the front pocket of his jeans and searches for his keys. “No. There were other people parked here earlier. They’re just all gone now.”

You hum unconvincingly. “Uh-huh. Whatever you say, Stiles.”

As soon as Stiles has the passenger door unlocked, he holds the door open for you and stares, hoping the annoyance is overpowering every other feeling he’s currently having towards you.

“In the back,” he tells you. You smile up at him, big and entertained, and then do as he says.

He climbs in right behind you. At this point in the night, there was no point in attempting to get back to your apartment or his. Stiles couldn’t wait much longer, and you two are no stranger to the back of his Jeep. You’ve been in this situation before.

It’s all completely effortless. You’re already in the process of slipping your jeans off whenever Stiles has the door closed. He mourns for just a second, pouting to himself over not being the one to take those sinful jeans off of you. But then you climb over his lap, situating yourself to hover just a bit above him.

Stiles plants his hands on your hips, just like he did before, and pulls you to sit right over him, just like you have before. He knows that the status of your relationship has changed since the last time he had the privilege of being in this space with you like this, but that doesn’t mean the way you do things has to change, too.

You were never shy before. You would always be quick to attach yourself to Stiles in whatever ways you could, just like you had been doing just a little earlier into the night. But that’s gone now. Now, you’re staring at him, your teeth pressed into your bottom lip.

Before you were together for a short time, Stiles had spent months pining. Months analyzing whatever he could about you. Months mentally cataloging your tells. And now, he calls on that information to declare that you’re hesitant. You’re nervous. No, not just nervous. You’re worried. Almost regretful.

He tilts his head. “What’s wrong?”

You shrug but Stiles knows you’re aware of what has you like this. He just gives you the time to voice it.

Eventually, you say: “Will this change anything between us?”

It’s his turn to shrug. “I dunno. Do you want anything to change?”

You shrug again.

“Well … do you want to keep going? And we decide that afterwards?” Stiles really wants to fuck you, but deep down he knows that if you stopped and got up off of him in this moment, he would be okay with it. Well, he would be okay with it after a few days. Maybe a week or two.

A little part in him swells, jumps, and clicks its heels when you nod.

“Yeah. That sounds good.” You press your lips to his once.

“You just tell me when you decide, okay? I’m cool with whatever you’re cool with.” And Stiles means that. If he gets just one more time with you, if this is his final time with you, he would cut his losses and be grateful for the time that he was allowed. What else was he supposed to do? He would never dream of doing anything that could jeopardize his spot in your life.

Stiles can feel the warmth of your center is his hand when he trails his touch down. He cups your mound and his eyes flutter shut. He feels like a pervert for only a second before you start to work your lips down his neck and rock your hips into his hand. The way your mouth suctions around his favorite spot almost has him distracted enough to not notice your hands working on his pants. Almost.

He can’t really tell in the dark, but he can slightly feel your once confident movements start to falter. You stop on his neck, keeping your lips as nothing but a pucker against his skin before you pull away completely to look down between the two of you.

“When the fuck did you start wearing a belt?”

Stiles doesn’t want to tell you the truth, he feels like it would be too embarrassing. Really, he knows it wouldn’t, but something about having to tell you that he decided to wear a belt because you always said he should makes him feel a little meek. So instead of filling the silence with the truth, he fills the silence with the clinks of his belt buckle as he undos it himself.

“Recently,” is all he tells you when you’re still staring at him for a response. Somehow, it’s enough for you and your hands are back on his waistband.

In record speed, your hands are down the elastic of his boxers and wrapping around Stiles’ cock. He doesn’t hiss, but he does shudder. He tries to hide it by pretending that the car is cold, which it was beforehand, but now it’s warm. It becomes warmer when you spit in your hand, wrap it around Stiles’ cock and pump him a few times, and then push your underwear to the side and hover above him.

It really pains Stiles to stop you, but he does. He asks if you have a condom, then he asks if you want to use a condom, and the entire time he’s kicking himself. Because he can feel the warmth radiating. He has his tip already nudged between your folds, and just this small touch is already making him lose it. His nails are digging into your hips, he’s breathing harder than he was before, and he has to blink a few times to really focus on you.

It feels like Stiles blinks and suddenly you’re tearing the foil packet open and slipping the condom over him. He watches it go down as best as he can, and the light doesn’t reveal much. Just the bottom of you and the tip of him is visible, the rest Stiles is forced to make out through squints and memorization.

He’s just briefly dejected about the lack of visuals, but then your hands rest on his shoulders and he hears you take a breath and he knows it’s time.

Stiles rests his hands on your side and looks up at you.

You go down slowly. Softly. It allows Stiles to feel each delicious inch as they go by, revealing more and more of the inside of you as time passes. He battles between watching your face and simply basking in it. Eventually, he settles on the former.

Your eyebrows are tightened just enough to show your discomfort. You have your lips parted, long breaths leaving them every so often, usually right before you sink down again. And Stiles has seen you take him before. He knows that you have been able to take him faster than this before. And then he wonders: is this your first time doing this, with anyone, in a while? Have you been as lost without him as he has been without you? Have you even attempted to fill that hole, and was your stunt earlier tonight just that: a stunt?

There isn’t time for him to ponder over his questions like he would have wanted to whenever you bottom out. It’s with a sigh, the back of your thighs meeting the top of his just briefly.

You rest your forehead against his, and you both breathe together. Or, it’s more so you breathing and Stiles matching the pattern.

You lean up, you move your hair out of your face, and you tell him, “Don’t remember it being this hard.”

Slightly cocky, Stiles tilts his head. At first he doesn’t say anything. He smiles, his eyes are heavy when they look you up and down, and then he rubs your back. “Take your time.”

You take the time you need and then you start moving. Up and down. Up and down. Agonizingly slowly at first, and then faster when you get more comfortable.

This is what Stiles has needed. This is what he has been missing in his life. You’re like a drug for him, and one hit seems like enough at the time, but by the time this is all over he knows he’s going to be searching for more. He’ll do anything he has to, so long as it gets him in a spot similar to this again.

He searches for your hand, refusing to look away from the way your body moves atop of him for even a second. You help him out, bringing your hand to his, pressing the fingertips together, leaving Stiles to interlock them. He lifts your hands, looking at them in the white light that enters the foggy window. Somehow, this image is even more captivating. There is a more pornographic way the two of you are connected, one that demands Stiles’ attention. There is something about the innocence of this. He’s doing nothing but holding your hand, and Stiles feels like he might either lose his mind, or cum too quickly.

He might do both. One after the other.

You sink down on him again, a little awkwardly this time, but it does it for you. You hit a spot that makes your mouth widen and your eyes flutter shut. You search for it, and find it miraculously. Your head throws back as you hit that spot over and over again, pleasing yourself on Stiles’ dick. The image is heavenly for him. It’s euphoric.

He lets his eyes wander down your neck, along your clavicle, and your shirt reveals just a bit of your bust but it’s not enough. With his free hand, he pulls the rest of the fabric down, and when he sees that you’re not wearing a bra, he almost cums into the condom then and there. He doesn’t wonder how he hadn’t noticed, he doesn't consider how he hadn’t taken into account the natural shape of your breasts pushing through the fabric, almost reaching out to him. Instead, he leans forward, presses his hand into the curve of your back, and attaches his mouth to the untouched skin.

Your free hand sinks into Stiles’ hair. Your fingers weave through the back of his hair first, and then you make your way up to the front, pushing back his bangs blindly.

Stiles peers up at you from his spot around your nipples. You’re still in ecstasy—your head now level once more, but your mouth still open and your eyes still closed.

He detaches from your nipple to tell you: “Look at me.”

It fuels Stiles’ ego when you do as told quickly.

You’re looking at him on his command yet Stiles feels like he’s the one entranced. Because of your eyes. Fuck, your eyes. Watery, lazy, but your pupils are dilated. Your mascara has transferred to under your eyes by now, and it’s smudged a bit, making you look completely fucked out. Stiles thinks some of your makeup along your face has disappeared too, but it allows for a fresh skinned appearance instead.

Really, there is nothing else for him to do except kiss you. It’s so messy but so good. You flatter in your movements on his cock, but Stiles feels absolutely no remorse when he takes over.

He unlocks your hands and plants them both on your hips again. This time, he uses the leverage to pull you down on him again and again. He lets you lead the kiss, while he leads this.

Your hands land on the leather of the seat behind Stiles' back and the foggy glass pane of the window. He hears your fingertips glide down the surface as he starts to fuck you harder, and then the sound is combined with your moans when your lips separate from Stiles’.

You call his name, low and breathy.

He hums.

“‘m so close. Keep going. Just like that.” He nods. Then you add, “Little faster.” And he does as told.

Your forehead pressed against his, the sweat on both of your skin making your heads glide more than anticipated. It doesn’t deter either of you. When your nose bumps against Stiles’, he kisses you again. When your head becomes too heavy for you to hold it up, he presses his thumb under your jaw, rests his fingers on the side of your neck, and holds the weight for you.

“You’re so pretty,” he tells you, adding your name at the end to seal the deal. “Baby,” he says, and his heart swells when you hum in response. So he says it again. “Baby, you feel so good. Feel so good, babe.”

He doesn’t know what more he says. He can vaguely recognize his lips forming the words and his own voice in his ears calling you the prettiest girl ever, telling you that he could never get this anywhere else, telling you he never wanted to get this from anywhere else.

“Needed this so bad. I needed you so bad. I’ve missed you.” And just as his words finish, yours begin.

“Stiles, Stiles. Right there. ‘m … I’m…!”

He singles two fingers out, slips them between your thighs, and rubs along your clit until you’re shaking above him and holding onto his wrist between your bodies. He doesn’t know if you’re trying to pull him closer or push him away, but watching you cum is too gorgeous for him to ever dream of making it stop.

So he doesn’t.

Not even when your eyes start to leak and your lips start to plead and you contract around him.

“One more,” he asks. “I just need to see it one more time. Please.”

The sound of him moving in and out of you is loud. He drifts his eyes down to watch it happen, groaning when he just barely sees a broken ring of white glinting in the fluorescents from the parking garage.

It feels a little romantic when you cum and then Stiles follows right after.

The Jeep is warm, the windows are foggy, and there’s an ache in Stiles’ thighs. He knows for every one of his aches, you have three. The condom has been removed, tied, and disposed of in an old paper bag Stiles had sitting on the floor of his car. His pants are pulled back up, but his belt is still undone. His shirt sticks to his skin and he really needs greasy food and a shower.

But if that means leaving this moment, and never returning to it, he could put off his needs and wants for an eternity.

You’re sitting next to him, redressed with the button of your jeans still undone. You’re staring straight ahead, trying to catch your breath as you rub the muscles in your thighs.

Stiles doesn’t know what to say, so he licks his lips and he says, “Uh … do you … um. Would you like some … ice or something? For your legs?”

You smile ahead, turn to face him, and shake your head. “It’ll be fine. Nothing a shower and good sleep won’t fix.” You pause. “And maybe some food.”

Which is how Stiles ends up sitting in your bed, sipping the remnants of his Dr. Pepper as he watches you lather lotion on your legs with your towel still hanging off of your body.

“Your food’s cold,” he tells you. He doesn’t tell you about the handful of fries he stole earlier, but he knows you’ll notice it and hold the grudge for later.

Later. Will there be a ‘later’?

“Be there in a second.” You start to walk back to the bathroom. “Should we go to that place in the morning? Or …” you look at your clock and wince at the time. “Later. The one with the really good pancakes?”

Stiles is quick to agree. He would love to do something with you later.

#stilesworld!#stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski x you #stiles stilinski smut #celeste writes misc

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navstuffs · 11 months

Text

Traffic stop

Pairing: Rookie!Leon Kennedy x BustyF!Reader

Summary: Your sports bra malfunctions during a traffic stop with a shy rookie cop.

Warnings: au obvs, happens in raccoon city, wrote with a busty reader in mind but anyone can read it, shy!leon, accidental exposure, suggestive themes, speeding (DRIVE SAFE PEOPLE!!)

Author's Notes: kudos to my husband for giving me the idea/title. if anyone would like to write a smut version of this, i also wouldn't mind, just let me know! i do have another plan for re2 leon in works cause he is my baby. hope you enjoy your reading!

my leon's masterlist | part 2

It is still hot, you think as you exit the gym after an exhausting leg day. You decide to wear your sports bra while driving home since your car's air conditioner has not worked since you bought it. You always think you will have money to fix it or even buy a new car, but you must work with what you have now.

You sigh, throwing your bag and your shirt on the backseat. The pain in your legs will only worsen, so you decide to drive fast to get home, shower, and relax. And oh, yes, hope the wind provides some sort of comfort on your face. Placing your sunglasses in your eyes, you start going, mentally praying you wouldn't see any cop.

But of course, this isn't your lucky day.

Not even ten minutes on the road, the sound of the siren from a car of Raccoon City P.D. is behind you. You groan an audible no, asking mentally what you did to deserve this.

"Perfect. Great," Your murmur.

You pull into a nearby parking lot, take the paperwork from the glove compartment and throw it in the passenger seat, the air already getting stagnant inside the car, making you sweat.

Your eyes roam to the rearview mirror, wondering where the heck that cop was, when you notice the zipper of your sports bra is half open. You attempt to zip it, but it immediately unzips it again, leaving half of your cleavage exposed. You think it doesn't look bad, so you leave it alone. It is not like you were driving topless anyway.

With droplets of sweat on your forehead, you see the cop coming out in your driver-side mirror. Finally, you think as he takes his sweet time to get to you. He looks young. He seems to take a breath before walking to your car, pulling his pants up and his other hand on his gun, and even someone who doesn't understand anything about cops would know this guy is a rookie.

He approaches slowly and carefully, analyzing your old car, and when he finally stops by your window, the first thing you catch is a pair of innocent blue eyes. Staring right at you.

"Good afternoon, ma'am." You read the name tag Leon Kennedy as his eyes go from your face to your sports bra half open. Officer Leon probably has a great view since your car is on the lower side. He gulps, you don't know if nervousness or something else, then stares directly above your head.

"Afternoon."

"Do you know how fast you were going?" Oh, this one is definitely a rookie, with his voice still showing some nervousness.

"Yeap, I know."

You really don't want to prolong this more than it should, and the way Leon Kennedy seems to stare everywhere except you proves he wants the same.

"Look. I was just trying to get home. Just issue the ticket, and I will be on my way. I will behave, I promise."

That clearly sounded more seductive than you meant to be. You don't judge yourself as a woman who could get out of a ticket by flirting; honestly, you didn't care at this moment. Your whole body is getting sweaty and sticky, with a few drops of sweat coming down from your neck, and your legs are literally pulsating with pain. It is worth trying.

