#anyway it was fine i made it up to him with a much better present later that evening when we were alone :P | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mrsparrasblog · 4 hours

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The selection pt.1

Unable to feel emotions, a deadly weapon, unable to empathize with the enemy, a calculated killer. It was as if you were listening to a presentation about yourself. So this was your new place now, musty, dirty, and you needed to work with men. Unbelievable. You were so much better alone, so why send you with a team? But order is order.

Your new boss was like every other boss you had in the past fourteen years: white, old, and unable to protect himself. He relied on you, didn’t trust his allies, closest friends, and sometimes not even himself. But it was easy to trust a mindless creation, someone who shouldn’t be able to feel or think—at least that's what he says. Did he really think you hadn’t got a voice in your head? You had it—it wasn’t always there, but it was sometimes. You weren’t dumb.

"Welcome to the Team," Price said, extending his hand to you. Shepard introduced you to him and his team of barbaric monkeys. You didn’t bother to shake his hand; you hated fake niceties. Was he your boss too? You hoped not. There were already enough useless men in charge of you.

"Shake your superior's hand," he grunted out, not amused by your behavior. Superior—only more men in power. How usual. You ignored him, only rolling your eyes and looking at Shepard, your real boss. If he said shake this man's hand, you do; if not, you don’t.

"John, she doesn’t work with ranks," Shepard tried to explain. I’m an assassin, not a soldier, you thought. Soldiers weren’t something you were particularly fond of, nor were your teachers. Well, if you don’t count him, but that’s not important right now anyway.

"Well, bad for her. I don’t need someone on my team who can't show me a tad of respect," he snorted, glaring at you like he wanted to kill you—sweet, you thought, how naive he was. He really didn’t know what you were capable of.

"There is no discussion. She is on the team as long as I need her, understood?"

"Understood, General."

The boss left, telling you to try to listen to John but always listen to him first. Reasonable. You’d heard weirder requests.

"So, we're stuck with her now," the boy called Gaz, what a stupid name, asked.

"Yes."

"At least you aren’t hard on the eyes, lass," Soap joked. The man with the stupid name and the worst haircut chuckled while his hand touched your shoulder in an attempt to tease you and soften the tension between you and the new team.

By instinct, your hand grabbed his, putting it in a position where it would be so easy to break his hand. "Прикоснись ко мне снова, и я убью тебя!" you hissed, and the men only looked stupidly at you.

"Ah, she just doesn’t understand English, poor lass."

"I understand English perfectly fine. I said if you touch me again, I’m going to kill you!" The monotonous look in your eyes sent shivers down Soap's spine. He knew you weren’t playing; crazy, that’s what you were to him, and you didn’t mind, as long as he didn’t touch you again.

"Okay, why don’t we all calm down?"

"Great, Cap."

"Tell us your callsign or something about you," the older man said, and you asked yourself what would happen if you just stood up and left. But the mission was more important than your ego or annoyance for all of them. Well, except the ridiculous masked man; at least he knew how to keep his mouth shut.

"Love, 19," was all you said. The truth was, you didn’t remember your name anymore. It was all gone, buried deep between all the sessions you needed to endure until the final selection. You knew that you were called 0694 most of your life, until the accident which made them call you Love.

"You don’t seem like someone with the callsign 'Love,' more like Medusa."

"Gaz, stop!" the old man scolded. You could see the wrinkles on his face. He was at least 40, you thought. Was he more like Shepard, or Durinov? Well, he wasn’t a good guy, that's what you knew about him. But who is a good guy after all?

"Okay, Love, the Lieutenant will show you your room."

"Хорошо" You bark at him, getting ready to follow the Ghost masked guy to your new room.

"Speak English, Love."

"Fine, Captain," you scoffed at him. You were sure you wouldn’t like it here. Why couldn’t a better boss get you someone who just gave you orders? You were good at following orders: Kill him—done, torture him—done, make him pay—easy. Just this American sitcom family situation was too nauseating for you. Your thoughts went away to the prospect of skinning some of them alive, but not allowed.

You walked with Ghost to your new place. He was taller than you and bulkier, but that didn’t mean he was stronger. You fought a lot against guys like him—brutes—and they always lost. Strength isn’t enough without a brain, but he seemed smarter than the other ones; he didn’t talk, and you could appreciate that.

"This is it," he gestured to a single room with white walls and a twin-sized bed in the middle. It was one of the better places you’d slept in, if you forget Budapest, Moscow, and Prague. Stupid girl, you thought to yourself. Don’t dwell on your memories; they're gone, gone, gone.

"Okay."

"You don’t talk much," he observed.

You only nodded firmly, not bothering to use your lips to form words.

"Good," he said before walking away.

You threw your bag into the corner. You didn’t have much besides your uniform, weapons, and that washed-out picture of him, which you should have thrown out a long time ago. But it's like a warning for you, you thought. Maybe it was indeed sentiment, which you wouldn’t admit—not after that day.

In search of the training room, you walked past the meeting room where the men still sat as if time stood still.

"Shouldn’t the TF 141 have just four of us, Cap?" the man with the cap asked. If you remembered right, he was called Gaz or something like that.

"Shepard only approved of this task force if she would join, so it's off the table."

"She is crazy," Mohawk guy stated.

"Maybe so, but she's great in the field."

"How do you know, Ghost?"

"Met her in Lisbon four years ago, but as an enemy."

"Four years ago, she was 15."

"Indeed."

"This can't be true."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lisbon, March 2018

The storm howled through the gloomy streets of Lisbon. It was one of your first solo missions: just kill the target and finish. Nothing special, but lying on the rooftop with your sniper gun was more uncomfortable than you had originally imagined. Of course, you were used to discomfort, but the missions were always your safe space. Sleeping outside was easy—safer than there.

But now you were soaked through to your underwear, and the damn target was taking his sweet time. You were trained to lie here on the rooftop for several days, and you won't mess up your first mission; it all factors into the evaluation. And you already messed up that hard. You needed to improve before the grand selection.

Footsteps echoed behind you. You had the choice to turn around and fight off the intruder or to keep focusing on your mission. If he caught you turning around, you would fail, and you really didn’t need this. You decided to foolishly turn around, aiming your gun at him. He was tall, bulky, with blonde hair and several scars on his face—a soldier. Probably, your survival rate was around 75%.

Of course, he pointed his gun at you too, making this even more annoying than it already was. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?” He had a British accent, probably SAS, judging by his uniform.

“I’m a NATO soldier just keeping watch. No one shoots the governor,” you tried hard to speak with an American accent, maybe he was a brute and not a brain. The uniform you wore didn’t have any flags, atypical for NATO.

“Don’t bullshit me, tell me the truth before I put a hole through your head,” he barked at you, at least only half an idiot, you guessed.

“Bold of you to assume that I won’t put a hole through your head first.”

“As if you were able, little girl.” Before you could form a cocky remark, you already had a bullet in your shoulder. He thought you would leave your position because of the bullet, but you stayed put; you needed to finish the mission. He hunched over to you, turning you around while drawing his knife out.

“Блядь, неужели ты не можешь просто позволить мне быть,” you cursed under your breath, drawing your knife too, standing up without a hint of pain in your eyes, making him wonder how this was possible.

“NATO, huh?”

He tried to bring you down with his pure brute strength, but as always, he forgot that strength isn’t everything. “You shouldn’t have such a bad stance,” you smirked before he could defend his technique; you already put a knife inside his hip.

The big, incapable soldier winced on the ground as if a knife wound hurt that bad. Before he could reach for something, you were already on your way to your rope, grabbing it to jump from the rooftop.

“By the way, never disturb my work again, сука,” and with that, you shot him in the shoulder, eye for an eye, and jumped from the rooftop.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

"That's how the governor died?" Price asked, and Ghost only nodded. It wasn't one of his proudest moments; he would have won if he hadn’t been so unfocused. Since then, his missions were always about constant focus and never underestimating an enemy.

“She is a terrorist, we don’t work with terrorists,”

“Have fun fighting me, you lose, short man—all of you will lose,” you said, showing yourself from the corner where you had been hiding. They needed to tolerate you for their silly little task force.

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freebooter4ever · 26 days

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holy shit for the first time in ten years i forgot nicks birthday

#and ironically it was my friends video talking about march that clued me in #like fuck march passed and i didn't even notice it.... feels weird. very. weird.#jrnlsht #yikes he turned 40 this year #oh that makes me feel old lmao that makes me feel so old #i thought i had everything figured out when i was 25...of the two of us i was the one with the stable job that i loved #making art all day... and then staying up till 4am making art with nick #and like sadly literally not euphemistically #although those after hours set painting sessions did include some making out #he was such a mess back then #now we've swapped im the mess and he's the one with the stable job he loves #funny how life works out #i remember his 30th vividly his sister bought him this ridiculous bunch of balloons #which of course he hated #and he was forcing a smile cause he was trying to play nice and act like his life wasnt a total mess #and i just sat there giggling at him in his sisters kitchen with the balloons cause i could tell he was faking it #anyway it was fine i made it up to him with a much better present later that evening when we were alone :P #i dont think either of us ever imagined being this old #i certainly didnt #i remember the last time i touched his face a few years ago #it was the first time i realized that - oh- i could love wrinkles #bald with lines around his smile... it was still his face :)#but forgetting is a good thing #sometimes i need to let memories go and move on

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sunflower-lilac42 · 4 months

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✧ 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈𝐧 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 | luke hughes (feat. quinn + jack) ♔

summary: the relationship between the hughes brothers is special, but the bond between quinn, jack, and luke’s girlfriend is something else or four times quinn and jack were there for luke's girlfriend when she couldn’t tell luke or luke wasn’t availble

warnings: finals (physics), stress, crying, mean comments, threats, fighting, car breaking down/running out of grass, being followed, angsty + fluffy, asshole luke

notes: happy almost (or now) new year everyone! i still have three hours (central time different fr). for the finals one you can pick whatever you want but i suck at physics so i put that but you can put math or something related to your own major if you want, also I gave you a 4.0 bc i can and it made sense for this. I tried to do as much with quinn and jack but my luke side was coming out a lot in the second and last one.

nhl masterlist | main masterlist

The One with the Finals | Quinn ~ Winter of 2023

The day before her physics final, y/n was in tears. There were papers not only all over her desk but on the walls and the ground as well. The whiteboard that hung in her apartment was littered with kinematics equations and a bunch of random vocabulary words that probably weren’t necessary for her final.

More tears sprung in her eyes as she looked at her review guide, “Who the fuck knows this shit?”

Her roommates had already gone home, finishing their finals the day before so she was alone. It was almost 7 and she had been studying for six hours, maybe more. She knew she should stop and take a break, make some dinner, maybe even watch a movie, but she couldn’t, not now, not when her grade was on the line.

She was so close, oh so close to being done but the last question was too much for her. It sent her brain into overdrive, the wires were crossed, and nothing made sense anymore, not that it ever did anyway. She let out a noise, a cross between a groan and a whine, and threw her notes down and her pencil across the room.

She took a peak at her phone and noticed the mass amount of messages from her boyfriend, a few from her parents, and a few from Luke’s family. The boy was so worried that he made his parents and Quinn and Jack text her just to see if she would answer, but she didn’t.

Now, no offense to Jack (but offense) and no offense to Luke, but they weren’t always the brightest of the bunch. Which is why she called Quinn, tears still obviously present.

“I’m going to fail.”

“Y/n? Luke’s been calling you for hours.”

“Yes, I know. I was studying for physics, and I’ve concluded that I’m going to fail.”

Quinn sat up from where he was lying on his bed, “No, you’re not.”

She let out a sob, “I am and then I’m going to get kicked out of school and everyone’s going to make fun of me and then Luke won’t want to date me anymore and then you guys will stop talking to me-”

“Hey! Calm down, none of that is going to happen because it’s not possible, y/n/n. What’s your GPA right now?”

“A 4.0.”

Quinn laughed, “Stop being so hard on yourself. You’re fine. I promise you, but if you feel that badly about it, I’ll help you study.”

“Really?”

“No, I’m fucking with you. Of course, I’ll help you. You’re my favorite sibling after all.”

“I’m not even related to you.”

“Yet.”

Y/n sent the PDF of the review guide to Quinn, who now sat at his desk on his computer. The two talked and studied with one another before Quinn realized the lack of color in the girl’s face, “Have you eaten yet?”

Y/n looked at him and then quickly looked down shamefully, “No.”

Quinn looked like he was going to yell at her but in reality, he was just worried, and the tiniest bit frustrated with her for not taking care of herself, not that he would ever tell her that though, “Go make dinner, you can bring me with if you want. I’ll even make my own.”

“But-”

“No, you’ll think better if you eat.” That could’ve been a total lie, but she would’ve listened to him anyway.

She took her phone and computer with her, still talking to Quinn as she made some ramen - the good kind, not the crappy instant one. Quinn smiled, happy with himself for making his brother’s girlfriend - or if he had it his and Jack’s way, his sister - take care of herself and feel better.

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

She had just gotten done with her final and she screamed internally, walking out of the room and heading to her dorm, waiting for her family to pick her up. She called Quinn immediately after she stepped out of the building.

“Quinn! Quinn! Quinn! Guess what?!”

Quinn had been on his way to practice when he got the phone call, “What?”

“I passed!”

Quinn smiled, “See I told you, you would.”

“Thank you!"

✧༺✎༻∞

The One with the Haters | Jack ~ Fall of 2023

It never really bothered her, and Luke always said it shouldn’t. Yet, when Luke started his rookie year and gained more attraction, so did she. They were worse than what they were before, they came in mass amounts, the words dug deeper, and everything seemed to escalated.

This wasn’t something that should’ve burdened Luke, he had enough to deal with it being his rookie season and trying to perform as well as he could, he didn’t need to hear about his fans attacking his girlfriend as well. Luke was, let’s just say, the most oblivious of them all. So she didn’t really have to worry about him finding out about it, anyway.

However, Jack knew about her mood changes. Every time she visited the two in New Jersey, she distanced herself from them, she took notice of who was around them when they went out and strategically sat next to Luke so people wouldn’t make accusations of her favoring Jack over him but not too close to him that it would seem like she’s attached and overbearing him.

He also took notice of the comments on his brother’s Instagram posts or whenever the wags would post y/n at a game.

‘He’s too good for her.’

‘Why does she even come? It’s obvious he doesn’t want her there, he doesn’t even play well when she’s there.’

‘She’s just using him.’

‘7 don’t know what he sees in her.’

‘She’s not that pretty.’

Those barely scratched the surface of the comments. There were more, most about her looks and another good chunk of them just saying how the two didn’t make sense together. But the ones that hurt the worst, were the ones that came up once or twice in every ten posts. The ones that were about her using him, the ones that made threats to her and her family. The ones claiming that they knew everything about her life. The ones that said she was cheating on Luke with Jack or Quinn.

Jack had his fair share of hate comments, many of which he remembered from his rookie season. He knew how it felt to have someone close to him be praised so much and then be torn down for simply having a relationship with them and not being as good.

The Devils were visiting Detroit near the late end of November and y/n decided to go to the game, hanging out with them the two days that they flew down early to be with her before the game. They were out at a restaurant and y/n was sitting in the very corner of the booth that they got.

Luke sat down next to her as Jack slid into the other side of the booth, still bantering with his brother. Luke was oblivious to the distance between him and y/n, shrugging it off as if she was just hot. Luke and Jack continued to talk about the game, stopping for the waiter to take their order who just so happened to be a fan of the Devils. Y/n rolled her eyes as she subtly flittered with her boyfriend, giving Jack a look.

The waiter walked away and Luke got up and left to the bathroom, “So when are you going to tell him? Or are you waiting for him to figure it out by himself?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Y/n dug her face into the menu, avoiding eye contact with Jack.

“Uh huh, sure. Then what are these?” Jack showed the girl his phone, comments from Luke’s most recent post showing.

“Jack.”

“Y/n.”

“There’s not much he can do about it anyways, they’ll keep doing it no matter what. Besides, they’re not wrong.”

“He has a right to know and no, nothing they say is true. You are Luke’s world and he will defend you until he dies. If someone is threatening you, which there is, he will find a way to stop it. And Quinn and I will help too. We want you safe.” Jack reached over the table to pat her shoulder.

She nodded, “Just talk to him. Okay?”

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

Later that night, Luke was in bed with y/n, both of them on their phones. Luke was playing a game and y/n was on Instagram. She hadn’t actively searched out the comments but when she saw a post of her with 200 comments under it, she had to look, and they weren’t all that different from what she was expecting.

“Luke?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I talk to you about something?”

“Of course, what’s up?”

“Have you seen the comments?”

“What comments?”

“These.” She handed Luke her phone and watched as he scrolled through them, and before he could say anything, she took it back and showed him her DM’s.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier? We could’ve done something to stop this.” She just shrugged.

“Sweetheart, this is scary. I don’t you to have to endure this by yourself, nonetheless.”

“It’s fine, I’m fine.”

“But you’re not. I know everyone thinks I’m oblivious, and yes, sometimes I am, but I can see you’re hurting and you have been for a while. I might not have known why or how but I was so worried about you, okay? I’m going to do everything I can to stop this.”

Luke placed his hands on her face and she wrapped her hands around his wrists. His thumbs lightly rubbed over her face, just under her eye, as hers rubbed up and down his hands, stopping at his knuckles to rub over them as well. She smiled slightly at him but was still worried about everything that was going on.

“Hey,” Luke made her look up at him. “Everything is going to work out, no matter how long or how much it’s gonna take. I’m going to get Quinn and Jack to help, I’ll have the team help as well. We’re all going to help to make sure you and your family are safe. I promise.”

She nods, “Okay.”

He kissed her forehead before her lips and pulled back to smile at her.

✧༺✎༻∞

The One with the Car | Quinn + Jack ~ Summer of 2023

Despite dating for three years, y/n was never really the biggest fan of letting Luke help her, she wasn’t the biggest fan of anyone helping her, to be honest. That’s why when she was in the middle of nowhere, scared out of her mind and not thinking straight, she hesitated to call her boyfriend.

It was the summer, she had been visiting the Hughes family at the lake house and she had gone to get some food for dinner for her, Quinn, and Jack. She wasn’t lost per se, when she left she knew how to get back home, she had been there countless times before. Yet, she felt as if she was being followed and that scared her, causing her to go a different route home, one she wasn’t that familiar with, and even then she sort of knew where she was.

The car was still following her so she decided to start taking random turns here and there and when she did the trick she was taught, take four right turns, they left after the first one. She let out a deep breath and continued to drive, just to see if they would pop up again, but they didn’t and now she was in the middle of nowhere, with an almost empty tank of gas.

Back at the lake house, Quinn, and Jack sat in the living room. Ellen, Jim, and Luke decided to go out for dinner to a fancy restaurant, and the whole nine yards, the other three weren’t bothered to even move from their seats. In hindsight, should they have just gotten Uber Eats or DoorDash, yes, but y/n wanted to get out of the house, just to a certain extent.

She didn’t want to interrupt her boyfriend’s time with his parents so she called Quinn, voice wavering, “Quinn.”

“Hey, y/n. Where are you? We thought you would be back by now.”

