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zoropookie · 2 days

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HOW HATERS ARE BORN (HHAB)

♡ chapter twenty-six — br(ok)en (💋)

You stared at your phone light up for the twelfth time within five minutes with a dull expression.

Admittedly, you felt angrier knowing that Scaramouche still had the audacity to even text you after everything. After tormenting you for years and years, what kind of shame should someone feel after that, you wonder. The relentless pursuit of making your life miserable—to which he failed at, but it did make you wonder.

Did you do something to deserve it? Each notification felt like another jab that he took to the heart, reopening your wounds from each time he said something messed up to you. As you laid there motionless, with no light ruminating in the room except your phone, you began to feel tears well up in your eyes for the thirteenth time today.

Pursing your lips, you swiped up to read the messages and only felt reminded even further of every harsh word he said. Every cruel taunt, every moment of humiliation...and yet...

He was still right, despite being the biggest hypocrite known to man. And it pissed you off.

Why were you even laying here? Ignoring the world, rotting here like you're a vegetable. You knew that you were something to people, you knew that you were valued.

There wasn’t anything that was particularly motivating for you to get up, however. You ignored every need that you could have possibly wanted, subjecting yourself to sparseness. No matter how much you wanted to, the thoughts always came back and you didn’t know how to deal with them.

A small knock echoed from the front door. It was loud enough to hear, and you still shoved your head in the pillow and hoped it went away.

The longer time you went without answering it, the knocks became more frequent. It wasn’t Thoma, that’s who you could observe without getting up.

You finally managed to drag yourself out of bed, lazing about sounded so much nicer now that you were dreading who’s at the door. With a frustrated sigh, and irritation already to its peak of your heart, you opened the door to a familiar-ish face.

Little girl?

“Did you forget that you exist?” She said with a smile. “Welcome back to Earth! I didn’t know how long you’d be cooped up in here so I brought treats.”

You stared a bit longer than you meant to at the Tupperware of Asafiri in her hands, momentarily taken aback. “Heh?”

“Yanfei sent me here. Looks like you’re having a little bit of trouble getting back on your feet. I take it you know her?” She inquired.

“Yeah.” You blinked slowly, before holding the door a little wider. “Uh…come in, I guess. Thanks for the…treats.” You cringed. “Wow, I get why Heizou keeps being called a creep now, this can look so wrong.”

“The difference is that he does it to himself.”

The warm water on your body was oddly refreshing.

Getting out of the shower was harder knowing that you'd come back to the gust of wind in your living room, but knowing you had fresher pajamas on was also a plus. Things didn't look too great on your mental, especially since you were accustomed to showering a lot in your fresher mind.

You put on the Lightning McQueen slippers you quite often wear, and moved to the kitchen after hearing soft chops of a knife. You wondered what Nahida was up to, staring at her cut apples and bananas before putting them into a huge bowl she found in your cupboard.

"This is a very odd fruit salad you're making." You drew attention to yourself before her eyebrows furrowed. "I don't know whether or not to tell you to be careful with knives."

"I'm smarter than you think I am." Nahida cooed. "I'm used to people being condescending."

"Oh...I'm sorry— You're killing me here, kid. Lady? Are you a child or not?" You asked desperately.

Nahida turned to you, her saturated green eyes stared at you with obviously deliberate thoughts roaming her head before she took a sharp breath. She pointed the knife at you. "Do you feel better?"

"Not...really? I mean, it happened. All of this at once." You tried to process it quicker, but your head failed you. It's like how you actually felt in the moment was blocked. "I feel like I'm in limbo, I don't want to see the sun these days."

"Your thoughts are your biggest enemy right now. Easy to overthink. It's a lot to deal with on your own, good thing you aren't, right?" Nahida lowered the knife, her expression softening. "I cut you up some fresh fruit. It's better than the Asafiri for now, you don't need that much sugar after not eating for a while, or you'll crash hard. And get a headache."

Looking at the bowl loaded with bananas and slices of apples, you couldn't help but wonder why you were even granted this much care anyway. You were in mild disbelief, sitting down at the island counter in front of Nahida. "Why are you actually here?" You said in defeat.

Nahida stopped cutting the fruit, gaze shifting from it to you. She couldn't find what she could say to answer you, but she did press her lips together. "Do you want me to be honest?"

"A little." Your voice lowered.

"Yanfei and Heizou," Nahida paused, trying to find her words, "They wanted to see if I could convince you to start streaming again."

You frowned immediately. "Oh. Thanks for being honest."

"You made progress today, but I don't expect you to be up to it. It's a really big step." She asked you, but you couldn't even decipher the intentions behind her eyes. It was impossible to detect what anybody was thinking nowadays. "They just told me to come over so they can hope their investigation moves."

You sighed, leaning back in your chair once you felt the bitterness course your body again. Hearing that made your mood possibly worse than what it would've been if you were in bed. "Not happening. Thanks for checking on me though, you can leave if you want."

"I knew you'd say that. I guess it's fair, people are...going crazy right now figuring out whether you're okay or not." Nahida smiled once you looked back up at her. "Both Scaramouche and your fans are trying to get anything they can on your wellbeing. It's better to wait it out."

Your hopeful face turned into a sullen one, shoulders slumped at the mention of his name. "I don't know if I can even go back at all."

"I'm not sure how hard this is for you, but with what happened, you've obviously been through enough. While it's your choice to go back, Yanfei is under the impression that you can get revenge." The shorter girl explained. "In my eyes, though...I think you're able to decide that for yourself."

You felt the weight of the memories heavily, your head daunting enough for you to let out a shaky breath. "You think so?"

Nahida nodded, humming, "You don't have to stream, but don't give him the satisfaction if you're upset. You shouldn't let him know that you're suffering because of what he did. The worst thing that you can do is prove him right."

Funnily enough, as soon as she said that, you felt tears well up in your eyes again. It struck a cord, and you knew she was right. It was just knowing that anybody would say it verbatim. "That's the same thing he told me too." You blinked back your tears, more resilient than you were a few minutes ago, but also to the brim of misery.

"He?"

You shook your head, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. "Thanks," You muttered, choking on your words. You couldn't manage to say anything else, otherwise you'd betray your steely posture. "I'll think about it. Just...stay here a little more with me, please. Maybe I'll...find the resolve or something."

previous ♡ masterlist ♡ next

YOU ARE on your way to being one of the hottest streamer in your nation at the moment, racking a monthly average of 10 million viewers, but something specific bothers you about it. you know that a lot of people hate you, but there's this one account. one account that's been following you since the early days of your career. they leave a flood of rude comments in your stream, your moderators banned each account they made, but they keep making more. you are at the end of your tether. but you are yet to find out that this persistent cockroach is none other than your friend's friend (and the only other streamer that's bigger than you), scaramouche.

taglist ♡ @thystarsshine @veekoko @gumickajolli @simonisferal @kamiboo

@justpeachyteastea @feiherp @pinkismyfavcolor @aether-darling @kunisnaomi

@keiiqq @mine-lu @featuredtofu @danhenglovebot @k4zushi

@kyon-cherri @b4tm4nn @iiinaurate @quacking-simp @auroratumbles

@kookiibun @ulquiorraswife @amvpk01 @simplysm1le @h3xi2g0n3

@alatusorrow @scaranthropy @mellowberrie @magica-ren @vernith

@kabukipookie @bananasquash @suqarlaced @dellalyra @lightyagamifan

@yourfavoritefreakyhan @heartsforseo @yomishen @pwushizz @swivy123

@strxwberryfetish @ibyobi @ashfrommars4 @chemiru @ainnofinway

@agaygothicmushroom @levianamor @dragontammerz @wth121 @lylovw

@morgyyyyyyy @lovemari @suniika @melpomenelurks @liuaneee

@franaby @tiddieshakeshownu (bold users means i'm having trouble tagging you)

#zoropookie #hhab #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #genshin scaramouche #genshin #genshin impact #genshin smau #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin x you #genshin x yn #scaramouche x yn #scaramouche x you

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rooniearts · 18 days

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I COMPLETELY FORGOT TO TURN ASKS ON FOR THIS BLOG...... sigh. They should be on now!

#thank you so much to the person who sent me a dm about it #i always forget you have to deliberately turn on asks #not art

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skzdarlings · 2 months

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lady-like ; skz ; chan x reader

original ask: requested by anonymous: ❛ i'd say you need someone to put you in your place. ❜ W CHAN I BEG OF YOU + original ask: requested by anonymous: “You want gentle? Wrong fucking address”+ Chan <3

pairing: bang chan/reader content info: enemies to lovers, established lovers. criminal!chan, masked!chan. dom!chan, sub!reader (background mentions of switching). choking, floor sex, rough sex, dirty talk. brief mention of some sexism in the workplace. word count: 2050 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy!

It is the middle of the night and you are patrolling the art gallery yourself. You do not trust your colleagues or the security team tonight. No one believes there is any way to track the SKZ gang but you have found an undoubted pattern. That motley band of thieves have struck this gallery more than once, making off with paintings and artifacts alike, but tonight you will catch them.

Tonight you will catch him.

Your thought conjures him like a devil. You turn a corner and a gloved hand escapes the shadows, covering your mouth. You are yanked backwards, right into his chest, your back to his front.

You feel a moment of satisfaction because ha, you were right. No one believed you but you knew SKZ would strike tonight.

Then you are furious because those rotten thugs are probably making off with a priceless artifact while their leader holds you hostage.

“Hey there,” Bang Chan says in that too-friendly drawl. “How’s my favourite girl tonight?”

You try biting his hand but the leather of his glove is quite thick. Probably on purpose. You have left more than one bite mark on him in past encounters.

“Ah-nah-nah,” he says, steadying you when you wriggle. “Stop that. We both know how this ends. Let’s play nice this time instead, yeah?”

You answer by stomping on his foot and throwing your head back. The smack surprises him and he stumbles, giving you an opportunity to turn and brace yourself in a more defensible stance. You face him, hands up, adrenaline thundering through your body.

Chan is wearing all black, including a beanie and mask. He removes the hat, revealing hair just as black, but keeps the mask while rubbing his jaw. The half-hidden face somehow makes the dark intensity of his eyes look even more severe.

You and Chan have a played a long game of cat-and-mouse. You are so used to his teasing that you almost forget he is dangerously competent man. A criminal. A criminal you despise. A criminal who is undoubtedly grinning at you under that mask, given the way his eyes crinkle with mirth. It should not make your heart race.

“Ouch,” he says. He takes a step towards you, inching out of the shadows. “You’ve been training. Impressive.”

“Not like I had a choice,” you snap. “Some no good criminal keeps attacking my art gallery.”

“Criminal, yeah,” Chan says. “But no good? Really?” He flicks a hand your way, not so much striking as testing your reflexes. You bat it successfully and his eyebrows lift, showing he is moderately impressed.

“You’re a dirty thief,” you say, taking a swing of your own. Yours is much more deliberate, swinging at his head, but he dodges just as easily.

You scamper backwards, his booted steps following swiftly. You keep your hands up in defense. He is still smirking under that mask.

“Thief, yeah,” he continues to tease. “But dirty? Well… I suppose you’d know…”

Heat pulses under your skin.

This cat-and-mouse game has crossed many lines. You cannot even remember how it first happened. It feels like Bang Chan has always been in the shadows, stealing paintings and kisses alike. One moment you were snarking at the infuriating cat burglar, then your hands were in his hair and his mouth was on yours.