And just for the right timing, you feel a single drop of sweat coming down from your neck to your cleavage. Leon Kennedy's blue eyes follow the trail until the drop disappears inside your bra top, and he gulps, licking his lips.

Well, you may be one of those women who can get away from a ticket by flirting.

"License and breas— I mean, car registration, please."

Leon thanks mentally you don't seem to hear his mispronunciation. You grunt, impatience, turning to grab your documents for Leon. When you turn back at him to hand them, your zipper finally gives up, opening it up completely. It is a nice feeling at first, the same feeling you have from having your boobs released after a long day.

For a moment, you both don't move, too mortified. Officer Leon Kennedy is now staring, really staring, at your boobs. He doesn't even attempt to look away, his face entirely red as a tomato. Your immediate reaction is to try to close the zipper, but it seems it had enough. Leon finally turns around, mumbling an apology.

"I am sorry, I am so sorry, Officer!" You groan as you give up on zipping, going for the shirt under your bag in the back seat.

"It-it is fine!" Leon rushes to say, his voice going high a few tones. If this wasn't embarrassing as it was, you would have laughed at the poor rookie's reaction. But now, great, you were probably going to be arrested for public indecency. You finally find a towel, a medium one, that might work. You cover yourself as best as you can.

After Leon gives you a few moments of privacy, he turns back to face you, and you know, by the expression on his face, you are doomed. You were probably getting arrested for trying to seduce a cop-out of a ticket.

"You can go, ma'am."

"What? Like that?" You wonder before stopping yourself.

"Well, y-yeah. I can see you have much bigger problems to deal with it. Have a good day."

Leon gives you one good final look, a strange glow in his eyes. It seems he wants to say something else, but the moment passes. Leon gives you a slight smirk, his face still red, and walks back to his car.

You watch Leon drive away, your gazes somewhat crossing before he disappears into traffic. You sigh, the external heat forgotten, hoping this isn't your last encounter with Leon Kennedy.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x female reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x female reader #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy imagines #leon kennedy fanfics #leon kennedy imagine #I REALLY WANTED TO MAKE THIS A SMUT but i can't #my brain is like pdffftt #the other re2 leon i have is smut

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cranberryjuice-posts · 3 months

Note

GIRLIE I LOVED YOUR ATHENA DAUGHTER READER ‼️

also guess who’s back can i ask for a athena!daugter reader where it’s kinda like Annabeth trying to tell the reader that “hey clarisse is bad she tried to fucking kill percy she’s evil” and the reader us kinda tries to convince her that Clarisse really isn’t that bad😔

(i love your work girl and your end memes please do more 🔥‼️)

She’s the only one I got

Pairings - Clarisse La rue x daughter of Athena reader

An- fun-fact clarisse loves Dr Pepper It’s cannon Go read the sea of monsters. She’s literally perfect I can’t

An pt 2 - I Hope this is ok i wasn’t really sure what to write but it’s ok bc I’m just a girl

Pt 1 — Pt 2

Palestine aid link

“Are you serious?!” Annabeth yelled, a few of your other siblings backing her up.

You however were standing infront of the full length mirror inside your cabin fixing your outfit which was a pair of bellebottoms and a camp sweater. “Look Annie i get your our counselor and your the smartest out of us all but your not the smartest when it comes to relationships”

“And now she’s starting to sound like an Aphrodite kid” Malcom your brother rolled his eyes before returning to his book. You shot him a hateful look. “All right fine Your right I don’t get relationships like you but I do know clarisse”

“Really?” You sarcastically spoke just wanting the argument to be over. Grabbing some hoops you were deciding between the two different pairs. “Yeah, Clarisse is a hateful arrogant and rude person. She makes fun of our cabin with her siblings and didn’t she use to make fun of you to”

Deciding on the star shape hoop you put the earring in. “Fine! Fine ok I get it but I promise you clarisse is not like that ok she’s sweet, she loves me Annie why don’t you get that” you sighed facing your sister.

The shorter girl crossed her arms, leaning against a desk inside the studious cabin. “Because she’s a bitch”

“Language!”

“I’m 12 why are you giving me shit for cussing you cuss”

“Because I’m 16 you’ve still got two years before you morally can curse now stop.. damn about to make me get Luke” you sighed shaking your head. Facing back to the mirror you analyzed your look.

Annabeth rolled her eyes looking away for some time before facing you once again. “I still don’t trust you being alone with her..”

After finally having enough you turned towards the wiser girl. “Know what fine you can spy on us during our date today, then you’ll see she’s not such a terrible person and you’ll finally get off my ass… deal” you crossed your arms looking down at annabeth.

Your younger sister looked around for a moment feeling somewhat threatened by you before nodding in defeat. “Great” you sighed stepping back, grabbing a small drawstring bag and a book on the stars, you threw on your shoes before leaving.

——

You were sitting in a clearing in the woods, a blanket set out with some strawberries and a pack of Dr Pepper you bought from the Hermes cabin. Annabeth was positioned behind a tree with her cap of invisibility on.

Eventually clarisse showed up. “Five minutes late” you jokingly chastised her.

“Shut up I’m on time” she scoffed sitting down beside you on the blanket. Pulling you into her some she kissed you softly. Her hands finding themselves on your waist

Bringing yourself back you leaned over grabbing a soda, handing it over to the curly haired girl. “Mmhm so how was running around like a fool for the entire morning?”

Clarisse rolled her eyes taking the drink In a harsh joking manner. “First of all its called training and secondly it was actually alot of fun, how was staying up all night to just watch some stupid dots in the sky”

Scrunching your nose at the girl you gave her a sarcastic look. “Yeah you think your so funny huh”

“Yeah I do”

“Mmhm” you knew clarisse was looking at your lips— she wasn’t subtle about it. Tired of her just imagining it you leaned in kissing her again. The playful banter between you two faded away while clarisse deepened the kiss

As much as you wanted to makeout with your girlfriend you weren’t doing it infront of your sister. Pulling back you placed a hand on clarisses arm while darting your eyes to some trees around you with a smile.

The girl furrowed her eyebrows but made a signal to her head almost mimicking a hat. Nodding you knew clarisse understood annabeth was spying on you two.

“Whatever this is stupid” clarisse gave you a teasing look. “What being on a date with your girlfriend? Yeah it’s so stupid” you responded in the same tone.

Clarisse rolled her eyes. “You know that’s not. What I meant” shaking her head you watched as clarisse reached over to her spear grabbing a plastic bag.

Handing it over to you you looked inside. “No way clarisse did you”

“Yeah I did. Your not gonna embarrass me about it if I own up to it” she continued to mess with you. Opening the bag you smiled as your girlfriend made you chocolate chip cookies with the nymphs in the kitchen. “Your the sweetest you know” you becoming flustered while you looked at the treats.

She just rolled her eyes with a smile, laying down clarisse moved around to lay her head in your lap. “Woah careful clarisse you might admit you actually like me a boring Athena kid remember”

“Mmhm Same can be said about you what was that about me being a bitchy ares kid?” She bit back. Flicking her forehead lightly just to get back at her.

You smiled while playing with one of the girls curls. You loved clarisse, wanting to proudly say it but worried you’d scare the girl off so for now you’d settle on just this.. cute dates with her, sneaking into her cabin to spend the night with her and just enjoying the silence with her.

After some time you knew annabeth had left after all she had gotten all the proof she needed. Clarisse knew it to.

“I love you” it finally left your lips. You noticed clarisses body tense making you regret the decision immediately. Clarisse however grabbed your hand kissing your knuckles. “I guess I love you to”

“Shut up”

“Why You Said you loved me”

——

Annabeth - Fine she’s not a bitch

Y/n - ANNABETH!

—

Clarisse - *having a Stare off with annabeth*

Clarisse - do we have a Problem

Y/n - dude..

#lesbian #wlw #clarisse la rue #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #percy jackson fanfiction #clarisse my beloved #clarisse x female reader #butch clarisse #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x you #clarisse larue #percy jackson show #pjo show #pjo fandom

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hispg · 7 months

Text

I will make you forget

Pairings: Roommate! Leon x Fem! Reader

Wc: 2.3k

Summary: After a guy you were dating suddenly ends things with you, you feel bad and blame yourself for the situation. But your roommate Leon promises to make you forget what happened.

Warnings: Porn without plot, smut, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, oral (f receiving), cowgirl, jealousy, praise, dirty talking, overstimulation, pet names.

An: I'm thinking a bit too much about roommate Leon, so there is.

Your day was a mess. Things hadn't worked out at college, apart from the fact that the guy you were meeting just broke things off with you. Over the phone.

You had already noticed his strange behavior over the last few days, but you didn't think things would escalate like this. You thought it would work out this time, and you ended up having a lot of feelings for him.

The first thing you thought of was going back to your apartment, which you shared with a man called Leon, who, by the way, was a great roommate.

And since he wasn't home these days, you could be more free to cry without having to give too many explanations.

You did just that. You stormed into the apartment, ran to your room, and lay down on your bed, curling up like a ball and sobbing your heart out. It was pathetic the way you were still wearing the clothes you'd worn to meet the guy, the idiotic way that this was hurting you in such a manner.

Since you were crying so much, you didn't even notice when Leon came home, steps quiet and silent as always. He thought you weren't home, but that changed as soon as he heard the whimpering coming from your room.

Through the crack in the door, he saw you curled up in the bed, crying a lot. This worried him, and he instinctively went over to your bed, sat down next to you, and put a gentle hand on your back.

"What's wrong?" he whispered, looking at you with a gentle, worried gaze.

You turned to him, your eyes red and swollen, and tears streaming down your face.

"N-nothing..." You said in a sob, hiding your face in the sheets.

He obviously didn't buy your conversation, but he had an answer as soon as he saw a notification on your cell phone, it was from a boy. From the message, he immediately guessed that things hadn't worked out for you, he saw the way you'd been excited over the last few weeks.

He couldn't deny the feeling of jealousy he felt when you talked about the other boy, wishing you were excited about him. But he never had the courage to confess anything to you.

He kept comforting you until you felt better, saying sweet words and caressing you, and this brought you a strange sense of peace.

"You shouldn't cry about these things." He says, his palm caressing your cheek.

You let out a sniffle, sitting up in bed and looking at him. You tried to force a smile, but it didn't work.

He laughed quietly, then said, "Can I do something to make you forget that?"

You looked at him puzzled, then nodded.

He brought his face close to yours, his hand now lifting your chin, his lips met yours, and he gave you a soft, sweet kiss.

"You just need a little love," he murmurs during the kiss, his other hand holding your waist.

You kiss him back, enjoying the feel of his soft lips. He pulls you against him, making you feel the firmness of his body on yours.

It wasn't long before he was gently laying you down on the bed, on top of you.

His hands were now sliding down your body, squeezing and massaging the tense points, his lips not leaving yours for a second.

Once he left your lips, his eyes analyzed you from head to toe, seeing you with your lips parted, lying on the bed, and looking at him with puppy eyes.

"Such a beautiful little thing." He purrs, giving your thigh a little stroke.

You gasped, arching your body a little towards him, your mind a mess, all you could feel was how hot your body was getting. That's because he hadn't done anything yet, just a few kisses, and you could already feel your panties starting to get wet. Imagine when he actually did something?

Suddenly, his hands moved under your thighs, making you spread your legs for him, the grin he gave as soon as he saw that... It was enough to elicit a low whimper from you.

"What a pretty little princess, you don't know how much I've fantasized about it." An almost inaudible whisper, not least because his focus wasn't on you hearing him.

Why was that? Well, his mouth was very busy licking and sucking on your inner thighs, leaving slight marks here and there. His big, warm hands gripping your ass firmly, while he made you moan softly with just those kisses.

"That's so good..." You hum, running your fingers through his hair, and this apparently turned him on even more.

He nodded and was bold enough to run his tongue down your panties, teasing you over the fabric. The bastard went right for your clit, only to draw a sweet moan from your lips.

Your hips bucked involuntarily, urgently needing more contact. Seeing this, he gave a slight grunt, pulling your panties down, licking his lips as soon as he saw your fluids dripping down delicately.

"Fucking pretty." He said, brushing his fingers over your entrance, moving them up and down.

You began to grind against his fingers, begging him with your eyes to do something. Oh, and he certainly did.

He put two fingers in at once, moaning at the way he managed to slide in so easily. You were so wet, and so tight for him.

His fingers curved around you, finding your sweet spots, and with his other free hand he pulled your shirt up along with your bra. He began to fondle your breasts, pinching the nipples between his fingers until they were hard.

By then you were letting his name escape your lips more and more, squirming under him.

"Fucking beautiful," he purrs, placing his lips on your nipple, swirling his tongue around it, "Fucking hot."

"Mhmhm, feels so good..." You moaned, pushing his head against your breast even harder, his fingers moving in and out, curving around and hitting your favorite spots again and again.

The way his voice vibrated on your skin with each moan, you could clearly see him rutting against your thigh. He wanted so much to make you his, to put his cock deep inside you, to fuck you like there was no tomorrow.

But he needed to taste you first, he needed to make you come at least twice. He wanted to make your body feel numb from how good he was going to make you feel.

"I'm close..." You moan, arching your body and clutching the covers in an effort to hold on anywhere.

His smile grew, he stopped sucking your breast, and to your surprise he began to leave a trail of kisses, starting at your chest and going down, belly, navel, crotch, thighs, and finally where you wanted it most, right at your core.

Another cry came from your lips, your eyes rolling back in your head as you felt his tongue lapping at your clit. His fingers are still moving quickly, in and out.

"Come on, cum for me, I want to taste you." He murmured against your abused hole, redoubling his efforts. He was more than willing to make you come.

You were a whimpering mess, writhing and calling his name. At this point, all the sounds in the room were yours, the impure moans and phrases you never imagined would come out of your mouth.

What you needed was a little push, and he did it, taking his fingers out of you and holding your ass with both hands, sinking his face into your pussy.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." You moaned, pushing his head even further, your thighs pressed against his face.

Once he started fucking you with his tongue, it was over. Your body arched, your eyes went to the back of your head and you whimpered so loudly. As if you'd been to heaven and hell all at once.

Your liquids being sucked by him, sparing no drop. He needed to taste you, a taste he fantasized about too much. He never broke eye contact, you could see him staring at you as he stuck out his tongue and licked your center.

It was so erotic, you were getting all wet once again. Feeling your body heat up even more in the aftermath of orgasm.

Without warning, he let your legs fall onto the bed, and he pulled you into a tongue kiss, making you taste yourself on his lips. You moaned together, seeing how impure the whole situation was. The next thing you heard was his belt, soon followed by the sound of a zipper opening.

As if it were a magic trick, he removed his own clothes, leaving him naked. He helps you remove the few pieces left on your body, and just when you thought he was going to mount you and get on top, he doesn't.

On the contrary, he sits on the bed and spreads his legs, with a naughty smile on his face.