“About that. I’m sort of in the middle of nowhere and there was this car that was following but they stopped but I also don’t know if they just left and are coming back because they knew I was onto them-”

“Hey, calm down. Send me your location, Jack and I are on our way. Keep us on the phone and if you see them come back just start driving.”

“I’m almost out of gas.”

“We’ll hurry, just keep a lookout, okay?”

Five minutes passed and the boys were almost already halfway there, speeding the whole way as much as possible. She looked up and in the rearview mirror, there were headlights, “Guys? Is that you?”

Jack and Quinn looked at each other in confusion, “No?”

“Well, shit.” Y/n turned her car on and immediately pressed on the gas.

The car didn’t follow her, simply turned on the street behind where her car had been, but she didn’t know that, so she kept driving until her car was out of gas, “I’m out of gas.”

“We’re almost there, you should see us, right… about… now.” She looked up and saw them, easily recognizing the car. She got out of the car and practically ran to them.

Quinn hugged her back when her arms wrapped around him, “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did anyone follow you?”

She shook her head, “I’m fine, just still a little spooked.”

Jack stood off to the side and only now had y/n just noticed, “Hi Jack.” She looked at him tentatively. Contrary to her belief, Jack loved hugs, especially y/n’s hugs. She always thought differently, so she always hesitated to hug him.

Yet, when he opened his arms, she ran into them just as she did with his older brother, “Thank you for coming to get me.”

“Always.”

✧༺✎༻∞

The One with the Fight | Quinn + Jack - April of 2023

“I just don’t understand, Luke.”

“Of course, you don’t you never do!”

They had been arguing on and off all day, everything the other person did set them off, it was hours of pointless and petty arguing. Realistically, they both had been in the wrong, but Luke screwed up the most. It was when they both found out that he would be going to Jersey.

She had scheduled plans with friends earlier that week, but she would’ve dropped everything to hang out with Luke and help him pack. She offered to do that but Luke declined, saying he could handle it and he wanted her to go out and have fun with her friends. Truthfully, they had been spending almost every waking moment together since they knew.

“You were to one that told me to go hang out with them! I offered to help you and stay with you, but you declined!”

“I never said that.”

Y/n gave him a look that said all the different, “You’re such a fucking liar.”

“Oh, I’m the liar?”

“Yes!”

“If you loved me, you would’ve stayed back, anyways. And you know what? I’m done with this conversation. Don’t wait up.” Luke took his duffle bag and suitcase and left y/n’s dorm.

She stared at the door as it slammed practically in her face. The silence was deafening in the room, you could hear the barking of dogs and horns blaring from outside. If you listened hard enough you could hear the wind slapping against the window.

For two minutes she stood there, staring at the door, body still and her hair blowing from the AC. She snapped out of her trance when she felt a lone tear roll down her face. Since then, it was one after another and she ran to grab her phone from her nightstand dialing Jack’s number.

Jack answered confused, “Hello?”

“I think Luke might be on his way to Jersey.”

“But he’s not supposed to leave yet.”

“We got into a fight and he sort of-” She choked on a sob, “stormed out of here with his duffle and suitcase.”

“What do you mean you guys got into a fight? You guys never fight.”

“Yeah well ‘never’ is a fucking stupid word. And this is totally not the point of this phone call, Jack. Can you just make sure he’s okay? I don’t want him getting hurt or anything.”

“Luke’s a big boy and if he decided to come here on a whim then he can handle it. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Tears still were streaming down her face and she picked at her nails as she slid down the wall, landing on the floor.

“What happened, y/n/n?”

“It was stupid, it was my fault.”

“You’re lying.”

“How would you know?”

“You’re voice is more intense when you lie because you try to convince everyone you’re right by sounding more confident.”

“So why do you know that and not Luke?” She balled to the older boy, placing her head in her hands, the phone dropping from her grasp.

“Y/n? Y/n!” Jack tried to gain her attention but failed, causing him to add Quinn to the call.

“Jack? Y/n? What’s up?”

“Y/n answer us.”

“What’s going on?”

“Y/n! Come on, please answer.”

“I’m sorry, I dropped my phone.”

“Can someone please explain to me what is going on? And where is Luke?”

“Luke fucked up is what’s going on,” Jack said, annoyed.

Y/n now sat against her bed and her phone propped up on the wall, switching to face time, “We got into a fight.”

“You guys never fight.”

“Yes, I’m aware, now can we move on from that fact because it happened and it’s over with.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

“He was mad because he’s supposed to be leaving soon and I went out with my friends after I had already offered to stay back and help him pack and everything like that but he said no. So, he’s right, it is my fault. If I loved him, I would’ve stayed.”

The was a simletanous silence from the boys before a loud, “He said that?!”

“Yeah? Why? Is he right? I knew he was right.”

“No, no, no of course not. He’s not right. He’s a fucking dick for saying that.”

“But I should’ve stayed with him, he’s leaving soon.” She sniffled, wiping her nose with her sleeve.

“Y/n/n, listen to me right now. Nothing you did tonight was your fault. Maybe something that we don’t know that happened you did, but what he said… you didn’t deserve that. He knows how much you love him and if he stooped that low to make you feel bad, then maybe he should take some time to cool off. I’m not saying that he should’ve left the way he did, but maybe some space is good.” Quinn explained to her.

She nodded but tears were still falling, “Do you think he’s going to break up with me? I mean, he’s going to go off and be in the NHL and I’m just going to be me. I’m nothing special.”

Jack and Quinn made eye contact through the phone and Jack went to say something but was interrupted, “You’re everything to me.”

She snapped her head to the door and saw Luke standing there, his bag falling to the ground. She stood up quickly, wiping her face rid of any signs of her crying, “Luke.”

“How could you say that about yourself?”

Quinn and Jack hung up the phone, not wanting to interrupt their conversation despite them wanting to be there just in case he said something out of line. Luke wrapped his arms around the girl, “You are the most amazing person ever. I’m so sorry if I made you feel any differently.”

Y/n just shrugged, not bothered by that but more so the fight itself. Luke pulled back, saddened slightly by the lack of reciprocation in the affection, “And I am so sorry for what I said. I know you love me and I know I said you could hang out with your friends. I think just deep down I thought you would’ve stayed anyways and I was scared of leaving you.”

Y/n nodded and Luke’s hands went to her cheeks, wiping off the remnants of her mascara, “I understand, Luke. I just wish you would’ve handled it more like an adult than a teenager.”

“And I can’t even begin to explain how horrible I feel about that.”

“Can we just cuddle?”

“Anything you want.”

The two laid in better for a little while as they hadn’t wanted to do anything else. An hour later, y/n spoke, “I forgive you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“But I do. Emotions were high and I know that shouldn’t be the way we should handle things but we’re both stressed and you’re leaving soon I just want to forget about it.” Luke nodded, wanting to respect her wishes, “I love you, Lukey.”

“I love you.”

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you

#sunny lune writes #hockey #nhl #luke hughes #lh43 #luke hughes x reader #jack hughes #jh86 #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x platonic!reader #quinn hughes #qh43 #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x platonic!reader #hughes brothers #hughes brothers x reader #nj devils #vancouver canucks

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slttygeto · 9 months

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WHAT WAS I MADE FOR?

⤷ THINK I FORGOT, HOW TO BE HAPPY. | something i’m made for

જ⁀➴synopsis: your boyfriend was made to be the center of attention, to receive so much love--not to deal with your sadness like it was his.

જ⁀➴content warning: fem!reader, angst, reader is a little insecure, just v sad, satoru best boy.

જ⁀➴ word count: 0,8k.

⤷ comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

my boyfriend is so cool

that was always your thought when you went out with him for dinner. he’d invite a bunch of his friends along with their partners, and you’d spend the rest of the night chatting and laughing. you noticed how suguru was always the center of attention, even if he didn’t want to be. his best friend was equally magnetic. like a moth to a flame, they would both shine so bright.

and you’re suguru’s girlfriend. his pretty girl whom he met in college and has been with ever since. three years down the road, and many more to come, as he liked to say. you liked to believe that you and suguru were meant to be together, a match made in heaven. despite your different personalities and approach in life, you always managed to find a way to make it work.

always.

tonight, dinner tasted a little weird on your tongue. you’re sure it’s just you because everyone else seems to be enjoying their food just fine. no one seems to notice the way you scrunch up your face after the first bite, slowly setting the fork down and flashing suguru a polite smile, to which he immediately asks

“are you okay?”

am I okay? you’re not sure if you are, but you nod anyway. you squeeze his shoulder and motion at a friend who was talking to him, asking him to focus on the conversation.

you hated feeling like this. you could feel your stomach hurt, and your heart sinks a little as you try your best to fight back the insecurities. why were they resurfacing at such a time?

you weren’t supposed to feel this way. you’ve talked about this before with suguru, and he reassured you many times that he was dating you because he loved you. even three years later, you still can’t find it in you to tell him that it seems like he deserves better.

not someone who cries when they look in the mirror, or deflate throughout the day for no absolute reason. suguru deserved someone who takes care of him, not a person who is constantly so sad.

you excuse yourself from the table you’re sitting at, muttering to your boyfriend some lame excuse about how you need to fix your makeup. truth be told, if you had stayed at that table any longer, you would’ve thrown up the food and made a mess.

you walk inside the bathroom and as dramatic as it may seem, you lean against the door and let out a sob. it’s quiet, you don’t want anyone to hear you. but then it gets louder and louder until you turn on the faucet to try to drown out the sound of your cries.

this is so stupid.

you’re trying to wipe your makeup, even if it seems a little impossible to fix it right now (but you somehow manage). you’ve been in the bathroom for about 7 minutes now, and you know that if you stay there any longer, suguru would come looking for you.

you step out of the bathroom when you’re sure you look presentable and bump into a strong chest. your heart stills.

please don’t let it be—

“are you okay?” thank god, it was satoru.

you’ve known him ever since you met your boyfriend, and he’s been one of the most reliable friends ever. he was nice, kind, a little cocky but given his looks and fortune, he had a lot to brag about.

“oh, yeah. my stomach was a little upset, come on let’s go—“ you’re avoiding his eyes, but satoru can tell from your swollen lips that something else happened.

“you were crying, weren’t you?” his eyebrows are pinched, and you fight back tears when you look up at him and see the concerned look on his face.

“please, don’t tell suguru.” your voice cracks when you say his name, and satoru’s face morphs into one of confusion.

“but–“

“satoru, please. it’s not what he’s made for.”

it’s not what he’s made for.

satoru’s lips part in shock, but he can feel his heart clenching a little at your words. he doesn’t know what to tell you, his mind is blank as he stares down at you with icy blue eyes.

“okay then, let’s go back,” he doesn’t press it, slowly leads the way back to your table and you’re immediately overflown with questions from suguru.

“are you okay? is it your stomach? we can get you meds–“

“I’m okay,” you try to reassure him with a warm hand on top of his, but the look on his face tells you that he doesn’t believe you. not one bit.

but suguru doesn’t have to know that you’re not okay. after all, he does deserve better and you’re getting in the way of that.

⤷ the song absolutely destroyed me, so i had to write something.

2023 © all works belong to slttygeto. do not repost my work anywhere else.

#moon's works #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen angst #angst #geto x reader #jjk geto #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto #jjk getou #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru #geto x y/n #jujutsu geto #geto x you #jujutsu kaisen geto

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goldenhypen · 7 months

Text

→ ENHYPEN’S RED FLAGS !! ⚠︎

PAIRING | ot7 x fem!reader

GENRE | crack

WORD COUNT | 1.3k

WARNINGS | mentions of food; reader is referred to as “girl”; i’m pretty sure it’s fine but it is possible i made mistakes w the tenses (i’m still tryna get used to writing more in present tense T-T)

DISCLAIMER | THIS IS NOT IN ANY WAY A FORM OF HATE TOWARDS ENHYPEN (pls i love these boys w my entire being how could i) this is a joke so don’t take this too seriously lol

A/N | had the time of my life choosing pics for the moodboard btw they had me out here cackling at 3 am (first red flag: i’m out here losing sleep bc of them !! smh)

이희승 ! HEESEUNG

too handsome… how can you stand to look at that devilishly handsome face without ever passing out due to lack of oxygen in your lungs when he’s always taking your breath away?! also y’all become way too popular; people are always staring at you two (not only heeseung but you too obviously 😏), it’s tiring being so famous yk 🙄

good at everything… it’s lowk invigorating sometimes bc he’s always outdoing you in everything. when you play games, he’s beating you; when you’re having fun at karaoke, he’s always out-singing you or showing off with his fancy riffs and harmonies; when you’re playing sports together, he always has a way of beating you, no matter what the sport. he even manages to do better at the simple task of making ramyeon. and we all know that’s only to list a few. it’s just so tiring having such a perfect bf 😔

박종성 ! JAY

jawline is too sharp… you cup his jaw as you kiss him then suddenly you hurt your hand on his sharp jawline !! it’s not fair that you have to sacrifice your hands every day just because he looks so good.

cooks for everyone… because he cooks so much, you can’t just be hanging out watching him be all hot and sexy as he cooks for everyone all the time !! you’ve had enough of back hugging him, cheek pressed against his firm back muscles (they’re so strong, it hurts your face !!), or smelling and eating all the delicious food,,, you just wanna spend alone time with your man, without the kitchen as the third wheel :’D your bf is just so husband material, and being able to provide for everyone aside from just you and him is just so, totally, very much, rlly unattractive (that’s sarcastic btw i actually couldn’t come up w any negative points to this why would anyone hate that about him-)

심재윤 ! JAKE

always has his tongue hanging outside of his mouth or his teeth sunk into his bottom lip with a smirk… no wonder my man always has ulcers lol jk i have no idea how that actually works,, but you can never kiss him cuz his mouth hurts !! but he’s too hot for you to handle anyways so- sometimes he’ll be all seductive with that smirk after swiftly swiping his tongue over his lips and you have to literally take a moment to compose yourself before he wraps his hands around your waist, biting his bottom lip before leaning in to kiss you,, oh my heart :’>

loves his dog too much… sure, loving layla taught him ways on how to love on his own future girl, but you didn’t realize how long it would take him to transfer the title of his most favourite girl from layla to you. you were always competing with a dog and yes, she’s cute but how was this fair?! so let’s just say it took many years of hard work and determination until you finally stole that hard earned title.

박성훈 ! SUNGHOON

doesn’t hang out with enough girls… so he has no experience when it comes to dating you. even before dating you, he was basically a total clutz. not being around girls enough made him feel nervous whenever he was around them due to lack of experience. and so whenever it came to you at first, he was always a nervous wreck and super awkward. and even after dating you, though he is so much better and confident, he still has his slip ups and tends to get super shy whenever you make him flustered (which occurs a lot more often than you’d imagine)! alexa play ‘super shy’ by newjeans 👖

too funny… he randomly comes out with these stupidly funny jokes or comments that make you laugh so hard, it makes your tummy, cheeks and lungs hurt. whenever you tell him you’re gonna die of laughter, you’re not joking.

김선우 ! SUNOO

too sassy… like why does he always have to react with his eye rolls or side eyes whenever you tease him, with that snarky scoff. and then when he’d tease you back, he’d just take the remarks to a whole other level. but occasionally this sass would be used in your favour; whenever a friend would tease you, he’d always get very defensive and have the best comebacks. actually depending on how close you two are with the friend, he once in a while would take the side of your friend and just tease you harder.

perfect figure… he outdoes you all the time. like sunoo give us ladies a chance to shine?? he’s always stealing the spotlight, it’s annoying sometimes !! 🙄 like yes, you (y/n) are always hot and super attractive (self confidence!!! you deserve to love yourself 😌) but for some reason people are always complimenting sunoo’s body instead of yours. but let me let you in on a little secret… it’s only because it’s obvious you’re the one who’s clearly more physically attractive. and who states the obvious these days anyway? hmph 😌

양정원 ! JUNGWON

too loveable… in other words,, there’s nothing to ever (playfully) hate on him with or tease him about !! so boring 👎👎👎 like you just constantly wanna love on him. he can be teasing you about an embarrassing moment of yours that happened just a couple minutes ago, and then you try to think of a comeback but then you take one glimpse into his eyes and suddenly you’re melting on the spot as your mind is wiped of everything you could’ve ever thought up in one quick moment. and suddenly you can only think about the things about him that give you warm, fluffy feelings. HE COULD BE DOING THE BARE MINIMUM AND YOURE FULL HEART EYES FOR HIM he’s just perfect. so unfair and so not fun 👎👎

duality… DOES HE EVEN UNDERSTAND THAT HE SHOULD HAVE YOUR HEART TO LOOK AFTER ???? like what about your well being ??? how about YOUR FEELINGS ???? like you’re constantly being emotionally pulled this way and that cuz one second he’ll be the cutest bf ever with his bread cheeks and fluffy smile when all of a sudden he has a dance to practice and all of a sudden he’s in performance mode, and his duality is just insane !!! is that even the same jungwonie that was with you just a second ago ???? i think not !!! smh

西村力 ! NI-KI

too tall; doesn’t stop growing… (if he’s a lot taller than you) how are you gonna kiss him?? how is he gonna kiss you?? no but even if he isn’t a lot taller than you now, this boy doesn’t stop growing. you won’t admit it but it’s actually really romantic and hot the way he’d do things to match your heights, such as the other day when he carried you onto the counter, stood between your legs, and pressed his lips against yours in the hottest kiss you’ve ever shared. it’s simply not okay ???

too good of a dancer… outdoes you in every dance game. like riki at least give us a chance??? i mean sometimes he does, but the competitive side of him always wins and he just ends up beating you anyways like always 🙄 also getting to watch him on stage is like seeing a whole other riki. you mostly know him for his goofy personality, but whenever you get to see him perform, he switches that off and enters his alter ego and it has to be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. so you get the best of both worlds… which obviously isn’t healthy for your heart ???

A/N | it takes only two seconds and a click to make your favourite writers’ day with a reblog. and if you want to take 30 extra seconds of your day to add even just the smallest comment, even just a few nice words of encouragement in your reblog or in the comments, those put the biggest smiles on our faces. let us know how you liked what you just read by telling us and showing us so we can continue putting out content that you can enjoy! thank you! <3

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russellsppttemplates · 2 months

Text

That’s bullshit if I’ve heard of any (Lando Norris)

Lando finally had enough of seeing you hurt like that

Note: english is not my first language. I've been writing this one for a little bit and today felt like the day to finish it ✨️ this also felt close to home, but good to write it out, too!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: reader's self-doubt and low self esteem, loneliness, curse words, mentions a bad date with a rude person

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Are you sure you want me to come over?", you asked your best friend over the phone, refusing to accept that he had no better plans for his Friday night now that he was not racing.

"Is this your way of telling me you don't want to come over? Because that's fine, I'll stay in - are you going somewhere though? Like a date?", Lando said over the phoneline.

"Bold of you to assume I would have plans, and with a date nonetheless", you muttered, "all I'm saying is if you have something better to do, you should go do it!", you explained, not wanting to get into the topic too deeply.

"There's nothing better than spending time with my bestfriend! Do you need me to pick you up or do you feel comfortable driving at this time of night?", he wondered, "I'll be there in 10 then", you chatted off, ending the call.

Looking around your room, you found clothes that were both comfortable and presentable in case, with your usual luck, you were pulled over by the police and had to come out of your car.