Sometimes he wins, distracting you or holding you, giving his team time to make off with something. Sometimes you win, trapping him or his men and only letting them go if they relinquish their prize. Weirdly, Chan seems to like it when you outsmart him. It quite literally puts him on his knees.

Flustered, your next swing is more emotional than strategic. He catches your arm and spins you again, trapping you against his body. You grunt and struggle in his arms.

“That’s not very polite, you know,” he says. “I thought you said you were a lady.”

Yes, you have made such an insistence in the past, reminding him you are a lady of class, an educated woman, an intelligent academic. He did not argue. He did pin you to the wall and choke you in that infuriatingly delicious way, the way that gets you coming all over his hand in a second. That’s it, he said, with a hand around your throat and another under your skirt. Tell me what a lady you are. Letting a criminal like me make you come. Tsk, what would your co-workers say?

You stamp the memory down because it is getting you hot. He is holding you differently than before, so you cannot swing your head back again. You writhe uselessly.

“I didn’t just say I was a lady,” you snap. “I am a lady. I am a respected professional, unlike you—”

“I’m respected and professional, thank you,” he says, his tone still bright like he is having fun.

It is fun. You hate to admit it, but it is. Before he started breaking into your galleries, every day was the same. Your life was such a monotony and you dread returning to it. There is a reason you never call the authorities on him. There would be no triumph in that demise. You would lament his absence and forever feel like business went unfinished.

You are satisfied when you can face this dangerous man and win, when you can push him on his back and put him in his place, when all that danger and power and skill surrenders to you and you alone. Because Bang Chan has a notorious reputation for a lot of things, but fraternizing with civilians is not one of them.

Except you.

Except right now.

“You know what I say, little miss lady?” he asks.

He gives you no time to answer. Your breath catches when he circles that gloved hand around your throat and squeezes. It softens every part of you immediately, like a kitten grabbed by the scruff, instinctively and animalistically submissive in the claws of something powerful.

You whimper, your knees going weak. You know you are wet. You know he knows.

He pulls you against him. You can feel every hard plane of his body, his bulky body armour, his weapons. You feel either a buckle or his bulge against your body, but either way it is irrevocably suggestive. When you wriggle, he squeezes your throat, and you go pliant again.

“I’d say,” he whispers, “you need someone to put you in your place.”

Oh, he has talked about your place many times before. It’s with me, he will insist, fucking you within an inch of your life, making you come again and again, putting you on your knees and bringing out all the hidden dark and dirty parts of yourself. Come on, he will say, we’re perfect for each other, yeah? You know it. Join my team. Come with me.

You do admit, he respects your keen eye and talent, and he acknowledges your expertise far more than the other people at your gallery. It took a year to even be allowed to do substantial tasks, relegated to fetching everyone’s coffee, getting spoken down to because you were a woman whose ambition was considered a nuisance.

That is not enough to resort to a criminal life. Surely?

But for a moment, you can imagine giving into the darkness permanently. Tonight, it is you that surrenders as he drags you both into the shadows and onto the floor. He takes off his jacket and lays it out, pushing you down face-first onto it. You take a dizzying gulp of air while his hands are occupied, removing his gloves, unbuckling his utility belt.

You wait for the moment he lifts your skirt. His breath catches when he realizes you are not wearing anything underneath.

You yelp because he smacks your ass. You look back at him with as much fury as you can muster in your haze of lust.

“A lady,” he says, grabbing your hips and tugging you back. “Sure.”

“I am,” you say, but your voice is rough, your breathing heavy just from his bare fingers gliding down your wet pussy, the evidence of your desire betraying your claims of propriety.

“Sure, baby girl,” he says, because he knows it annoys you even while it makes you clench. He can see the evidence of that too, swearing as he looks at you, making you feel even more exposed and flustered. “You’re made for me, you know that, sweetheart? Always feel so good on my dick. God.”

“You’re taking your time tonight,” you say dryly. “Getting sentimental? Turning into the slow and gentle type?”

He laughs. Then he grabs you by the neck, pinning you to the floor as he sidles up behind you. The head of his cock presses at your entrance, wet with anticipation.

“You want gentle?” he asks. He is inside you with one deep thrust. “Wrong fucking address.”

The truth is, even when rough, he is careful. Your face never leaves his jacket and he knows where to squeeze and hit and press properly. Bizarrely, ridiculously, you are safe in this criminal’s dangerous hands. The biggest threat they pose are just how skilled and deft they are, making you forget about all of those details as he manhandles you and fucks your worries away.

He wraps a hand around your throat and lifts you. He is still in his mask, still almost entirely clothed except his undone fly. Your skirt is up, your shirt in disarray, your chest and throat exposed to his hands. You can hear him panting into his mask, your own breath as wild until he steals it. You clench around him, making a weak, ragged sound as he chokes you and pounds into you.

“You’re not gonna come like this, are ya?” he taunts, because he knows your body well, can feel you are the on verge just from his angles and rhythm. “Tsk,” he says. “That’s not very lady-like.”

You would tell him to shut up, but you can only manage a weepy moan as he drives you over the edge of a mind-numbing orgasm. You feel drenched, dripping down your thighs, and he still doesn’t relent, pushing you back down and holding your hips as he drills through every sensitive nerve.

“Fuck,” you say, twisting your fingers around his jacket. Your knees will probably be bruised after this. No short skirts or everyone will know something happened. Would they guess you let the most notorious burglar in the country arch your back and fuck you on the floor? Probably not. You have always been a stickler for rules.

Until this. Until him.

“Chan,” you say, breathless, rasping. “Chan.”

“Fuck,” he says. Then the weight of him is on your back, his hips grinding into yours. His masked face brushes your ear and he speaks in a low voice, “Guess where I’m coming tonight, baby girl.”

Your walls are still fluttering with aftershocks, pulling him deeper at his words. It is not the first time, no. God only knows how long ago that conversation first happened, telling him it was safe, how much you wanted it. Letting him do things you never let anyone else do. Breaking all your rules for him.

“Fuck, Chan,” you say.

“Yeah, baby,” he rasps. “That’s who’s fucking you. No one fucks you like I do. God. You can take it. So good.”

You can feel when he comes, his chest vibrating with his groan, the warmth inside you. You slump in his arms, ravaged and sore and not the least bit sorry for it.

You should be. He won this round. You should be furious at him. You should be threatening him. Your usual rapport.

His mask comes off. You hear it hit the floor. Then he is grabbing your jaw and turning your face and kissing you deeply. He holds your throat, not threateningly but possessively. He is kissing you for so long, you almost forget who you are. Then you surface. You look at each other.

“Come with me,” he says.

The haze of lust has vanished. You should be thinking clearly. You fear, for the first time, you are.

You suppose he has stolen everything else, why not you too?

You put your hand in his.

#bang chan x reader #chan x reader #bang chan smut #chan smut #bang chan x you #chan x you #skz x you #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #skz smut #stray kids smut #valentinesdaystories

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pucksandpower · 7 months

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Inked

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Charles goes feral whenever he sees you wearing merch with his number so you decide to go one step further

Warnings: 18+ content heavily implied

“Did you see my overtake at turn 10?” Charles asks as he steps into his driver’s room, drenched in champagne and sweat from celebrating his win.

You smile, the kind of genuine, radiant smile that you reserve only for him. “You were incredible. Congratulations, my love.”

“I always race harder knowing you’re watching.” He confesses, peeling off his gloves and moving closer. His gaze fixates on you like you’re the trophy he has yet to claim.

“That’s quite a lot of pressure for me then, isn’t it?” You tease, tilting your head slightly.

He reaches for you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “It’s the best kind of pressure.” He whispers, lips hovering above yours.

“Speaking of …” you trail off, pulling away just slightly to dance your fingers over the fabric of your dress. “I have something for you. A surprise.”

Charles raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. “You know how much I love surprises.”

You take a deep breath. “Remember that spot on my thigh you’re so fond of?”

“How could I ever forget?” His voice drops an octave, his eyes darkening with memories of intimate moments shared. “It leads to my favorite place on earth.”

Taking another steadying breath, you slowly hike up your dress, revealing the fresh tattoo of the number “16” inked delicately on that very place. Charles’ eyes widen, a look of astonishment overtaking his features.

“You didn’t …” he breathes, reaching out to trace the tattoo with his fingertips.

“I did. For you.”

A choked laugh escapes him as you watch the bottom of his race suit suddenly become too tight. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” you murmur, leaning into his touch. “I just wanted to show you how much you mean to me.”

Charles cups your face, his eyes searching yours for a long moment. “I love you so much. Do you know that?”

“I do. And I love you too.”

For a while, the two of you simply stand there, wrapped up in each other. The world outside seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you and the connection you share.

After what feels like an eternity, Charles finally breaks the silence. “Let’s get out of here,” his voice is husky with desire. “I would take you to bed right now but I promised Fred not to break the couch again after last time.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

***

Charles scoops you into his arms effortlessly as soon as you enter your suite, making you squeal in delight. “You have this unique ability,” Charles starts, laying you down gently on the plush bed, “to make everything more special.” He begins to place soft kisses along your collarbone, working his way up to your ear, whispering each word with deliberate intent.

“And you have this uncanny ability to always surprise me,” you murmur, running your fingers through his damp hair. “Just when I think I have you all figured out.”

“Isn’t that what keeps things interesting?” He pulls back to gaze deep into your eyes. “Your tattoo. It means the world to me. And I think, perhaps, I should thank you sixteen times for it.”

You bite your lip, heartbeat quickening. “Sixteen times?”

He nods, a smirk dancing on his lips. “For the number you’ve etched onto your skin for me.”

“You always are one to go above and beyond,” you note, trailing a finger down his chest and feeling his own heart race beneath your touch.

Charles chuckles, capturing your hand and placing a gentle kiss on your fingertips. “Only for you,” he admits. “Because you deserve nothing but the best.”

You smile, “And what makes you think I’m counting?”

His grin sends shivers down your spine. “Oh, believe me, you will be.”

***

The curtains barely keep the sun at bay when you wake up the next morning. You try to move but your legs refuse, reminding you of how thoroughly Charles thanked you … all … night … long. A soft, contented sigh escapes your lips as the memories flood back.

Behind you, Charles stirs, his arm pulling you closer. “Morning,” he mumbles, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder.

“Morning,” you echo, attempting to shift and sit up. But your legs wobble as they struggle to move after the intense night you had.

“Seems like I did a good job,” he teases, helping you sit up. The smug satisfaction in his voice is undeniable.

You shoot him a playful glare. “You’re far too pleased with yourself.”

He grins, “Can you blame me?” His fingers dance lightly over your skin, tracing patterns that threaten to make you pull him back under the covers. “You’re irresistible and knowing I’m the reason for that ... well it makes me want to go again for round seventeen.”

Your response is cut off by a sharp twinge in your lower half. Charles notices immediately, concern replacing his teasing. “You okay?”

“Just a bit sore,” you say with a sheepish smile.

He raises an eyebrow, that familiar playful glint returning. “Only a bit? I’ll have to fix that.”

Rolling your eyes, you give a mock huff. “Alright, maybe more than a bit.”

Charles stands up and stretches, immediately drawing your eyes to his delicious chest and abs. The smirk that stretches across his face tells you that he knows exactly what he does to you.

He reaches across the bed and scoops you up, carrying you effortlessly towards the bathroom. “Then let’s get you relaxed.”

The bathtub is already filled, steam rising in gentle tendrils. Charles must have gotten up early to prepare it and the thought sends warmth throughout your body.