"Give me a ride, pretty girl." He purrs, his erection resting on his stomach.

You bite your lip, looking at his full body, and of course you knew he was hot. But seeing him live was something else.

The defined muscles, the six-pack he had, the pale skin that looked so.. Markable. Your head was soon invaded by these thoughts.

And without you even realizing it, your lips were on his chest, leaving light wet kisses, and one of your hands touched his erection, giving it a light stroke.

"Keep going..." He whispered, ruffling your hair and leaning further back on the bed, giving you room to do whatever you wanted.

You licked, nibbled, rubbed and literally feasted on his chest. It was well worth it, as you heard his soft moans from time to time. As well as the generous layer of pre-cum that dripped onto your fingers.

Seeing this, he was quick to pull you by the hips and place you on his lap, your entrance just above his tip. Just a few centimeters away.

He was desperate, he needed to feel what it was like to fuck you, how well he was going to be able to stretch your walls.

His hips begin to buck upwards, threatening to enter you at once. His hands run up your back, each one stopping on your shoulders.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as he captured your lips in a hot, sensual kiss, drawing sweet sounds from you.

With a little force he pushed you down, putting his head inside, eliciting moans and whimpers from both parties.

He was at a point where he couldn't wait, so he thrust his hips upwards as he put you down, making sure he penetrated you all at once.

"Leon!" You moaned at the sudden action, your nails digging into his back.

A wicked grin was his response, and he began to move, while you also grinded against him, both of you moving in sync.

"All you needed was someone to fuck you, didn't you? Someone to claim your pussy?" He purred sensually, rocking into you a little harder.

You nodded, you were being so dumbed down by that cock, going in and out, going so deep and stretching you so well. You couldn't think straight.

Your response was a whimper, your lips parted and you bounced on his cock, as if for the last time.

You could still feel your cunt burning and sensitive from the last orgasm, but who cared? It made things even more exciting somehow.

His hands went down to your ass, separating them and holding them tightly, slamming his cock into you even harder, and you followed the movements.

"Fucking tight, so perfect for me." He growled, leaving a hickey on your neck.

"Mhmhm..." You babble, holding on tightly to his shoulders. You could feel your walls clenching around him, just as he was almost there, too.

Once again his lips find your breast, taking it once more. His tongue playing shamelessly on your nipple.

You were only mumbling things here and there at this point, and you can bet that you sounded just as dumb. Not that you cared much.

"Go on, baby. Come for me, I want to feel it one more time." Fuck, the way he looked at you when he whispered to you.

Your lips open to let out a little squeak, you were so close to the edge.

You obeyed, as if your body was just waiting for this command to finish, you just managed to mutter, "I'm going to come!" Which came out more in the form of a moan than anything else.

And there you went, wetting his cock. The sensation was so overwhelming that you thought you'd pass out. As if your body was numb after yet another orgasm.

He grunted, fucking you with even more fervor, "Fuck, squeeze me harder like that."

That was enough to drive him crazy, with a deep thrust followed by a loud groan he came, filling you with his cum. White cream oozed out of you, his fluids mixing with yours and making a mess.

He kissed you, in a way to calm your nerves, a hot, sloppy tongue kiss, with lots of moans and grunts in between.

"Thank you." You whispered, a shy smile appearing on your lips.

He chuckled, kissing you on the cheek, "You're welcome."

After a few kisses, he rolled you over in bed, snuggling into you and ruffling your hair as you closed your eyes.

"There's a Halloween party in town tomorrow, do you want to go with me?" Leon wasn't much of a party guy, but if it meant spending more time with you, he didn't mind.

Your face lit up, and you hugged him, "Sure, I'd love to go with you."

He sighed contentedly, kissing your forehead, "Well, is going to be a nice day."

You nodded, snuggling with him. It was more than enough to have a date with him. A while later, you were cuddled up, sleeping peacefully.

Who would have thought that on a day like today you'd find this kind of comfort? Things had definitely taken a different turn.

And you loved it, and so did he.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon x y/n #leon x you #leon resident evil #leon kennedy smut #leon smut #leon scott kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut

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merakiui · 6 months

Text

monops's reflection.

yandere!jade leech x (female) reader x floyd leech cw: yandere, nsfw, non-con, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, stalking, unrequited love, obsession, drugging, kidnapping/captivity, restraints, dark/possessive/violent thoughts, biting, blood, characters written as 18+ note - happy birthday, tweels!!! :D may you continue to be crazy.

Mostro Lounge is tranquil tonight, save for the occasional clinking of glass against glass and the soft melodies tumbling from your lips. You busy yourself with song while you wipe the surface of a table, bending forwards to reach the very back with the dampened rag. Jade finds himself eyeing your figure as you flit about, observing the way you wring the cloth free of excess water, your fingers curling into the sodden fabric as if attempting to strangle it. And then it’s promptly dunked into the bucket and wrung out again in repetition. He stands behind the counter and continues to dry the same glass he started on two minutes ago, its shiny surface reflecting his distracted countenance.

There’s something curious about you.

He can’t quite put his finger on what that something is. The more he analyzes you, the further he strays from a proper interpretation of your character. For a human who can’t use magic, you’re surprisingly selfless. You cheer your friends on in their academic endeavors, offering them your help whenever it feels like they might need it, and you carry your own weight at the lounge, boldly standing up to patrons who get too big for their britches. Jade wanted to pity you in the beginning, when customers had been rough and rude with you, but you’d dealt with every difficulty with a bright grin and a few choice words.

You’re strong; you never back down.

Jade sets the glass in its rightful place and reaches for another, all while keeping his mismatched stare on you. He wonders how much pressure it would take for you to finally snap. Would you still be able to smile then? Could you even manage to stay afloat in pessimistic waters with that blithe façade of yours? If he were to cut into you with knife and fork—with dreadfully sharp words and even sharper actions—would you allow yourself to bleed out? Or would you accept your fate and smile up at him from your porcelain plate, promising him you’ll patch yourself up because it isn’t a big deal?

When you act so cheerful, so blissfully ignorant to the beast who lurks behind, it sets a potent yearning aflame. A yearning to break you well beyond repair. A yearning to take that smile, chew it up, and spit it out until it’s the most devastated frown he’s ever seen.

“Good work today, Jade!” With a breathless huff—he wants to bottle that breath and each one that will follow—you set the bucket down and roll your shoulders. Exhaustion shadows your face, adding deceptive age to your youthful appearance. “Do you need any help?”

“I’m quite all right. Thank you, though.” He returns your smile with one of his own, the usual placid, tight-lipped thing that both eases and unsettles depending on the situation. His default expression, forever the same unless circumstances call for the other faces he’s stowed in his vast repertoire. “You’re more than welcome to head back if you’ve finished for the evening. I can handle the rest.”

“You sure?” The bucket is in your hands again, and you carry it over to the sink to empty the murky water into the basin. He notes the way your arms shake ever so slightly as you struggle to balance the heavy thing against the counter. “I don’t mind waiting here until you’re done.”

“Very well. In that case, I won’t take too long.”

He finishes drying the remaining lineup, arranging each on its respective shelf before wiping the counter for extra measure. He doesn’t have to do it, but he does. It never hurts to be clinically clean.

Floyd should be done with the stock count by now, he thinks, gazing at the door leading to the kitchen. I should check it just in case.

After folding his rag into a neat square and tucking it away, he strides over to the door, opens it a crack, and pokes his head inside. The kitchen space is devoid of life. With furrowed brows, Jade opens the door wider just as Floyd jumps out from his spot behind the racks. He’s holding the clipboard in one hand and flailing with the other. His attempt at a fright does nothing to startle Jade, but it does cause you to flinch back. You do that a lot. Jade’s noticed that you scare easily, often falling victim to Floyd’s pranks during your shifts. It’s all harmless fun, but sometimes Jade catches himself wishing for Floyd to push you just a little harder. A little rougher. Maybe one day he will and Jade will finally witness tears lining your lashes.

“F-Floyd!” you snap, humiliated.

“Gotcha, Shrimpy. You always fall for it, y’know? Like a silly, stupid Shrimpy.” He passes the clipboard to Jade on his way out and adds, “Pretty sure everything’s correct.”

“Is it?” Jade peers at his brother’s handwriting. “If you don’t mind, I’ll review it once more.”

“Be my guest. Wasn’t really havin’ a ball fillin’ it out anyway.” He shrugs and then beelines for you, lifting you into the air with ease. He spins you despite your protests. Nasally laughter soon overtakes silence. Floyd has always been fond of your reactions; he eats them up as if it’s a special treat. “I wonder if you’ll get sick. You get motion sickness, Shrimpy? Tell me! Tell me!”

A covert smile stretches onto Jade’s mouth as he disappears into the kitchen, the door swinging shut behind him. While he goes over the numbers and corrects the errors Floyd’s made, he listens to you pleading with his brother to release you. Most of the numbers align with the remaining supplies and ingredients, and he adds his own notes in the margins so that Azul will know which are especially low and in need of replenishment. Checking his brother’s work isn’t a favorite pastime of Jade’s, but when it comes to the lounge and its success he’d rather look over a few numbers than watch sales plummet and listen to Azul’s endless slew of woeful complaints.

Once he’s made the necessary changes, he slips the sheet from the clipboard and heads back out. You’re in the process of chasing after Floyd, who’s holding your timecard above his head and dangling it like it’s a piece of bait. Part of Jade wants to enjoy the spectacle, but the other part is ready for the sweetness of sleep. For once he sides with the latter and clears his throat to get Floyd’s attention.

“Ah, you’re already done?” Having lost interest in the game, he drops your card at once. It flutters to the floor, and he watches with wide, gleeful eyes as you swoop down to catch it. “That all we gotta do?”

“I believe so. Azul’s staying late, so he will lock up.”

Jade sets the inventory sheet on the nearest table for Azul to find before retrieving and filling out his timecard. Floyd hasn’t even marked his hours yet, and Jade exhales an empty sigh and takes the initiative to write it in for him. It’s always been like this. Jade looks out for Floyd, not only because they’re family and have always done so, but because there are some instances where he’s much too careless.

It has been noted that the two of them are a package deal. A duo. A pair. Inseparable twins who balance each other with varying levels of insanity. Their bond is unbreakable, having been built from blood and the will to survive ever since they were vulnerable elvers. Floyd is a reflection of Jade, and Jade is a reflection of Floyd; that’s how they have lived. Like day and night, sugar and salt, and light and dark, they operate like clockwork, expertly in time with one another.

The center of their relationship has always remained the same, and Jade suspects it will never change, even after they’ve acclimated to human society. They are predators with finely honed instincts, masquerading above the water as humans. With razored rows of teeth and an insatiable hunger for unpredictability, the two of them function in a domesticated world. In order to survive in such a foreign environment, Jade has learned that they need each other, which is why it’s so salient that they get along most days.

And much like night and day, like a person with a shadow, one cannot exist without the other.

“See ya tomorrow, Shrimpy!” Floyd flashes you a jovial grin as you take your leave, but there’s a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. “I’ll be waiting…”

“Um, yeah… H-Have a good night.”

With your timecard now in Jade’s capable hands, he’s free to observe your handwriting. There’s nothing special about the way you write, but it still manages to mesmerize him. Every loop of each letter, messily intertwining like frayed strings of fate, adds charm to the script. It’s obvious you tried and failed to sign your name in cursive, but the fact that you even bothered to do so is cute.

It’s truly not that important, he reminds himself as he places the cards back where they belong.

“Shall we head back now?”

Floyd nods, stifling a yawn. As they walk through peaceful halls, he adds in a conversational tone, “Awfully boring when Shrimpy’s not around.”

Jade weighs that declaration and finds himself nodding in agreement. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

i. on a moonlit night, under an eave of twinkling stars, monops waltzes gracefully with the ghost of his other half. the shards of a shattered mirror reflect two sides of the same coin, of human and monster. when the clouds part and an ethereal beam encases the solitary monops, the illusion melts away into a fleeting dream.

Floyd is everything Jade is not: energetic, extroverted, and brash. Such adjectives can’t possibly describe Jade’s outward demeanor—the one he carefully orchestrates for public consumption. He’s polite and kind, soft-spoken and always wearing a smile despite the situation. He cloaks himself in a many-layered mask—a perfect predator with multiple disguises at his disposal. If he must shed a dozen skins to uphold his gentlemanly disposition, then he will gladly peel them away one at a time until he’s found one that fits flawlessly over bone. Jade could never hope to become what Floyd is, but what Floyd is not Jade is. And he is composed of qualities that reflect Floyd’s own behaviors.

He’s not ashamed to admit what he lacks. This is just a facet of life. You can never truly have everything you want. If the world was fair, everyone would achieve their goals without adversity. Any aspiration, no matter how small and insignificant, requires an adequate fight to be worthy of achievement. Survival is not much of a dream, but it’s the only thing Jade’s ever known as he floats through the world alongside his brother. His dreams are Floyd’s, or so that’s what he’s always told those who enquire. He shares these things with him because he does not have any to call his own.

Not yet, at least.

And sharing—it’s a word he knows well. Everything that Jade owns, Floyd owns as well. They share the same face, the same room, the same clothes. They might even come to share the same lover one day, should they both find their hearts pierced by Cupid’s miserable arrows. Jade has never been against the concept of sharing. It’s an acceptable way of life for him. He grew up practicing the concept, and it has taught him how to coexist with others. Sharing is an extension of the bonds he’s formed.

Still, he’s avaricious in some aspects. Hopelessly so.

There’s no denying the difficulty that arises when one wishes to share in the turbulent waters of the Coral Sea, where the natural order caters to the strong and crushes the weak, but splitting the essentials is what guarantees survival. And if it’s worked so well in the past, why should he stop now? Therefore, sharing will always be a priority, even if their desires are fraught with selfish envy.

Jade is watching you again.

You’re sitting in the courtyard with Azul, gesturing wildly as you recount a story he can’t hear from where he stands behind a stone pillar. Azul’s expression is soft with amusement; his lips quirk up in laughter, and his eyes never leave yours. Your cursive may be a mess and you might be feeble in the face of danger, but you certainly know how to enthrall others. If Jade didn’t know any better, he’d suspect you to be a siren. Night Raven College would be the perfect hunting ground for a predator of that nature. Perhaps once you’ve charmed Azul you’ll devour his heart and leave a streak of gore in your wake.

That’s impossible.

Jade is certain of this fact because he knows you’re not a predator. You are very much the harmless prey who has wandered into a den of ravenous beasts. He wonders if the thought that Azul may be dangerous ever crosses that empty, pea-sized brain of yours. He’s as much of a hunter as the rest of the students here, and with those eight tentacles of his he could easily send you to a watery grave. You wouldn’t have much of a chance to struggle, not unless Azul’s own benevolence grants you that futile hope. Thinking about it—about the thrill of a one-sided scuffle—has his heart racing, his palms wetting with sweat.