Lando finally had some time off before the season began and he wanted to spend it with you. While you were usually able to fly out to most of the European races and even travel the long distance to other race tracks, this season you had more responsibilities to juggle between your internship, your studies and your family.

He arranged the pillows on the sofa and brought out your favourite snacks, getting his place ready while occupying the time until you rang his doorbell, walking up to the door so he could let you inside, "hey!", he greeted, excited to finally have you with him after weeks where you both had been busy.

"Hey", you said, nudging his hip slightly with yours as you went to the shoe cabinet, leaving your shoes there and putting on your slippers you kept at his house.

Following him silently to the living room, you watched him sit down as you took in the comfort his place made you feel.

"You're not okay", Lando stated, "I noticed when we were on the phone".

"So this is a pity visit?", you wondered, "That's why you called me over?", you grumbled, feeling the blush erupt on your cheeks along with a little annoyance.

"I never said that! I, I called you and then noticed you weren't okay! Scoot, scoot, I got a tray full of goodies for us to eat", Lando urged, pushing the blanket to the side so you could get in the warm cocoon he created with the soft fabric along with pillows in various shapes and sizes you had insisted he needed to make the place feel more home-y.

"Are you going to talk about what's on your mind or do you want to watch this new show in silence?", he wondered, pointing the remote at the TV.

"I don't want to talk about it, not now anyway", you grumbled, finding your perfect position as you laid against your bestfriend, his arm going around your shoulders as you snuggled your legs under the blanket.

The new show ended up involving a romantic couple which only heightened your feelings. Lately, it was all you could see. Everyone around you seemed to have something romantic going on and they were happy with it. One of your friends was even convinced that she would be proposed to within the next few months, and you were single. Soon enough after you entered these thoughts, they pulled you to questions like why won't people love me? why am I single? what is it that doesn't attract people to me? and the one that you had yet to find a proper answer to, the list becoming too long for your own good am I unlovable?

"Can we watch something else, please?", you asked after debating for a few minutes wether or not you should interrupt, "I'm sorry, but I'm not enjoying it that much", you mumbled.

"That's okay, Y/N, I'll just put on one of our reruns", he smiled, changing the streaming platform and looking for the square on the screen, "if you want to just lay here, that's fine, too", he encouraged.

"At least I'm not alone with my thoughts", you mumbled again, looking at the ceiling as Lando moved his neck to join you, "I'm not sure what you mean, but I'm here for you anyway", he squeezed your hand that found its way to his own.

"It's just, - I've been reflecting? I don't even know if that's the word, but I've been feeling lonely", you blurted, still unsure if you were voicing all of it.

Lando hummed, urging you to continue, "like, I'm craving to have somebody there for me, someone who I know is in my corner, who I feel totally comfortable with. My brother was telling me all about the stuffed bunny his girlfriend asked him to take care off! I want that with someone", you pouted.

Lando tensed, rearranging his position on the sofa to look at you softly as you kept looking at his white ceiling.

"Maybe I should be less opinionated, less vocal about what I think and feel", you mused.

You'd lose your essence, Lando thought as he heard you rant on and on about the traits you wanted to change about yourself.

"Changing something physical is harder, but maybe I can change that, right? Be a bit quieter with what I say, measure my opinions, say yes and agree with things more", you shrugged, shaking the whole thing off of your body, wanting to rid yourself of the thought, "I can't, I won't be able to do that, they'd notice it straight away", you sighed.

As the night went on, Lando quickly changing the subject, you spoke about anything that came to mind until you looked at your watch, "Fuck, it's so late, I have to go", you stood up quickly, bending to pick your slippers up from the floor when he stopped you, "stay in the guest bedroom for tonight. Sleep here", he tried.

"Is it because I said I was lonely? I was just venting it out, you don't need to worry about me being a loner", you tried your best to assure it.

"No, you muppet. I'm doing it because I don't like the idea of you having to drive all the way back at this time of night", he reasoned, getting up himself and walking with you to the guest bedroom.

"Is this still made from the last time I was here?", you wondered, looking at the sheets.

"I made it before you came here! And I've washed the sheets, thank you very much. You have a fresh bed to sleep on", he smiled charmingly.

"Thanks", you smiled back, grabbing the clothes you usually wore to sleep when you stayed over from the drawer, "those have been washed, too", he pointed, "if you need anything, I'm in my usual spot", he winked, "Good night, Y/N, sleep tight!".

"Thanks for this", you gestured, "Good night, Lando", you said before he saluted you playfully, closing the door behind him.

Using the ensuite for your night routine, you changed into the shorts and Lando's t-shirt, noticing that all of the washes had made it smell less of his cologne and more of the scented fabric softener he uses.

The t-shirt fit snug against your hips, embracing your curvy body as you got under the sheets, letting the weight of them lull you to sleep and slow down your thoughts.

Lando was driving to a restaurant he knew well enough. He had had a few dates there before, one team dinner and a few family birthdays too whenever they were in town.

But right now, he was picking you up. From a date that apparently wasn't going well since he got a text from you asking him to pick you up.

"Hey, gorgeous girl", he said once he opened the car window as he parked in front of the restaurant, thankful that it wasn't too busy and no one seemed to notice or care that he was there.

"Thanks for picking me up", you mumbled as you sat down, pulling on your seatbelt and nothing your bestfriend's gaze on you, silently questioning you.

"He was an asshole", you explained, "kept asking me if I was sure of what I was doing, if I knew any Formula One drivers - don't worry, didn't out anything - and then he just kept being rude to me, to the waiter, who was wonderful by the way".

"I didn't mean him. I don't care about him, I care about you", Lando said, driving back to his place, assuming you'd want to have someone close by that wouldn't ask too many questions.

"It was just another one where it didn't go well", you mumbled, letting your head rest on the window and looking out at the lights illuminating the city.

"Do you want to go to my place?", Lando asked, knowing you wouldn't want to be pushed about the subject, "yes, please", you said.

As soon as you got inside his place, you took your shoes off, walking up to the spare bedroom to leave your bag in there, "thank you for picking me up, you're the best, Lando", you smiled as you rested against the door frame.

"No worries, okay? Sleep tight, I have good plans for tomorrow so this will be out of your mind", he smiled a small one.

"Night night, Lando", you said back, closing the door behind you and letting the tears finally fall.

It was horrible. The way he treated other people should have been the first clue and red flag, but somehow it still surprised you how he conducted the whole date. You weren't expecting a prince or a gentleman, but you expected human decency and it turns out you were not afforded that. He kept leaving snarky comments about his exes. He was rude, sexist and definitely not your type, and after splitting the bill, you informed him that someone would come to pick you up.

Could someone be unlovable? Not worthy of love to the point where anyone they attracted to their presence just wasn't a match and they had to be content with the bare minimum?

Splashing some water on your face and wiping it with the towel, you took one good look in the mirror. It looks like it's going to be you for a while, so you might as well get used to it, Y/N.

When morning rolled around, Lando was the first to wake up, getting ready and heading to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for the two of you. He wanted to make something special, because even though you had your tough shell on yesterday, he knew you were feeling it deeply and painfully.

This quest of yours was doing you more harm than good. And it wasn't helping him either. For a few years, Lando figured, he has loved you. At first, it wasn't a clear sentiment. You were best friends, obviously there was a deeper connection. But then it felt so much all the time, there was never a break for the butterflies on his stomach or for the jealous green eyed monster whenever you so much as mentioned anyone else. He wouldn't dare say it, but he's so glad your date last night sucked.

As he prepared your coffee, your footsteps approached, "Good morning", you croaked out. You looked like you hadn't slept well, which Lando figured was a given considering the heard you move a lot during the night.

"Good morning, I made this for you. The balcony had nice sunlight right now, I figured you'd enjoy breakfast there", he attempted, bringing a small smile to your lips as you thanked him for the mug, "I'll bring the rest shortly", he called.

As you looked out to the always busy streets, you took in their quickness and rush. How it was all fleeting and momentary.

Lando placed the tray on the table, arranging it so you both could reach everything.

"I heard you crying last night", he began, his fist clenched at the memory as he sat down.

"I'm fine", you shrugged.

"I don't think you are, and I don't want you to suffer, Y/N", he insisted, unusually bold considering he knew which territory he was stepping into.

"It's not easy to come to terms with the fact that I'm single and that it might look like that for a bit, and who even knows how long that 'bit' might actually be", you chuckled, looking at him expecting his understanding gaze but being face with furrowed brows instead along with a scoff. "What? It's not like I'm being unreasonable, I'm just stating the facts", you squinted.

"That's not how it works, and you know that Y/N", he sternly spoke, straightening his back and facing you completely.

It was your time to laugh and scoff a little, "unless something changes within me, I'm sure this is how I'll find myself in the foreseeable", you shock your head.

"All of those things you want to change about yourself? Or that you say you should change to make you more likeable and lovable? That's dimming your light and your spark", Lando bit back, having had enough of it, "if someone loved you after all of those changes, they wouldn't love you for who you are, they would love a fabricated version of you. You're not unlovable", he smiled at the irony of it all. How after all these years, he still hadn't plucked up the courage to tell you how he felt about you.

"How can you say that when you have everyone falling at your feet? Women see you and they're ready to have anything you'll give them! You don't have to change who you are because someone made you feel like you couldn't be loved because of who you are and what you do!", you bit back, sensing a tone in him that was unusual and certainly not comfortable.

“I just need to know who the fuck told you you don’t deserve to be loved, because I’m about to beat their asses up", Lando called, elbows supported on the chair's arms as he looked at you.

"No one's ever told me, I'm probably the one saying it to myself, the rest of the people just make me feel like I'm unlovable, so if you want to hit me, I would prefer you didn't, I bruise quite easily", you tried to joke, not wanting to let your mind wander to the parallel utopian reality where your bestfriend feels the same way about you.

"Then it's all the people that made you feel unloved", Lando said, "none of them deserved a second of your attention, but I can give them a second of mine just for that".

“That’s a lot of people you’re gonna have to beat up, then, and I’m not sure if I want to bail you out of jail for that. We can't all have full bank accounts like yours", you joked again, watching him as he kept on with the subject.

"Stop joking about this! I'm being serious with you, Y/N! You deserve all of the love in the world - and even that wouldn't be enough!", he got up.

“Please, I think we have both realised and reached the conclusion that maybe I’m just not meant to be loved", you added.

“That’s bullshit if I’ve heard of any! No one’s not meant to be loved. There’s someone out there for you, and I think I’ve made it clear that, if it’s really not anyone else, then that someone’s me”, he stopped in front of you. There it was. Out in the open for everyone to hear. His balcony was covered and closed, something he was grateful about as he confessed his love for you.

"You can't joke about this", it was your turn to mention it, getting up as he took your hand in his.

"I'm not, Y/N, I'm really not", he whispered, resting his forehead in yours.

"Kiss me", you pleaded. He was quick to comply to your request, hand cupping your cheek as he tasted the bitter coffee from your lips and felt you unravel to him in a way he didn't think was possible anymore.

"I have loved you for so long, Lando", you whispered once you pulled away for air, "and I couldn't imagine a world where anyone would love me back, let alone you", you admitted, looking into his beautiful orbs.

"You don't have to make any effort to imagine it anymore, baby. I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere. You're so loved and I'll be damned if I don't show you how much everyday of our lives", he smiled, kissing your lips again as your hands travelled to his messy curls.

#lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fluff

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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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nereidprinc3ss · 2 months

Note

hii i love love how u write spencer omds🥸

uhh i was wondering if you could write sth based off the song “we’ll never have sex” by leith ross? pls dont feel pressured to write this btw😭😭😭 hope ur having a good day lovely💗💗

hello my love i have no self control so this is extremely long and plotty but i love this song and i hope that this is any good at all crying emoji (i'm on a laptop LOL) enjoy!!

warnings/tags: angst/fluff, fem!reader, negative self-talk from reader, mentions of past sexual coercion/feeling used, mentions of past excessive drinking to combat social anxiety, ive been watching a lot of new girl lately and i think it shows, SO FRIENDS TO LOVERS, happy ending

You weren’t expecting to end up on Spencer Reid’s worn-leather couch at two in the morning, clutching a chipped mug of coffee in your hands as you listen to the sounds of the city from the street below. But there you are, sitting with your legs folded under you, in your favorite dress and first date-night makeup (now bleeding and smudged from all the crying.) And realizing that despite considering him one of your closest friends, you haven’t been to his apartment in a long time. There are, of course, good reasons for that—but you try to push those from your mind.

“I’m really sorry about this,” you sigh, staring at your warped reflection in the glassy black surface of your coffee. Spencer is coming out of the small kitchen, now bearing his own cup.

“Please, stop apologizing.”

You glance up, tentatively studying him from behind the safety of your mug. While he may not have been asleep when you knocked on his door ten minutes ago, lachrymose and barely verbal, he must have been getting ready for bed. He’s clad in patterned pajama pants, mismatched socks, and an FBI crewneck that is just big enough to reveal the collar of the tee-shirt underneath. He’s already taken out his contacts, and you were startled by the reminder that he also has glasses.

“So...” he begins, bringing you back to the present moment, “we don't have to talk about anything, if you don’t want to, but...”

You sigh, watching coffee bubbles swirl like stars in a galaxy.

“It’s fine. Honestly, I’m kind of embarrassed. I didn’t really think, I just... ended up here.”

“Yeah... where did you come from?” he laughs quietly. “Not that I’m complaining. But I recall you not living super close by.”

“No, no. I was actually on a date. Kind of.”

“Ah.” There’s a beat of silence, and ostensibly Spencer is waiting for you to say more, but instead you take a sip from your mug. “At two in the morning?” You nod dully, staring at the labyrinthine pattern of the Persian rug.

“I’m taking it that it wasn’t a very good date...?”

A whoosh of air escapes from your puffed cheeks.

“No it was not. Not by the end, anyway. It actually started really well, which made it even more disappointing when he...” you laugh, but there’s not much humor in it. “Well, when he kicked me out of his car on a street corner because I didn’t want to sleep with him.”

You don’t look to see Spencer’s reaction—only take another long, baleful sip of coffee and ignore the heavy silence.

“I’m really sorry. You... you deserve so much better than that.”

An attempt at a jaded scoff from you falls flat.

“Yeah, well. Tell that to the last three white house interns I’ve gone on dates with. It’s the same thing every time.”

“Have you considered going on fewer dates with white house interns...?” The nervous humor is a thin veil over genuine critique. You shrug, biting the inside of your cheek.

“It’s not just them. Every single guy I’ve liked since I was 15 has been like this. Even my past relationships, I felt like I was almost... tricked into, you know? I mean, these guys, they act all understanding and willing to take it slow or whatever, until you’re in a relationship, and suddenly they’re guilt tripping you so hard and making you feel so obligated to...” you catch yourself just in time, glancing up at Spencer. You’re not sure what to make of his expression. The drawn brow and slightly squinted eyes trained so intently on you could be sympathy, or anger, or pity, or apathy—you look away, not sure you even want to know what he’s thinking. “Sorry. You don’t need to hear all about that. Basically romance is exhausting and since I’ll clearly be single forever I’m considering running away to join a nunnery.”

When he doesn’t respond for too long, you look back up quizically.

“I’m not sure you know what romance actually is,” he says as soon as your gaze meets his, like the eye-contact activated some kind of hair-trigger in his vocal box.

You blink, lowering the coffee cup to your lap.

Says Spencer Reid?

“...sorry?”

He flushes, stammering to clarify himself.

“I just meant—I—I know I’m not exactly fighting women off with a stick—” he interrupts himself with a self-conscious (adorable) laugh— “but... but I have been in love, at least once.”

“Maeve,” you say, gently—trying to shove down bitter guilt as you remember how jealous you’d been when Spencer had first told you about her. “I remember.”

He swallows and nods.

“We never even met—we just talked. All the time. I had no idea what she looked like. But it didn’t matter at all. Because I knew her, and I loved her. Maybe things would have gone further if I hadn’t been calling her from public phone booths, but that wasn’t the most important thing to either of us. We were still in love.” You try to shut out the sharp ache in your chest. Being jealous of the way he speaks about a dead woman is so wrong.

“What I’m trying to say is that romance isn’t solely about sex, or even physical appearance. It sounds to me like you’ve been with a lot of men who don’t understand that. And it would be such a shame for you to write romance off in general before you even get to experience it. You are... an extraordinary woman. You’re funny, and intelligent, and kind, and so capable of being loved. One day, someone is going to see beyond your pulchritude and prove that to you. I hope you let them try.”

More tears blur the pattern on the rug, pooling in the rims of your eyes before spilling down your cheeks in fast, fat drops. Shakily you set the cup down, resting your elbows on your knees and hiding your face in your hands. You sniff once. Twice. Shake your head quickly, attempting to wipe the tears away without further smearing your makeup everywhere.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Spencer breathes, leaning forward but obviously unsure how to comfort you. “Please don’t cry, I wasn’t--I was trying to do the opposite of this.”

“No, I’m sorry! You didn’t have to—you didn’t—I’m sorry. That was way too nice.”

But you're not crying because he was nice.

Someone will love you, but not me. That’s all you can hear.

His voice is a mere whisper when he next speaks.

“I meant every word.”

You take a shuddering breath, allowing yourself a moment of reprieve behind the peaceful black of your eyelids. You can’t be looking at his face when you say what you’re about to say.

“I had a crush on you for the longest time, you know.”

Ringing silence. But it doesn’t last as long as you’d imagined. It’s not as world ending.

“Had?”

The little smile in his voice is like a fist around your heart.

“Yeah. You know what changed?”

“What’s that?”

Absolutely nothing.

“Every time I got super drunk and started hitting on you, you’d just drive me home. And I did it a lot. Like, for months. But you were such a gentleman. It drove me fucking crazy. So eventually I figured you just didn’t like me and I gave up.”

Another stretch of silence. A breeze comes in from the open window, fluttering the curtains and cooling the tears on your face. His response is sad when it finally comes.

“You thought I didn’t like you because I didn’t try to take advantage of you when you were drunk?”

“Pretty much.” You smile ruefully, fingertips still pressed over your eyes. “God, listen to me. No wonder I get treated like garbage.”

“Stop. Don’t talk about yourself like that. Did you hear anything I just said?”

You sniff, looking to the ceiling.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. It was really sweet.”

More silence.

“But you don’t believe it.”

A bitter laugh poisons the air around you.

“I don’t know. I’m kind of tired of waiting for someone to prove it to me. Just for once, I want someone to be interested in me beyond having sex in the back of their fucking... Range Rover, or whatever. Like, maybe all that stuff you said is true, but there’s no evidence to support it, and I know logically you’re probably right but I can’t help wondering if... if I’m the outlier. Maybe there just isn’t someone for me like that. Maybe I’m just gonna be the sex in the back of the Range Rover girl forever.”

A noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob forces itself from your throat and you bury your face in your hands again, shaking your head.

“Wow, I am so sorry,” you say a little too loudly, “I did not mean to be this honest tonight. Did you spike my coffee?”

“You are not the outlier,” Spencer whispers.

You sniff, lifting your head haltingly to look at him.

“What?”

His voice shakes slightly as he speaks.