He eases both of you into the warm water, settling you between his legs, his chest pressed against your back. The sensation of the water coupled with his touch immediately begins to soothe your aching muscles.

Charles reaches for a bottle of bath oil, pouring it into the water. The rich scent of lavender fills the air, adding to the calming atmosphere. He begins to massage your shoulders, working his way down your back, releasing any residual tension.

As his hands wander, the heat and his touch begin to reignite the flame from the previous night. The line between relaxation and arousal becomes increasingly blurred.

Charles senses the change, his breath hot against your ear. “Feeling better?”

You nod, leaning back against him, surrendering to the sensations he’s stirring. “Much better,” you whisper, turning your head to capture his lips in a languid kiss.

The bath sloshes around you as the two of you explore each other anew, proving that the passion between you knows no bounds. Time becomes irrelevant as you lose yourselves in each other once again, the world outside ceasing to exist.

There’s no water left in the bathtub by the time you’re done. You make sure to leave an extra heavy tip as an apology to the poor housekeeper who will have to clean the wet bathroom floor.

***

As you and Charles walk — or in your case, try to walk — towards the private jet, the afternoon sun glints off the sleek metal of the aircraft. Pierre Gasly, along with some members of the Ferrari team, are already waiting on the tarmac.

You try to maintain your dignity, but with each step, there’s a subtle wince on your face and your pace is undeniably slower than usual. Pierre raises an eyebrow when he notices your gait while the rest of the team exchange amused glances.

“Late-night celebrations?” Pierre quips, a knowing smirk on his face.

Charles slides an arm around your waist. “Just making the most of our time.”

You shoot Charles a playful glare with burning cheeks. “Stop being so smug,” you mutter under your breath.

He leans down, lips brushing against your ear. “Can’t help that I’m proud of my achievements. Both on and off the track.”

Charles’ protective and doting nature is at full force as he assists you with every step up to the jet, ensuring you’re comfortably seated next to him.

The hum of engines fills the cabin and you settle into your plush seat, snuggling under the soft blanket that Charles laid over both of you. He sits beside you, his fingers brushing against yours, eyes dark with that all-too-familiar desire.

The close quarters and presence of the team should have served as a deterrent, but with Charles, the line between boldness and recklessness was always blurred.

His hand, concealed by the blanket, slides up your thigh. You shoot him a warning look but his mischievous grin shows he’s not deterred. His fingers tease and explore, pushing boundaries while you bite your lip, trying to maintain your composure.

Every movement of his fingers sends a jolt of electricity through you, the thrill of potential discovery only making every sense feel heightened.

A sudden burst of turbulence rocks the plane and you grip the armrests, focus momentarily pulled away from Charles’ teasing. He takes the opportunity to press closer, his whispers in your ear almost drowned out by the engines.

“We’ll continue this later,” he promises, pulling his hand away and discretely licking his fingers before settling back in his seat, looking far more innocent than he has any right to.

***

“Close your eyes,” Charles commands gently as you both walk into your shared bedroom a few weeks later.

A smile touches your lips. “Again with the surprises?”

“Just trust me.”

You oblige without hesitation.

All you hear is the soft rustle of fabric and then his voice, “Okay, open them.”

Your eyes flutter open to find Charles shirtless. You take a moment to admire the beautiful man you get to call your own before your eyes make their way to his chest … where he is proudly showing off a fresh tattoo, the skin still raw, right above his heart. It takes a moment for you to recognize the series of numbers — the exact date that the two of you first met.

“You didn’t,” you breathe, stepping closer and allowing your fingertips to hover over the ink.

Charles captures your hand, pressing it against the tattoo. “Every beat of my heart is for you. I wanted a permanent reminder.”

Your eyes start to glisten with tears. “This is ... I don’t even have words.”

He grins, pulling you close. “We seem to be leaving each other speechless a lot lately.”

You laugh, “I think it’s your turn to be speechless.”

“Oh?” He challenges, raising an eyebrow.

Without warning, you push him gently onto the bed, straddling him. “I know a thing or two about surprises,” you whisper against his lips.

His hands find your hips. “Show me.”

You don’t hold back.

“Remember,” he murmurs between heated kisses, “this is forever.”

You nod, brushing your lips against his once more before making your way down his body. “Forever.”

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chappellroansdreamgirl · 25 days

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ellie with a mean gf!

(prjoecting like a mf rn...)

a/n - i have been very unmotivated to write full-fleshed stuff so i'm deciding to write drabbles/headcannons for now. also THANK YOU FOR ALL THE ATTENTION ON CH.1 OF GOOD LUCK, BABE! it makes my heart smile that you guys love it so much... also😭😭...: @sweetcici11 srry that i lied and said ur fic would be out a few nights ago. i'm really trying to finish it but i don't want to rush it and it be shitty. i really want it to be enjoyable and as good as it can be. but i PROMISE you it WILL be posted... sooner or later! i also have a few more drafts to finish too, so, i hope you guys like them when they come out!!!!!

content warnings - fluff, i'm a bitch and i want to feel loved and think that someone can put up with my cuntiness😝😝 , over-usage of commas probably, i think they're low-key kind of toxic?!?!?!?! , guys i promise i'm not this bad i've just been pretty insufferable these last few days and need an outlet 😭😭 .

i wrote way more than i thought i was going to...

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- you both hated each other at first. ...well actually, you hated her, and she was like, "😞😞" and then got used to it after a while and started being mean back 2 u!!

- dina introduced ellie to you when you both were hanging out with her. "you guys are going to love each other🥰!" ... you didn't 🤗 !

- ellie said hi to you and all you did was look her up and down, stare at her for a few seconds and then turn your head.

- everytime ellie would (attempt to) strike up a conversation you would give an overtly enthusiastic response or just stare at her like she had two heads or just blatantly ignore her. dina is over there like, '😟😟 . can we not have one good day...' when dina would leave for short periods of time and ellie was sure that you didn't like her, she would just talk about anything to get your blood boiling, our girl lllloooovvveessss to push buttons, we know this to be true.

- it got worse yet more tolerable after that. whenever she'd see you at gatherings or parties, you'd do your damnest to stay away from/avoid her. and she'd do her damnest to get you as upset with her as possible. it always ended with not-so-playful not-so-friendly banter!

- you were talking with jesse about something on the couch, and ellie came over and DELIBERATELY, DELIBERATELY... interrupted you 🤗 ! :

you shoot daggers at her face with your eyes, your jaw set hard and your eyes narrowed.

ellie tried to feign innocence, raising a brow at you after she looked over to see your facial expressions long after she felt them.. "what are you looking at me like that for🤨🤨?" , "i was fucking talking, you're being rude." , "if i have to get used to you being a bitch, you got to do the same." , you just huffed at her response and crossed your arms before walking off a few minutes after, realizing that the conversation you were having with jesse earlier was indeed over. ellie smirked to herself, victory was her's!

- she started calling you the nickname brat out of the blue... it blindsided tf out of you. here's the origin story!:

you look at ellie with a disgusted look on your face as she exhales smoke. her glazed over eyes meet yours before she offers the joint to you, out of genuine kindness. "want a hit?" she asked, forgetting how much of a bitch you were for, like, 0.2 seconds. you glare at her for a moment longer before plastering a sarcastic smile on your face, snatching the joint from her fingertips and dropping it onto the floor. you kept her eyes on yours as you stomped and smushed it into the ground.

now she remembered.

she stood up instantaneously, she was pissed. "what the fuck?!" she shouted, earning a few looks from some friends across the room. they strained their necks for a little bit before they saw you, it made sense now, and then turned back to the conversation.

you close your eyes for a slight second as a satisfied smile graced the corners of your lips. "you know i don't smoke, ellie." you responded with in a condescendingly sweet voice.

she didn't even argue with you. "you're such a fuckin' brat." she muttered under her breath before walking away. you had to try your very best to ignore the heartbeat in your pussy. (🤗!)

- she didn't get to see how much effect that title had on you that night, but she noticed afterwards.

- one time you didn't say anything to ellie during a hangout, distracted by someone you disliked more than her. ellie kind of missed it☹️☹️ .

you were brought out of your thoughts when you felt her cold hand touch your shoulder. when you noticed it was her who was doing it, you pulled back with a furrow of her brows. ellie smiled. there she was.

"you haven't said one mean thing to me since i've gotten here. are you dying?"

you scoffed as you pointed in the direction your anger was radiating from. it was a girl ellie saw here and there in jackson, sometimes she was paired with her during patrols, she wasn't crazy about her but she paid no mind to her existence.

"what?- what does this have to do with me-"

"what it has to do with you, is that you should feel honored that i can tolerate you... can't fuckin' stand that bitch."

ellie scoffed before speaking up once more, "oh, c'mon you're being dramatic. don't be a brat."

your eyes went wide for a second and as you turned away, she could see the cheek that was facing her turn an embarrassing shade of red. she found your weakness.

- when you guys started dating, no one, and i mean NO ONE, believed it. (i don't feel like writing how u two got together maybe if y'all like this enough i'll make a full-fleshed oneshot abt it😭.)

- joel saw you guys together... like, not arguing, and HER head on YOUR shoulder... he thought he got laced with acid for a quick second there... jesse felt like he missed a couple chapters and felt very sad that he hadn't caught onto it quicker... and dina was so proud of herself, "told you, you guys would love each other 😁." she's so smug, I LOVE HER!

- she constantly has to reprimand you like you're a child when you guys are around someone you obviously don't like for whatever reason. once whoever left the room, ellie'll pinch your shoulder or your thigh, whatever skin is on display at the moment, not too hard, just to get you to wince a bit. you'll make a face at her afterwards. "ow, what the fuck was that for ellie?" , "we can talk shit when we get home, don't make a scene🙄." you stress her out sometimes...

- just bcs you guys are together DOES NOT mean your attitude has gone away.

whenever ellie and you have gotten in an argument, you're always being extra sarcastic and EXTRA BITCHY just to get on her nerves.

"baby, have you seen my gun?" she asks you, breaking the silence voluntarily as she's two minutes from being late to patrol.

you don't look up to her, you keep on looking at the pages of an old magazine. "idk ellie, did you check to see if it was shoved up your ass."

she just stands there for a second like this 🧍‍♀️ , before sighing and walking somewhere else to find it. "i'll fuckin' deal with you later." she mutters under her breath, obviously annoyed. you smirk to yourself as you flip another page.

- she does love, however, that you've gotten gentler with her since the relationship blossomed between you two. very few people (dina and ellie... sometimes jesse.) can get you to stop, and ellie is proud of herself that she could add beast-tamer to the top of her list of many skills and talents.

- sometimes she has to calm you down, sometimes all it takes is a stare in your direction. ... well, it's oftentimes a glare... you're your own woman/person and a relationship will not restrict you from showing off your talents!!!!!

- ellie has to constantly keep you from getting into arguments that could harm you physically. although your craft of bitchery is amazing, you can't fight to save your life.

she'll be pulling you back like an angry barking dog on a leash.

"i could've fucking took h-" , "you overestimate yourself a lot, baby."

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ceilidho · 9 months

Note

If you haven't already, can you write a second part to house cleaner reader for ghost? I really liked it and would love a pt 2

i don't know about a full on sequel bc my muse is fickle and hard to catch but i can give you a little snippet?

The first time you slip into Simon’s bed, you swear it’ll be the first and last time.

It’s not an accident—you made the decision deliberately. You just hope the circumstances lend your excuse some credence.