Oh, but you’re not meant to be Azul’s prey.

So get out of his eyes. Step off of the stage that entertains. Untangle yourself from unseen tentacles.

You are Jade’s.

From the moment the two of you crossed paths—from the moment you took up a job at the lounge and relied on him during your training—you belonged to him.

And he’s not quite sure he wants to share you with anyone.

Perhaps that dumb smile of yours hides something far darker. Perhaps your blood wouldn’t taste as delectable as he once hoped if it’s already been tainted by Azul’s silver tongue. In his own paradise, an ideal world constructed within the confines of his mind, you wouldn’t look at another man, another woman, another person. Not another living thing. You wouldn’t speak to another man, another woman, another person. Not another living thing. You wouldn’t know the tastes of sweet poison or bitter love unless Jade chooses to bestow these flavors unto you. You would only see him, only taste him, only adore him with those wondrous eyes—eyes that are so impossibly strong even when the harshest of insults are thrown your way.

So get the fuck out of Azul’s eyes. Step off of the damned stage that entertains. Untangle yourself from unseen tentacles before Jade slices all of them off at the root.

These feelings ignite a perilous, potent spark deep within his chest. Seeing you smile at Azul in such a casual setting—it’s not right. This terrarium display is wrong. So wrong.

The internal fuse has been lit and it’s nearing its inevitable implosion. Stop looking at him with those eyes. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.

If Jade could, he would slice your smile off and keep it for himself. Pin it to the wall like it’s a rare species of butterfly, your wings having been severed from the sky.

You’re unbearable.

He fears you wouldn’t belong anywhere in his ideal world, for if you found yourself in the depths of the Coral Sea he wouldn’t allow you to surface.

The most confounding specimen I’ve ever encountered.

Azul is an only child. His mother and step-father would miss him terribly.

— — —

Jade spies the delightful pep in your step as you skip past the bar later that same day. You’re balancing drinks and desserts on a tray as you make your way to a nearby table, and he’s immediately reminded of why he’s so drawn to you. You’re a puzzle he has yet to solve—an experiment he has yet to collect enough data from. If he could, he’d shrink you down to the size of his index finger and place you in one of his terrariums so that you could live out your tiny life amongst an array of plants. And Jade would be content to observe from above like a godly sovereign with the power to change your fate in a single snap.

Perhaps it’s not right to view you as a specimen or prey. Perhaps it would be better to regard you as a slab of meat, raw and uncooked, just waiting to be snatched up in his maw.

“Please enjoy!”

Your voice pulls him from his reveries. It’s a melody he’s come to savor in solitude. Naturally lilting, it’s the type of voice even the most jealous of souls would covet. He wants to reach deep inside your throat, grasp it for himself, and cradle it to his ear as if it’s a secret-spilling conch.

But claiming ownership of your sound isn’t enough. He wants to—needs to—devour your everything. Your body and soul, marking you as his, ensuring you’re kept under his thumb forever, seared into his own existence like a brand. Then your every breath will be his, and the blood that courses through your veins shall also become his. The darkest of reds might just suit you more than the aquatic hues of Mostro Lounge’s uniform.

Oh, what he’d give to paint you in vinous vermillion.

“Jade, could you cover for me? I’m going to take my break now if that’s okay with you.” Jade must have scanned your hopeful expression for longer than normal because you begin to fidget in front of him, toying with the hem of your apron. “Uh, that’s fine, right?”

“Yes, of course. Go right ahead.” He sends you off with his trademark smile, dusting his destructive thoughts away.

After you’ve retreated to the kitchen, he turns his gaze on the patrons, listening to the noisy din of laughter and chatter. He overhears a group discussing peculiar textbook titles and how most of them are unnecessarily convoluted and complicated. One of the students brings up a title that didn’t make any sense to him and he describes his surprise when he learned it was a book full of love spells and potion recipes. His friends, as all close friends often do, crack jokes at his expense, prodding for more information on who he intends to enchant. The conversation is bland and juvenile, but it does manage to strike a chord of curiosity in Jade.

Love.

Jade has never known the true meaning of romance. Such a thing does not exist in his perfect world. In some lonesome corners of the ocean, merfolk reproduce because they must. Because it’s the only way to survive. It will be like that for him and Floyd in the future, lest they find themselves ensnared in true love’s deadly trap and choose to reproduce for the sole purpose of fickle feelings. To mate out of love rather than obligation—it’s not unheard of and he isn’t opposed to it. Many humans adopt this way of life.

Jade would like to try it for himself, but he doesn’t know how. He’s never known the answer to this question—the one equation he could never work out. Is his heart too small, or is he incapable of comprehending the complexities of romance? Perhaps neither is true. When he considers the requirements that must be met to qualify love as love, he realizes the adoration he feels for you is not fluffy or innocent. Can such a grand obsession be classified as love if it’s dark and spiraling, condemning him to horrific visions?

Jade does not gaze upon you with fondness. He looks at you as if you’re to be his next meal.

Even when he feels like breaking you would quell some monstrous urge within him, there’s another side that wishes to simply lock you away and protect you from the world and its inhabitants. Because it’s the world that will save you from him, but if you were imprisoned in his world, where it would be just you and him, no one could ever hope to reach you.

Jade isn’t entirely cruel. He would like to share his hobbies with you. He would like to live alongside you in the Coral Sea, tying his life to yours. It’s not an impossible desire, but he knows you wouldn’t be content with this arrangement. Not because it would be unwilling. Not because it would be Jade who has fallen for you and dragged you beneath the waves. It’s precisely because it’s the sea that you might object. You would have to adapt to life in a new, underwater environment. You would have to relinquish certain pleasures unique to the surface, abandoning your bipedal friends and family to live in isolation with him.

But isolation is better than the other terrariums that wait for you. He’ll smash all of them so that you’ll only know this one—the one with him.

Jade has been moving on autopilot for so long now that it finally occurs to him that you’re nowhere to be found. The longer he spends counting the lounge’s staff, the more his observations are proven true. You haven’t returned from your break, which is very unusual considering you’ve always been so diligent about time management. Responsible, that’s what you are. It’s one of the qualities that’s won Azul over.

He surmises it has also shocked his heart with bolts of not-so-lovely lightning.

Despite the bustling, crowded lounge, he slips inside the kitchen to search for you. Usually Floyd’s crowding around you whenever you have a moment to spare, but he isn’t anywhere in sight either. Jade knows his brother and his mood swings well. When he isn’t feeling the lounge, he’ll escape elsewhere until his mood has been restored. He can understand and overlook Floyd’s absence, but yours is inexcusable.

The chefs are hard at work cooking up delicious meals, and all kinds of savory scents blanket the air. Jade glances at the knife block tucked away in a corner, filled with blades of varying sizes, as he passes. After watching you for so long, he’s learned that you often spend your breaks in the storage room, away from the eyes of customers and Azul. Perhaps the space has become something of a comfort for you, or maybe you just like taking shelter in the kitchen.

A sharp gasp joins the chefs’ clattering.

Jade’s stare snaps towards the storage room door. He frowns when he notices it’s been left ajar.

As he approaches, he can make out the sounds of rustling fabric and salacious gasps. He peers through the sliver into the dimly lit space, a single yellow eye spying a terrible scene. It takes a lot to stun Jade Leech, but the view before him is stunning in a very crooked way. It sends a shockwave rumbling through his body, temporarily freezing him to his spot. Unable to look away, to preserve his eyes and mind, he watches. Every inch of him itches.

Bile claws up his throat with acidic fingers.

You’re pressed against the shelves, skirt hiked high and panties pushed haphazardly to the side. Towering over you, anatomy pinned to yours in a sinful connection, is Floyd. His hands are gripping your wrists as he rocks forward to slot himself deeper inside. You search for a solid hold to steady yourself, burying your head in your arm to muffle your keening cries.

“Please… It’s… S’too much. Hold on,” you babble, clinging like a koala.

Floyd leans in to nip at the shell of your ear, eliciting a shudder and a squeal from you. “Not happening, Shrimpy…” His lips travel along the length of your neck, pressing playful kisses into your skin. “You’re really so cute, you know that? So cute and soft… I can’t keep my hands off of ya.”

“We really—oh—really shouldn’t do—hah—this!”

Floyd hums, nonchalant, and slowly slides out of your tight, gummy walls. The tip of his cock prods at your pussy once more, glistening with the dew of your essence.

“Why not?”

“Seriously… What if someone sees us? What if—”

Your retort is cut short when he snaps his hips against yours, filling you in a single thrust. You crumple in his arms, tears gathering in your eyes.

Tears. Because of Floyd. Tears.

“So what if they do? I’ll get ’em good if they peep on my Shrimpy.” He licks a stripe up your neck and then sinks his pointed teeth into the area, hard enough to draw blood. You flinch against him, your pretty face contorting with a mixture of pleasure and discomfort while he laps up your blood. Floyd hums merrily, the sound coming deep from within his chest. “Shrimpy always tastes so yummy. I wanna do this aaall the time!”

“Wait, don’t leave any marks!”

“Oops. Too late.” Grinning boyishly, he grabs your chin and tilts your head up to meet his greedy lips. “Lemme kiss it better for ya.”

Jade watches you melt into the kiss, watches you become putty in his twin brother’s hands. Your eyes flutter shut for the briefest moment, only to flash open when Floyd begins to thrust into you. He sets a hasty, sporadic pace as he pursues an orgasmic high. Your sobs are swallowed in sloppy, open-mouthed kisses that leave you breathless and reaching. You claw at anything stable enough to support you, your fingers curling into Floyd.

A perfect fit.

While he stands there and takes in the sight of his brother claiming the angel he had hoped to someday make his, it dawns on him that the entire storage room is stained with the memory of you. Your smell, your existence, your everything—it lingers even when you aren’t here. It is imprinted on the walls and shelves; it is on Floyd. Your entire soul has been his long before Jade even laid eyes on you.

Now he knows why you frequent the storage room. Now he knows your secret.

He’ll open your torso and pry it out of you, crush it underfoot, and insert a new secret. A better secret. His secret.

Floyd finishes inside of you with a husky, satisfied groan, his arms wrapped possessively around your trembling frame while you bite back bawdy moans. Jade is overcome with a loathsome chill. You have never belonged to him. Not ever. Certainly not now.

“We should get back out there.” Your mumbling reaches his ears, subdued in the cramped storage room. “Before someone comes looking.”

“Don’t wanna. S’warm and cozy inside.”

“Floyd…” Greedy hands are roaming beneath your shirt. You squirm, attempting to pull yourself off of his softening cock, but he yanks you against his chest and holds firm. “We can do this again later. But right now I need to clean up and you have to work. If we take too long, someone will definitely come looking.”

Floyd rolls his eyes, unwilling to acquiesce until yellow crosses yellow. For a strained moment Jade holds his brother’s inquisitive stare, investigating his blank expression for an iota of emotion. The air stales between the both of them, unspoken accusations festering. And then Floyd’s dull hues brighten and a wide smirk blossoms on his lips.

“Fine, fine. We’ll get back to work now.”

An apocalypse rages within Jade’s terrarium heart.

ii. when he turns to the shards for a solution, the image that is offered is weak and hazy. if he is to live without his other half, he must find ways to fill in the blanks. and so it is said that the lonesome monops clutched the largest shard in a resolute fist and cut away the impression of his other half.

In some cases, Jade is Floyd’s shadow, a reasonable body double who is admired for his patience and persistence. Sometimes he’s the collar and the leash; other times he is meticulously unrestrained. Everything is an act, carefully curated for unsuspecting audiences. Floyd is all physical destruction. He is swift like a clean cut, devastating like a tsunami.

For the first time in a while, Jade cannot bear the face he sees in the mirror. It doesn’t feel like it belongs to him, for it is a reflection of Floyd. It’s a permanent reminder that the two of them are linked whether or not he fancies that. But Jade does not want to be the collar and the lash, nor does he wish to recall the day Floyd took yet another precious thing from him. This face is proof that even he cannot have anything for himself. It is evidence that he is bound to share and share and share until death. He will remain as the shadow, the dark, the salt, and the night for all of eternity, a two-faced creature lacking a true identity.

Neither of them addresses the elephant in the room. If Floyd shows any indication that he wants to bring it up, Jade sweeps the topic away before it can poison his mood. He knows as well as Jade does that it’s not worth bickering over, even if their hackles raise whenever they look at each other.

So Floyd’s been fucking you in the storage room. What’s so traumatic about that? Really, it shouldn’t come as a surprise, but the image still persists in his head like a ruthless phantom. He’s left lying awake at night, sifting through that memory and the ones that came before it for any inkling of what went wrong. Was it his own patience that cost him? Was it the fact that Floyd could charm you in ways Jade just couldn’t?

They have the same face. So why did you choose to love his other half?

Without Floyd, Jade feels incomplete. That’s his family—his only brother. He shouldn’t hate his kin, but he can’t just sit with envy and frustration and pretend as if it’s okay.

The mirror reflects his grim countenance, sneering at him with troubling familiarity. Cracks spiderweb along the length of the glass, extending outwards from where his fist landed. Pain sparks beneath bruising knuckles, masterfully hidden under the pristine fabric of a pure-white glove.

The terrarium is filling with foul things, and Jade doesn’t have enough control to stop the invasion.

— — —

“It’s been really slow today, hasn’t it?” you ask, looking to Jade for his input.

“I’ll admit it’s unusually quiet.” He glances at you, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. He’s tired, but it hardly shows. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No, not at all! I welcome the break. Still… It’s weird. Mostro Lounge almost always has lots of customers.”

“I suppose it’s less work for us.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

Heaving a relieved sigh, you rest your elbows on the counter, content to watch the few patrons lingering in the lounge. Jade’s eyes travel along the length of your back, over the the dip and swoop of your spine when you bend forward, and he’s immediately brought back to the day he discovered you and Floyd in the storage room.

“I’ve got it!” you announce moments later, lighting up like a bulb. “The reason it’s so quiet.”

“Oh?” He raises a brow, feigning ignorance.

“It’s because Floyd’s not here. Everything’s super lively when he’s around.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm. It’s a shame he’s not scheduled today. Oh, but it’s not so bad when it’s just the two of us. We’re a good team!”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“I’m happy we can talk like this. It feels like we never have the chance to speak during work and I’m always worried I’ll bother you if I try to start a conversation.”

“You couldn’t possibly bother me.” Jade pauses to ruminate on his thoughts before adding, “Well, you were awfully troublesome in the beginning. Ah, don’t look so upset. I’m only admitting my feelings.”

“Am I still troublesome?” You cross your arms over your chest, pouting.

You are. Very much so, I’m afraid.

“I tolerate you now.”

“That doesn’t sound any better!”

Jade chuckles. “It’s merely constructive criticism. Take it in stride.”