“You said you can’t help wondering if you’re the outlier, and maybe there just isn’t someone for you like that. That’s not true.”

“Spencer, those are just words. You can’t possibly know that. Statistical probabilities don’t count.”

“That’s... that’s not how I know.”

Your heart drops as you study his face.

No.

Surely he’s not saying what you think he’s saying.

Surely he wouldn’t do this to you after you’ve just told him everything you told him. You have been harboring feelings for him for years. Since you met. He can’t just spring this on you one night because you’re a little bummed out. If he felt the same, you would have found out a long time ago; he had ample opportunity to tell you. There was a period of months where you practically threw yourself all over him at every chance you got, and he did nothing. So this... this is just cruel—something you’ve never known Spencer Reid to be.

You stand up, trembling slightly with rage and grief and humiliation.

“Don’t do that. Don’t say things that you don’t mean just to make me feel better.”

“What are you doing? Don’t--”

You scoop up your purse, trying to get to the front door as fast as your gelatinous legs will allow. More tears are streaming down your face now and you don’t need him to see what he’s done to you—to see how much you care what he thinks.

“It’s fine. Thanks for the coffee, I’ll see you around—”

A hand around your wrist stops you in your tracks

“Stop. Just... please give me a second to talk, okay?”

With nothing left to give, you turn to him.

“Don’t be mean, Spencer. Don’t act like you liked me too. That makes me feel... so much worse.”

He takes a deep, shaky breath, as if steeling himself. Tawny eyes bore into your soul, and you realize that there is so much sheer nervous energy radiating off of him it’s infectious. Your heart begins to pound as he speaks.

“I’m not doing that. I’m being an idiot, because you just told me that you don’t feel that way about me anymore but... but I do. And I have to tell you now because for six months I tortured myself wondering why you would flirt with me so much when you were hammered and then act like nothing happened the next day. There were so many times I almost told you how I felt but I didn’t and now I am because even if it ruins our friendship you need to know that somebody... that I wanted to be that person for you. I still do.”

Your heart is like an unmoored zeppelin in your chest, bumping against your esophagus and threatening to either burst or jump out of your mouth. You take your chances, whispering so quietly it’s almost inaudible.

“You... you like me?”

“Yes,” Spencer sighs. “I have liked you for a very long time. And I’m sorry—”

Whatever ridiculous thing he was going to apologize for, you don’t give him the chance. Instead you launch yourself at him, capturing his lips in a kiss that feels so much better than it’d ever been in your fantasies because it’s real. You hear his sharp intake of breath, but it only takes a second for him to respond, cradling your face in his hands like you’re the entire world. For a moment, time bends. Years of longing, of buried dreams crash into the present in a brilliant, dazzling explosion.

And then, as quickly as it started, he pulls away. The absence of his touch is like a vacuum, so much worse now that you know exactly how it feels to have his lips on yours, even if it was only for a few seconds. How the hell did you live like that for so long? How are you supposed to live like that ever again?

“You’re not thinking clearly,” he breathes, tilting his head back toward the ceiling like he’s barely holding onto his self control. “You just want someone to comfort you, I’m not going to take advantage of you when you’re in an emotionally vulnerable state and confided in me which is manufacturing a false sense of attachment—”

You grab his wrists, which still graze your jaw.

“Spencer, stop intellectualizing for thirty seconds. I promise you I am thinking clearly.”

“You said you used to like me, past tense—”

“Yeah, I did. Do you believe every single murderer who says he didn’t do it?”

“No, but—”

“Have you ever heard the phrase; a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts?”

“Of course I have.”

“Then what more could you possibly need to be convinced that I really like you? I already kissed you! What is stopping you?”

Another deep breath is taken by him that seems to suck all the air out of the quiet room. Briefly, you wonder if you’ve made a terrible, terrible mistake. If you really do like him so much more than he could ever like you.

Until he looks back down, eyes so golden-brown in the dim light, so kind and full of affectionate concern as he carefully assesses every square centimeter of your face, looking for... well, you’re not exactly sure what. It’s like he’s extracting every thought from your head, turning them over like sun-warmed stones until he finds what he’s looking for. He smooths his hands over your hair, brushing strands away from your teary face. Finally, after what feels like an eternity of holding your breath, he speaks.

“I just want you to believe what I believe about you. But I don’t want you to have to rely on me or anyone else for your own self-worth.”

“Well, don’t you think very highly of yourself,” you tease with a sniffle. He laughs—it's quiet, but his smile is so bright without even trying that suddenly you can’t remember why you’ve ever been sad. The small miracle of his laughter makes you feel so light, and you realize it has nothing to do with the way he makes you feel about yourself. It has everything to do with who he is.

Once the giggles die down, you tentatively mirror his hold on your face.

“Spencer, I don’t like you because you like me. I’ve liked you for an embarrassingly long time. I liked you enough that I gave myself a severe hangover at least once a week for three months just so I could have an excuse to flirt shamelessly with you.”

A half-sad smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he gently swipes under your eyes.

“You never had to do that. I would have welcomed your sober brazen flirting with open arms.”

“Well... do you believe me?” you plead. His amber eyes shine.

“I do.”

“Will you kiss me?”

“If that’s what you want.”

You nod, rising on your toes to meet him halfway.

When your lips meet again, it is sweet, and honest, and slow, and deep. Still, there is no desperation--no race to an imagined finish line, no clash of teeth and pawing hands. It is a kiss for the sake of it—as if it were the greatest intimacy. Not a precursor to sharing a bed, but something bigger than that in and of its own. Something just as worthy and important. For the first time, you think you’re beginning to understand romance. And while you wouldn’t mind if things did escalate, you also know that Spencer knows that’s not what matters right now. Because he actually understands you—he actually cares. He will wait until you understand that you mean so much more than that to him.

To that end, he pulls away, gently supplanting his absence with a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“It would be polite of me to offer you a ride home, wouldn’t it?” he whispers, like it’s the last thing he wants to do. You bite the inside of your cheek, coming up with reasons not to go. One ridiculous one arises from the depths of your memory that you know he won’t be able to say no to.

“Or... I could stay here, and we could watch one of those nerdy foreign films you’re always talking about?”

A slow, perfect, high-watt smile blossoms on his face, and you know you’ve said exactly the right thing.

“Nerdy? Oh, my darling girl... Soviet-era filmography is far from nerdy. небесная машина will completely defy what you thought you knew about the life of an average Russian villager in the 1950’s.”

“Oh, good. Because I’ve really been meaning to change the way I think about the average 1950’s Russian villager,” you smile, already closing in to kiss him again.

------------------------------------------

epilogue

Three hours later, you’re crying because the life of the average Russian villager in the 1950’s was so much worse than you’d previously thought.

“It was good, right?” Spencer asks as the credits roll over a bleak snowy sepia landscape, leaning back to get a better look at you. You sit up from where you’d been leaning against him, furiously wiping your eyes.

“It was terrible! Why didn’t you tell me that everyone except the kid dies in the end?!”

“Because that’s the whole point of the movie!” he laughs, pulling you back into him. “I’m sorry. I probably should have explained how depressing this entire era of film was outside of the US.”

“And also how long the movies were. I was not prepared for how many five minute long clips of empty fields there were going to be.”

“You’re right,” he ammends, wrapping his arms around you in a way that gives you butterflies and makes you sleepy at the same time. “Next time we can watch whatever you want to watch.”

Time passes like that—you in his arms, watching weak light slowly flood the room with half-lidded eyes and listening to the sounds of the city waking up from the street below, underscoring the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Thoughts float by like leaves on the ever-flowing current of your mind, and you’re happy to let them pass until one in particular catches your attention.

“Spencer?”

He hums, like he’d been deep in his own proverbial river of thought.

“What does pulchritude mean?”

It takes him a split second to remember the bit of conversation from earlier to which you are referring, but when he does, he chuckles, running his hand over your messy hair.

“Don’t worry about it.”

And so you let it float away.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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raginglesbian2006 · 2 months

Note

Hihi!

I enjoy your fics and I was wondering if I could request Alastor x reader where the reader paints Alastor's nails? Maybe reader paints their nails and wants to match with Alastor? Thanks for writing cool fics!

omg this is so good

Self-care day

"I declare today as self-care day!"

Every hotel resident looked at you with dumbfounded looks on their faces as they sat in front of you on the couch. Charlie cheered from the corner.

Angel Dust, someone you'd grown close to during your stay at the infamous hotel, rose up from his seat and said, "Ya heard her. It's self-care day. Shut your traps and get movin'!" You looked up at him with a grateful sigh.

You had joined this hotel when the extermination had been moved up. You were doing fine till then but panicked when you heard the news and immediately took shelter in the confines of the Hazbin Hotel. Much to your fortune, you were accepted immediately- by Charlie and Vaggie that is. Others...well...they took some time. But you made friends anyway!

Well... you couldn't call Alastor, your friend. He was more of an acquaintance...of sorts. A menacing smile you saw from time to time wander around the hotel. He managed to spook you a couple of times by randomly appearing behind you and greeting you with a loud and boisterous laugh. You almost fell down the stairs and cracked your skull open once, had it not been for Alastor's shadows preventing you from losing your balance.

"Now my dear, death at the bottom of the stairs of this fine establishment won't do well for its name, now, would it? What would the papers say?"

After the great war between the demons and the angelic exterminators and losing one of the best souls that had graced this hotel; everyone helped rebuild it to its former glory. Scratch that. It was more glorious than before.

So a day after, you had suggested to Charlie that everyone working at the hotel should deserve some rest. Quality time with themselves, if you will. Of course, Charlie was all in.

This is what led to you proudly presenting your idea in front of the denizens of hell residing in the hotel, including the literal king of hell. Alastor was nowhere to be seen as usual. He usually disappeared when called for hotel "activities" which he deemed "a waste of time."

Oh well.

At least your idea seemed to be going well for now.

Angel had pushed Husk and pestered him to let him comb his fur. He pinky promised not to make any sex jokes for an entire week if he let him do it. Husk eventually gave in which made Angel squeal in joy.

Charlie had put cucumber slices on Niffty's eyes since she refused to sit still and enjoy the face massage she had recommended. Needless to say, the little she-devil walked around the hotel lobby, with her eyes covered by cucumbers, bumping into the pillars again and again.

"Yay! Pain!" Niffty exclaimed, gleefully. Well, at least she was enjoying it.

Lucifer was teaching Charlie how to prune Vaggie's newfound wings. He was very particular with how it should be done and carefully guided Charlie through it. You absolutely loved to see them bonding.

You, on the other hand, were painting your nails. You'd noticed Alastor's claws before. You really liked the way they shone against the light. So thus, you'd resolved to paint your nails a bright red, like his claws were. Whilst you were amid your manicure, you heard the telltale static noise that announced Alastor's arrival wherever he went.

You watched as Alastor walked in through the doors of the hotel and stopped to see everyone, either on the ground or on the couch, indulging in some well-deserved self-care.

"Ah, I see you all are still not done with your... shenanigans, hm?"

Charlie gleefully said, "Al! Come join us! It's self-care day!"

Alastor let out a staticky sigh, "No my dear, as much as I would love to participate, I have better things to do." Charlie frowned but she expected this behavior from him.

Alastor was about to leave when suddenly Lucifer chimed in nonchalantly, "Maybe he's scared."

A sickening crack was heard. Alastor swiftly turned his head towards the king of hell, who was busy brushing his future daughter-in-law's wings.

"WHAT. DID. YOU. SAY?" Alastor's radio static rose significantly.

"I said," Lucifer emphasized, "Maybe you are just scared of a little massage... afraid of nail clippers. Oooh! nail polish, the sheer absolute horror!"

You chuckled at his theatrics and so did the rest of the hotel. Oh, but Alastor was not amused in the slightest. If looks could kill, Lucifer's head would be on a stick by now with the rest of his body torn to shreds.

"I can assure you, Your Majesty," Alastor's voice crackled, "I am not scared of the frivolous habits you indulge in."

"Oh?" Lucifer's smirk widened, "Prove it."

No one spoke except for Angel Dust, who whilst combing Husk's fur yelled out, "DRAMA."

You felt the air around you tense up. Alastor's grin widened even more, but you could feel it was his annoyance peaking at the king's suggestion.

Without a word, the tall deer demon started walking towards your direction.

Wait....that can't be right. Why is he walking towards you!?

Your eyes widened as he sat down right in front of you, on the ground, might I add, and spoke verbatim, "Now, would you be a dear and help paint my claws? Apparently I need to prove to that ditzy demon everyone calls "the king of hell" that I am not afraid of such puny little luxuries"

Your mouth moved once, without saying anything and then it moved again. You were basically looking at him like he'd grown seven heads.

Alastor's grin remained, "Chop chop now, my dear. My time is quite precious."

You nodded, unsure of what to do next.

"W-what color would you like for your claws to be painted, Alastor? " you spoke, trying to control your trembling, as you showed him your collection.

The demon hummed and chose a black nail polish. You took it from his hands and started painting his claws. If someone told you that one day you would be giving the radio demon a manicure, you'd have laughed at their face.

And look at you now, on the ground with the radio demon, painting his claws.

You expected him to be fussy with all this but he was surprisingly quite relaxed. He let you paint his claws with utmost sincerity and did not utter a word, the only sound coming from him being the eerie static.

This was quite unnatural of him. Not talking at all, that is. He is quite chatty almost all the time. You had to admit, it was nice to see this side of him.

You were so engrossed in your work that you did not notice that Alastor had asked you something.

"Sorry...can you repeat that again, please?"

Alastor reiterated, " Oh I just took notice of the color you chose to paint your nails."

You chuckled, "Ah well, I was inspired by the way your claws look naturally! They shine oh so wonderfully in the light. Red really suits you, you know."

He said nothing, except a hum and you resumed your work.

After the end of the little self-care day you'd arranged, you could see everyone look quite happy and relaxed. You smiled. You felt that you had accomplished something great and contributed to the smooth running of this establishment.

While you were feeling satisfied with yourself, you heard a pop behind you and there stood Alastor, with his newly painted claws.

"Hi! Do you like how it looks?" you asked.

"It is wonderful, my dear. I quite like the color. Thank you for indulging me," he replied, putting his hand on your shoulder.

Your face turned red under his gaze as you quickly looked away, "You know me, always up for helping my friends! Well, you must be busy. Let me not hold you up for long, byeeeee." Saying this, you rushed out of the lobby, away from his sight.

Alastor's mind lingered on one little thing you said.

"Friend...," he wondered loudly. He quite liked the sound of that.

A/N: Sorry for taking so long to reply to this. I hope you enjoy it!

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #request

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writingforatwistedworld · 4 months

Note

A request...

Dunno if this has been done already but A self aware Azul, Trey, and Lilia reacting to the player saying they "had a bad day but seeing them made it much better".

Let me know if this is confusing and you're free to not answer of course

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, obsessive behavior, unhealthy behavior, mentions of blood, mentions of war, death, bad cringe humor bc I haven't written for a while

Trey Clover/ Azul Ashengrotto/Lilia Vanrouge-"Seeing you made my day better!"

Oh, are you alright?

The second you returned to them, Trey could tell that something was wrong with you

A bad day perhaps?

If he could talk to you he would sit you down to talk about what (or who) ruined your day (whilst secretly planning their demise but pshh)

But then you suddenly stare at the screen and drop something like that at him? Whew... I-I think he is swooning

He almost forgets that you are having a horrible time before all of this until he finally sees you having a strained expression once more before going off

Oh ok. This is fine. This is totally fine. Haha... TOTALLY FINE

Like, imagine my mans expression

He feels honored that you feel and think that way about him but at the same time...

Bro over here can't really help

He tries to be as present as possible after that

(Toatally not like a cat throwing itself on your lap for attention)

In his mind, the more present he is the better you feel

(Not like peeps play games to escape reality but sure, if Trey wants to see himself as your emotional aspirin then sure)

But perhaps his attention really helped, perhaps something good just happened that got you in a good mood

So when you finally said that seeing him made your day so much better it felt like the sun was peeking out from behind the clouds after a long storm

Well, luckily he didn't need to conspire with Draconia to get you here anymore

But then again, if what you said was true then him being with you would keep you happy all the time, right?

Oh what he does for his go-I mean his uncrowned ruler

This brings back a lot of dark memories for him

And I mean that literally

His memories of these days are filled with him sitting in a dark corner of his little pot

Only with the difference that for him his ray of light was food, for you it… is whatever this is

It does surprise him though

You, the high scholar, wisest of the wise, were more human than he imagined you to be

Well, to be fair, it was easy to imagine you as that unfeeling being that hovered over all of them

Day after day did the octopus see you do whatever you came to do and then go again

Although… you always made sure to check on him whilst having that faint smile on your face

How sweet. Doesn’t make him worry any less though

Until one day you finally tell him that seeing him made your day better

Wow… how is he supposed to react to that?

His inspiration for everything he does sees him in that light

This totally won’t get to his now. Naw. I have no idea what you are talking about

Continue to tell him that. Tell him how much his presence makes you happy

And if you should look in the direction of some unfortunate NPC that unknowingly made you laugh he will see red

Interesting, his cane looks a bit red as well. The handle area should be cleaned again… why is it so sticky?

Lilia is not amused

Sleep deprived, yes, but not amused

Oh why that? Well, this father decided to pray even more to you in order to cheer you up

Now, if you know anything about Lilia in this au then you also know how religious he is, so him praying even more? Uh… perhaps he gets two hours of sleep at best

You are his god so surely you hear his words, asking you why your expression is always so sad, so exhausted

STOP SHARPENING YOUR SWORD YOU OLD BAT THERE IS NO NEED TO START A HOLY WAR IN THE OVERSEERS NAME WTF MADE YOU EVEN THINK OF THAT SOLUTION??!

Anyways, if Lilia is not in a good mood, so is entire Diasomnia. He is more or less the dorms old and wise fairy grandmother who hands out advice like lollipops so when he is not in a good mood, so is nobody else

No matter what the local group of non-violent military trained guys do, they just can’t cheer up their usually oh so happy teacher and guide

Lilia reminds the NPCs of the dorm of a certain general they read about in the history books (but there is no way that could be Lilia)

Until one day he walks in like he is in a romance anime, looking up with sparkling eyes to the altar and thanking your statue for your favor

If this was any other dorm, he would have been send to the school therapist (oh yeah, they have a shrimp instead of that)

When asked by his son what happened Lilia just looks up, still with that weird look in his eyes, tells him that “I have finally been noticed by our grace”

Malleus is telling Sebek in the meantime to call for a doctor because it seems like their general just lost his last few marbles

What really happened was Lilia heads down dangling from who knows where, perhaps the cafeteria chandelier, and asking himself what could have made you so sullen the last few days

Until suddenly you zipped in, looked at him (probably once up to his knees and then down to his head whilst saying “Mhm. Looks good.”) and were like “Seeing you made my day better.”