“Accidentally let a moth in,” you mumble into the pillow when you spot him standing in the doorframe. He has to duck his head a little to come in.

Of course he picks today of all days to come home.

His eyebrows come up as if in surprise, but you can see the slightest trace of amusement in his eyes. You pull the blankets up to your neck, conscious that you’re garbed in only sleep shorts and a tank top that’s several years old. It keeps riding up when you toss and turn in your sleep.

Your head’s still a little foggy with sleep; you managed to catch up on all of an hour of sleep before the sound of your name in the deep timber of his voice had hooked you out of your dreams. Not that you remember what you were dreaming.

You’d been curled up like a little woodland creature in his bed, nose stuffed in the pillow that still seemed to carry the lingering trace of his smell. In his absence, it’s easy to forget that he does have a smell; rich and layered, like gunpowder and smoke, like it clings to him barnacle-tight, like it’s caked under his nails and in the fine blond strands of his hair. You take a deeper breath in.

Simon’s still clothed in the thick tactical gear you saw him off in several weeks ago. The tube scarf is pulled down to around his neck, exposing his face. It always leaves you hungry, eyes roaming over the blunt cut of his jaw greedily, watching it undulate when he yawns. It’s covered with rough new scruff, like he only started letting it grow out within the last day or so.

“Simon?” you ask, humiliation still biting you at being found in his bed.

“Been on the road for bloody near four hours,” he grunts, hands coming up to start peeling away the layers covering him.

It takes you a second to remember to avert your eyes. You keep your gaze fast on the floor, but the sound of velcro ripping off and drawers opening leaves your face hot, almost feverish. If you touch your cheek now, you’re sure you’ll find them burning.

“I’m sorry, sir.” The comforter is still clasped to your chest when you go to sit up and you’re not sure what the plan was. To walk all the way back to your room with his blanket around you? “I’m gonna go—I’ll sleep on the couch. It’s so embarrassing, I just—I really don’t like moths.”

Whatever the plan was, it disintegrates to dust when he steps to the side of the bed that you were trying to slip off and plants a hand on your bare shoulder, pushing you back.

“You really got to quit it with the sir, love,” Simon grunts, using the hand on your shoulder to guide you farther back onto the bed. Your heart goes a little haywire in your chest when he lifts the comforter to give himself room to climb in. “‘Least when we’re not in bed.”

You aren’t going to read into those words too closely. Your mind already feels sluggish, groggy, like waking up out of a bad nap with the headache still chasing you, and if you try to examine what he means by that, it’s just going to get worse. You let him rearrange you how he sees fit, slipping back down under the sheets and letting him turn you over onto your side.

“You’re not going to shower?” you mumble, eyelids already drooping shut. You only flinch a little when he hooks an arm around your waist and tugs you back into his chest. His scent is richer than usual, dappled with old sweat and smoke.

“We can have one later. Getting some shut eye for now. Brew later, when we’ve got some rest.”

#ceil writing #simon riley x you #ghost/reader #ghost cod #house cleaner au #simon ghost riley x reader

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sincerlycas · 1 year

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handle that.

summary: plug eren takes his girl out to the mall after working overtime for the past days but gets into a run in and y/n gets the repercussions.

warning: plug eren, bad bitch y/n, black y/n, drugs, gun, toys, backseat sex, slight rough sex, full nelson, mature scenes, etc.

don’t forget to dm me for commissions <3

see one thing eren hated more than anything was being away from his girl for too long. it’s not like he wanted to be away from his favorite lady but he has a job and it’s a supply and demand thing. driving towards your apartment eren thought of what he should get you as an apology. not only was he not able to be with you but he was also ignoring your texts.

he was being bombarded with texts from clients and suppliers that he really couldn’t even sit for a second to send you a simple hey. but not today, today he was going to hang out and spoil his girl no matter what.

“hey mamas give me a kiss” leaning forward to give him a quick peck after seating in the passenger seat the turning your body away from him while fixing your skirt. “really y/n?” gripping your face eren turned you to look at him in the eyes. “mamas you know I’ve been working overtime there’s no need to act like this.” rolling your eyes you moved his hand off your face and looked out the window. “so busy you can’t even text a bitch ‘good morning’ ‘how are you’ ‘i love you’ or a simple ‘I won’t be able to text much I’m working overtime’ ?!” turning your head to look at him with a mean mug. you knew he was working so he could be able to spoil you like he always has but you still wanted his attention is that so hard?!

“y/n now you’re acting like a brat because you know damn well I didn’t have the time too so shut this shit down right now before you have sum coming for you. and put on the damn seatbelt imma take you shopping.” starting the car eren shook his head knowing you had every right to act how you acted but he wasn’t putting up with it today. biting your lip you grabbed the seatbelt and buckled up listening to him because quite frankly you loved when he spoke like that.

feeling a hand on your thigh you turn to look down at see eren rubbing between your thighs comfortably. rubbing his hands you look at the tattoos he had on them one specifically being a red inked tattoo of your birthdate located on his middle finger which was sporting your guys matching promise rings. “mamas you know id never deliberately ignore you.” stopping the car in the mall parking lot eren turned to rub the side of your face with his thumb while his hand rubbed the back of your neck.

“mhm” nodding your head you rubbed his arm as you leaned forward over the console and gave him the kiss he wanted. “atta girl” slapping your ass eren pulled back from the kiss and got out the car and helped you out and walked into the mall hand in hand with you.

“where to next ma?” holding bags from Chanel to Gucci eren carried them as he followed you mindlessly to each store you wanted to go to. “hmm how bout Sephora?” turning around to face him catching him staring at your ass you laughed. “nigga are you even listening to me?” looking up at you eren let out a hm? which told you your answer. “I said let’s go Sephora pa” hooking your arm with his you leaned your head on his shoulder as y’all continued walking with each other.

“y/n?! that you?!” turning around to see who called you and spot it was one of the guys you used to hang with but dropped him since he was acting weird. “oh hey jay” waving hi at him then turned on your heel to walk away but was interrupted by Jay stopping you and asking for a hug. you didn’t think nothing of it because you guys did used to hang with each other. giving him a hug as he asked but then you felt a large slap on your ass and two hands gripping it. “damn your ass still fat like I remembered”.

before you could let a word out eren punched the guy right in the face while you were still hugging him causing the guy to fall back while letting you tumble to the side. “eren- .” trying to stop eren by grabbing his shirt to which he moved you aside and grabbed ol boy and slammed him on the wall. “who tf you think you touchin like that huh?” landing another blow to his face eren gripped Jay by the collar not letting up. “m-my bad man I ain’t know” “you ain’t know? you didn’t see her holding onto me the whole time or what?” eren pressed the guy harder into the wall causing any bystanders to be blinded from what he was finna do.

pressing the cold gun against the guy’s abdomen eren looked at him straight in the eye “you gone apologize to her then you gone get tf on and speak nothin of this igh?” nodding frantically Jay moved aside and went to apologize to you then jogged off.

shocked you looked at eren who was grabbing your bags then went and grabbed your hand as well exiting the mall with you and making you guys hop back in the car.

starting the car eren stayed silent while you tried to process what happened. “eren wtf is your issue, I know what that guy did was wrong but you shouldn’t have caused a major scene like that if you were there for a second later you could’ve gotten arrested-“

“y/n does it look like I give a fuck about that shit right now?”

jerking your head back at his words you pushed the side of his head not giving a fuck if he was driving. “nigga remember who the fuck you talking to cuz I’m not the one remember that.” automatically after saying that eren swerved the car around and headed towards a empty parking lot nearby the house and parked. “get in the back y/n.” eren unbuckled his seatbelt and turned towards you waiting for you to talk back to him again, to which you did.

“ion even know why you’re acting like this bruh you’re trippin” rolling your eyes you sat down still. “y/n another man just slapped your ass but I’m supposed to be akeke ajaja? fuck no, let alone the fact you literally hugged his ass knowing why the hell you dropped him in the first place. you’re not fucking innocent so stop fucking playing with and get your ass in the fucking back !!”

staring at eren you saw how angry he seemed and decided to let him win this time because you knew If you kept trying him it would just get worse. “mmcht” sucking your teeth at him you took off your heels and moved into the back. while sitting down with your arms crossed, you stared at eren through the car mirror to which he looked back while lighting a blunt and began speaking while staying in his spot in the drivers seat. “mamas- I buy you shoes, dresses, jewelry, I pay for your nails and hair, I fuck you good, I cater you with everything and all I ask is for you to listen to me without running that spoiled ass mouth of yours and you can’t even do that” taking a inhale from the blunt while leaning his head back.

“that’s fine because that ends today imma teach yo ass a lil sum.”

that lil sum he was referring to was making you go through misery. “keep them legs spread or imma make hold your nut.” currently you were ridded from your skirt and your back leaning against the car door with your legs spread wide and cunt on display. “fuckkk~ eren please~” eren held a black bullet vibrator to your clit on the highest setting while scissoring your hole with two fingers. “please nothing shut that shit up” closing your thighs on his hand while closing your eyes and arching your back off the door shaking from cumming again. “y/n.. I know you didn’t cum without my permission, I’m seeing things right?” slamming your legs back open eren looked down to see you leaking.

“your spoiled slutty ass don’t listen for shit- now look you’re ruining my seats !” taking his fingers out your cunt and sliding them into his mouth while looking at you “you lucky you taste good.” whining you feel eren slide in slowly while putting one of your legs on his shoulder. “f-fuck~ pull some out renn~” pushing his stomach with your hand you teared up from how much pressure was being put on your g-spot and right after your orgasm. “move your hand move your mf hand.” slapping your hand from his stomach and dragging you to lay fully on the seat he wasted no time and thrusting into you harshly while holding onto one of your tits.

“e-erennn~!! give my pussy a breakk~” moaning loudly into his ear as he laid on top of you gripping the car door behind you pounding down into your hole with no chance of slowing down. “don’t act like you can’t take dick mamas, I’ve trained this pussy more than enough for you to be acting like you can’t , so you can stop acting up and take daddy’s dick?” biting your lip while wrapping your legs around him and nodding your head yes.

smiling down at you eren fixed your hair to move it away from you face and kissed you and sucked on your bottom lip “you’re so gorgeous mamas especially when you spread out for me like this.” kissing the side of your face eren leaned up off you and bringing both your legs to rest on one shoulder and started hitting deeper than before while pinching at your clit and occasionally adding the vibrator onto it.

“ohh shittt~!! eren n-no more~!! I can’t take it anymore~” pushing against his chest while squirting up onto his stomach and your thighs. laying there huffing and puffing eren watched as your eyes rolled in the back of your head while you squirted and smiled.

“alright I’ll give you a break ma, but when we get to that house you better be ready”.

fixing his clothes before he got out the car eren made it back to the driver seat but not before he shoved another vibrator into you and tied your hands together with his belt to prevent you from taking it out. the whole ride home all eren heard was muffles of his name and moans and those sounds were better than any song being played in the radio.

upon arriving to the house eren covered you with a blanket and took you out the car and carried you to the room. “t-t-take it out~” laying down on the bed naked and legs spread wide open with the vibrator still buzzing inside you. “why should I? I’m still not done punishing you because I know right after this is over you’re gonna still act like a spoiled bitch.” squeezing at your thighs eren leaned over you and took the belt off you hands and sucked at you nipples. “I p-promise I won’t, I’ll be good~”

chuckling at your words eren licked his lips and tugged at your nipple. “you’ll be good mamas?” “I’ll be good daddy” “that’s nice to hear ma but imma still fuck this pussy of yours up.”

biting your lip and tearing up knowing your pussy is going to be domestically abused.

today eren was feeling a little different so while putting the lit blunt back between his lips he put you in a full nelson and started fucking up into you with no mercy ! “o-o-omggg~!! why are you fucking me like thisss~!!” arching your back off him you squirted yet again while shaking on him. reaching his hand in front of you he quickly rubbed your clit in harsh circles to prolong your orgasm. “don’t act like you don’t know why- fuckkk~ I’m cumming~” gripping onto your neck and jackhammering up into your cunt eren cummed inside then calmed down after. taking the blunt of his mouth and blowing the smoke into your face eren spoke “you gone behave now?” nodding frantically not wanting to continue with your pussy being sore.