“Ugh. You’re the worst.” Despite that, a smile creeps onto your face.

It’s the same smile you show Floyd, so therefore it has no meaning. It’s not special.

Jade abhors it. He should be the one in that storage room with you. It should be Jade who touches and lavishes you with filthy praise before inevitable destruction. Consolation before bruises and bite marks. Sugar before salt. Love before lust.

You can’t possibly fit in his make-believe terrarium now—not when your heart lies with Floyd. Just what is his brother to you? What do you possibly see in him that you fail to see in Jade? They are the same. They are mirror images of one another. There is no difference.

So why won’t you look at him with admiration in your eyes? Eyes he’ll gouge out for beholding another man. Why won’t you kiss him in secret? Lips he’ll sew shut for touching a mouth that isn’t his. Why won’t you beckon him into that cursed storage room and pull him flush against you, joining together in bodily matrimony? A body he’ll cage to prevent it from fleeing. Why can’t you love him until the very feeling is leaking from your pores? Leaking like the blood that will run far and red when he transplants his love into your chest. Why must you associate yourself with the other half—the better half?

The half that’s won.

It doesn’t matter if Floyd’s willing to share. Jade isn’t feeling charitable. He doesn’t want to cut you up into tiny shreds and share. You’re for his enjoyment. This is a non-negotiable fact.

Perhaps he’s the worst just as you claimed. Because if he was the best he’d have you. Because if he was the best he wouldn’t feel the need to mourn a gutting loss. Because if he was the best he wouldn’t feel the need to fall back on a nasty trump card. But when fair play fails, one must resort to sordid schemes in order to secure victory. You can’t expect to climb the corporate ladder without stepping on a few rotted rungs in the ascent, courtesy of those who came before.

It’s fine if he plays dirty. After all, his feelings have never been defined by purity.

“You seem tired. Would you like me to fetch you something to drink?”

“Mm, yeah. Could you? I’d hate to trouble you.”

“It’s not a problem. Will tea be suitable?”

“Sure. I could go for chamomile. I heard you’re great at making tea, so I know it’ll be good.”

“I still have much to learn, but I’m flattered you hold me in such pleasant regard.”

“I doubt you could ever fail. You’re always succeeding. I’m actually kinda jealous. How are you so good at—oh! Someone needs me at table three. Be right back.”

Jade nods, replaying your words in a loop. I doubt you could ever fail. You’re always succeeding. But he has failed. He’s failed and it’s eating him alive because you’re so close and yet out of his reach.

You spread your wings like a good social butterfly and abandon your place at the counter. Jade’s left to prepare your tea in peace. He chooses from the vast selection lining the wall—chamomile just as you suggested—and goes through the motions of filling the kettle with fresh water. He’s working on a time limit here, so he withdraws his magic pen, mutters the proper incantation, and waits for the telltale hiss. Even though he would like to prepare it with the utmost care, he must be hasty and stealthy if he wants to slip the special ingredient in without garnering unwanted attention.

Luckily, you’re trapped in a conversation with a friend and won’t be returning to his side anytime soon. That’s another trait he’s learned about you. Just like Floyd, you adore chatting. It’s not difficult to hold a conversation with you, especially when you’re the one leading it. You shine when you speak. He needs to snuff you before anyone else comes to seek your light.

Perhaps it’s this intoxicating quality of yours that caught Floyd’s heart. Jade can’t quite ascertain when he started looking at you from less-than-friendly angles or what the exact catalyst for your relationship with his twin was. It must have begun as a wicked fascination. An innate curiosity with the surface and its humans. How else could Floyd have fallen for you if he rarely spoke with you? Was it your strengths that earned his approval? Was it your humanity that left him impressed?

It’s not fair, but Jade won’t whine about it. He’s not a child. Whining won’t solve anything.

He must love you until you shatter.

The kettle whistles, thus yanking him from his innermost contemplations. He lifts it, minding the burning surface, and pours the water into a porcelain cup. Steam rises and furls like wispy, ghostly fingers. He could keep the vial hidden in his pocket and serve you a normal cup of chamomile. But the situation isn’t normal and he can’t just charm you as he normally would.

That didn’t work, so he must cross that method off his list and resort to what’s next. It’s only natural to fight for the thing you cherish most, so he shall do just that.

If Floyd hasn’t broken you yet, he certainly will.

You’re back at the counter just as he finishes stirring it in with the now darkening, tea-tainted water. Jade hands it to you, reminding you that it’s still hot. It’s an empty warning. He couldn’t care less if the liquid scorches your tongue. Let it burn, he thinks, his eyes narrowed as he watches you blow on it so it’ll cool faster. Perhaps then you’ll stop tangling your tongue with him.

Sometimes love is as unforgiving as the deep sea, turbulent and harrowing. Sometimes you must kill the one you love to truly understand the feeling—to dissect it down to the biological, scientific level.

Like always, he observes you while you drink the tea throughout the remainder of your shift. You look so sleepy, your eyelids fluttering and snapping open. You’re slipping; he can see it. Jade wonders what face you might show him later—what emotion will reflect in fragile eyes.

He knows it won’t be love, but that doesn’t stop him from hoping.

iii. separated from his other half, monops is unrecognizable—a hollow monster who has lost fractions of his humanity in a selfish effort to dispose of unnatural characteristics. he cannot hope to find his own personality amidst the mess in his tower, so he sits before the broken, bloodied shards once again. his other half meets him there, shattered and in pieces as he stares.

You shift in your sleep, just barely breaching the surface of consciousness. Jade placed you on his bed after carrying you from the lounge to his and Floyd’s room, where he proceeded to bind your arms and gag you. You look mostly peaceful tangled in his sheets, an oblivious thing who knows nothing of the mountains he’s had to scale in order to arrive at this point—at the glorious top.

Floyd’s not here, but Jade suspects he might have already known what was coming. They’ve always known how to read the other. Maybe it’s telepathy.

Or maybe not. They’re just aware of the other’s monstrosities. That’s all there is to it.

It’s then when your eyes snap open. Jade doesn’t bother to hide the smile crawling onto his face as he watches you come to, slowly assessing your surroundings. It doesn’t take long for you to start struggling once you’ve registered the tie binding your wrists together and the gag shoved into your mouth. Your voice comes out muffled, but your nostrils are flaring. Your eyes are widening. He can smell your fear—taste it on the tip of his tongue.

It prickles his skin, sets it on fire.

Jade sits primly at the edge of Floyd’s bed, content to study you from a distance. You’re writhing desperately in an attempt to loosen the restraints. He’s tied them well. It’s a technique mastered and put into practice. You’re not getting out of this.

“You fainted.”

You startle, turning your head to look at him. The fear seems to diminish for a moment before it returns in full force. Your glassy eyes are pleading: Why?

“It’s not wise to overwork yourself. You should prioritize your health more.”

Oh, is this it? Are those tears? Already? When he hasn’t even done anything to you yet? Have you really been this weak all along?

You try to talk despite the gag, and the attempt is so pitiful that Jade crosses over to tug it down from your mouth. Saliva strings from the gag. Messy.

“Jade! What the hell?! Why am I tied up? Why am I in your room?”

He frowns. “I’ll admit I’m rather…displeased.” He could unleash the torrent right now, but he won’t. Not yet. “Perhaps you might know why my mood has soured?”

“I… What? Is this because I fainted? Look, I’m sorry. I’ll take better care of myself. Please don’t make this a big deal.”

He tilts his head, confused. “I don’t quite care that you fainted.” He seizes your chin and forces you to meet his mismatched hues. “I care about the company you keep.”

“The company I keep? I don’t understand. What are you—”

“Give it some thought.” His fingers dig into your cheeks. Hard.

You yelp, attempting to pull away. He doesn’t release you. “I don’t know what you mean! Seriously, what’s all of this about? Did I do something wrong? Please… Please let me go.”

“You’re getting there.” He lessens the pressure on your jaw. “Come now. You’re so close.”

“Jade, please—”

“This is regarding your involvement with my brother,” he begins, and horror settles on your face. “Ah, so you are following. Wonderful.”

“Did you… Did you see us?”

“More than I ever wanted to see, yes.” He smiles thinly and releases you. “I thought it was such a dreadful, ugly thing to behold. My own kin lusting after the only thing I’ve ever loved to such a degree.” He swipes a faux tear from his eye. His voice drops to a threateningly low decibel next, and darkness passes over his features. He looks scarily grotesque. “It made me so ill. Seeing you in that closet with Floyd… Watching you talk to Azul—to everyone else—makes me so ill. I fondly contemplated the most troubling things.”

“W-What?”

“It truly is a conundrum.” He sighs as if unloading a heavy burden. “To feel so strongly for something that even love and hate become one and the same… I want nothing more than to strangle you whenever I see you with Floyd, with Azul, with anyone who isn’t me. I want to cut into your torso and make you suffer tenfold for what I’ve had to endure.” His fingers curl around your ankles, sliding down to reach your shoes. He unties the laces, sliding both from your feet. And then he’s grasping them, rubbing circles into your soles. “I want you to look at me no matter what, even when you’re a shredded, bloodied mess.”

“You… You’re joking, r-right?”

“Am I?” He smiles again, but it’s wider this time. Exhilarated. Excited. “Should we see who’s laughing when I sever your feet at the ankles? He peels your socks off next, tossing them over his shoulder. “Do you think that’s a fitting punishment?”

“Fuck no! You’re insane!”

He hums his acknowledgement and reaches for your skirt. Your heart drops into your stomach, every muscle tightening with raw terror. Instinctively, you kick out at him. Your foot slams into his chest. If it hurts, he doesn’t let it show.

“Don’t you dare touch me, you creep! Stay the fuck away!” By the third kick, he catches your foot. And he stares at it. Quietly. Expressionlessly. There is nothing in his face. That horrifies you. “Jade… Jade, I’m sorry. Can we please… Can you please stop this?”

“Am I truly that undesirable? You would rather have Floyd than me?”

“Yes, of course! Floyd’s not a fucking pervert like you!”

Jade’s laughter is sudden and short. It trembles through him like an earthquake. “Forgive me. It was so funny I just had to chuckle.” A smug smile takes up residence on his face. “Do you really think Floyd is so pure? That he’s the perfect partner all humans dream of?”

“He didn’t outright admit to wanting to murder me so, uh, yeah, he’s much better than your crazy ass!”

Jade squeezes your foot once before setting it down on the bed. He crawls over you, his hands snaking up your thighs. “That’s a shame. You’ll think differently soon enough. He just hasn’t given you reason to fear him yet.”

“I highly doubt—hey! Don’t touch there!” You struggle again, your breath coming in short, helpless huffs. “Let go of me. Please. Jade, let go…” Your voice trails off, spotted with distress.

His hand settles over your clothed pussy next. Two fingers press up against that sacred spot, tracing the area experimentally. “This is that warm and cozy place, yes?” You shake your head at him, lips trembling. He smirks, vicious and mean, and strokes slow, soothing lines up and down the outline. “Is it your safe day? Ah, but perhaps love is stronger than medicine. Stronger than all of the filth Floyd’s emptied in you. What do you think?”

“No… No, stop!”

“It really did sicken me—the thought of you and Floyd. Together. Forever. If you were to fall pregnant, I’d have to take a textbook to your stomach. The alchemy textbook. That one would inflict the most damage, you see,” he admits with a pleasant hum. He watches the spreading wet patch with predatory glee before gazing back at you. “But you’re not pregnant, right?”

“I’m not! I’m not!” You gasp when his fingers dip into the waistband of your panties, harshly tugging them from your skin. And then his fingers are inching towards your pussy. “What are you—stop! No, no, no! Floyd! Floyd, help!” You squirm beneath him, kicking and screaming. “Floyd! Floyd, help me! Please! Anyone—someone—please help!”

A shadow passes over your face for a second before his hand comes down upon your mouth to silence your incessant shrieks. Your sobs are softer now, each plea spoken into his palm. Jade exhales slowly, composing himself.

“You’ve said his name more than enough. Say it any more and I’m afraid I’ll have to remedy this bad habit. Just how much do you value your tongue, I wonder?”

Before you can even think of struggling further, he’s switching the positions. Sitting back against the headboard, he tugs you onto his lap. You try to get away from him, but he holds you steady. The gag is fastened around your mouth once more, tighter this time.

“Now, now. You’re not going to escape, so there’s no point in exhausting your energy. Pointless pursuits are never rewarded,” he chides, tutting. He pulls his magic pen from his pocket and flicks it in the air once. A mirror materializes, displaying your disturbed expression in the glass.

Your mind blanks out then, logic overridden with the intrinsic desperation to survive. Is that really you looking back? It can’t be. The (Name) you know has never looked this fearful. Her face has never been this warped with panic.

But then you feel something stiff prodding you from behind, and the horror triples. You squirm again, much more forceful, sobbing into the gag and shaking your head as if that will earn you a sliver of sympathy from him. He continues to hold you against him with one arm while the other reaches to pull himself free from the confines of his pants and boxers.

“We have the same face, so there’s no need to cry. If it really helps, just think of me as Floyd,” he teases, and it sickens you. Makes you feel so gross and filthy. You want to step out of your skin, travel to a place that isn’t here, disappear into the tile and never return. Tears trace down your cheeks in salty rivulets. You can only produce blubbery whimpers now. His erect cock curves up towards your stomach. Jade lifts your skirt to get a better view. The mirror reflects it all in crisp detail. “What do you think? Is it bigger than his?”

His knuckles trace your cheek, uncharacteristically tender.

“It will seem that way when it’s inside, won’t it?”

In response you shift in his lap, tugging at the tie tightly secured around your wrists, and he merely chuckles. It’s delightful, really, the way you move like captured prey. Your chest heaves when the fleshy head of his cock presses shallowly inside your pussy, sampling wet warmth. You pray it’ll end fast. You pray he’ll be gentle. You pray he’ll skin you alive so you’ll never have to spend another second in this body. Anything but this.

Jade doesn’t grant either of those prayers, for he lifts you up slightly, aims for home, and slams you down in one brutal thrust that punches the air from your lungs. You choke on your tongue, biting down so hard that your teeth split the skin on the inside of your cheek. Blood pools into your mouth. It stings, but nothing hurts more than the unwanted intrusion. Shamelessly, much to your horror, your walls affix to him in an attempt to accommodate his girth. Without intending to, you catch yourself in the mirror. The stretch is sinful, your pussy wrapped snugly around him, and he’s slotted all the way to the hilt.

It’s torture for you.

It’s a twisted relief for Jade. A triumphant euphoria.

He exhales a shaky breath, his lips peeling apart to reveal a row of sharp teeth. In the mirror he looks every bit the predator he’s meant to be: cruel and cutthroat, staking claim on a stolen prize. His fingers dig into the meat of your hips as he rocks you up and down, occasionally bucking his hips to meet your soft, plush ass.