That was the moment when Lilia lost his grip on the metal and fell face-first, thankfully it was already late so no one was present but if I got a coin every time he fell like that I would have one, which tells us how rarely that happens

How about you go to whatever NPCs that govern the other countries and warn them that there is a high low-key mad general who would start would annihilation if you so much as feel slightly sluggish

You know those people who need to hear compliments constantly so they don't go bananas? Yeah

Whoops. Seems like you complimented the uniform of Octavinelles uniforms after seeing one of their NPCs. Wonder what happened to that guy. He isn't attending his classes anymore, that's for sure

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goldfish-afterhours · 4 months

Text

How the Genshin Characters Find Your Ring Size

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Zhongli, Xiao, Thoma, Scaramouche x Gn!reader

Type/genre: Bulleted headcanons, fluff, comedy

Warnings: None

Diluc

Asks for the measurements of your hand and pretends it’s for another reason

The trees are now bare and it is getting chilly outside, so Diluc takes the opportunity to ask for your hand measurements for custom-made gloves

You raise an eyebrow when he asks for measurements instead of a size, but you get out a string measurer and measure anyways

Sneakiness: 7/10. Accuracy: 10/10.

“The glove maker prefers the most accurate of measurements for his craft. And it’ll be warmer if it’s fits better.”

Kaeya

Brings you home one of those plastic rings as a joke

You accept it graciously, playing into his bit and slipping it onto your thumb since it was so big. Kaeya shakes his head, saying it has to go on your ring finger

You roll your eyes but put it on your ring finger anyways

It’s one of those flexible rings so you can push the bands together so they touch, fitting perfectly on your finger

All he has to do is steal it back from you when you take it off to shower, and now he has the perfect reference to take to the jeweler

Sneakiness: 6/10. Accuracy: 7/10

“For Your Royal Highness, monarch of the entire universe, I present to you, the ring of destiny!”

Childe

I can’t imagine that this is the first time Childe’s bought any sort of jewelry for you

This man would love to spoil you, and I can see him buying you necklaces and rings even before he gets any ideas of proposing

You wear a ring on your index finger that he brought back from Inazuma a while back. The size is a a little odd, and the two of you have been talking about getting it resized to fit better

He’ll take you to the jeweller, who will insist on getting the measurements of all your fingers “as we do for all new customers to keep on file!”

They do not, in fact, do this for all new customers. Childe specifically asked them to, and now he has your exact ring size.

Sneakiness: 10/10. Accuracy: 10/10

“Wow, the customer service is pretty good here, right?”

Zhongli

Doesn’t know which size to get? That’s fine, he’ll buy all the rings that seem around your size

That is, if he had the mora. Since in terms of mora, he has no mora, Zhongli had to find another way to figure out your ring size without you knowing

Traces the outline of both yours and his hand on a piece of parchment, pretending it’s for an old ancient Liyue tradition that couples do that you’ve never heard of and neither has Zhongli until an hour ago

You don’t question it because Zhongli is always bringing up stories and traditions you’ve never heard of, so you just assumed this would be one of them

Sneakiness: 10/10. Accuracy: 7/10

“My love, with the silhouette of our hands etched together on this paper, we will be blessed by the spirits for eternity.”

Xiao

Poor boy doesnt know what to do and too prideful to ask someone else’s help in finding out your ring size

He’ll judge it on his own

Fine I’ll do it myself

The next time the two of you are holding hands, Xiao will spread his straight out against your palm

You’ll follow suit, and as much as Xiao is enjoying the romantic moment, he’s busy trying to memorize how your hand looked in proportion to his

Since he’s eyeballing it, the measurements are a little off and ends up buying a size too small

Sneakiness: 7/10. Accuracy: 2/10

“It’s nothing. I just…like holding your hand.”

Thoma

Has one of his many friends help

One of his friends is a peddler, and they parked their travelling stall on your route home from work

They call you over, praising your beauty and insisting you take a look at their wares, that someone who shines as brightly as you deserves the finest jewellery to match

Though the flattery was too much, you felt bad about just leaving so you try on one of the rings the peddler recommended

Seeing it didn’t fit, the peddler insists you try on a different size, until you found a perfect fit

Thoma’s friend then changes attitude, suddenly saying none of the wares were for sale anymore and shooing you away

You go home and tell the strange thing that happened to you today to Thoma, who just nods innocently and pretends he had nothing to do with it

Sneakiness: 8/10. Accuracy: 10/10

“Huh, that is weird! The world is becoming a stranger place, it seems.”

Scaramouche

Flat out asks you for your ring size

When you tease him, asking what it was for, he’ll mock you, saying you’re really flattering yourself thinking he was going to propose

But when you ask him for the real reason, he’ll open his mouth to respond but no sound will come out

His head goes blank and he can’t think of a reason, and his face just turns redder by the second

You tell him your ring size, and teasingly remind him not to get you a halo ring <3

Sneakiness: 0/10. Accuracy: 10/10

“D-Don’t look so smug! If you don’t want it, then forget it.”

#my writing #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin fluff #Diluc #Kaeya #Zhongli #Childe #Xiao #Thoma #Scaramouche #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios

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forest-hashira · 2 months

Text

Forever Yours

before i drop this here and run away, i just want to say that i welcome anyone who follows me because you enjoy my writing, but please keep in mind that this is far outside of what i usually write, so if you're following expecting a lot more of this, you're going to be disappointed. everything i've written here besides this is sfw, so. you've been informed. don't get mad at me for expecting something i told you not to expect. anyways, enjoy this!

read on ao3 here | wc: ~5.1k | cw: omegaverse, omega/afab reader, alpha kyojuro, established relationship, mating cycles (reader's in heat), knotting, mating bites, unprotected piv sex, vaginal fingering, implied chubby reader. minors do not interact.

No matter how many times he assured you it was fine, that he wanted you there, you didn’t think you’d ever get used to spending your heats with Kyojuro.

You’d been dating for over a year at this point, but you’d only had half a dozen heats at most since then, probably less. Your heats had been irregular ever since you presented, but multiple doctors had assured you it wasn’t anything to be seriously concerned about, so you did your best not to worry about it.

The first heat you had after you started dating had started in the middle of the night, when the two of you were supposed to watch the sunrise together in the morning. You’d immediately texted him, saying vaguely that you didn’t feel well and that you’d have to take a rain check on the sunrise, though it made you sad to do so.

Much to your surprise, he had still shown up at your agreed upon time for your date, but instead of flowers he’d had shopping bags in his hands. He didn’t even seem upset that you hadn’t specifically told him you were in heat, just more concerned that you might not have everything you needed to get through it. You could tell he wanted to stay with you through it, but since you hadn’t invited him to, he didn’t ask, only promising that he was a phone call away if you needed him.

You made it less than forty-eight hours before you were calling him, asking if you could stay with him through it. He’d dropped everything to pick you up from your apartment and bring you back to his own.

After that it was an unspoken agreement that you spent all of your heats with him at his apartment.

Even having done this before, even knowing that nothing you did to make yourself more comfortable in his space could make him upset with you, nesting at his apartment still made you nervous. The first time you’d built a nest in his apartment, you’d done it in a closet, not wanting it to be in his way or disrupt his life any more than you already were. He’d told you he was honored you felt safe enough to nest in his apartment, but there was a sadness in his voice and on his face he hadn’t been able to disguise. In your delicate state, you’d wildly misunderstood the reason for his sadness, and had begun to cry, apologizing for taking up space that wasn’t yours. He’d spent a long time after that assuring you that you hadn’t done anything wrong, and that the only reason he was sad was because he’d hoped you’d nest somewhere he could join you, or at least keep a better eye on you.

Progress had been slow, but every time your nest migrated to a more open spot, he seemed to get happier and happier. You hoped that trend would continue, because this time the only place your Omega instincts would accept as a nesting spot was his bed.

You’d kept it small, as much as it pained you to do so: just a few extra blankets, the extra pillows from his closet, and a hoodie of his you’d slipped into. The clothing was thick, almost too warm with your rising body temperature, but it smelled like him, and you needed that to help calm you until he got home from work.

Almost as if your thoughts had summoned him, you heard his keys in the front door, and you sat up in your nest, anxiously gripping the blanket in your lap. What if he hated it? you fretted internally. What if he’s angry I used his bed? What if—

Your anxious thoughts were stopped in their tracks when you heard him call your name, his voice full of warmth and love and tenderness, just like it always was during your heats. You didn’t call back, the words sticking in your throat, but you knew it wouldn’t take him long to find you; your scent had begun to fill the apartment a few hours before, though you’d done your best not to let it get too overwhelming outside of his room.

Within a minute his footsteps approached and his head peeked around the door. Your heart leapt into your throat then, convinced he’d see your nest in his bed and become upset, asking you to take it apart. Instead, you watched as he took you in for a moment, then seemed to realize what you’d turned his bed into, and he broke out into a bright grin.

He closed the distance between you in just a few steps, and he cradled your face in his hands for a moment before he kissed you.

“You’re not upset?” you asked, once he’d finally given you a chance to breathe.

“Upset?” Kyojuro asked, clearly surprised by your words. “Baby, I’ve been waiting for you to feel comfortable enough to nest in my bed for months. How could I possibly be upset?”

Tears pricked at your eyes at his words, and all you could do was turn your head slightly into his touch, pressing a featherlight kiss to the inside of his wrist.

“My only concern is the size, though,” he added after a moment, stroking your cheek with his thumb to get your attention again.

Just like the first time, you misunderstood his meaning. “O-oh, okay,” you said quietly, feeling a bit embarrassed. “I can make it smaller, move it to my side of the bed. You don’t have to, uh. Have to share it with me.” Your voice grew softer as you spoke, barely a whisper as the last few words left your lips. You had hoped he’d cuddle you in the nest for as long as you could take it — maybe even fuck you in it later, your inner Omega suggested hopefully — but clearly he didn’t want that, and the last thing you wanted was to impose.

“No, little flame, don’t be silly,” he chided, his fiery eyes shining as he looked at you. “I just meant it looks a little sparse, your last few have been cozier than this. Are you sure it’s to your satisfaction?”

You stared at him for a moment, a light blush dusting your cheeks. “…no,” you admitted after a moment. “I just…didn’t want to take over your space like that.”

“It’s yours to take over,” he assured you, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of your nose before finally releasing you. “Come on, I’ll help you bulk it up.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and all you could do was nod, allowing him to take your hand and pull you up from the bed, forgetting until you were standing in front of him that you wore nothing but his hoodie and your panties.

His eyes flashed briefly at the sight, but all he did was smile. “You look comfy like that,” he said simply, giving your hand a squeeze before leading you into the laundry room. A basket full of his clean clothes sat by the door, and he easily scooped it up, carrying it back to his room. “Pick whatever you want out of there,” he encouraged. “I’m going to find every single blanket in this apartment for you, and if you want more I’ll drive to the store and buy the softest ones they have.”

A small giggle escaped you at his words, and you shook your head slightly at him. “That’s not necessary,” you assured him. “As long as it smells like you I’ll be happy.”

Reinforcing the nest didn’t take long, especially with Kyojuro there to help, following your every instruction about where to put the blankets and how best to arrange them to help the nest keep its shape. You incorporated every shirt, hoodie, and pair of pajama pants from the basket of his clothes into the nest, leaving out only the jeans and boxers.

“It looks beautiful, baby,” he murmured, after you’d finished your work. “Do you want to lay down in it now?”

You nodded eagerly at his words, your inner omega preening as he praised your nest. Upon his insistence, you climbed in first, settling down near the center. Once you were comfortable, you looked over at him with your best puppy eyes and reached out for him. “Cuddles?” you pleaded, blinking slowly at him the way you knew always worked.

“Anything you want,” he agreed, shucking off the jeans he was wearing before he crawled up the bed to your side, smiling at you all the while. “I’m so proud of you,” he murmured, holding you close once he’d reached you.

“For what?” you asked, a bit confused.

“For building your nest in my bed. For being honest and telling me you weren’t happy with the state of it when I asked, and for letting me help you make it better for you.”

The blush in your cheeks was impossible to hide, especially with the way it crawled up your ears and down your chest a bit. “Oh…” was all you could manage for a moment, his praises making you feel almost dizzy. “Thank you for helping me put it together. You didn’t have to do that.”

“But I wanted to,” he promised, nuzzling his nose lightly against your own; he wasn’t quite scent marking you, but it was reassuring all the same. “I’d do anything for you,” he added, almost to himself, and your blush intensified, making you feel as if you could burst into flames right then and there.

Not knowing what to say, you cuddled further into him, fingers tangling in the shirt he wore and pressing your cheek against his for a moment. “Could we watch a movie?” Your voice was quiet as you spoke, but he was so focused on you that he caught your words easily.

“What do you want to watch?” Kyojuro turned away from you slightly to grab the remote for his TV from the nightstand, but even with as short as the distance between you was, you whined softly. He chuckled softly at the sound, quickly returning to his position, squishing you against him and peppering your cheeks with kisses.

“You pick,” you told him, relaxing once he had you in his arms again. Honestly, you didn’t really care what you watched; you just wanted some background noise to help you sleep. You were exhausted, and though you hadn’t said anything, you were sure your boyfriend could tell.

A soft kiss dropped to your forehead after you spoke, and you watched as he turned on the TV, clicking around a bit until he landed on a period drama; your inner Omega cheered when you realized it was one of your favorites.

The feeling of his hand rubbing up and down your back had you melting into him in seconds, practically purring in satisfaction. Before you could fully sink into sleep or your heat-driven headspace, you forced yourself to pull away from him enough to look up into his face. “Hey Kyo?”

“What is it, little flame?” he asked, his eyes soft as he smiled down at you.

The nickname sent a little shiver down your spine, but you ignored it for now; what you needed to tell him was important. “I want you to claim me this time.”

The alpha in your arms seemed to freeze then, and you suddenly worried you’d crossed the line. The two of you had never technically had a conversation about the subject, but it had always felt like the obvious next step in your relationship; you’d never felt the same way about anyone else, and you couldn’t imagine a future without him.

“Are you sure?” he asked after a few moments, brushing a stray hair away from your eyes. “That’s a big commitment.” He watched you closely as he spoke, trying to gauge your reaction.

You nodded eagerly at his words. “I’m sure,” you promised. “I’ve felt the way you hold back during my heats and your ruts. I really want your mark this time. I needed to tell you before I got too lost in the hormones, in case you didn’t think I meant it.”

Any anxiety you might’ve felt about the situation melted away as he pulled you into a kiss, his hands cradling your face so lovingly it almost hurt.

“I want it too,” he murmured against your lips, kissing you again softly. “I’ll mark you this time. I love you,” he promised, pressing his forehead gently to yours.

“I love you too,” you breathed out, relief washing over you at the knowledge that you were on the same page. You snuggled further into him, burying your face into his neck and seeking out his scent gland. A purr rumbled in his chest at the touch, and it made you melt.

“Get some sleep,” he encouraged, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head while the other squeezed your side gently. “I know this week is gonna wear you out, you’ll need all the rest you can get.”

That was all the encouragement you needed, purring against his skin as you finally drifted off, tucked close into his warmth.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been asleep, but when you woke up you were sweating, suddenly feeling suffocated in the hoodie you’d put on earlier. You wriggled out of it as quickly as you could, tossing it to one side of your nest. Unfortunately, freeing yourself from the stifling garment didn’t bring the relief you’d hoped for, and you whined.

After a moment, you realized you were alone in the nest, and you sat up, turning towards the door. “Kyo?” you called out, not quite sure where he would be; he didn’t leave your side much during your heats, so waking up alone during them was uncommon.

Thankfully, he was back at your side in less than a minute, placing a bottle of gatorade – your favorite flavor, of course – and a snack on the bedside table. “Hey, gorgeous,” he greeted, crawling into the bed with you again, kissing your forehead. “Just went to get a couple things for you. Could smell your heat setting in while you were still asleep.”

You nodded dumbly at his words, leaning into his touch as he pulled you close. You sought out his scent gland again, pressing your nose into it and taking a deep breath. The smell of him was heady, spices and woodsmoke filling your senses and making your mouth water slightly. You shifted your position slightly, pushing yourself up on your knees a bit to rub your cheek against his scent gland, eyes closed all the while.

A low sound rumbled in his chest, and he wrapped his arms more securely around you, letting you get as much of his scent as you wanted. One hand rubbed your back softly as he held you, the other trailing down a little lower, grabbing at the meat of your thigh and relishing in the way it squished a bit in his hand; he’d always been fond of your softness, saying your squishiness and stretch marks were his favorite parts of you. He’d figured out early on in your relationship that you sometimes felt self conscious about your weight, even to the point of watching what you ate around him, but he had promised you countless times that your weight didn’t matter to him; he just loved you.

A soft gasp escaped you as he gripped your thigh, and your hold on him tightened slightly. It was at that point that you fully realized he had removed his shirt at some point, leaving him in just his boxers. The feeling of his warm skin – he had always run a bit warm – pressed against your flushed body had a purr escaping you, loud and happy, your hips rolling into him slightly, the action completely involuntary.

Kyojuro bit his lip as you moved against him, stifling the moan that rose in his chest. “Baby,” he murmured, after he’d gotten himself under control again. You didn’t react, seeming not to have heard his voice, so he tried again, this time pulling you away from his neck. “My love,” he murmured, a gentle smile on his face as he looked into your eyes. “Can you tell me what you need? I don’t want to assume anything or do something you’re not ready for yet.”

You whined softly as he pulled you away from where you’d been scenting him, but the weight of his hands at the back of your neck and on your hip kept you grounded there with him. Mind already beginning to grow a bit hazy, you had to take a moment to formulate an answer. “Touch me,” you replied, the words much breathier and pleading than you had intended.

His smile turned a bit more knowing at that, his smile quirking up into a slight smirk. “Alright, I can do that. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” His words were gentle as reassuring as his hand left your hip and trailed down between your legs. He couldn’t stop the moan that left his lips this time, the feeling of your slick soaked panties making him feel a bit feral. “So wet already,” he praised, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “C’mon, lift up for me. Gonna take these off, ‘kay?” he asked, meeting your eyes again and tugging lightly at the waistband of your underwear.

You nodded at his request, lifting yourself off of him, whimpering slightly at the loss of contact with him, though soon you’d helped him get your panties down your legs, the clothing tossed to some unknown corner of the room.

“Gonna start with my fingers,” the fiery haired man said, bringing you back to settle on his lap for the time being.

You nodded again at his words, more eager this time, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hand made its way between your legs. Normally you would’ve been embarrassed at the way slick was beginning to drip from your pussy, but right now you were so desperate for him to touch you that you didn’t care.

As his fingers finally brushed against your folds, you gasped, clinging to him a bit tighter without thinking about it. His touch was gentle at first, but when he found your clit he pressed his thumb to it, he began rubbing it in firm circles that made you whimper so pretty for him. “Kyo, please,” you pleaded quietly. “Need more.”

“I got you,” he soothed, kissing your temple before pushing a finger into your entrance. He pumped it a few times, though when he met with no resistance he easily pushed in a second. His fingers pumped in and out of you, curling on every few thrusts, his thumb still steady in its movement on your clit.

Your arms tightened slightly around his neck as he started touching you more, panting against his skin and letting out little moans every time his fingertips brushed against your sweet spot. After a few minutes of that, your hips rocking into his hand slightly to meet his thrusts, he pressed a third finger into you, the stretch causing your eyes to roll back into your head. It was nothing compared to his knot, you knew that, but it still felt sinfully good the way the digits pumped in and out of your cunt, movements aided by the amount of slick leaking from you.