“that’s what I thought, try me again and imma handle that.”

commission for: @spaceforher

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garoujo · 2 years

Text

YOU HAVE (1) NEW REQUEST FROM @GOJO SATORU . . .

WANNA PLAY SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN?

➤ seven minutes in heaven series masterlist.

NEW MESSAGE @WARNINGS : f. reader, college!au, frat party / exhibitonism, teasing, kind of academic rivals / enemies to lovers, seven minutes in heaven scenarios that are def longer than seven mins, alcohol mention, dirty talk, creampie, fingering / pussy eating.

(1) ATTACHMENT @WC : est. 5.2k

NEW MESSAGE FROM EMMIE @GAROUJO : hewo this is the first fic from the seven minutes in heaven series, hopefully you guys enjoy ‘n feedback is v much appreciated since this is the longest thing i’ve ever written �� pls enjoy ><

cocky, confident, insufferable, aggravating… (unfortunately) handsome, these were a few words that came to mind when you thought about gojo satoru.

he’d been in your class since you’d started here — unfortunately at the desk that was straight infront of yours and you say it’s unfortunate because as it happens, you both have never gotten along.

he was a smart ass and a know it all, and you don’t know what you did in a past life to deserve his teasing but it had gotten to the point where you seemed to be his only means of entertainment, having to hold back a gag at how sickly sweet he is to everyone else.

but every single thing you did, satoru had to do better—beat your tests scores, offer to help teachers before they asked you (suck up), deliberately asking you difficult questions he knows you’re gonna struggle to answer in presentations, just so he can see you trip up a few times.

he’d lean back only to scribble on your notes when he’s done taking his own—after trying and failing to use your hand as a sketch book first, steals some of your snacks or lunch with a wink and a honeyed, irritable comment about how “sweets are good for stimulating the brain.” he was so annoyi—

“hey! you still here with me?” suguru shouts, raising an eyebrow at your spaced out form as he waves his hand over your eyes—snapping you out of your daydream to bring you plummeting back to where you’re stood right now, at your rival’s frat party.

“sorry, spaced out.” you hum in response, trying and failing to pretend that you hadn’t just completely zoned out whilst unfortunately staring at the gojo satoru you’d just been mentally cursing.

the same guy who’d also noticed you staring a while ago and is now shooting you one of his annoyingly, handsome smirks before he’s turning and deliberately throwing an arm over the girl opposite him, the same one who doesn’t hesitate to lean into his chest because not only was he annoying but he was also irritably popular, especially with girls—

—not that you care, you want to roll your eyes, flip him the bird but you know that’s what he wants, so you turn your eyes back to your bestfriend as he takes his place beside you instead before you feel suguru nudge at your shoulder.

but if you were to meet satoru’s gaze once more, you’d see that it had quickly found its way back to you, and there’s a ghost of a frown on his features this time instead of his usual cocky look.

“you feeling okay? don’t look like you’re having a good time.” the dark haired male hums, leaning forward to meet your gaze from where it’s drifted away from him and you know you can’t hide your irritation, he always knew—but as wound up as you were, there was always a drop in your guard around your bestfriend.

“sorry, yeah i’m fine.. just bored i guess—“ you eventually reply, and you hear suguru click his tongue before he’s grinning good-naturedly down at you and pushing himself off of the counter, rounding your figure until he’s standing opposite you.

“yeah, i’m sure bored is how you’re feeling—do you forget i’ve known you forever, i can read your mind at this point.” your bestfriend laughs, shooting you a humoured grin before he’s tilting his head towards the living room and urging you to follow him.

“come on, you’re bored right? atleast make an effort to have some fun.” you can’t help but scoff in amusement at suguru’s playful words but you still find yourself following him, allowing the warm air from the bustling frat party to roll over your shoulders.

you pass between beer pong tables and other drunken students, classmates and people you’ve never even seen before alike, even find yourself passing by satoru and his group of friends—or fans you guess you could call them. but you never take your eyes off of your best friends back, almost certainly feeling a white-haired male’s shameless gaze burn into you until you’re out of view.

you don’t know why you’re struck with a sudden wave of anticipation and nerves as you finally stroll into the living room, almost colliding with suguru when he stops abruptly, his lips pulling into a grin before he’s laughing at the confused look on your face.

you know what this is, a single empty beer bottle in the middle of the floor and classmates dotted around different areas of the room, most already giddily drunk while they’re giggling and gossiping at every victim the bottle chooses before they’re whisked away into what could potentially be your own personal hell.

“trust me, just sit.” suguru grunts, his eyes on you again before he’s dropping onto the couch and pulling you down with him until you’re not very gracefully falling into the cushions, and he’s drawling out a “we’re in” that’s immediately followed by obnoxious whistles and whispers from the other students in the room.

you open your mouth to protest—not that you even know what you’d say—but before you can you’re instantly cut off by another “make that three.” followed by a sudden weight on the other side of the couch when you feel the cushions dip, right next to you.

you know that voice—that honeyed tone and the starry eyed glances and jealous looks that are suddenly being sent your way, not towards you, no—but towards none other than gojo satoru from where he’s sat next to you, deliberately knocking his thigh against yours with how obnoxiously he’s manspreading and leaning back with a knowing grin.

you want to ignore satoru, deciding to choose peace when you cross your arms over your chest and turn your attention back to the bottle in the middle of the room—you want to, but ofcourse he has other plans when you feel him lean towards you, his chest pressing against your side.

“lucky for you, there’s not a way for me to win this one. wouldn’t want to see you cryin’ again…” satoru drawls, feigning disappointment even though his words are still smooth but you can basically hear the grin on his lips, immediately turning to him with nothing short of a scowl before you’re leaning away.

“hey, it’s your turn.“ suguru grunts from his place beside you and you can’t help but roll your eyes, not even at him, but because you can already feel your blood beginning to boil, so you’re hissing out a “spin for me, sugu.” and turning your venomous gaze back to the person who actually deserves it while your bestfriend shrugs and does as you ask.

“i wasn’t crying because you got a higher score, gojo. don’t give yourself so much credit.” you reply sharply, a mocking amount of sweetness in your voice and you’re pretty sure you notice the sides of satoru’s lips twitch in amusement at your reaction before he hums.

“oh? thought you looked so pretty when you cried too.” satoru sighs out—teasing, tilting his head back to look over your face from behind his round glasses and the grin on his lips is almost pleased in a way that has you wanting to scream, like he’s taunting you but unfortunately for you mostly, you’ve never been one for backing down from him.

you tilt your body towards him, muscles tensed and you’re sure there’s a deep, less than flattering frown on your face that immediately shows just how much he gets to you when you bring a finger up to point at the irritatingly pretty male opposite you.

“you know what, gojo! i really—“ you begin, but your sharp sentence is immediately cut off by an obnoxiously loud round of hollers and hoots as you freeze, eyes wide just as you’re about to push your index finger into satoru’s chest and the shit eating grin on his face seems to stretch even wider, his own amusement shining through when he narrows his eyes at you, tipping his head towards the bottle on the floor that’s so obviously pointing straight at him.

“well would you look at that. looks like you can win this. come on, you don’t need to try contain your excitement.” satoru grunts, tilting his head as his large palm suddenly wraps around your wrist and pull you up from the couch along with him.

you want to kick and scream, preferably at him but you’re still in shock—this was your own personal hell, and that’s only confirmed when you turn to get some—any assistance from suguru and he’s only raising his hands and sending you a sympathetic look that says you told me to spin for you.

you feel like the rooms spinning, your skin feels like it’s burning underneath satoru’s palm but his hold is still gentle enough where you could break free if you really wanted, but maybe this would work in your favour—a quiet closet with your academic rival and at this point, probable nemesis where you can really give him a piece of your mind? yep, this was gonna go horribly.

satoru’s laughing as he starts to almost impatiently pull you along, shooting playful looks towards the students that seem to be lining the way towards your dreaded destination. until you’re both standing in front of some dingy frat closet that you’re pretty sure hasn’t seen a vacuum or a mop in months, years even.

“you scared?” the white-haired male teases and it’s his words that immediately snap you out of your haze, the same words that have you huffing before they’re reigniting the blaze in your veins and you’re basically pushing him into this stupid, dark closet with a grumble about how absolutely done with his shit you are.

“7 minutes!” you hear someone call from the other end of the door before silence falls in the darkened closet, it’s bigger than you’d expected but not huge—there’s space for you to stand opposite satoru but not enough, he’s still long, 6’3 in stature and imposing, you almost sway from where you look up at him and he’s taking up so much space that you’re almost sitting on the counter top behind you (that’s probably supposed to be full of cleaning supplies) to keep some distance between you both.

“didn’t know you were so eager to get me in here, sweetheart.” satoru drawls and you’re irritation feels like it returns in waves, pinching between your brows before you take a few deep breathes. but when you catch the smallest glance of his stupidly, handsome grin you can’t help but feel the last thread of your sanity snap.

“would you just shut up, gojo? just be quiet.” you bite, sighing (probably a little dramatically) before you lean back—eyes narrowing at the old lightbulb on the ceiling that’s just barely giving you any light, while satoru raises his hands in faux surrender opposite you and whistles at your sharp comment.

“i hear you.” he replies but the tone of his voice still has you grumbling before you keep the silence between you both for what feels like an eternity, eventually letting your emotions run riot on your tongue once more, and you don’t know if it’s because you feel suddenly nervous, or because you can still see him sway impatiently across from you before he’s whistling obnoxiously.

“you’re so annoying, you know that?” you grumble, almost timidly and it makes you want to smack yourself but instead you choose to scowl at the white haired male, watching him push himself up from the wall opposite you. “did you ask me to be quiet just so you could make fun of me? so rude.” satoru replies, his tone almost playful and you don’t miss the way his eyes sweep over you briefly before you scoff.

“aww, expect me to kiss your ass instead?” you return, an equal amount of mocking sympathy in your tone and the comment actually pulls a more genuine sounding laugh from the man, a sound that has you straightening up in a way that seems foreign around him.

“oh, is that an offer? i don’t tease you because i hate you, you know.” satoru breathes again and you feel yourself shuffle at the suddenly heavy atmosphere in the closet. his tone shifts at the end of his sentence this time, it’s low and his words are languid and it makes you hesitate before you speak again.

“then what the hell is it?” you ask, curiosity thick in your words and you can’t hide the way your frown softens.

“nuh ugh, not so fast. think you can lock me in a closet with a pretty girl and i’ll spill my guts? you gotta earn that.” satoru goads, and you think you deserve another smack when you feel a smile twitch on your lips at his words, but you expertly hide it behind a passive expression on your face.

“think you can lock me in a closet with you and i’ll fall in love when you call me pretty?” you sigh, shooting him a humoured grin before he’s shrugging his shoulders and looking at you over his glasses again.