“It’s strange,” he manages through his grunts and groans, his breath hot on your nape, “I imagined this would feel more gratifying than any other gruesome thrill. Mm, but it’s not—” he slams you down again, reveling in your muffled wailing, “not nearly enough.”

Your eyes, wet with tears, question his reflection. You watch with bated breath as he slides your collar away, leaning in to press his lips to your neck. Your pulse stutters in his mouth, a jittery, fearful thing.

He inhales the pungent scent of sweat and sex, the scent of your fear, the scent of himself on you. From head to toe, externally and internally, you are covered in him, wrapped around him, molded to his very shape. You’ve gone stiff in his arms, too frightened to move a single muscle, but it only serves to excite him more. He needs to bear witness to all of it—to every inch of you, stripped bare and wired with anxiety.

Needle-thin teeth prick your skin. You wince and squeeze your eyes shut.

“Does it hurt?”

Despairing and hopeless, you deflate against him. Your body shakes with every sob.

It hurts. It hurts so much. More than anything has ever hurt before. And Jade knows this because he isn’t gentle. He has no interest in being sweet. He bites to harm. To kill. To destroy.

Jade sinks in deep: his teeth in your throat and his cock in your guts. And it hurts.

“I’m glad,” he murmurs, his lips slick and spattered with crimson when he pulls away, breathing heavily. “I’m so pleased…”

The blood just won’t stop. It’s flowing in rivers, cascading down the juncture between neck and shoulder and staining your clothes. Did he bite something major? Oh God—are you going to bleed out? Are you going to die? Did he get that one artery—the throat artery—the whatever-the-fuck-it’s-called artery? Is that even possible? Why won’t the blood stop? Why do you feel so fuzzy—so faint? It really won’t stop. It’s an ocean.

It’s everywhere.

Jade pinches you to bring you back to yourself; his nails prick your thigh, imprinting crescent moons in skin, and it works. You surface, taking in big gulps of oxygen while your heart skips over itself. You can’t drift off even if you wanted to; your reflection is much too haunting, destroyed and debased in every possible way. It grounds you in reality, digs deeply.

“Pain is the most thrilling form of love. You’ve taught me something new. Thank you.”

From behind, peering over your shoulder, his reflection grins at you. Wildly untamed and blood-stained, he’s manic. Unhinged. Uncaged. His pupils are so large they nearly eclipse his heterochromatic irises, rendering both eyes beady and black. Two pits of a molten void—a starless outer space.

He looks just like Floyd.

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere jade leech #yandere jade leech x reader #yandere jade x reader #yandere jade #n/sfw #tw: noncon #tw: drugging

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idontknowreallyidontcare · 5 months

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Husband!König laid down onto the sofa of your living room, one of the pretty sofas that has a side longer so you can lay there for naps, except he’s cuffed, his hands behind his back, legs spread as he’s breathing uncontrollably. It first started as a joke, you bought the cuffs for yourself and thought about showing them to your husband, who was pleased and surprised by them. Then you had a sudden idea, a little smirk forming onto your face as you grabbed his hands and told him to put them behind his back. He gets what you want to do, and he loves you too much so he obliges. Firstly thinking you’re only joking, he gets surprised when you’re actually pushing him down into the sofa.

Husband!König that’s being fucked senseless as you’re on top and milking his cock dry. “Fuck you’re fucking me so good.” Moans and cusses filling the room as you slowly slide him out of your pussy and just turn around, deciding to give him a good view of your ass. Reverse cowgirl being one of his favorite positions.

Husband!König that’s getting frustrated because he can’t touch your ass or slap it, he’s cussing and threatening to make you pay once the cuffs are off. “Watch yourself love, I’ll make you pay for this once the cuffs are off, I’ll fuck your ass until you’ll cry and beg me to stop.” He tries to be menacing but you just can’t take him seriously after hearing his moans. He’s so pathetic it makes you laugh, which he takes very personal. “Oh am I funny now love? I’ll show you, you’ll wish you never tied me like this.” Truth is you didn’t care at the moment, fucking him while this helpless gets you off enough for a whole lifetime. You don’t care what punishment he’d give you.

Husband!König that’s finally left free after you’re both done, at first he’s very silent, watching you, analyzing your movements. You’re almost scared by how relaxed he looks, by his early promises you’d think he would jump on you the moment these cuffs were off. But no, he gets up, kisses your temple like nothing, and walks off to the bathroom. Things are normal for the rest of the day, and for the days after. You’re wondering if he faked being angry just to make you hornier, or he actually was but it all wore off with his orgasm… little did you know.

Husband!König that’s a man of word, spending some time of the next days on sites that sell sex toys, jumping from one site to another, finding many interesting things, and plotting his revenge. He’ll have so much fun with your slutty ass. Never pull something like that on him, again!

#cod x reader #cod #cod mwii #konig cod #konig smut #konig x reader smut #husband König

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puffcap-factory · 29 days

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Late Night Tea-Time (Wriothesley x reader)

Wriothesley x fem!reader; fluff, established relationship, a teeny-weeny hint of smut. Just the hint, not the real smut.

Basically, it’s you staying up late at night working (and waiting for him) only to see him arriving with another new package of tea collections.

Notes:

Finally! My first genshin fic featuring the spicy Duke of Meropide himself, Wriothesley! It’s kinda short but I’d like to get this one out first as I was thinking of making a short series for him too (no promises, though, I’ll see how it goes hehe)

As always, please enjoy! :D

•~•~•~•

Piles of papers were spread on Wriothesley’s office desk as you carefully analyzed the data regarding the fortress’ logistics, seated on Wriothesley’s chair. The sounds of the piano from the record player filled the air as you took another sip of your tea, hoping it would help you regain the focus that had been faltering.

Suddenly, the creak of the door opening in the room below caught your attention. Wriothesley entered and ascended the stairs, carrying a new box of tea collections in his hands.

“You’re still working on the files? It’s already 11 pm,” he asked, finding you seated on his office chair.

“Says someone who just returned from a business meeting. And with a fresh stash of tea,” you replied, a playful glint in your eye as you glanced at the box he carried.

It seemed everyone was beginning to catch on to the Duke’s fondness for tea, as most of the gifts he received always seemed to revolve around tea drinking, much to your amusement.

He chuckled softly at your response as he placed the newest tea set onto the tea cabinet, arranging it carefully.

“You won’t be sleeping if you keep drinking your tea, though.”

“It’s Rooibos, don’t worry,” you reassured him, watching as he made his way towards you.

“It’s late, y/n, I want you to rest,” he said softly, standing beside the chair. With a gentle pat on your shoulders, he lowered himself to your seat, planting a tender kiss on your temple.

“Come now,” he urged gently, carefully removing the documents from your hand and placing them on the table. He offered you his hand, allowing you to stand up from his seat, and led you over to the nearby sofa. You gladly followed him.

He brought your tea cup over and placed it on the low table in front of you before returning to the tea counter. There, he found the pot of tea, still hot from the heater below, the one that you had been drinking from.

“I’ve made that for us. Feel free to pour yourself,” you offered from your seat.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he replied with a warm smile. He poured his own cup of tea before making his way to sit next to you.

After taking a sip of the tea, seemingly content with the brewing, he opened his arm, inviting you to come closer. You understood his gesture and happily nestled into his embrace, feeling his warmth as his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close.

“I’m not quite sleepy yet,” you admitted softly, looking up at him. He chuckled softly, his eyes filled with fondness towards you.

“Why’s that? You’ve been working on the data since this morning as far as I can remember.”

“I have, but all I’ve done today is sit behind the desk and work on the papers,” you explained.

“And you’re not tired from that?”

“I am– well, my mind is. And throughout the day, you were away, too.”

“So, you’re saying you’re just missing me so much that you can’t sleep?” he teased with a playful chuckle.

“Hey, you’ve been helping me spar in these past few weeks. Those physical activities actually helped me sleep, you know,” you countered with a pout.

“Physical activities, huh?” His eyes danced mischievously, a playful grin appearing on his lips.

“But… I don’t think I have the energy to spar right now. My mind is not in the capacity to devise a strategy to defeat you,” you said lazily, snuggling up closer to him.

“You were actually thinking to spar right here, right now, at my office,” he gently laughed, his hand running soothingly through your hair.

“Well, why not? It’s not like we’re gonna blow this whole place up,” you replied with a playful grin, glancing over at your almost empty tea cup. You stood up and made way to the tea counter to take the tea pot. Wriothesley watched you with amusement from his seat, his eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and... something else.

Switching off the tea pot’s heater, you prepared to return to the sofa with the pot when the new tea set in the nearby cabinet caught your eye. Curiously, you opened the cabinet and examined it.

“You know,” you mused, holding the box in your hand, “I find it rather amusing that somehow, tea and you are never far from each other.”

He watched you with an amused smile, a spark of curiosity in his eyes as he leaned forwards. “And what do you mean by that?”

“I feel like the scent of tea itself is starting to rub off on your scent. Imagine people catching a whiff of tea and turning to find the Duke of Meropide himself,” you continued, a small laugh escaping you at the image. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you started to taste like one.”

There was a sudden pause in the moment before he answered. “Taste like one… huh?” he stated, his tone lowering as he stood up from the sofa and made his way to you. You suddenly felt his arm, slowly wrapping you from behind, one arm snaked around your waist, pulling you close, while the other rested gently on your shoulder. The atmosphere had shifted, a subtle tension building as you realized the implication of your words.

“Perhaps, you should find out for yourself,” he whispered in your ear, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine. His warm breath trickled against your ear and down to your neck as he nuzzled softly, hinting at the desire simmering beneath the surface.

Feeling the heat of his body against yours, you set down the box of tea, fully aware of his unspoken invitation. You leaned back into his embrace, a playful spark igniting within you as you decided to tease him a bit further.

“And how would you suggest I do that?” you turned your head, meeting his gaze with a mischievous smirk, your lips mere inches from his.

For a moment, his eyes held yours, tender yet filled with hunger that started to cloud his gaze. “Well, considering your lack of physical activities today, I have a perfect idea to satisfy your curiosity as well as help you sleep.”

You caught the glint of lust in his eyes and understood exactly what was coming.

“Oh? Then what are you waiting for?”

With a smirk, he effortlessly scooped you up into a bridal carry, his arms strong and sure beneath you. Without a word, he carried you towards his bedroom, the tension between you still palpable. The aroma of tea lingered in the air as you two left the office, leaving the tea to grow cold.

・

That night, you slept more soundly than you had in weeks, wrapped in the warmth of his love, the taste of tea still lingering on your lips.

#wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x y/n #genshin impact #genshin x reader #wriothesley fluff #wriothesley x you #genshin #genshin fanfic #wriothesley x reader fluff #wriothesely x reader

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lovelettersfromluna · 10 months

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✰20 Something✰

{Ellie Williams x Reader}

Summary: How you ain’t say you was movin’ forward? Honesty hurts when you’re gettin’ older, I gotta say I’ll miss the way you need me.

an: first things first, yes it’s based off of the sza song, yes this is going to be very angsty, and yes I purposefully used the lyrics of the song to leave a bit of mystery for the summary hehe. But anyways! Here’s the second part of Blossom! This one is pretty short, and the ending is a bit abrupt, but that’s only because I have plans for the next part!! I hope you enjoy angels. Mwah mwah 🖤🖤

Warnings: angst!! Ellie is an idiot in this one I’m sorry, Joel being a dad figure to reader, alcohol usage, reader gets a lil drunk, jealous!reader, let me know if I missed anything pleaseeee (not proofread)

You can read part 1 here!

Tag list: @gold-dustwomxn @liabadoobee @uraesthete @heathermuahhh

For the first time in five years, your bed is warm.

And that doesn’t go to say you never had a warm body filling up the empty spot next to you in your bed. There were many times where you’d fallen into bed with someone for a one night stand, or finally working up to the person you would be seeing at the time to sleeping over.

But that was all in the city, you hadn’t once given someone the opportunity to fill your bed in your current home. The home that you were sprouting your roots into, and creating a space that you’d call home forever.

That, and none of those people before warmed you up like Ellie did.

Ellie’s arms never leave yours within the night, they’re strong and they hold you tight against her chest even when she’s snoring softly in your ear. It’s almost as if she’s scared you’ll slip away somehow, like she’s worried if she doesn’t hold on tight enough, she’ll no longer be in this dream that she’s found herself in.

And you don’t mind, her warm embrace helps clear your head from the noisy thoughts that threaten to cloud your mind. Without her strong arms wrapped around your middle, and the dreamy smell of her shampoo and her cologne, you’d be panicking.

Panicking because none of this is okay, and you both know it.

It allows you to sleep, and enjoy her for the moment, because you know exactly what you’ll do when the sun rises.

You have it all planned out, playing out the scenario and what you’ll say in your head. It’s like you’ve written a script for yourself, one that you’ve closely analyzed and revised countless times between the heavy sedation of sleep and wake that finds you through the night. You continuously fall in and out because the foreign feeling of Ellie next to you is too apparent to ignore, and it makes itself even more known when you realize that it’s Ellie.

Despite it all, the sleep is good. It’s heavy, and comfortable and it’s like your bodies are tangled up within one another in the most perfect way, making your insides feel warm and fuzzy. You’re sure you’d be able to stay there with her till the end of time. You feel her wake up a few times as well, pressing gentle kisses at the nape of your neck, whispering sweet promises into your ear as her hands slip underneath your t shirt, toying with your soft skin and pulling you in closer.

Because she can’t get enough of you. She’s cursing herself on the inside because she can’t believe she’d almost forgotten how good you felt pressed up against her, how nice your supple skin felt spilling from between her fingers, how responsive your body was to her every kiss and touch.

So she feels she has some catching up to do, and she plans on roaming her fingers along every available space of your body. She wants to remember everything she’s ever experienced with you, all while making new memories as well.

And you can feel it, which makes it all the more harder to get out of bed the next morning.

The morning sun is warm and inviting, but it comes all too soon.

It takes everything in you to peel Ellie’s limbs from your body. You let out a sigh of relief when once you’re out of bed, she’s still fast asleep. You tilt your head to the side as you eye the girls sleeping form, she looks like her younger self when she sleeps. Her cheeks look fuller, and her lips look plumper. It reminds you of all the times you traced your fingers over her sleeping face when she’d fallen asleep in your bedroom when you were teenagers.

It reminds you of the face that wouldn’t even look in your direction when shoving a box into your arms.

And maybe you’re being petty, because it was something that happened so long ago and you both were so young. But it still hurts, and it doesn’t matter if it happened when you were both young, or if your relationship was doomed anyways.

Ellie did what she did, and no matter how many sweet things she said to you, she couldn’t take it back.

You sigh softly as you blink out of your trance, breaking away from the memories that you had been holding onto for so long. You need to get dressed, and you need to get downstairs before Ellie wakes.