Eventually your thighs began to tremble, and you buried your face further into his neck. “Feels s’good,” you whimpered into his neck. Your hips still rocked down into his hand, eagerly meeting his thrusts and adding to the stimulation of his thumb rubbing circles on your clit.

“Yeah?” he asked softly, the hand not currently buried in your cunt rubbing up and down your thigh, almost as if to soothe you. “You gonna come on my fingers like this?” His words held no teasing whatsoever, only love and affection; all he wanted to do was make you feel good, so hearing that you were enjoying his touches made his internal Alpha swell with pride.

“Want to,” you whined, rocking your hips down a bit harder than before. A breathy moan escaped your lips then, and before you had fully realized what was happening, your lips were captured in a warm, affectionate kiss.

“You can do it,” Kyojuro praised, after he broke the kiss. He began to curl his fingers into your most sensitive spot with every thrust, his thumb moving more quickly on your clit. “C’mon, baby, come for me. Wanna make you feel good.”

His words seemed to flip a switch inside you, and you came with a cry, hiding your face and sinking your teeth lightly into the curve of his shoulder; you wanted to mark him, but some part of you was holding back, wanting him to claim you first, leave his mark on you and show how much he wanted you.

He couldn’t have stopped the grin that crept across his face if he’d wanted to, feeling very self-satisfied at the way you fell apart for him, so well and so easily. The hand on your thigh slid up your back, pressing you closer into him as he worked you carefully through your high and let you catch your breath. “How do you feel?” He asked after a few moments, nuzzling lightly at your cheek until you opened your eyes to look up at him.

“Feel hot,” you answered honestly, and you could feel yourself slipping fully into your heat. “Need you, Kyo. Need your knot, please, need it so bad.” You were practically babbling at this point, and he shushed you with a gentle kiss.

“Alright, little flame, alright. I’ve got you,” the alpha soothed, sliding his fingers out of you to maneuver you onto your back in the middle of your nest.

A pathetic whine escaped your lips as he separated from you, and you reached out for him weakly, brows furrowed as your pussy clenched around nothing. “Please,” you whimpered, eyes slightly glassy as you looked up at him.

Kyojuro only separated from you long enough to pull his boxers down and kick them off, though as soon as that was done he was leaning into you again, fingers slipping between your legs again and rubbing up and down your soaked folds. “I’m right here,” he soothed, smiling gently down at you as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

The touch settled you a bit, and a slight smile tugged at your lips when he kissed your forehead. Your eyes slipped closed as he began to trail kisses down the side of your face to your neck, where he buried his face into your scent gland, taking a deep breath of your scent: black tea, honey, and the tiniest hint of mint enveloped him, and he dragged his tongue across the spot, drawing a shudder from you. Your fingers tangled in his hair at the touch, and you tugged, trying to get his attention again. “Please, Kyo, need you to fill me up, need your knot.”

Your words made him groan against your skin, and he pulled away from your neck to look down into your eyes. “Okay, baby. Okay,” was all he said, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before he took his length in his hand, lining himself up with your entrance before pushing in. His length slid in with ease, meeting no resistance until he was seated fully inside you.

The two of you moaned in unison once he was inside you, and you had to close your eyes for a moment as you adjusted to the feeling of him inside of you. He scattered kisses across your chest as he waited for permission to move, not wanting to overwhelm you at any point during this, regardless of how much he may have wanted to just start pounding you into the mattress; this wasn’t about him, after all, it was about making sure you were satisfied and taken care of.

After a few moments, you opened your eyes again, looking down at where you could still feel his lips against the skin of your chest, and you trailed your fingers gently along the curve of his jaw. Once he’d tilted his head to meet your eyes, you gave him a small nod, shifting your hips slightly to assure him you were ready.

The alpha smiled warmly as you let him know you were ready for him to move, and he shifted up slightly to capture your lips in a soft, loving kiss as he pulled his hips back, relishing in the way you sighed against his lips as he sank back into you. His pace was slow at first, far more focused on how deep he could reach than on how fast he could fuck into you. When you sank your fingers into his hair and tugged, though, a small growl slipped from his lips, and his pace quickened.

A moan escaped you as Kyojuro began to thrust into you harder than before, rolling his hips against you at the end of every thrust, the movement grinding his pubic bone into your clit in a way that had your toes curling. “Kyo,” you whimpered, nuzzling against his cheek. “Need more, please.” Your voice was soft, and if you hadn’t been pressed so close together, he might have missed it.

“Yeah?” the fiery haired man panted, nuzzling you back lightly. “All you had to do was ask, baby.” With that, he adjusted his position, pushing himself up slightly on his knees for a moment as he gathered your legs in his hands, squeezing the plush of your things as he guided your legs around his waist. Once he was satisfied with the new position, he smiled down at you again, though now his expression was a bit more predatory, like he was ready to devour you. Without another word, he leaned in again, pressing a searing kiss to your lips as he began to fuck you even harder, even faster than he had been, now chasing his own pleasure as well as yours.

A high-pitched moan had you breaking the kiss long before you wanted to, but his lips never quite left your skin, mouthing across your jaw and down your neck, licking and sucking and nibbling as he went. When he reached your scent gland, he sealed his mouth over it, grazing his teeth lightly over it. The action made you tighten around him, and he groaned, his hips slamming into the backs of your thighs.

“Fuck, baby, feel so good, all for me,” he mumbled into your skin, one of his hands leaving your thigh to reach up and pinch your nipple between his fingers, tugging on it once before releasing it, smirking slightly at the way it made you squirm.

“Only for you,” you cried out in response to his words, your grip on his hair tightening. “Please, Kyo, need your knot, please.” You clenched around him, already able to feel the swell at the base of his cock catch at your entrance every few thrusts. “Want you to claim me, wanna be yours.”

He swore under his breath, pressing his body closer to yours as he fucked relentlessly into your dripping cunt. “You want me that bad? Want me to fill you up? Want me to mark you so everyone knows you’re taken?”

“Yes!” you practically wailed, tears beginning to well in the corners of your eyes. “Fuck, please, Alpha, want it so bad, need it.” You were bordering on incoherent at this point, the knot in your stomach tightening with every slap of his skin against yours.

“Then cum for me, Omega. Show me how bad you want it.”

His words were enough to tip you over the edge, and you screamed his name as you clamped down on his dick, hips bucking up to meet his as your eyes rolled back in your head.

Kyojuro growled at the feeling, only managing to thrust a few more times before his knot swelled completely, locking the two of you together as he came, pressing as deep into you as he could. As he came, he sank his teeth into your neck, biting down on your scent gland until he tasted blood, his internal Alpha cheering as he finally marked you as his.

Your nails dug into his scalp as his knot locked the two of you together, and you swore you could feel his cum shooting straight into your womb, filling you until you couldn’t possibly hold any more. When you felt his teeth sink into your throat, your vision went white, your whole body shuddering into another small orgasm, every muscle in your body going taut until he finally released your neck.

He pulled away after a few moments to admire his work, grinning slightly at the sight of his mark on your neck. He dropped his mouth to the spot again, though this time he laved his tongue over the wound, soothing the spot as best he could in that moment. Unbeknownst to him, he’d started purring against you as he dropped his weight onto you, the sound rumbling deep in his chest and causing you to relax a bit.

Slowly, your mind came back to your body, and you couldn’t help the dopey grin that settled on your lips. Your hold on his hair loosened, your hands now sliding down to his back hugging him to yourself as you began to purr as well. “...Can I mark you?” you asked after a few minutes, nuzzling against his neck, scent marking him even though you knew your scent was all over him already.

“Of course you can, little flame. Gotta make sure we match, hm?” He tilted his head to the side as he spoke, offering you complete access to his neck.

Your expression brightened slightly at his words, and after pressing a soft kiss to his neck, you sank your teeth into his scent gland, sealing him to you, just as his bite had sealed you to him.

He gave an involuntary thrust of his hips as you bit him, and he felt more than heard your gasp as he released another spurt of cum into your cunt. Turning his head to face you again, he pressed a soft kiss to your temple, almost as if in apology. Attentive partner that he was, he immediately noticed the way your eyelids began to droop shut, and he smiled softly. “Get some rest, love,” he murmured, brushing a lock of hair away from your sweat-sticky forehead when he saw you fighting sleep. “I’ll be right here to keep taking care of you when you wake up.”

dividers by cafekitsune

tagging: @mitsuristoleme @kentohours @witchbybirth @marinnnnnnnnn @peachdues

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ellephlox · 7 months

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Head Over Heels

Summary: It's technically not your fault that you sprained your ankle, but Matt's annoyed with you anyway (at least, he pretends to be annoyed with you — but you know better).

Pairing: Matt x Fem!Reader

Warnings: A few swears, but otherwise just a whole lot of whumptober fluff!

"You're going to hurt yourself."

"I am not."

"I just heard you nearly fall over in the bathroom—"

"Because I'm rushing, Matt, that's what happens when your partner holds you captive for too long in bed and makes you late for work!"

Matt was in the process of buttoning his work shirt, a task that you noticed was taking him nearly triple the time it usually took, because his attention was entirely on you. "No one at the presentation will care if you're not wearing heels, sweetheart."

"I care!" You jangled your keys, checked your pockets again for your wallet, and slipped on a jacket. "It's a fashion thing. High heels equal professionalism."

"I like to think that I'm a professional lawyer, and not once in my life have I ever had to wear high heels to court."

"You're overreacting. I'm like a gymnast in heels. Ready? Watch this."

Your stilettos clacking against the floor, you performed several twirls, rotating as though you were a ballerina. For the first few, Matt said nothing, but then he reached out and stopped you with a firm hand on your shoulder.

"The heels sound like precarious twigs," he said.

"They're not precarious and they're not twigs. They're pretty." For added effect you started to skip by him towards your purse.

"Just — please stop," Matt said, finishing with his last button and gesturing downward. "Walk like a normal person, at least?"

"Don't worry. I wasn't planning on skipping into the office," you assured him. "Look, I'll see you for lunch, okay? I've got to split."

"Twelve o'clock. And also promise me you won't twirl like that during your presentation," he said, and leaned in to kiss you before you left.

It was another of those impossibly busy days when you and Matt wouldn't be able to spend much time together. He was going to be in court the entire afternoon, and you had a major annual presentation for work, meaning that you'd both be out overtime and wouldn't get home until late. The bright side was that you both had an opening at noon to meet at a small diner in Hell's Kitchen and catch up over lunch.

You cursed your high heels as you tried to speed down the stairs of Matt's apartment. They really weren't conducive for someone who was running late. Halfway down, you lost your footing; the stem of the heel missed the edge of the step and you jolted downward.

And, mercifully, caught yourself on the railing.

Knowing for certain that Matt was listening to you and likely heard your misstep — as well as the way your heart was hammering from the adrenaline of nearly falling down a flight of stairs — you muttered aloud, "See? Everything's fine," and continued on your way. Shortly after, your phone vibrated with a text from Matt:

Are you trying to give me a heart attack?

Laughing to yourself, you stowed your phone back in your purse.

And the high heels did work out, for most of the morning. You gave your presentation and then buried yourself at your desk in paperwork, confined to work for the rest of the day on everything you'd fallen behind in while prepping for the presentation. You couldn't help but glance at the clock every ten minutes; noon was going to be the breath of fresh air in an otherwise stressful day.

Fifteen minutes to noon you got up from your desk and made your way out onto the street. The sun was shining, a soft balmy breeze carried the fragrance of blooming lilacs as you passed a small garden, and plush clouds drifted overhead idly.

And then, just as you were hurrying to crossing the street — technically the pedestrian light was red, but you had a solid seven seconds before the approaching car would actually reach you — there was an ominous snap, and you found yourself falling onto the pavement, your ankle rolling in the process.

Well, not just rolling. It felt more like your ankle was jerked down into a direction it definitely shouldn't have been in, accompanied by a soft pop and a flaring of sharp, throbbing pain.

The car that you would have easily made it past had to brake, honking angrily at you, and you waved vehemently in apology as you struggled to your feet — shit shit shit that hurts — and hobbled out of the street.

"Bitch!" the man shouted from his window as he accelerated by you, tossing a middle finger at you.

Usually that would probably be enough to ruin your day, being yelled at by a stranger, but you were much more preoccupied with the stabbing pain in your ankle. Did I break it? Should sprains hurt this much? You stared, stunned, at the broken stiletto that was half-dangling from your shoe. It had simply snapped in half, for no reason at all.

"Traitor," you muttered to it, taking shelter in the shade of a building to assess your ankle. Gingerly you tried touching it, but it flashed with pain as you pressed on it. Inhaling deeply and tilting your head backwards — do NOT cry don't cry don't cry don't cry— you began to continue your way to the diner.

Matt wasn't going to be happy about this. And you already knew there was no way you could hide it from him. You were limping so badly that it was difficult to walk; each movement felt as though you were tearing your ankle again. If you could arrive at the diner first and get yourself seated, then maybe you had a small chance of the injury going unnoticed, but your limping must have delayed you just enough, because you could see Matt through the window of the restaurant — he'd already arrived.

And his head was already tilted in a way that meant, yep, he's definitely onto me, he can already hear me.

"Hi," you greeted him weakly as you walked in, ignoring the fact that tears were spiking in your eyes. Matt was already on his feet, grabbing his cane almost as an afterthought and approaching you quickly.

"I didn't think it was you at first," he said, quietly so that other patrons in the diner wouldn't hear. "Your gait was so different. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's not so bad," you said, knowing he'd hear right through the lie, but not caring much in the moment.

"Let me feel it."

There was no sense in objecting; Matt, you knew, wouldn't be satisfied until he'd done his radar scanning of it so that he could know precisely what was going on in your ankle. "Okay," you agreed. "But let's use the bathroom. These people trying to enjoy their meals don't need to see you feeling up my ankle."

It was a single-user bathroom, fortunately. Matt entered first and held the door open for you, and only once it was shut and locked did he abandon his cane and stoop by your feet. You leaned against the sink as his fingers grazed your ankle.

"What's my diagnosis, Mr. X-Ray?" you asked, trying to come off as playful, but it was hard hiding the pain in your voice. It didn't help that Matt wasn't having it. He stood up, hands on his hips, jaw twitching.

"You fully tore the ligament," he said. "I told you that those heels would get you hurt."

"Whoa, excuse me. This was not my fault. I didn't trip. The heel just happened to snap on me, so it is one hundred percent, completely, utterly, not my fault."

"You knowingly wore dangerous shoes," Matt insisted.

"Stilettos aren't inherently dangerous, Matt! They're shoes! I just got a bit unlucky—"

"Unlucky? You can hardly walk."

"I'm fine," you said, a bit more firmly, and tried, recklessly, to do the twirl you had done that morning to prove it, but had to stop immediately because it sent a rocketing flare of pain through your leg. "Ow. Shit."

Matt steadied you instinctively. "You should take the rest of the day off and go to the doctor."

"No way. I'm so far behind in work. Besides, I'm good once I'm sitting, it's just walking that's hard."

Matt said nothing at first, but helped you get from the bathroom to the booth, one hand loosely holding his cane and the other supporting you as you leaned on him. You were grateful for his strength practically holding you up; already your ankle was swelling and walking alone would have made a scene. Still, it earned a few stares from several of the other people eating in the diner, but you ignored them.

"I guess I should clarify," Matt said, only once you were seated. "You are taking the rest of the day off."

You furrowed your brow, outraged. "You can't tell me what to do."

"And I'd really recommend seeing a doctor," he continued, "because—"

"Last week you—" You realized your voice was loud and lowered it to a whisper. "Last month you came flopping onto the bed at three in the morning, gasping for breath because you fractured a rib, and when I begged you to see a doctor, you said, 'I'm fine. Don't worry about me so much.' Don't you see how much of a hypocrite you are?"

"I don't care whether or not I'm a hypocrite, I care that you go to the doctor," he said, then added, "But if you don't, you're at least not going back to work. You need to rest, elevate the ankle, and ice it."

You bit your lip. "What if I simply refuse?"

"Then I'll call Claire and make her come pay us a visit tonight to check on you."

The thought of burdening Claire with having to make a trip out to Matt's apartment just for your sake was enough to make your cheeks burn. "You wouldn't."

"I would," he said. "Unless you at the very least stay home the rest of the day and ice your ankle."

"I can't believe you." You fell into silence, punctuated only by the waitress coming to take your beverage orders. Once she left, you tried to brighten things a bit, because Matt's mouth was curved in such an unhappy frown that it was beginning to stress you out. "At least it wasn't my favorite pair of stilettos. If it had been, I might be tempted to try super-gluing the heel back on."

It didn't seem to improve his mood, because Matt didn't smile. "I'd prefer if you just stuck to flats from now on."

"That's a lie. I know you love my heels," you said, impetuously leaning across the table to grab his hands. "You may not be able to see my legs, but I know you can sense them, and I know that stilettos make them, like, ten times sexier."

"You know what's not sexy? A sprained ankle."

"Wow. Thanks for really bulldozing my self-esteem." You paused. "If my ankle makes me so un-sexy, then maybe I'll just... sleep on the couch tonight instead. Wouldn't want you to be near me if I'm all sprained-ankle-ish."

"You're impossible."

"I have a better idea. I can be bait," you said, watching Matt's expression carefully. "I'll stumble out onto the streets tonight — you know, all 'Woe is me, I've got a sprained ankle' — and that'll attract every mugger in the vicinity, seeing a vulnerable girl alone. They won't be able to help themselves, they'll just be dying to come over and rob me. And then, lo and behold! Daredevil dives in and catches all of Hell's Kitchen's criminals in one fell swoop."

Sure enough, you could see an irritated amusement in Matt's mouth, the type that meant he was torn between smiling and getting annoyed. "I'll agree to that plan when Foggy learns how to meditate for more than five minutes at a time."

The waitress arrived and took your orders. You sipped on the water she had delivered, your eyes not leaving Matt's face.

"What is it?" he said, finally. "You're dying to say something."

"Yeah. I want you to admit that it's not my poor high heels you're angry with. You're just worried about me."

"Can't it be both?"

"Leave my high heels out of this and admit it, Matt."

"Fine. I'm worried about you. Does that make you happy?"

"Sure does," you said, squeezing his hands and smiling. "By the way... did I ever mention that I'm head over heels in love with you?"

"Oh, my God."

A/N: This was just a short piece inspired by two separate asks I received that fit together quite well:

Prompt 1: hi!!! could you do a hurt/comfort where reader breaks her heel and sprains her ankle while walking home and matt finds her??

Prompt 2: May I request a Matt fic? I've been seeing girls on YouTube that test their heels out by running around in front of their s/o, and I thought it would be really funny with a clumsy reader and Matt having an absolute heart attack. Thanks!

Just realized that I completely altered the first prompt by having them meet at a diner rather than Matt finding her, so I apologize! I hope it was still alright to read :) happy whumptober, everyone!