“why? you tempted, princess?” satoru drawls, he’s clearly checking you out—blatantly, making no effort to hide the way his tongue peeks out to roll along his lower lip before he’s stepping closer with heat in his eyes.

you feel yourself shudder with anticipation with each step he takes and you suddenly feel like you could drown in the crystalline, blue tones of his gaze but you can’t help but feel suddenly self conscious as he drinks you up—not that you’d ever let him know that.

“you wish, gojo.” you squeak, but your tone wavers and you know satoru hears it before he’s humming to acknowledge the sudden shift in your demeanour.

“yeah? that obvious?” he sounds so honest, and it makes your heart flutter and your stomach flip—your throat bobs in a swallow and you wish you could say it was bile, but you know it’s not when your brow arches at his words, like you’re deciding if he’s still teasing you or not, and he knows he has you when you bite on your bottom lip.

“wh.. what?”

but still surprisingly, it’s slow when satoru reaches for you—like he’s giving you the opportunity to stop him before his hand is sliding along your back and hooking around your waist to pull your body against his chest. it’s a strong pull, but not disorientating, yet you still feel your skin burn hot where his long fingers are pressing through the thin fabric of your dress, and it feels like it moulds even closer to the shape of your figure—almost like there’s nothing between his palm and your skin.

you scoff his name, resting your palm against his chest and he gives you a few moments, an opportunity to push him away—to yell at him or cuss him out but you don’t, so he shoots you a softer, tilted grin, before he’s leaning closer and brushing his lips against yours.

“hmm, don’t believe me? i can prove it.” satoru hums, allowing his lips to ghost over yours from where his finger is suddenly hooking under your chin and tilting you towards him, like he’s tempting you with the forbidden fruit but as much as desire is burning in your stomach, he’s still annoying.

“you’re such an asshole, goj—“ you gasp when he finally kisses you, cutting off your sentence before it replaced with a breathless exhale and he takes the opportunity to dip his tongue past your lips, allowing it to glide along your own.

he tastes like spearmint and strawberry soda and it reminds you that he’d mentioned he wasn’t a drinker—which means the way satoru’s holding you, touching you, kissing you—is being done with a completely clear mind and suddenly you feel something ignite in your veins before you’re pulling him closer.

you feel a coiling pleasure that’s been building between the teasing jabs and playful rivalry tighten delightfully, his hand squeezing your waist only making it burn brighter.

you whimper against his lips and the sound drives satoru closer, practically pinning you against the small countertop behind you both until it’s squeezing against the back of your thighs.

“hmm, so cute.” satoru groans and the deep drone of his voice curls down your spine, you can’t pull yourself away from him—not that he’s helping, with the way his strong grip keeps you in your place against his chest, his large palms exploring the topography of your hips, down your waist and up your thighs from where he’s pinning you onto the surface beneath you.

“satoru.. just fuck me.” you plead against his mouth, a honeyed edge to your voice that you hope will sway him—something you’d never thought you’d say while you breathe heavy with him, and satoru feels sticky at the words, his first name, spoken against his lips. he feels his cock twitch and thicken behind his pants and his thumb squeezes into your skin before he’s licking into your mouth; burying soft groans into your skin like they’re secrets and he’s losing himself in the dizzy spin of the room.

“yeah? fuck, gotta be quick then.. don’t think i’ll hold back on you.” he grunts and the kiss breaks wet as he stands, taps on the back of your thighs to help hoist you up onto the counter top before you jump eagerly and he’s slotting himself between them.

your fingers tangle in his hair once more and satoru can’t help but continue kissing you, the hem of your dress slinking up with his wrists, slender digits squeezing at the fat and muscle it reveals as his hands stroke up your thighs, pushing your dress up until you’re legs spread around him and his fingers are trailing closer to where he needs to be most.

it happens so fast when you feel satoru push your panties to the side messily and the first swipe of his finger between your folds is purposeful, but rushed, dragging the rough pad of his finger beneath the hood of your clit as he rolls the sensitive bud and you twitch, grabbing onto the fabric of his shirt before the wet disconnect of his lips from yours has you whimpering softly.

“those sure are some pretty sounds, all for me? aren’t you a sweet thing.“ he hums before he’s deliberately pressing down onto your puffy clit harder, eagerly, like he knows you were gonna snap back at him as he spreads you wider. he keeps up the same pace and pressure until you’re wet enough for him to push two fingers inside, groaning when he’s not met with much resistance.

his fingers are long, long and thick enough for you to hiss at the stretch but you feel something blissful flutter in your tummy when you watch him fall onto his knees between your thighs clumsily. he shifts one over his shoulder as he keeps you spread, ready and accessible for him while he gazes up at you from under long lashes.

“look at you, princess. so pretty for me.” satoru groans, his tone still playful despite the trembling undercurrent and he smirks when he angles his fingers inside of you up with angled purpose, like he wants to map out and memorise what makes you keen, brushing them against the spongy spot inside of you until you’re slapping your palm over your pouty lips in a sorry attempt to muffle how needy you sound.

his warm breath rolls over your slick folds, his crystalline eyes transfixed and shining on where his digits sink into you, until his head lowers and his tongue is curling against your clit before he’s dragging it back up.

it’s languid the way he pumps his fingers in and out of your wet heat, complimenting it with kitten licks like he’s tasting a dessert for the first time except you’re so much sweeter. you’d be embarrassed if the music on the other side of the door wasn’t so loud—the deep bass doing wonders for covering up the lewd squelching sounds accompanied with his slurps and smacks that are currently echoing around the darkened closet.

satoru continues to sink his fingers into you, swirling tantalising circles into your clit with his tongue while his fingers drag more slick out, making a sloppy mess between your thighs as he laps it back up and buries his face into you with a loud swallow—every noise so much messier and lewd while your hands grab and curl in the snowy peaks of his hair and he hums in amused approval.

he licks into your pussy with a hunger that’s so uniquely him and you almost choke on a babbled cry of his name as you tremble, feeling him flatten his tongue against your sensitive bud before he’s sucking it gently between his lips and pulling away with an exaggerated pop that has butterflies pooling in your stomach.

your pussy throbs around his digits and he breathes a warm sigh across your skin, your eyes clenching tight as your thighs quiver against the width of his shoulders and your head drops back as his bright gaze cuts up into you. feeling him drag his tongue in slow, thorough swirls over your clit as your hips rock side to side.

“gonna be the fucking death of me.” satoru tells you, crooking a smile against your folds but it’s a confession mostly to himself as he works you with practiced precision, watches your hips twist under his touch before his body leaves you suddenly and he pulls away to break through the suddenly suffocating layers of his clothes.

“what happened to that smart mouth i like so much? don’t worry, sweet girl. ill make sure the only thought in that pretty little head is me.”

a ragged sound that’s supposed to be an insult leaves you at his words and suddenly you feel drowsy and pliant as he quickly reveals the soft planes of ivory skin, shoving his slacks down just enough for his cock to spring out and smear precum along the skin of your thighs.

he is gorgeous, moonlight hair messy where it falls over his face, his hand sweeping it back before he’s stepping forward and shooting you a tilted grin, that’s still a little cocky and you suddenly feel like you can’t get enough air with each breath.

“wish i could’ve stretched you more, pretty. but we’re running low on time here.” satoru sighs with a growing smile, hissing when he feels your fingers wrap around the base of his cock like a wordless reply—a plea, almost begging for him to finally fuck you and who is he to deny you of that.

“hurry up—i need you, satoru.” you manage and you feel him grab you in a strong grip before he’s wrapping your thighs around his hips, but any other words are choked upon when the fat head of his cock finally finds your flexing cunt.

you gasp and satoru groans as he sinks carefully up inside you, his hands squeezing and pulling your hips closer to his as your back arches. his cock feels like it sinks into you forever, he was long and thick, curved upwards and warm and it glides so sweetly past the spots inside of you that make your whole body twitch, your pussy tightening harder around him the deeper he goes.

his fingers grope just a little too hard at your hip, dragging you along his cock as he forces your walls to spread open for him and he feels something ache deep in his stomach, desire heavy in each laboured breath he takes as he tries to keep a firm grip on his composure.

“so tight, princess… you’re already doing so good for me.” he groans, voice low and you can only reply with a sound that’s high pitched and needy when the weight of his hips finally rest against yours and he bottoms out.

it almost hurts how deep satoru reaches, but he’s warm and it lights a fuse that fizzles into something that feels even better, and he feels his toes and fingers curl when you bear down on him eagerly.

he finally pulls his hips back, dragging his cock out of you and your pussy squeezes down tight on him in response, like it’s trying to lure him back inside, tightening around each inch you lose as his fingers dig bruises into your hips and he rolls them back into you, beginning a steady pace with another slow withdrawal.

a whimper leaves you when you feel satoru’s head dip towards yours, his body leaning over you to smear a few kisses along your jawline, working your hips to meet the encouraging pull of his huge hands from where they’re messaging your hips.

the pace he’s sent isn’t fast, but the force behind each thrust is—his huge stature making your body clap against his as he kisses over your skin, teeth nipping at your neck playfully before his lips are gliding along the sensitive spots that have you twitching.

“sensitive, aren’t you? and feel so fucking good. you’ve been keeping this pussy from me for so, long, sweetheart.” satoru goads, emphasising his words with a few sharp thrusts, before his pace inevitably speeds up when he hears you grumble under your breath and he groans again, gripping so tight into your skin that he’ll surely leave bruises.

“s-satoru, you asshole—“ you finally manage to respond, whispery and choked off, but you can’t deny the physical reaction you have to his words, your tight cunt baring down tight around him and you both gasp before his breaks off into a laugh, his pace stuttering as he curses roughly, follows it with a few teasing thrusts.

“huh? what was that? harder? aren’t you greedy?”

and he gives more to you. has given more to you than he has to anyone else, and you bask in it and give back all that you can as he buries his nose into the crook of your neck. he inhales the sweet familiar scent of your perfume that’s now mixed with his cologne and he feels something carnal boil in his stomach.

satoru repositions his feet and takes up a pace that’s a little faster, rougher, pounding into you mercilessly as he marks your skin as his—leaving blooming marks between soft kisses along your neck and jawline and a groan kicks out of his chest when the harsh slap of his hips makes your thighs tighten around him, and you feel your own hips tremble along with your lungs.

“fuck—sound so pretty f’ me, wanna keep you all to myself, my pretty girl. now don’t hold out on me, y-yeah?” satoru tells you, his praise dripping through your rocking body and down your spine and it feels like he ignites something in you. he makes your insides curl and ache as your lips drop open to moan his name and his own ragged breathing cools the spit over your ignited nerves.

your nails dig into satoru’s forearms, pressing as you arch your back against his chest, “g-gonna cum—“ you gasp, lips parting in a pretty o-shape as pleasured tears gather at the corners of your thick lashes, and he pulls away to allow his gaze to jump from your creaming pussy to you, and he feels like the breath is punched from his lungs at how pretty you look lost in the pleasure he’s giving you.

“yeah? let me feel you, princess…need all of you, fuck! give it to me.” he smirks, scratchy and growly, letting his fingers trace along your sweat slicken skin to roll your puffy clit as he continues to pound against the right spot inside of you, lighting sparks through your body and your nerves feel like they’re singing under his touch.

you’re more than eager to give into him after a few more clapping thrusts, arching your back as you whine long and wordless for him. the hot rush of bliss and warmth settling over your skin when you cum, the fluttering press of your pussy throwing you into an orgasm so intense you see white behind your eyes.