You settle on a plane white t shirt, and a pair of your favorite denim shorts. They’re your moms from when she was younger, they remind you of when you were little.

Your feet pad against the wooden floor as you make your way downstairs. It’s still very early, and if Ellie is anything like the way she was when she was younger, you’ll be clear of her for at least another hour or so.

You settle on grabbing some fresh lemons from a near by bowl and making some lemonade to kill the time.

On the other end of your house, Ellie is groaning softly. She takes a moment to realize where it is that she is, the foreign bed making her feel extremely confused. Once her eyes have adjusted to the early morning light peeking in through your window, she immediately remember where she is.

Memories of the night before come flooding in, and she can’t stop the stupid smile that paints her face.

She’s blushing like an idiot, and she brings her strong hands up to her face as she groans softly. She’s just as fucking smitten for you as she was back when she was a teenager, and she can’t even deny it.

You, where were you?

The question runs rapid in her mind as she sits up, frowning a bit as she looks around. She isn’t too worried, seeing as she is in fact in your house. She knows you couldn’t have gone far, but the fact alone that she wasn’t able to wake up to you in her arms makes her upset.

From upstairs she can hear a bit of clattering downstairs in the kitchen, and she knows exactly where you are.

Ellie is up on her feet instantly, yawning as she scratches the back of her neck. She makes her way through your home, smiling softly at all the little trinkets you have set around on different shelves and tables.

But when she finally finds herself in your kitchen, and spots you, you’ve taken her breath away.

The window near your counter lets the warm glow of the sun hit you perfectly, sun rays shining through your hair and onto your pretty features. The song you’re humming softly is the sweetest melody she’s ever heard in her entire life, and your clothes are simple, but they’re making her fucking swoon.

It all feels so domestic, like she’s waking up to you, her girl, in the kitchen of your sweet home, and it’s enough to make her head spin.

It almost feels like nothings ever changed.

You’re too lost in your own thoughts as you slip a few more lemon slices into the pitcher before you bring your wooden spoon into it and stir it once more, finally happy with the drink. You don’t even hear Ellie when she’s approaching you from behind, strong hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you against her chest. You gasp softly, almost forgetting that the girl was in your house for a moment.

Your eyes flutter shut as you let her hold you. She’s lifting you up and into her body to the point that your toes almost leave the floor, her face pressing into your neck as she inhales the sweet scent of your shampoo.

She brings a hand up, pushing your hair back so she’s able to press soft kisses to your neck. The feeling of her lips against your skin makes you whine.

“Morning, blossom…” she hums. Her voice is raspy, and deep and still thick with sleep. It makes you tug your bottom lip between your teeth, tugging on it softly, and you can’t help but close your eyes and tilt your head to the side to give her better access to your neck, silently begging for more of her kisses.

It’s when you feel one of her strong hands slipping under your shirt and toying with the waist of your denim shorts that you open your eyes and quickly clear your throat, stepping away from her grip as you turn around.

You almost wish you’d stayed in her arms, because Ellie looks like a fucking dream right now.

Her hair is messy, and her eyes are puffy from sleep, lips pouting from the lack of you in her arms. Her t shirt is hanging loosely on her body, boxers low on her waist. She looks like something you would’ve assumed only existed within the depths of your fantasies, and nowhere in the real world.

Yet here she was, standing right in front of you, arms already reaching out and begging for you to be pressed against her.

You quickly step grab the pitcher of lemonade and hold it between the two of you, acting as a form of separation, one that would keep her away from you for at least a few seconds longer. You knew that it you let her hold you the way she did, or even come any closer, you’d fold.

“I um…thought you’d be thirsty…so I…made you some lemonade”

Ellie frowns as she watches you stutter, a habit that seemed to be the most present whenever you were nervous or hiding something. She could still recall the time when you and Joel were planning a surprise birthday party for her eighteenth, and she questioned you on why you’d been so absent for the past month or so. You were a babbling mess, avoiding eye contact, trying your best to get out of being in rooms alone with her, anything so that you could be free of the guilt that came with keeping something from her.

Just like you were now, babbling, eyes blinking rapidly as you looked everywhere but her eyes.

Her eyebrows are furrowed in confusion as she watches you for a moment longer, she opens her mouth to say something, but you’re already reaching behind her and grabbing two glasses and bringing them to your little kitchen table.

She watches you as you move, your focus now on the two glasses as you fill them up. She settles on leaving it alone for now, mainly because she’d like to just focus on you right now.

She moves to sit down at the table, but it doesn’t go without her hand sliding against your waist, her tattooed arm wrapping around it as she presses a kiss to your head. “You alright baby?” She mumbles against your hair, giving your skin a gentle squeeze before she moves to sit down, her green eyes never leaving your face as she takes her glass into hand.

It makes it feel like you’ll lose your footing, the way she’s so quickly comfortable enough to do these things to you, say these things to you, like she never even left you in the first place. It’s all too quick, and it makes you feel like you’re the happiest girl in the world, all while being the saddest.

You have to get away from her, you can’t be anywhere near her.

You quickly clear your throat, giving her a quick nod as you grab your glass and move over to your sink, which is opposite of the kitchen table. Her eyebrows furrow again as she watches you flee her touch, and it leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.

You’re quite literally flinching away from her touch as if you’re afraid of her, and it makes her anxiety settle in with each passing moment.

You stand near the sink, staring into the glass filled with lemonade, a lemon wedge floating around in the surface as you find it far more interesting to stare into it rather than looking into Ellie’s eyes.

“What’s going on?” She questions, one of her hands resting on her thigh as she watches you. The worry in her voice is enough to make you wince, eyes squeezing shut for a moment before you exhale loudly, looking up so that you’re now staring out your window, the calm morning breeze swaying through the trees calming you for a moment before you speak.

“I can’t do this, Ellie.” You mumble softly, voice barely above a whisper.

Your tone has Ellie on her feet before you can even finish, your kitchen table scraping against the wooden floor as she pushes it back so she can stand. You’ve barely even said anything, or given any explanation to what it is that you’re even talking about, but she already knows.

“What do you mean? You said last night that you were okay with this…with us-“ you cut her off quickly, the words falling from her lips too hard to listen to.

“I know….what I said Ellie…I just…” you sigh sadly, hands gripping the edge of your counter as you try to compose yourself. It doesn’t help that Ellie is by your side, her body towering over yours as she stares down at you. One of her hands come down to brush your hair away from your face, trying to get a better view of your expression as her other hand comes down to grip your hip gently, massaging the skin gently.

Despite you telling her you can’t be with her, she’s still there, comforting you and helping you get the words out. It makes it hurt even more.

She leans down, pressing a kiss to your head. “Say it…” she mumbles softly against your hair. Her words leave a chill down your spine, because her tone isn’t malicious or even angry, she knows she’s getting what she deserves, and she knows that you deserve to get it out.

You lick your lips, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth before you turn to face her, your eyes finally looking up into hers. It makes your breath shudder, because they’re holding so much pain, and confusion and it makes you hate yourself for doing this.

“It is as just…a lot…seeing you for the first time in so long…I wasn’t thinking and…and you don’t even live here anymore, Ellie. How are we even supposed to do this? I let you stick around and fuck me until it’s time for you to leave again? And then it’s back to how it was? I don’t even know you anymore…I can’t…I won’t do it.” You sigh out, your words are stern and there’s no getting through to you, and Ellie can see that.

You feel your eyes burn with hot tears, and you don’t even care. You inhale deeply as they spill out onto your cheeks, gently grabbing Ellie’s hands from your hips and removing them so they’re now hanging down by her own legs.

“I deserve better, Ellie…and you aren’t that” you whimper out. The words are like fire on your tongue, burning your insides and setting your heart ablaze as you stare at her. It hurts to even say it out loud, but it’s the truth, you both know it.

Ellie’s own green eyes pool up with tears, the whites of her eyes going red as she inhales deeply. She knew it was all too good to be true, too much of a fantasy to indulge in. She didn’t deserve your kindness, she didn’t deserve your forgiveness, she knew that for a long time.

It was just nice to pretend that she did for a moment.

Ellie knows deep down, that she’d do anything to beat the obstacles that would’ve came with being with you. The distance, trust, making it all up to you, she would’ve done it all. You’d never been anything less than the girl that she wanted to grow old and grey with.

You both new that.

She licks her lips, looking down at her feet for a moment before she gives you a nod. She can’t make this any harder for you than it’s already been. You do deserve better, and as much as she feels she can provide only the best for you, she can’t put you through anymore pain than she already has.

“I’ll um…I’ll let myself out…” she nods to herself, her words barely above a whisper in fear that it’ll break through her tears, and she’ll crumble onto her knees, begging you to give her the chance that she didn’t deserve.

You inhale deeply, looking away from the girl as you nod. Any longer staring into those big, sad eyes, and you would’ve crumbled with her, holding her in your arms and telling her it had always been her, and that you’d give her a million chances if she wanted them.

But you needed to do right for yourself, you had to put your foot down.

Ellie disappears upstairs, grabbing her jeans and her sneakers and getting dressed in silence. She takes in the details of your room, knowing that it would be the last time that she sees this intimate side of you. It’s one of the things she regretted the most, not taking in the little things about you leading up to when she left, it made it harder to remember them down the road.

You don’t move from your spot until she comes back, because it’s hard to retain the last twenty four hours that you’ve experienced. It feels bizarre and unreal and it feels like a disturbingly realistic dream. You feel like you can’t move, like you’re suddenly glued to the floor.

Ellie’s foot steps padding against your floor breaks you away from that feeling, and you’re quickly on your feet and walking her towards the door. It’s awkward and strange and it feels like she wasn’t just grabbing you and pulling you into her body mere moments ago.

Before Ellie walks out of your door, she quickly turns around eyes scanning over your living room for a moment before she moved over to the little brown wooden entrance table near your door.

Along with a small bowl holding your keys, there was a little note pad and a little red pen. Without skipping another beat, she grabbed it, jotting down her number. She cleared her throat as she handed it to you, eyes down casted before she spoke. “My um…my number…feel free to call or text or..whatever you want. I’ll always answer” she reassures.

You stare at the little note for a moment, chewing your bottom lip before you sigh softly. “Ellie you really don’t have to do that-“ she cuts you off, stepping forward and grabbing your hand, turning it over before she pushes the paper into your hand, closing it around it.

“I don’t wanna be strangers anymore..even if we can’t be together in the way I’d want…I miss you…i’ll take you in any way you’ll let me have you…” she sighs out, her tone pleading with you.

You finally stare up into her eyes, and you know she’s telling the truth. You lick your lips, looking down at the little note scribbled in her hand writing, paired with a little smiley face at the end.

“Maybe we could go out sometimes…as friends or something” she adds on, weary of the way you’ve been completely silent this entire time.

You let out a soft sigh before you give her a slow nod, your finger tips gently running along the numbers on the paper before you finally look up at her, giving her a soft, sad smile. “Yeah…I’d like that, Ellie” you speak softly to her.

Despite it being far from what she wants, she gives you a soft smile. She nods with you, staring at you for a moment longer before she nods her head towards the door. “I’d better head out then…I’ll see you around?” She says almost hopefully, scared that it’ll be yet another promise you’ve made that you aren’t sure you want to keep or not.

You smile softly, giving her a reassuring nod. You’re leaning against the front door, watching her as she walks out to her car. She feels like she’ll pass out at any moment, because it’s like the universe is playing a cruel joke on her. The most beautiful girl in the entire fucking world is the one she can’t have, and seeing you leaned up against the door, sun shining down on you like you’re a goddess in the flesh.

She’s surprised she didn’t fall over with a nose bleed.

“I’ll….text you Ellie” you sigh out, and your words alone have Ellie grinning from ear to ear. She almost trips over her own feet as she walks backwards towards her car, causing you to giggle.

She quickly grabs onto the handle of the car, giving you a nod. “Yeah! Yes, um…I’ll answer!” She tries, smoothing down her t shirt to try and come off as cool as possible. You smile softly as you nod, giving the girl a small wave.

It’s all bitter sweet, the smiles on both your face and hers, the way you’re leaning against your door watching her get into her cat and leave, the dreamy look in your eyes as you watch as her car pulls out of your drive way. It all feels too much like a dream, like things had never changed, and everything you had ever wanted was all yours.

But it isn’t, Ellie isn’t yours and you aren’t hers. That was the decision you made, and you were sticking to it.

You huff loudly as you tug yet another dress of your body a bit too roughly.

Nothing looked right, everything looked wrong, and you had to be at Joel’s house within the next hour for the party he was throwing for Ellie.

It had been about a week since the entire situation with Ellie had happened, and as hollow as it made your heart feel, things between the two of you had been surprisingly good. You and her texted often, keeping things as friendly as possible. Apart from the numerous times Ellie tried flirting with you. You’d even gone as far as meeting with her and Joel for dinner sometime within the week. During which, Joel had mentioned that he was throwing a welcome home party for Ellie, and he expected you to be there.

And before you knew it, Friday was upon you. Your hair and makeup was already done, yet you had no idea what the hell to put on. You huffed loudly in annoyance as you threw a denim skirt across your room, stepping forward to rummage through your closet once again before the sound of your phone buzzing caught your attention.

You raised your eyebrows as you turned around, looking at your phone on its spot upon your bed. You roll your eyes playfully as you step forward a bit and realize it’s Ellie.

Ellie: do u know what ur gonna wear?

You sigh softly as you look at your mess of a closet for a brief moment before you begin typing away at your phone.

You: not a clue. U?

Ellie: birthday suit. Wanna twin?

You: do u want me to block u?

Ellie: jeez relax

Ellie: was just a suggestion 🙄

Ellie: srsly tho, u comin soon?

You: soon as I figure out what to wear

Ellie: hurry up. People are already here and I need someone to talk shit with

You: yes ur majesty

Ellie: oh I like that

You: I’ll send these messages to ur dad

Ellie: are u telling on me?

You: bye Ellie

Ellie: byeeeeeee

And that’s what your relationship consisted of. Witty back and forth texts with the occasional flirting that you’d have to shut down every once in a while. It felt…simple, easy, like there was no complicated history between the two of you and you could just be friends who would talk shit sometimes.

It made it feel easier to be around her.

You let out a soft sigh before you turn towards your closet once again, tossing your phone onto your bed and tackling the issue at hand that was finding an outfit for Ellie’s party.

About twenty minutes more of rummaging through your closet, you settle on a black lace table top, one that falls a bit frilly towards the end, a pair of blue jeans, and black sandals. You sigh softly as you look into the mirror, giving your hair a few more shakes and cleaning up any access lip liner around your lips before you grab your purse and make your way over to Joel and Ellie’s house.

When you get to Joel’s house, you aren’t sure you’d ever seen so many cars lined up against the curb.