#fluff #whump #whumptober #matt murdock #marvel #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x reader #daredevil #reader insert #reader #mcu #x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader

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hotchfiles · 3 months

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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ ['CUZ YOU'RE A NATURAL] ❞ — a in this house of mine prequel ; MDNI!

pairing: aaron hotchner x rossi!reader. summary: not having a crush on your dad's friend and co-worker should be rule number one. but what are rules when said friend is aaron hotchner? content warnings: this is suggestive at best. foul language? still let's go with MDNI! age-gap flirting. word count: 1k. a/n: might do a pt.2, i just needed to get this out of my brain.

he’s just pretending not to notice it at this point, which isn’t easy coming from a person who notices everything. coming from the man who helped build the unit that literally analyzes people for a living.

granted he wasn’t the most present of fathers and he wasn’t even sure if your mother was his second or third ex wife anymore, but he knew human behavior and human behavior clearly showed there was no reason for you to be there, “kid, i’m sure you hate sports of any kind.” david comments, observing as you made sure jack’s shoes were tight and wouldn’t get in his way.

“well dear father, actually, i was a cheerleader for my last three high school years. and the first two university ones.” he knows that, and you know he knows it, but your best way out of the mess you were purposefully getting into right now was to appeal to the guilt you knew he still had from not being around much. “base of the pyramid, very important, sporty, love sports.” you noticed you were going on for too long and shut your yapper.

lucky for you aaron didn’t seem to mind the two of you discussing, busy watching his baby boy with the most sweetest look on his face, he looks ethereal, his smile the most enchanting you’ve ever seen.

you can feel your father’s glance going from you to aaron slowly, he’s observing, analyzing but trying hard to ignore the signs. the signs that you weren’t there for some dad and daughter bonding.

unless the dad in question was hotchner.

the sole reason you had put yourself in short rounded skirt, sports short underneath, gym sneakers and shirt, and an old baseball cap to make it look like it wasn't so out of the norm for you to be at an event like that. it was. your dad was right, you didn't like sports, you liked cheer squad and the parties and the players, not the game. but you had your eyes set on the coach today which is why you were there instead of working on your masters' assignments.

you couldn't even pretend to know what was going on, if it was football you had some experience from watching and hearing past flings talk about it, but soccer? you could only cheer for jack and bicker with the soccer moms around as they talked about how much better their children were.

"hey lady if your son gets that close to jack again i'm gonna jump him." you point your finger at one of them, decorum almost goes to hell as she begins walking your direction, rossi stepping in the way to apologize for your behavior.

oh. you can't just threaten to hurt kids. that's not okay. "sorry, just used to fighting with guys' girlfriends to defend my team. cheer squad reflex memory." you say lowly directly to aaron, not even bothering to apologize to your father. your cheeks tomato red, a combination from the embarrassment and the sun that was making everyone sweat.

"it's fine, she has to teach her son fair play anyway, he's not gonna go far like that." his expression doesn't show even one single sign of being mad at you, you notice it, rossi notices it. aaron's actually smiling, completely amused by the situation.

it was nice to have someone sticking up for his boy like that.

and to have someone look at him with those eyes. not the aw you're such a good dad eyes most mothers gave him when he's around for matches. nope. the please fuck me eyes you always shot at him even if your father was around. for the sake of his loyalty to rossi he pretended not to see it, as he knew rossi did too. he hoped david didn't notice the eyes he himself gave you though, or that if he did, he was kind enough to ignore it, aaron would never act on it. never. he was twice your age if not more even if he weren't friends with david.

still, he enjoyed the touches, the stolen glances, the way you wore your short dresses and skirts around him, the way you showed you cared above the desire for the unobtainable. how you sent him cute videos with show jack as a caption, how you remembered to bring a towel not for yourself, but to pat his face dry, delicate as ever.

"people will think you were the one playing sweating like this." you go through his face and his neck with it, handing him a water bottle after. you brought those yourself too, you wanted to be useful.

before he can hold it back, a smirk deliciously mischievous takes grip of his lips, "what can i say dear, i tend to sweat a bit when i'm doing any type of exercise." you're not sure if you wished you hadn't caught the innuendo of his reply, as you were now fighting hard not to squirm in front of him. oh you wanted nothing more than to be the one making him sweat.

"good thing your bedroom has an a.c then." you say almost mindlessly, panicking just a tad when you grasped the idea that maybe remembering that so easily wasn't the most normal thing to do. did you just sound obsessive? stalkerish? you think not when he chuckles, nodding in agreement.

you both just look at each other for a minute, breathing patterns completely irregular, being interrupted only by your father loudly coughing from some steps away from you both, tired of having to deal with the obvious tension between his daughter and his co-worker, his friend! rossi doesn't say anything else though. and neither does aaron or you, deciding to just go back to paying attention to the match.

but hotch had just got you an in. if he hadn't flirted back you might just keep it as a crush, but now?

now you needed him.

#lari writes sometimes #i have no control over my brain and my typing atp it just happens and jo just keeps enabling me #aaron x reader #aaron x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch imagine #hotch scenario

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the-boy-meets-evil · 3 months

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today of all days | vernon

(the lull of the new year never really comes for you, which is fine. it's better to be busy. this year, you're a little too busy planning something else to worry much about valentine's day. It's never been your favorite holiday anyway. but, could your boyfriend have forgotten in entirely?)

pairing: vernon x afab!reader genre: est. relationship, non-idol!au | smut, slight angst, fluff rating: explicit, minors DNI word count: ~4.6k warnings: mentions of food, there's a little angst, but it's mostly miscommunication, kissing, oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, marking, unprotected sex (don't do this without talking about it), multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, i think that's it

a/n: happy valentine's day to the always wonderful, absolutely amazing @wonwussy 💕 it's been so much fun to get to write this for you. i hope you enjoy it! this is part of @svthub's cupid for you valentine's exchange organized by my bby @wongyuseokie (who is very amazing and also made the banner & divider). happy valentine's (and carat day)!

There’s usually kind of a lull at the beginning of the new year. Like everyone decides that after the holidays, you’re due for a break. People try to work on their resolutions, businesses expect to see the drop off in their sales. Everything just feels more peaceful. It’s that calm before the storm when everything picks up again.

Not for you, though. At least not this year. February brings Valentine’s Day and your boyfriend’s birthday. You don’t really care that much about the former. It’s nice to have someone to celebrate with, and you’re sure the two of you will do something, but it’s nothing crazy. As long as you have him and a quiet night in, you’re good. It’s the latter of the two things that’s keeping an otherwise peaceful time from being peaceful.

Here’s the thing. Vernon isn’t one to make a big deal of his birthday, never has been. He feels similar to the way you feel about Valentine’s Day. He likes to do something to mark the passing of time, definitely enjoys the presents, but doesn’t feel the need for it to be some huge thing. It’s a little difficult, too, because he’s got another friend with the same birthday. For the years that they’ve been friends, they’ve always tried to work it around each other. Seokmin is a year older and feels a little more strongly about birthdays as something that should be celebrated. Somehow, that led to this year. A coordinated birthday for the two of them with all their friends there to celebrate the both of them. Two different cakes, two different contributions to the menu, and twice as many people to coordinate with.

To say it’s been a bit of a headache is an understatement.

You love Vernon. He’s been your person for over two years and you wouldn’t trade him for the world. You also love to plan things for other people as a way to show them how much you care. This has just been a bigger undertaking than you imagined. Especially when you have to keep the party under wraps. Vernon knows you’re doing something with a group of friends. He thinks it’s only a small group. But, he’ll appreciate it all the same. Just like he seems to appreciate everything that you do.

“Babe,” Vernon calls from the living room. He’s in the middle of gaming with Wonwoo, connected by their headsets.

“Yeah?” you answer.

“Wonwoo says that I’m gonna get in trouble for not planning some big thing for Valentine’s,” Vernon tells you.

You can hear the protests from Vernon even through the headset, which makes you chuckle. “As long as we get to cook something together and have a night in, I’m good.”

“See?” Vernon says triumphantly. There’s a pause where Wonwoo must be asking something. “Oh, yeah, I’m definitely getting a gift.”

“What?” you ask with clear surprise. Gifts were not part of the plan for this year.

“It’s nothing big, but I’ve got the perfect idea,” Vernon says with a familiar look of mischief.

“Oh no, no you are not,” you counter. He bursts out in a cackle. “Vernon, you are not getting strawberry flavored condoms for Valentine’s Day. We don’t even use condoms.”

The laugh through Vernon’s headset is just as loud. You would probably be embarrassed if it was anyone else, but Wonwoo has been in both of your lives long enough that most barriers have been erased.

“No, don’t worry, that wasn’t actually it. I have a plan,” Vernon says and you watch him suspiciously. “Promise!”

You decide to let it lie for the time being. At least partly, because you don’t want to keep standing there while he’s playing video games. Partly because you knew it meant he would be distracted enough that you could sneak off to the bedroom to make a call about the party.

Jeonghan had not been your first choice for a party planning committee because sometimes it’s hard to get an actual thought out of him. You’re not always sure what he’s thinking. But, he’s Seokmin’s best friend and one of the best schemers you know. Thankfully, these days he really only uses his talents for good. Well, it would be thankfully if you didn’t harbor a grudge over a prank he played when you first met.

Miraculously, Jeonghan is also free and willing to do some final planning. It’s that stage where the final group of friends get clued in. Some friends, who shall remain nameless, had to find out much closer to the day. They just couldn’t be trusted to keep the secret. You’re actually impressed that you’ve managed to keep it from Vernon and Seokmin. You confirm that Vernon doesn’t know. He would have absolutely told you. Jeonghan also confirms that Seokmin doesn’t know because he can’t keep a secret either.

When you wander back out into the living room, Vernon is still very engrossed in his game. You kiss the top of his head, watch the small smile with his eyes trained on the screen, and plop down at the other end of the couch. You prop your computer on your lap and reach for your headphones when Vernon turns to you between matches.

“Wanna order in for dinner?” he asks and you smile.

“Oh from that place around the corner?” you suggest. Vernon rolls his eyes without any real annoyance. It’s your favorite place.

“Whatever you want, babe,” he says and turns back to the game.

It’s easy, not only because you like it, but also since you know what he orders there. He’s kind of a creature of habit. Maybe you are too, since you always want to order from the same place. It’ll give you a chance to watch a few things while waiting as well as giving Vernon the chance to keep playing with Wonwoo. The gaming is always seamless for them after years of working together.

When the food arrives, Vernon finishes his last game so that he can eat with you. It’s one of the things you love about him. He’s so thoughtful with things like that. When you first moved in with him, you were a little worried. You had never lived with a partner and weren’t sure how to navigate it. As it turns out, with the right person, it’s pretty easy. You leave each other to do your own things and then come together after.

“You’re sure you’re okay with a quiet Valentine’s Day?” he asks when you curl into him after dinner.

“It’s a little late if I’m not considering it’s in two days,” you say with a light laugh.

“I’m being serious,” he says.

“I’m good, Vernon. I’ve got you and we’re going to make something together,” you say.

“I promise not to burn down the kitchen,” he assures you.

“You’ve been getting a lot better,” you say. “Plus, we also have dinner this weekend for your birthday.”

“We don’t really have to do anything crazy for my birthday, you know. It’s so close to Valentine’s Day and…” Vernon trails off before you press a kiss to his lips.

“I love to celebrate your birthday. It’s another year of you and everyone should be thankful for that,” you say.

Valentine’s morning comes bright and early. Sun streams through the cracks in your shades. Not quite enough to wake you up, but enough for you to know that it’s morning. You smile and stretch out, thinking it’s probably earlier than you need to be up. As you’re considering waking Vernon up to celebrate the day when you register an emptiness.

You’re the only one in the bed.

You open your eyes and confirm what you already knew. Vernon isn’t in bed with you. The door to the bathroom is open and the light is off, so he’s not in there either. Although you prefer to lay in bed to wake up, curiosity gets the better of you and propels you out of bed to the living room. The entire apartment is quiet, still. Well, still apart from your cat that’s weaving between your legs. He doesn’t seem hungry, so you think he’s just wondering what you’re doing. It’s odd that he would have left the apartment so early in the morning.

Padding back to the bedroom, you find your phone on the nightstand, plugged in like it always is. When you unlock it, you have a myriad of messages and notifications. Conspicuously absent, though, is a message from your boyfriend. There’s nothing to tell you where he is or went or could be. Which is odd, yes, but mostly it just makes you a little irritated. Sure, you don’t ever want to make a big deal out of Valentine’s Day. It’s plenty to spend the day with someone you love that loves you back.

Vernon can be a little spacy at times. It’s not his best quality, but it’s also impossibly endearing. Maybe it’s because you know how much he’s thinking about when he’s got that look like he’s never had a thought in his life. It also makes him really chill, which matches you well. He doesn’t always have to be going or doing something. But, he’ll just as happily go out and be your shield because he’s much more of a people person than you are.

All this to say, there’s part of you that wonders if the holiday just slipped his mind. It’s not like it’s a big deal, you said as much to him. But, you still expect something. Even if it’s just to know where he is so early in the morning. You hate that you wonder if he forgot because you trust Vernon with your life. He can get distracted sometimes. One time, he got so caught up in a project that he entirely forgot dinner plans with his friends.

The mature thing to do would be to send him a text and ask where he is or even to wish him a happy Valentine’s Day. You’re not feeling especially mature, though. And you feel very justified in that annoyance because he’s the one that left early. He should be the one to let you know where he is. It should not be on you.

Trying to push the thoughts of Vernon out of your mind, you get ready for the day. Opt to leave earlier so you can buy yourself something to eat and some coffee on the way. By the time you reach work, you’re even more irritated rather than calmer. Every radio station was playing love songs that fit the genre. Every host seems to want to know what people’s plans are for the day. The coffee shop by your office was decorated in red, white, and pink hearts with all sorts of specials for the day. When you head into the office, it only gets worse. People have flowers on their desks, are exchanging happy wishes, talking about how they can’t wait to get out of work for their plans. Some people are spending it with partners, others are spending it with friends. Either way, everyone seems to have plans that are better than whatever will be waiting when you get home. Why did Vernon have to pick today of all days to be forgetful?

Your work best friend stops by your desk with the typical cup of coffee mid morning and stops in his tracks when he senses your mood.

“What’s wrong with your face?” Minho asks.

“Wow, hello to you too,” you respond when you take the coffee from him.

“You seem like you’re in a bad mood,” he says.

“Maybe I am,” you answer.

“But, it’s Valentine’s Day and you have, like, the most perfect boyfriend. What’s there to be mad about?” he asks.

“Can’t be the most perfect boyfriend if he was gone before I woke up and didn’t even text me to say anything,” you say with all the irritation you feel.

That catches Minho’s attention. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I woke up and the bed was empty. No note. No text. Just empty,” you say.

“And you haven’t heard from him?” Minho presses.

“No,” you say, only to be distracted by your phone lighting up.

“Looks like a message from him,” he observes.

You quickly glance at your phone, hating how eager you feel just to hear something from him. It’s disappointing, though.

Vernon: sorry that i wasn’t there when you woke up, i had a last minute errand Vernon: when do you think you’ll be home from work?

Instead of telling Minho what happened, you just hand your phone over to him. His grimace says all you need to know. It’s not an overreaction.

“That’s…all he’s said to you today?” he asks.

“You can scroll to see,” you say because he still has your phone.

“No thanks,” Minho says with a laugh. “I don’t wanna accidentally see something.”

“It was one time,” you say, snatching your phone back with an eye roll.

“And I’m still scarred,” he says. “What are you going to say back?”

“Nothing,” you say.

“But…” he starts.

“No, I’m not saying anything. I know I’m chill about this holiday, but to not even say anything? And what errand does he have to do at 7 in the morning?” you ask, more irritated that you had been.

“If you want to hold onto a grudge, who am I to stop you?” he asks when he stands. “Let me know if he manages to get out of the dog house.”

With that comment, he’s off to his own desk. It usually goes something like this every day anyway. Minho shows up with coffee for you, looking to see what you have to say. Even though he’s the one that has the best gossip. Sometimes, he just wants someone to share it with. It’s a nice reprieve from your irritation. One that he repeats in the afternoon, which is a break from the norm. Unfortunately, the irritation that settles in his wake is worse than before he stops by.

You consider staying at work late when the end of the day comes. It’s not like you’re in a rush to head home. There’s also a part of you that wants to punish Vernon for forgetting a holiday that you don’t even care that much about. (Okay, maybe you care, but that’s the whole point of having someone you love that also loves you to spend it with.) Staying late by yourself feels even worse when nobody else from the office is. Everyone seems to be out the door as soon as the day ends. And, despite not answering any of Vernon’s messages, you know he’s home. At least it’ll give you the chance to figure out how to approach this.

The drive home gives you a chance to run through all sorts of conversations in your head. You’re still stewing, a bit, because you’re upset at how the day went. But, you’re also preparing yourself to have a potentially difficult conversation with Vernon. Of course, he’ll be receptive to your feelings. He always is. It’s more that you’re frustrated it happened in the first place and don’t want your feelings to seem invalid.

All of that goes out the window the second you step into your apartment. The lights are low, so it takes your eyes a second to adjust. When they do, however, you see that Vernon has transformed your living room into a scene from your favorite video game. It’s like stepping into another world. Every little detail is so carefully thought out that you can’t even appreciate it all in one look. Your feet carry you forward to examine the small things. The ones that very obviously took extra effort. You’re so busy appreciating it all that you don’t even notice Vernon coming in from the kitchen.

“I know we said no presents, but I wanted to do this anyway. Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says, pulling you out of your head.

“How did you…” you ask, unable to even finish the question.

“I found someone who had this whole set for their ex and wanted to get rid of it. He was practically giving it away, but I had to go pick it up like 2 hours away,” he says.

You look around and can tell the level of care that went into creating this. “That’s why you were gone when I woke up?”

“Yeah, I left you notes on breakfast in the fridge and coffee in the microwave, but I guess you didn’t see those,” he says.

“I’m so sorry,” you say and don’t even realize that tears started to fall until Vernon’s pulling you into his arms.

“It’s fine, what are you sorry for?” he asks, holding you tightly.

“I spent the whole day thinking you forgot Valentine’s Day and being mad. That’s why I didn’t answer your texts,” you say.

“I just figured it was a busy day and you were excited to get home,” Vernon says.

“I’m so sorry,” you repeat.

He pulls back so that he can look down at you. Wipes the tears gently away from under your eyes. “It’s fine, babe. I’m not upset at you when I can be forgetful.”

Nobody has ever done something like this for you. You can’t imagine how long it took to transform the living room this way. There aren’t any words you can think of to express how much it all means to you, so you just press your lips against his. Throw your hands around his neck to keep him close to you. He’s surprised, at least for a second, before he pulls you in tighter against him and kisses you back. It’s not the time to talk, at least not right now. How could you have thought this man would ever forget?

“Can I show you what I was thinking about before I realized you were already gone this morning?” you ask when you break the kiss.

“Should I be concerned?” he asks.

“Just trust me,” you say and pull him into the bedroom with you.

Any hesitations that he may have had disappear when you resume kissing him. Your fingers nimbly undo his pants so that you can slide them down his legs. The clothes come flying off in a flurry from there, far quicker than usual for the two of you. There’s just an urgency given the way the day went. Neither of you seems to want to let your lips leave the other. As Vernon kisses down your neck, you take the opportunity to push him back onto the bed.