“f-fuck—fuck, look at you, pretty girl. that’s it.” satoru grunts, his cock flexing and it doesn’t take him long before he’s giving in to the needy coax of your cunt and spilling thick and hot inside of you. a low whine rumbling low in his throat as his body curls over yours with a sharp groan—pinning you to the cool surface beneath you.

you feel like the moments after stretch on forever, the room now filled with nothing more than you’re ragged pants as you both try to catch breath, his bigger body blanketing yours until you’re groaning and pushing him off gently—but the gesture pulls a chuckle from the tall man over you that’s still a little breathless due to the lack of air in his lungs.

“satoru, you’re heavy!” you huff, lips curling into a smile when you hear him groan and pull back to frown at you, cheeks plumped as he feigns a pout but you can still see the way his smirk is trying to break through.

“hmm, you didn’t mind it a minute ago.” satoru purrs, usual teasing lilt returning to his words before he’s leaning forward to peck you once on the lips with a grin and tucking his softening cock back into his pants.

“you forget we’re still in a closet.” you scoff and you watch his eyes narrow at you before he’s smoothing his large hands down your dress—helping you make yourself look a little more disheveled before his fingers are hooking under your chin for the second time that night.

“you act like that’s gonna stop me, pretty—“ satoru hums but just as he goes to lean in for a kiss you hear a few sharp knocks against the door of the closet, the sudden noise making you jump away from the snowy haired male, making him chuckle before he’s throwing an arm around your waist and pulling you back into him.

“times up, get out.” you hear a gruff voice call and despite the still heavy pound of the bass, you know it’s suguru and you feel your body burn hot when the reality sets in on what you’ve just done—where you’ve just done it, and with who.

but satoru doesn’t look or even seem phased, watching him lean back to sigh before he’s pulling you closer into his side, fingers tightening in your skin like a silent reassurance as his gaze falls back on you.

“aw we gotta leave so soon? try not to look so disappointed.” he goads, but his tone seems lighter when he smiles at you, but you still can’t suppress the playful roll of your eyes because despite the way he’s just given you a taste of heaven, he was still the same irritatingly, (handsome) satoru.

“what do you mean so soon? it ended a while ago so you owe me satoru. get out here and quit hogging the closet!” suguru calls again, clicking his tongue and you feel satoru’s hair tickle the places he’d marked on your skin earlier when he melts into you with a carefree “whoops”, smearing messy, wet kisses against your shoulder before his long limbs are hanging over your body.

“so, you gonna admit you’ve fallen in love with me yet, pretty girl.. or do you need more convincing?”

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blackbat05 · 11 months

Text

Real or Not Real?

Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Plot: You need a plus one for a wedding. Who better than your boss and perhaps the most hated person on your list.

Genre: PG-13, Enemies to Lovers (I would like to think so😬)

A/N: I’m on a roll. Also, I always wanted to do this trope! This is longer than usual. Reblogs and feedback appreciated!💜

“Shit!” Your phone bounces off the bed, landing inches away from another expensive repair.

“What’s wrong?” Jessica Drew looks up from the self help book that she was currently engaged in.

“An old classmate. I totally forgot about the wedding!” You groan, feet becoming more fidgety by the second.

“Right… and would you care to explain why you look like one of Norman Osborn’s pumpkins?” Your best friend looks at you cautiously, as if like you were a volcano waiting to explode any second.

“Well, she used to be great with everyone in school. Can’t say the same about myself.” You winced internally at the memories about your youth. “You know how it is. Everyone is either rich, successful or in love once they leave school.”

“Or maybe all three.” Jessica adds helpfully much to your chagrin.

“Thanks, Jess.” You refrain from rolling your eyes. “Anyways, the chat group got reignited and some genius started asking about ‘the girl who everyone always see but doesn’t really know’ and before I know it, everyone starts pestering me about how I’m doing!” You throw your hands dramatically in the air and Jessica can’t help but to look amused. “So?”

“So, I kinda told them that I have a reallyhotboyfriend.” The last few words are mashed into one big mess but still clear enough for Jessica to pick up. “You what now?”

Smelling the judgement from a mile away, you hang your head in defeat. “I know! I’m an idiot! I couldn’t help myself okay? This is what happens when you attend a private all girls’ school. You stand out for being weird and suddenly The Plastics start making your entire school life hell.”

“The Plastics?”

“It’s a movie reference.”

“Why am I not surprised.” Jessica chuckles. “So what now girl? How’s damage control going?”

“Terrible.” You splat face first into the pillow. “I was thinking of getting help from the guys but…” You hold up four fingers, ticking them off one by one. “Pavitr can’t pretend, Hobie’ too unpredictable, Miles is too young and Peter’s married with a child - a fact I can’t ignore even if this is fake.”

Jessica looks at your closed fingers, tapping her chin thoughtfully. If being friends with her taught you anything, this wasn’t a good sign.

“There is one more option. I think he would fit your description of a really hot boyfriend.” She deliberately gives you a meaningful look that makes you leap off the bed, throwing her an accusing look.

“Actually, I think I’m going to ask Gwen. Do you know where I can find her?”

“Long gone. She went to visit Captain Stacey.” Jessica quips. “Come on. He’s a good option. Besides, this is a great opportunity to know him better!”

“I rather tangle with the loch-ness monster instead.” You mumble, thinking about your very first encounter with the man of the hour - Miguel O’Hara. The two of you were a good representation of day and night.

While you were bright and upbeat, the leader of the Spider Society probably didn’t have the word ‘joy’ in his dictionary. As you attempted to introduce yourself to him at your first meeting, he had simply brushed you aside.

“Miguel isn’t that bad once you get to know him.”

“Very funny, Jess. You should be comedian of the year. Did you forget how he yelled at me when I pushed him out of the way from Kingpin’s gangbangers?”

Jessica opens her mouth slightly, only to shut it soon after. You frown, turning your back to see whatever she was staring at behind you. How you wished you hadn’t. Oh, if only the ground could swallow you whole as Miguel himself stands at the door, staring at you with an unreadable expression.

“What- how long have you been here for?” You struggle to form that one sentence. “Jess…” You start accusingly.

Jessica shrugs, taking Miguel’s presence as a sign to leave. “I’ll leave you two to it!” She gives you a wink that results in your mouth hanging agape. Miguel closes the door and you quickly attempt to compose yourself.

“I’ll do it.”

“Do what?”

Miguel raises a brow. “Be your date.” He says it all too nonchalantly, as if choosing at empanada at the supermarket. You blink, pinching yourself out of his sight. The situation was very real. He stands in front of you, waiting.

“What do you want from me?” You blurt out. “You want something in return.” You clarify once more, trying to make sense of things.

The end of Miguel’s lips turn upwards slightly, and you’re worried that the sudden acceleration of your heart would unable to support your body to stand upright.

“I just want to apologize for my behavior and I happened to overhear your conversation.” He responds and you make a mental note to never trust Jessica again for not warning you about his presence.

“Am I in some kind of alternate dimension?” You laugh, trying to defuse the awkwardness. Miguel remains impassive, eyes staring intently into yours.

“What’s it going to be? You can take me or you can look like a liar to everyone. It’s your choice.”

You hate to say it, but he’s right.

***

“You came!” Your old friend comes barreling into you, giving you a big hug.

“Lils! You look amazing!” You gushed, returning the hug. “Congratulations. What a beautiful place.” You refer to the beachside wedding that she insisted on.

“Thanks! Jeju Island was always on my bucket list. I’m so glad I get to share this memory with all of you!” She gushes, turning to your plus one. “I mean, I finally get to see who has stolen your heart!” She extends a hand. “And who may you be?”

“Miguel O’Hara.” He extends his own hand for a shake. “Congratulations.”

“No need for the formalities!” Lilly smiles brightly. “What I do want to know is how you two got together! You can be away from her for a little can’t you?”

Before the two of you can even say anything, you find yourself being pulled away by Lilly while the groom effortlessly picks up the conversation with Miguel. She brings you aside, within the sight of the two men.

“Tell me everything!” She pounces on you like a tiger, demanding to know your first encounter. You give what you hope was a easy smile. “We’re… colleagues.” You don’t think exposing both your superhero personas would do well, not especially when you got here by inter dimensional traveling.

Your friend seems to be satisfied by this as she squeals. She hits your shoulder a little too aggressively, wanting more. You sigh, hoping that Miguel wasn’t being interrogated this intensively on his end.

“We just had the same interests and kind of clicked.” You prayed that the questioning would stop soon. “Everything was just a blur after.”

Lilly nods, throughly invested in your fake love story. She’s about to ask another question when a sharp voice pierced through the air, causing you to be rooted to the ground. You really wanted to run away at that moment.

“What is this that I’m hearing? You’re actually seeing someone?” The clack of heels come to a stop and you find yourself facing your tormentor.

“It’s nice to see you too, Becca.” You grit through your teeth. The woman remains oblivious to your discomfort as she addresses the two others trailing behind her. “I wonder who’s the lucky man nice enough to pick her up!”

“That’s enough, I invite you to my wedding out of our friendship but this doesn’t give you the right to insult her.” Lilly shoots back, keeping her eyes trained on your curled fists.

“It’s alright, Lils.” You try to remain calm. “Let’s go. I’ll tell you everything later.” You take the lead to escort her back when Becca’s comment brings you to a halt.

“I bet he isn’t even real!”

Although she was right, you couldn’t help but to turn around, wanting to give Becca and her posse a piece of your mind. Something that you should have done a very long time ago.

“Oh, I’m very real alright.”

You see Miguel walking up towards the trio. Was it just you or did Miguel look… angry?

He composes himself, giving a charming grin to the trio who looked like they were going to start falling at his feet any moment.

“Miguel O’Hara. She has told me a lot about you three.”

“Oh, she has?” Becca twirls the edge of her skirt nervously and you don’t know where Miguel is going with this.

“Sure. She’s told me all about how you three dimwits made her entire life hell. Honestly? I don’t even know how that happened when she’s a hundred times classier with more substance than you plastics claim to have.” Miguel catches your eye and gives a quick wink.

“Excuse me?” Becca stutters. “Oh, I get it. She must have paid you to say that!”

Miguel walks over and gently loops an arm over your shoulders. By now, the conversation seemed to have attracted every guest who were lining up at the buffet table.

“Nope. But you know what she is? She is the most courageous and selfless person who wouldn’t hesitate to help others. I don’t think you three would even come close to understanding what that means.”

Miguel has done it. He’s left them speechless and every guest is know giving disapproving looks to the trio who can only storm away in embarrassment.

“I think I’m not that hungry yet. How about we take a walk?”

You realize that Miguel is asking you, so you nod numbly and find yourself being led out of the venue. You see Lilly standing at the entrance greeting guests.

Catching your eyes, she gives you a thumbs up and a mischievous grin, not bothered at all about the verbal altercation that was inadvertently caused by you. Amidst the chaos, one thought was clear in your mind.

Just what is going on?

***

The rainbow colored blocks providing as seats for families, friends and couples to take photos makes the sea look even clearer. Silence overtaking the two of you, you busy yourself with noticing how the jagged edges of the rocks are a wonderful addition to the waves crashing near the shore.

“What’s going on up there?”

Finally. You prepare yourself, stopping beside the statue. “I was just about to ask you the same thing O’Hara.” You take a brave step closer towards the hulking man and he briefly looks away before staring back at you. “Not that I’m ungrateful but that wasn’t like you.”