Ellie had always been a town favorite, and it’s no shocker that everyone would wanna get in on the action of seeing her now that she was back.

You inhale deeply as you stare up at the house, for a moment a feeling of uncertainty washing over you. Regardless of the fact that you and Ellie were on speaking terms, it was still hard to shake the uneasy feeling that came with being around her. It made your heart rate quicken, made your palms sweaty, your hands shaky. It was an overwhelming full body experience that no matter how much you tried to shake, you couldn’t.

But, you promised you’d be there. You let out a soft sigh before you wiped your palms against the rough denim of your jeans, shaking away your nervous before you walked up the steps to the house, and let yourself inside.

You can’t remember the last time Joel’s house was so lively. Anytime within the last few months that you’d been there had been quiet, and it was only ever the two of you. Joel preferred it that way, keeping things quiet and more intimate. He just for some reason had a thing with home coming parties

As soon as you’re in the house, various familiar faces are coming towards you and greeting you with smiling faces. You smile softly as you embrace a few of them, allowing them to calm your nerves for a brief moment before you have to see Ellie.

But before those thoughts can even begin to disperse in your mind, Ellie is cutting the conversation she was having short, because her eye had been on the front door the entire night, waiting for the moment that the person behind it would be you.

It almost makes her angry, because you never fail to take her breath away. You’re supposed to be her friend and she’s gawking at you from the moment you set foot in her house. She licks her lips, eyes raking down your form as she brings the red solo cup to her lips, her other arm reaching out and circling your waist to pull you into a hug.

You take your bottom lip between your teeth as she pushes you flush against her body. She’s not drunk, but she’s certainly warmed up enough to grab you as she pleases. You can’t help but giggle softly as she holds you before you press your hands to her chest, pushing her away from your body. “Already broken into dads liquor cabinet I see?” You tease her.

She rolls her eyes playfully before she looks down into her cup before taking another sip. “Had no choice, he spent way too much fuckin money on whiskey for me…said he wanted the good stuff” she groans out. You smile softly as you nod, looking down into the cup with her before your eyes scan the room for the man in question.

“Where is he anyways? I wanna say hello” you breath out, your voice slightly raised as you lean into her a bit so that she’s able to hear you over the chatter of party goers conversations and the low music playing in the background.

Her eyes drift down towards your face as you look around for her father, licking her own lips as she takes in your pretty features for a moment before she looks up with you, catching sight of her dad across the room chatting up some work friends. “Probably talking about building decks and the game coming up…boring stuff…meaning you’d much rather hang with me” she mumbles out nonchalantly. You roll your eyes as you give her a nudge, your palm pressing against her chest.

She smirks softly as she watches you. You’d both fallen into such a comfortable relationship, regardless of the fact that her heart yearned for you whenever you were near, and every time other than that. She was at least grateful for the way you were around her now.

“You have an entire house of people here to see you, and talk to you…I won’t hog” you nod to yourself, and it makes her want to whine.

She’d trade every single person in that room for you, any fucking day.

“You’ll catch up later though, yeah?” She questions, her big eyes looking down into yours and practically begging for the reassurance that she so desperately needed. That had become a common thing for her, constantly asking you for reassurance that you’d text her or that you’d come back around to see her later on.

You know why she does it, she’s scared you’ll leave her. She’s scared you won’t keep your promise of sticking around and you’ll realize that this isn’t right, and she doesn’t even deserve you as a friend.

She’s scared you’ll do to her what she did to you.

But you always reassure her. You always give her that little act of devotion that she doesn’t deserve, yet you always feel the need to give her. You smile softly as you look up at her, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. “I’ll come and find you” you promise, and you can physically see relief wash over her. She smiles softly with you as she nods, mumbling a soft ‘okay’ before you set out to go find Joel.

Joel’s face lights up the exact same way Ellie’s does when he spots you, excusing himself from the conversation with his friends as he pulls you into a big bear hug. “There’s my girl…was starting’ to think you weren’t comin’ kid” he breaths out, and you can practically hear the smile on his face as he holds you close.

You giggle softly as you hug him back before you nod. “M’sorry, Joel…the walk is pretty long” you admit, leaving out the part where you ruined your entire bedroom searching for an outfit that was good enough.

Your words make him groan. “I told you kid, I could’ve came and picked you up. Don’t like you walkin’ home so late at night” he sighs out. You giggle softly, the prominent frown on his brow making it clear how annoyed he was with you doing that. “This town is harmless Joel. Plus, you’re celebrating with Ellie, I knew you’d wanna have a drink or two…I’ll be fine” you reassure him, giving his arm a playful punch.

He sighed softly, nodding slowly. “If you say so…but if you change your mind I’m sure one of my buddies wouldn’t mine taking you home” he promises, and you give him a nod paired with a soft smile. “I’ll keep that in mind Joel..” you smile up at him before you turn your attention to the party, smiling softly at what Joel had managed to put together.

“The place looks great by the way…you sure know how to throw a party old man” you praise him, causing his eyes to crinkle towards the edges as he smiles proudly. He nods in agreement as he brings his cup to his lips. “Looks good, right? Ellie said it was too much but…with her first time back and all..wanted to make it a good one” he breaths out before he looks down at you.

“M’really happy you made it kid. You don’t know how much it means to her” his voice drops a bit as he looks down at you, and you look up at him. His eyes are filled with genuine gratitude, the ones he looked at you with every time he saw you and Ellie together when you were younger. It was as if he was thanking you for loving his daughter, despite everything that had happened.

You smile softly up at him before you nod, looking down as you toy with the rings on your fingers. It all felt like too much, like you were given credit for something you didn’t deserve. You inhaled deeply before you nodded your head towards the kitchen. “M’gonna get something to drink…I’ll be around” you promise him, and he smiles softly as he nods, giving your back a soft, gentle rub before he goes back to his friends.

And those are the two longest conversations you have for the night. You decide to lay low, babysitting the drink that you’d made for yourself which consisted of whatever soda you could and the cheapest liquor that Joel had, because you didn’t want to use io the expensive stuff he’d bought for Ellie.

You float around from the living room, to the front porch, and the kitchen, choosing not to stay in one place for too long at one time. You have gentle smiles and small waves to people you knew from town, the drink in your hand giving you the warmth to not feel embarrassed when fleeing the conversation too quickly.

You do it, because you know that no matter what, you and Ellie would gravitate towards one another within the night. It was inevitable, because you were both drinking and if her eyes weren’t on you, yours were on her, and you had to make it a point to not make your way around her at all.

Because you knew it wouldn’t end well.

About an hour or two into the party, you’re leaned up against the island in Joel’s kitchen. You were working on your second drink, quietly sipping away at with your chin leaned into your palm, humming softly to the music that was playing.

Joel had made his way towards you within the night, checking in on you and making sure you were okay and had whatever you needed or wanted.

He leans up against the counter with you, his forearms resting against the wooden top as he leans into you a bit. “Why do I keep findin’ you hidin’ in a corner? You’re not havin’ fun?” He’s only half teasing you. The other half of his question is genuine, and you can’t help but feel bad that he’s worried about you, and why you’re not socializing.

You smile softly as you shake your head, bringing your red cup to your lips and taking another sip before you speak. “I’ve never been a social butterfly…you know that” you hum softly, and it’s true. You’ve never been one to party too hard or speak too much. Sure, you had your fair share of it all in college, but it was all done with the gentle shove of your friends behind you. You were an introvert through and through, who simply had a few extrovert tendencies whenever it counted.

But that was only half the truth.

The rest of it, was that you were in deed hiding from something, two somethings actually.

You didn’t mean to see it, or even catch it, although saying it that way made it sound like she was doing something wrong or something she shouldn’t have been, which was far from the truth. Joel had really gone as far as extending an invitation to anyone he saw in town, and urged them to spread the word to whoever they wanted. In that, came various familiar faces that you hadn’t seen in a very long time.

Amongst those faces, was a girl named Jade.

Jade became a prominent name during your high school years. Before you and Ellie began dating, it was no secret that the girl had been crushing on Ellie for quite some time. Ellie told you she noticed it all during the third grade, said that Jade would pass her notes or ask her to be her valentine, but she never truly paid it any mind, because she didn’t see Jade that way.

And when you started dating, the flirty eyes never really stopped. You’d always catch Jade ogling Ellie, whispering things to her friends when you’d walk past, laughing loudly to make sure you knew they were talking about you. You knew it wasn’t anything against you, it was for the simple fact that Jade wanted something that you had. In fact, when you’d return to town, Jade had even made it a point to pull you aside and apologize to you one day when you were running errands in town. You could tell she was genuine, and that it was all petty little high school games, and you considered her to be somewhat of a friend in your new life there.

And you never once accused Ellie of wanting Jade, because you always felt secure with her. Despite everything that Ellie had put you through, you’d never label her a cheater.

But seeing them both on the couch, Jade whispering something into Ellie’s ear, Ellie’s arm draped across the couch behind Jade, the two of them looking far too much like a couple for comfort. It put a dull, burning feeling inside your stomach. It made your heartbeat loud inside of your head and it felt like all the blood was rushing to your head. It was too much, and you couldn’t be around to watch.

But you’d never tell Joel that.

He somehow already knows that it’s what’s on your mind, because he’s leaning into you and his voice is dropping lower in volume so that no one but you will hear. “She’s just bein’ polite, you know…doesn’t mean anything…” he’s trying to reassure you, as if it would ease the blow.

You sigh softly, shaking your head as you bring your cup up to your lips, taking a sip of the flattening soda and the bitter alcohol, the flavor making you wince a bit. “Doesn’t matter if she’s being polite, or if she likes her…it’s none of my business…I’m just here because you asked me to be” you mumble out as you swirl the drink in the cup, staring down into it as you have a half shrug.

Joel sighed sadly as he watched you. Regardless of the fact that he knew Ellie was wrong for what she did, he knew his daughter, and he knew that she was just being young and reckless when she did what she did. He’d always been rooting for the two of you, secretly hoping that some how, some day, you’d find it in your heart to forgive his daughter, and give her the privilege of loving you.

His eyes drifted over towards Ellie for a moment, watching as the girl leaned in and whispered something in her ear, her hand resting on Ellie’s thigh. It was enough to make him roll his eyes, which prompted you to giggle softly. Alcohol always brought out the sassy side of the man.

“Im tellin’ you kid, if you went over there right now, you’d have her full attention” His words make you laugh dryly, shaking your head as you down the rest of your drink, tilting your head back to get all of it into your mouth before you toss it into the nearby trash.

“Maybe. But I’m not gonna stick around to test that theory” you breath out, your words slow and soft from the affects of the liquor in your system. Joel raises his eyebrows as he watches you, frowning softly.

“Leavin’ already? You sure about that?” He tries, his attempt at trying to get you to stay not so casual. You hum softly as you nod, leaning against the opposite side of the counter as you looked over at Joel with heavy eyes.

“I wanna get out of here while I can still walk…plus I don’t wanna keep you from your friends” you nodded towards the various people that Joel had left throughout the night to check on you. It made you feel bad, because he truly was the only person you felt okay with speaking to throughout the night, and the guilt you felt knowing you were pulling him away from his guests was something you could’ve easily gone without.

He sighed softly as he shook his head. “You know I’d rather spend time with you kid, don’t mind them” you’re already waving your hand lazily as you practically shoo him away, giving him a soft smile as you shake your head. “It’s way past my bed time anyways Joel….I’ll see you next week” you reassure him, and he knows there’s no convincing you.

He sighs gently before he gives you a soft nod, telling you to get home safe to which you assure him you will.

On your way towards the door, various people are calling after you. Telling you that it’s far too early for you to check out, you’re even sure a few hands grab your own, trying to tug you back. You simply give a soft giggle as you wave them off, telling them you have work to do at home.

It isn’t until a strong hand wraps around your waist when your hand is on the door, that you completely stop.

There’s no question on who it is, the feeling of Ellie’s hands having been burned into your brain from the last time she was with you. You can’t help but whine softly in annoyance, because you know that’s it’s her, and you know that there’s no reason for her to have gotten up from where she was sitting to stop you.

She’s the entire reason you’re leaving anyways.

Ellie’s tugging at your waist to turn you around, needing to see your face. The whine you let out makes her sigh softly. Once she’s gotten you to turn around, you’re rolling your eyes at her.

“What is it now, Ellie?” You sigh out tiredly, and it makes the girl frown. You sound like you’re over it, and tired of her, and like the only thing you truly want to do in that moment is go home.

“You’re leaving already? I thought…you said you’d come and find me later” she mumbles, her voice desperate and confused. You raise your eyebrows in disbelief as you watch her before you inhale deeply, giving her a half shrug. “I’m just tired, Ellie…it’s best if I go home now” you nod, trying to turn around and end the conversation short. You truly did not have the energy to deal with any of it, your emotions, the jealousy you felt, her.

She frowns further as you try to leave, her hand grabbing your wrist and stopping you from leaving before she speaks up again. “Is it..are you leaving because of Jade? Because her and I weren’t doing anything I swear-“ you let out a soft giggle, but it doesn’t sound friendly or even happy. You’re quite literally over it.

“Why are you explaining yourself to me? I’m nothing to you, Ellie. You can be with whoever you want, it has nothing to do with me” you breath out, and the words you’re saying are breaking Ellie’s heart.

She thought she had it all planned out. She wanted to just…make you a little jealous, get your attention in the slightest bit. She was running out of options, and doing some harmless flirting seemed to be the way she’d get you to her. She wanted you to stomp over to her and Jade on the couch, and demand that she come upstairs with you.

But when she simply saw your shoulders deflate from the kitchen, and you made your way to her front door, she knew she’d made a mistake.

It was starting to feel like that’s all she could do, make mistakes. Every thing she did, or said was always the wrong thing. The worst possible option for her to make was the one she always followed through with.

And she hated herself for it.

And she couldn’t even say anything to you. She just stared down at you as you waited for her to say something. You let out a tired sigh before you grab her hand gently, prying it away from her wrist. “Have fun with her…you deserve it” you sigh out, giving her a sad smile before you turn around once again to leave.

But this time, Ellie doesn’t stop you.

Because she isn’t sure how to reverse what she’s done. Nothing has gone the way she’s wanted it to, and what she thought would bring you two closer together has merely driven a wedge between you instead. She frowned as she watched you open the front door to her house.

Before you leave, you give her a small wave, and she can see in your eyes how much this has all taken out of you, how much life she had sucked out of you and left you dry. Despite all that she’d done, you still had it in your to leave with a sweet smile and a wave.

It was like she couldn’t do anything right, and seeing you leave and walk out of her home once again was breaking her heart.

She was letting you walk out again, and she felt utterly hopeless.

As she watched you leave, she promised herself that she would do everything in her power to make things right, to do right by you and be the girl that you deserved.

She was going to fight for you, no matter what.

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