It’s the first time you take a second and you appreciate how beautiful he is laying on the bed. The lean lines of his muscle, his eyes hungry as they drink your body in, the way his cock rests heavily on his stomach. You need to do something, though. You nudge his legs apart as you settle yourself onto the bed between them.

“You don’t have to…” he starts and you’re quick to cut him off.

“I want to,” you insist.

And you do. You take his cock into your hand and lick a stripe up it. It’s not enough, though, so you spit into your hand so you can run it along his length. He shudders under your touch. Once you wrap your lips around his tip, you pull a groan out of him. For just a second, his eyes close and his head lolls back on the pillow. It’s so pretty to watch him from this angle. To know that this man, usually so relaxed and chill, is so wound up under your power. It’s not long before he’s watching you, though. Letting out a stream of praise for how good you look with his cock in your mouth. How it turns him on, how you know just how to use your tongue. You hollow out your cheeks and it’s more than he can take.

Vernon pulls you up so that he can kiss you, so hard that you lose your breath. You’re a little off balance, which makes it easier for him to flip your positions. Now he’s the one between your legs. That same fervor is back when he spreads your lips so he can lick up your entrance. He’s always been insanely good with his mouth. It’s actually unfair. When his thumb circles your clit, you see stars for a second and arch your back into his mouth. All you can do is watch as he works his tongue in and out of your cunt. The thumb on your clit is bordering on too much sensation. Makes it hard for you to watch him even though you love the sight of him between your legs.

“Fuck, Vernon, I need more,” you whine.

“I should make you draw it out,” he says, still so close to your pussy that you can feel his breath.

“Please, Vernon, please,” you beg. You know it’ll make him cave.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he answers.

He runs his fingers through your folds before sliding one into your pussy. The moment his mouth finds your clit, he inserts a second finger and pumps into you at a punishing pace. It’s everything you can do not to squirm under his efforts. As it is, the words coming out of your mouth are entirely incoherent. What you want to say is that he’s a god with both his mouth and his fingers. That he knows just how to fit you where you need him most. That nobody has ever felt as good as him.

What you manage to yell out: “Oh my fucking god, I’m gonna come.”

Vernon hums against your clit and it’s all too much. Your release is nearly instant. You don’t even notice how he guides you through your high or that he doesn’t remove his fingers until your body stops shaking. Miss the way he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before kissing you. Not that you would mind. His lips wander down your neck to your chest, kissing all the way. He loves your breasts, loves the soft skin there. Loves to nip and watch the way you react. Most of all, he loves to leave marks there. Even if you won’t let him mark you where other people can see (at least, not often), you’ll always let him mark up your chest. He roughly sucks a mark into your sensitive skin and you squirm.

Any other time, you would let him enjoy it. Let him take his time. Not today. You need to feel him. Need to have that connection with him. He seems to realize it too.

“Roll over on your side,” he directs.

You hasten to do exactly what he asks. He slides right in behind you and you bring your leg forward a little so that it’ll be easier on him. One of his arms slides under your neck. The other lines his cock up at your entrance. He presses lightly, at least at first, giving you time before he’s fully inside you. No matter how many times you and Vernon fuck, you’ll never be fully prepared for the way he feels. It’s the most perfect type of full. Just enough of a stretch without it being overwhelming.

It’s only a second before he starts moving, with his hand on your stomach. Not too fast. Just enough to give you the relief that you need. Not enough that it’s going to push you over the edge again. You’re still sensitive, though. The connectedness of your bodies is exactly what you need. It’s intimate in all the ways that you couldn’t tell him that you needed. But, he knows. Of course, he knows. This man knows you better than anyone else, a fact clear in how he thrusts into you.

Vernon’s free hand moves from your stomach up to your breast. He rolls your nipple between his fingers and you groan out. That’s the other best part about your relationship with Vernon. There isn’t a need for constant communication during sex. He knows what you like and you know what he likes. He knows how to interrupt your moans and your pleas. Knows when to pick up the pace.

It’s entirely too soon when you feel your second orgasm coming on. “I’m close, oh my god.”

“I know, baby, just come for me,” Vernon urges as he continues to thrust hard into you.

Despite that, you try to hold out because you know that he’s not there yet, can feel it in the way he fucks into you. It’s a losing battle, though, and you end up coming even harder than the first time. Vernon fucks through your high before slowing down to give you a minute to breath. Always so considerate of what you need.

“It’s okay, keep going,” you urge.

He doesn’t have to ask if you’re sure, he can feel it in the way you clench around him. Makes him groan as he moves again. You’re still a little out of it from the two orgasms, so it doesn’t register just how sensitive you are. You tilt your head so that you can kiss him. Catch all his groans with your lips. Partly since you know how much the intimacy of it all means to him. Know that it’ll send him over the edge.

A minute later it does just that. Even though you feel spent, he manages to pull a third orgasm out of you with his own. There’s a moment when you’re both catching your breath that neither of you move or even say anything. It gives you a moment to remember just how much you love him. Vernon slides out of you carefully and you roll over so that you can face him.

“I love you,” he says with a soft smile, fingers gently moving a few strands of hair away from your face.

“I love you, too,” you say.

“Do we have to get up right now?” he asks.

You shake your head and let him pull you into his body. His arms feel strong and safe around you. Like home, which is what he’s always been for you. From entirely too early into the relationship. A feeling that’s only grown in the time you’ve been together.

“I’m sorry,” you say again.

“You don’t need to be, “ Vernon assures you. “I’m forgetful sometimes and you’ve been busy lately. I figured this was a good way to say thank you for everything you do.”

“What? The sex?” you joke.

He huffs into your hair. “I take it all back.”

You pull back to look at him. “It was perfect. Almost as perfect as you.”

A light blush creeps up. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do,” you whisper into his skin when you cuddle back against his chest.

“We still have to cook dinner,” he says.

“Let’s just order something. I don’t want to move from this spot right now,” you say.

“We can stay as long as you want,” he says.

Forever, you think. That’s how long you want to stay with him. It’s never felt more real than it does right now. You think, by the way he holds you, that maybe he wants to be with you forever too. It may have gotten out to a rocky start, but it ends up being the most perfect Valentine’s Day of your life.

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an-aspiration · 9 months

Text

Friends with benefits

Warnings: cursing, detailed smut,eating out, vaginal penetration, bully (ehh)

Summary: y/n has an attitude for anyone who tries her. She pretty much keeps to herself when she’s not with her two best friends. Carl is a victim of her mean tendencies. But he sees through the mean act and tries something with her. 2.5k words

“y/n!”

you turned around to the sound of your name.

“Y/n.. guess what ” ron breathlessly spoke.

“What? Did something bad happen?”

“No b-“

“then what?” you spat

“I was about to tell you.. there are some new people..”

New people? there hasn’t been new people in ages. You thought they stopped searching because of how dangerous it would be finding absolute strangers from the wild and bringing them inside the gates.

“Does Joan know?” Your older sister, Joan, was Deana’s “assistant” and practically made sure everything going through to Deana, went by her first.

“Yeah she’s with them right now. Come on.”

You and Ron hurried over to the main gate where the newcomers had arrived. The first thing you noticed when you got over there was the look of struggle they all had on their faces, like they’d been through hell, even Aaron.

You came up from behind the small crowd to face your sister.

“Oh! Y/n introduce yourself” she spoke

You introduced yourself by turning around to smile at the people, then leant into Joans ear and whispered “I thought we weren’t letting crazies in anymore” exponentially loud.

She gave a nervous smile and turned to you “Be nice. And you have to listen to me I am your older si-“

“Step. Step sister.” You hissed “But fine I will ‘present’ myself the way you want me to.”

You turned your body towards the crowd. “Hi, I’m Y/n. I’m just so happy to welcome you to your new home.”

In return you got a few smiles. One in particular caught your eye. A boy with shoulder length hair and blue eyes. You adjusted your sleeves nervously.

“Oh wow I see you’ve got a little one with you! We have plenty of resources like strollers, baby food, and some other things for her.” Joan exclaimed

You hadn’t even noticed the baby lying in the boys arms. Immediately star struck, you went over to them and waved. “Oh my gosh.. Hi whats her name?”

“Hi I’m Carl, her name is judith.” he said with a soft grin.

“Nice to meet you Carl.” You looked back down at judith “awh poor baby”

“what?” He said, furrowing his brow

“oh, nothing” you sighed. You walked back over to Joan to let her know you would catch up with her later then strolled back home, happy with your first impression.

The next day you found out it wasn’t as good as you thought it was.

You were laying in the grass with your two best friends, gigi and arashi. They were cutting pages out of magazines to tape on their bedroom walls while you wrote in your journal.

“Have you seen that new guy with the brown hair?” Gigi said

“Yess, I love his eyes oh my gosh.”

“Arashi you have a boyfriend” You laughed

“So.. I can’t like a guys eyes?” She rolled her eyes joining the laughter

“Whatever. But whats his name anyway?”

“It’s Carl” You replied

“I heard his last name is Grimes” Arashi said

“Hmmm thats even better than what I was imagining” you giggled

“You were imagining it?”

“Stopp! I didn’t mean it like that… well i was though”

You looked up and saw Ron walking past.

“Hey ron!” you said in between laughs

“Hey”

“Woah hold on come back. Why the cold shoulder? You busy or something?”

“No I’m not busy its just” He sighed walking back over to you “I’m good friends with Carl now and I don’t think he’d feel very appreciated if I was talking to you”

You were confused “What why?”

“He thinks you’re stuck up because you said something about judith or whatever I don’t know.. but I got to go” He continued walking away

Stuck up? where did he get that from? You were being so nice to him.

“Woww, what a jerk. I actually don’t like his eyes anymore”

“Hah yeah me either.” You scoffed

“Oh my god. oh my god” Gigi looked down

“What, What?”

“Don’t look now- Dont look at all actually, but Carl is about to walk past.”

“What!” you whispered sitting up

“Don’t make it obvious” Arashi stressed

Something sparked inside of you, deciding you didn’t just want to get walked all over on. So you looked back and stared him down.

“Ooh watch out guys, crazy coming through.” You scoffed. If looks could kill he’d be down right now by the way you were looking at him.

Arashi and Gigi played along and giggled. He gave a blank expression, avoiding eye contact and brushed his fingertips along his jacket.

“Girl you are so bad!” Gigi giggled once he was out of earshot.

Later that week everyone in Alexandria was invited to a party to welcome all the new people.

“y/n are you ready yet, we have to go” Joan yelled from downstairs “Gigi and Arashi are waiting outside”

You did another coat of mascara before replying “Yeah coming!”

You all walked over to Deanas house in the warm evening air. You four entered the house and were greeted with a joyous scene of laughter and mingling. You nervously cracked your knuckles looking around.

“Ooh guys look a snack table” Gigi exclaimed

you all departed from Joan disappearing into the kitchen and pilling snacks onto one big plate.

“This is always nice you know. These little gatherings always make my day better. Remember the fourth of July one last year?” Arashi rambled

“How could I forget, it was so fun. I wish we could have lit fireworks but we all know how that would have went.” You said

“Yeahh”

You turned away from the countertop to see if Joan was having fun but you were immediately bumped in the shoulder by Carl going past.

“Watch where you’re going Carl”

“pfft” he kept walking toward the table where Ron Mikey and Enid sat

“Ron is such a hypocrite” Gigi said

“Yeah whatever we weren’t even that close anyway though so I dont care”

A part of you felt bad, because you knew you were only doing this to feel some sort of control over the fact that those people gave you a scary feeling like they were gonna cause something bad. Sometimes you even felt short of breath thinking of what would happen if something did happen in Alexandria, but a part of you hoped that carl would be the one to save you in that situation. He could be kinda hot when he was angry.

But you felt creepy and weird thinking like that because you knew after all this he would only hate you, even if you couldn’t help it.

Later that week

“Hey” you were snapped out of your thoughts by Joan.

“Yeah you. Come help load some stuff in again. I’ll be at Deana’s but Carl will help you again this time.”

“You’re joking right?”

“I’m not, just be nice okay? I probably won’t be back for a few hours we have some discussion to take care of, Love you”

“Whatever. Love you too”

You groaned as you got up to greet the one and only Carl. You could hear him struggling downstairs with something heavy.

“Hey careful with that!” You stated upon realizing he was trying to haul a mini sofa in by himself.

“I’ve got it”

“Yeah, no you don’t.”

You took the other side and almost successfully got it into the living room before he dropped his end, causing you to drop yours and smashing your pinky toe.

“OW” you heaved lifting up your foot “LOOK WHAT YOU DID DUMBASS ITS PROBABLY BROKEN”

“SORRY” he scrambled over to the freezer to get an ice pack “HERE”

It helped a lot and the pain started tremendously going down but the swelling was still there.

“Christ I need to lie down”

“It’s not even that serious”

“I need to lie down!!” you sharply said

“Okay fine here” He went to your un-wounded side and clung on to you helping you up the stairs into your bedroom.

“Ughhh”

“Is it that bad?” he was confused

“Yes it’s that bad. You know why? Because you did it and I don’t like you.”

“Yeah how could I forget you’ve reminded me everyday I’ve been here about how much you apparently don’t like me”

“Apparently? trust me I one hundred percent dont like you. You said I was stuck up and now look what you’ve done. I could break your ugly face in!” You said standing up. You took the liberty to get close to him and take a swing to slap him.

Before you could hit him, he caught your wrist.

“You’re pathetic.” he said squinting

“I am not. Just because you got me there doesn’t mean anything.” you sat down and crossed your legs

“Not just that.” he said

“Not just that? yeah what else?”

he went silent.

“I read it.”

“Read what..?” you froze

“your journal. It was open and I read it. You dont cross your legs and bite your lip out of spite. it’s because you like me, and you hate yourself for it.”

“You read my journal..??!” Your eyes widened and you took a step back. “When did you-“

“Last time I was here, you bailed and it was just sitting on the counter- open. I wanted to know what your fucking problem was.”

“I don’t like you!”

“really? Because you wrote a lot of lewd things about me in there. listen to yourself, seriously. You spend so much time pretending to hate me because of one thing I said, that you don’t even consider what I really think about you.”

He pulled you by your wrist and kissed you, deep. You guys went on no more than twenty seconds. Once he pulled away you stood frozen in shock.

“If you ‘don’t like me’ why did you kiss me back?” he challenged

“fuck it” you pulled him in and kissed him running your hands over his neck and into his hair.

He bit your lip and you pulled back out of surprise.

“ow what the fuck” as you were distracted he pushed you slightly onto your bed. As he was leaning back in you grabbed a hold of his belt loop. He hummed through the kiss. He began giving pecks to your neck and collarbone while tugging on your shirt.

“Carl…”

he knew what you wanted.

“Can I?” He was referring to your shirt.

“Yes” you whispered

He motioned to put your arms up and he slid your t-shirt off. His eyes wandered, approving of your bra.

He continued on taking off his shirt, then your jean shorts leaving you almost nude. He brushed his fingers along the sides of your bra before reaching behind to unclasp it, tossing it to the side.

His attention went back to your eyes, and he paused. “god your beautiful”

you felt like you melted right there on the spot.

“I-“

He noticed your loss for words and just continued looking you in the eye while he slowly grazed his hand down from your chest to your panty. He slid it off in seconds and you felt the cold air hit you.

“Please”

“Please what?” he mocked

“please… um touch me”

As soon as those words left your mouth he brought his fingers down to your clit and started rubbing small circles. You began to moisten even more than you already were.

“Oh god”

“fuck your pent up aren’t you?”

you nodded “Just relax for me ,i’ll make it feel good.”

Everything he said was stimulating you in ways you didn’t even know were possible making your breath go short.

He went in and started planting kisses on your clit.

You exhaled as the pleasure built.

“open your legs a little wider”

as you spread he began to lick up and down your cunt.

“that feels so good” you whimpered

He pushed his tounge into you and when your breath got heavier he hummed in approval. You were getting closer and he could tell.

“are you gonna come?”

“God yes”

he fastened his pace and added his thumb back onto your clit.

“ yes yes yes..”

He kept going until he found the spot that made you grind against his face.

“Oh carl god..” You dissolved into the pleasure as your vision started fading to black. The orgasm shook you as he worked you through it.

Your breath slowed down and he sat back up.

“Wow.”

“Your thighs are shaking so much.”

“Yeah” you panted.

You pulled him in for a lazy kiss, still dazed from what he just did to you.

You noticed his breath deepening and noticed the bulge in his pants. You moved your hand down to start working on his belt and zipper. Once only in his boxers you took a deep breath to prepare as his dick sprung out. You started running your hands up and down getting a low groan from him.

“Are you sure?” he asked

“Yeah I am, are you?”

“Yeah”

He positioned himself in line with your slit. He slowly slid in until he was all the way in. He waiting a second before the expression on your face rested before beginning to slide in and out at a medium pace.

You were both stuck in a euphoric state.

“Fuck”

You ground into him with his thrust causing that pressured feeling to come back.

“Damn do that again”

You both began to move in unison. Moans and pants filled the dimly lit room. Your legs began to ache in the position you currently were in.

“I wanna be on top.”

“What?”

“Let me ride you please”

He paused before getting from on top of you and laying against the bed frame. You climbed on top of him and slid it back in immediately finding your rhythm. You dug your nails into his arms from the way this position made you feel absolutely filled.

“Your doing so good for me”

His praise made your walls clench around him, a sign you were getting close.

“I Mmm-“

“I know, me too” he said breathlessly

You continued straddling him back and forth at a fast pace. You moaned so loud he leant in to silence you with a kiss, sliding his tounge in.

He once again hit your good spot making you gasp and form and O with your mouth.

“Oh my god” You came undone for the second time with him coming soon after. You laid your head and arms on his shoulders catching your breath. He ran his fingers through your hair gently before lifting you up and resting your back on the bed.

“Are you leaving?”

He snickered “You’re so needy even when I just fucked you”

“Don’t be mean”

“I’m not leaving. I’m just getting my clothes back on, so i can go downstairs and get you something to eat before we continue bringing your stuff inside.” He smiled

“Oh okay hurry please”

“Yeah”

You shivered bringing your head down onto the mattress with a thump. Wow. You looked over and saw your clothes laying across the floor you went to pick them up and get dressed as well, since you probably only had about an hour until Joan would be back and you still had furniture laying around downstairs.

You wobbled downstairs to see Carl with two mugs with ramen. Your favorite.

“How did you know I like ramen?”

“Your journal”

“oh.. right” you giggled

Once Joan was back you were both laying on the couch snuggled up and asleep.

“Hey!” she clapped

“Oh! hey Joan”

“You guys uh tired?”

“Yeah we just- well we did a lot of heavy lifting”

“Oh yeah? That couldn’t have taken the full three hours. What else did you guys do? Thought you would’ve kicked him out hours ago”

“Oh you know we were just talking and stuff” Carl replied “I should probably get home but I’ll see you tomorrow okay?”

“Okay”

While Joan wasn’t looking he gave you a quick kiss before heading out.

A/N!!!

Crazy? i was crazy once…

sigh. please request something and thanks for all the people who are reading I really appreciate you!! this was for the smut girlies I see you dw🩶

#carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes #carl grimes angst #carl grimes fic #carl grimes smut #carl grimes x you #carl grimes you #carl grimes imagines #carl grimes imagine

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