“Then, what am I supposed to be?”

You paused. “Well… you’re supposed to be grumpy and grouchy and keeping me at arm’s length I guess?” You search for the right words as Miguel contains a chuckle seeing how flustered you were becoming by the second. “And you’re suddenly being nice to me? Hell would have to freeze over.”

Miguel closes the already small gap between the two of you and you suddenly feel hot at his gaze. He examines you for a while and you think he’s about to deliver another sharp retort.

“I did try. I tried to keep you away but you were too bright and cheerful for your own good.” Miguel gruffly tells you. “You were so much like her.”

You knew that he was referring to his past. His wife whom no one really dared to talk about. You finally understood. To him, you were a walking and living painful reminder.

“I’m sorry.” You breathed out. The air suddenly constricts in your lungs and you feel the need to get away. Anywhere but here. You turn around and find yourself being pulled into him. Miguel hugs you, and he hugs you tight.

“No, I’m the idiot. I punished you for seeing you as someone else.” He confesses. “I should have just seen you as… you. You were so bright and so brave, I almost lost it when you took the bullets from Kingpin. That’s when I knew my behavior had to stop. I wanted to tell you and I guess I saw this as the perfect opportunity.”

“Oh.” You don’t know how else to react to this sudden revelation.

“But I meant every word. About me apologizing for my past behavior.” Miguel continues. “And that. Earlier on.” He refers to his relentless counter attack on your tormentors. “I didn’t know that you had to go through all that.”

“Hey, we all go through things right? Kind of a ticket to join the spider society.” You try to lighten things up. “Besides, it’s nothing big.”

Miguel pries you away gently, a slight frown on his face. “Don’t minimize your struggles. You are a hundred times stronger than those three combined. After all, that’s what made you stood out to me in the first place.”

Your heart swells at his statement. As you hear the waves crashing, it felt as if like it gave you a sense of newfound confidence as well. It was all or nothing now. You’re inches away from Miguel, his rosy cheeks prominent from the strong breeze that the coastal city offered. “I just have one more question.”

Miguel cocks his head to the side, curious. He doesn’t interrupt, giving permission for you to go ahead.

“You love me. Real or not real?”

He takes you by the waist, lips on yours. It could be minutes or hours before he lets go, leaving you in a daze. But the movement of his lips are as clear as day. One that would be forever etched in your memory.

“Real.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman: across the spiderverse

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vikkirosko · 3 months

Note

Hi I'm not sure if you write for velvette but if you do could you do a reader who makes weapons and is the youngest daughter of Carmilla with step dad zestial(I ship the two of them) I love a little family drama.

❤ Velvette x fem!Reader headcanons Family drama 🤍

Velvette and you have been in a relationship for a long time. She gave you the most beautiful outfits created by her hands, she invited you on dates and took a huge number of photos of you together. Velvette knew what your favorite colors were, she knew how beautiful your smile was, what you loved to eat and how often you could immerse yourself in your work, so much so that you could forget about sleeping and eating. Velvette knew that you were involved in the manufacture of weapons and that was all she knew about your work. She wouldn't have known any more if she hadn't come to the meeting of the overlords and seen you there with a calm expression on your face, sitting next to Clara and Odette. It was at this moment that Velvette noticed how obvious the similarities between you, Clara, Odette and Carmilla were. You were part of their family

Velvette didn't talk to you openly, but she smiled at you and winked, making you blush. This did not escape the eyes of your mother and Zestial, who was your foster father. That is why, as soon as the meeting ended, Carmilla in a firm voice told Velvette to stay. You both knew exactly what it was going to be about. As soon as the other overlords left, Velvette came up to you and hugged you around the waist, then pulled you to her and kissed you on the lips, causing surprised and confused expressions on your sisters' faces, concern on Zestial's face and anger on your mother's face. Velvette and Carmilla didn't get along, and the fact that you were dating Velvette didn't make her happy at all. Your girlfriend saw this and deliberately continued, as if wanting to show your mother how close you were

Velvette bluntly stated, looking at the faces of your family members, that you were dating her and she was not going to end your relationship. Carmilla had a lot to say, but Velvette took you away, saying that the most romantic date imaginable awaits you. It was only in the elevator that she asked you if you even planned to tell her that you were (Y/N) Carmine. You sighed heavily and honestly told me that you are the youngest daughter in your family and you usually make weapons, because this was what you always did best. You knew about the mutual hostility between your mother and your girlfriend, so you didn't tell Velvette about your family and you didn't tell your family that you have a girlfriend. You understood the chaos created by Velvette's actions and when you returned home you had to deal with everything

Upon returning home, you had a long conversation with your mother. Carmilla couldn't understand what you found in someone like Velvette, and you tried to convince your mom that your girlfriend wasn't as bad as she might seem. The result of your conversation was a quarrel, because of which you went to your room, where your sisters soon came, and Zestial tried to calm your mother, realizing that, although Velvette was not the most pleasant person, but you chose her yourself, which means you really loved her. In your room, you told Clara and Odette about how great Velvette could be, and you showed them some photos from your dates. Your sisters saw how happy you were together and how much you, their younger sister whom they cared about, were in love. It was the first time you were so happy and they weren't going to get in your way, at least not until Velvette did something to get them to step in

When you were alone, you called Velvette to tell her what happened. Soon your conversation turned to a completely different topic. Velvette loved hearing your joyful voice and you chatted for hours until you had to go to bed. You both didn't know that Carmilla was coming to your door, intending to talk to you, but when she heard you happily chatting with your girlfriend on the phone, she stopped, not daring to interrupt you. She hasn't heard your happy voice for a long time. It was really difficult for Carmilla to accept your relationship with Velvette, but the happiness and well-being of the family came first for her, and if you needed Velvette for happiness, then she had to try to accept it

#Hazbin Hotel #Hazbin Hotel x Reader #Hazbin Hotel headcanons #Velvette #Velvette x Reader

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astraariel · 8 months

Text

scarlett love

pairing: sanji x fem!reader

summary: you forgot him, chose to let Sanji go, but was that enough? would the universe leave you alone and let you live in peace?

word count: 4.1K

warnings: cursing; spoilers (?) just mention of a character from the whole cake island arc, it’s a modern!au so I don't mention anything about the actual arc!

tags: angst; fluff; hanahaki disease; modern!au; reconciliation; second chances; unrequited turned requited; slight self-hate; happy endings

author’s note: okkkkay here it is. so many of you guys asked for it so here’s pt 2 to eternal snow! I initially wanted to post the mihawk fic first that i'm working on but I can’t finish writing it for the life of me so I decided to work on this one instead lol.

like I mentioned before, this is part 2 to this fic so obvi read that before you read this one!

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

They say people who have the surgery are doomed for life.

How could they choose to never love again; how could they deliberately go through with the surgery knowing they would never have those emotions again?

But in actuality, it was the choice of forgetting about that love.

People don’t know the grievances and the strength it takes to choose to forget the love of your life. They don’t know the despair of being in love with someone wholeheartedly knowing they don’t love you back.

That you would never remember those emotions for whom you loved.

You saw it as this: if you couldn’t live to love your person, you wouldn’t bear to love at all.

So in that way, you won.

You gained the power to no longer grieve for your love because you simply couldn’t remember him.

Since hanahaki disease was rare, there weren’t too many recovery patients to base knowledge on since many of the victims chose to die rather than to be saved.

So you were honestly going in blind.

Nami would sometimes ask you if you could remember anything, a nervous look on her face, you knew she remembered your past love, but the doctor had told her to not mention anything to you in your recovery period. You think she asked out of curiosity.

Or maybe fear?

But every time you’d just tell her that you couldn’t, your head would hurt if you thought too hard and too long about who you had lost.

If you could remember specific memories, they weren't fully visualized, they were static, like when an old TV was out of range from the signal and would struggle to picture the channel.

All you could remember was his silhouette, his figure blurry and his name was always on the tip of your tongue but you could never place your finger on it.

You remember during your first check-up, the doctor had asked you if you could describe your past love,

“I'm not sure.”

Your voice had been wobbly like you were on the verge of crying. Tears had pricked your eyes, along with the feeling of not being able to breathe even though those damn flowers were gone.

Not being able to understand why?

That feeling went away a week later.

You laugh at yourself now, chiding yourself for being ridiculous back then.

At what point could you have allowed yourself to be so deeply in love with someone that it was killing you? You could never understand.

It was an absurd, abysmal idea that you had ever gotten to that point.

While the doctor said the following months would be difficult getting used to your new life of having one less emotion, you were fine.

It had helped that Nami had stayed by your side, and when she couldn’t Sanji would.

Sanji was an angel.

He tended to your every need, always made sure you didn’t lift a finger even after you told him multiple times you could do it yourself.

But he always reassured you he didn’t mind.

You were sad to hear that he stopped seeing Pudding. It was honestly too bad because she was good for him, he deserves someone who can love and care for him just as much as he cares for others.

Nevertheless, you were glad he was here for you.

The sound of music playing softly in the background comforts you as you shuffle through your kitchen making dinner.

You and Sanji have recently started having weekly dinners with each other, an idea he came up with.

“We can update each other about our lives, good ole fashion face-to-face interaction.”

“I don’t think my life is going to change too much in the week we don’t see each other, Sanji”

The sound of the door ringing pulls you from your thoughts, drying your hands with a towel, you walk over to the front door.

The cool November breeze greets you as soon as you open the door, Sanji’s figure fills your view.

The coat he’s wearing to protect himself from the wind encapsulates him in a way that makes you smile instinctively, you can see his red ears peeking from under his blond hair.

“Come in, come in, I was just finishing up dinner.”

“Oh, can I help you with anything else?” he offers while shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack beside the front door. “Or are you not allowing me into your kitchen again?” he smirks toward you.

You roll your eyes and scoff, “It’s my turn to make dinner, you cook for a living, it's my time to shine now, dude.” He chuckles and begins to set the table for the two of you.

The warm food fills the plate in your hand, placing it on the counter, you grab another plate. “So, how’s work?”

Sanji grabs both of the plates and brings them to the table, setting them down, he looks back at you. “Ah, the old man’s got me working late most days.”

You smile softly at the scene; since you can remember you and Sanji have been able to work in tandem. Back when Nami first introduced you, it was like a pull connecting the two of you, also guiding and leading the two of you in perfect harmony.

It was nice.

Finishing your dinner, Sanji grabs his cup, “That was delicious, thank you.”

“Well I did have a decent teacher,” you say into the glass smiling, gulping down the liquid you set it back down and look at Sanji.

He goes to say something before he’s interrupted by a cough.

Sanji turns his head and coughs into a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket, he quickly wipes his mouth before looking back at you, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

Shaking your head in acknowledgement you begin cleaning up the dinner table.

“Oh I forgot, I bought flowers, they’re in the living room let me grab them real quick.” Sanji stands quickly.

Turning, you watch him walk away, not catching the lone petal falling out of his pocket.

♡‧₊˚

Vinsmoke Sanji has done a lot of things.

Some of which he regrets, but others he stands by, but there was one that met both criteria.

And that was you.

He was glad he met you, that he was able to spend time being with you, loving you, and knowing that you loved him back.

But he regrets hurting you. He regrets letting himself be temporarily infatuated with Pudding. Sanji had laughed in the face of fate, and in return, he got what he deserved.

His impending end.

The petals had shown up the day you went into the hospital.

While you were given a second chance at life, Sanji had just signed his away.

He remembers the memory of Nami telling him what had happened. He had it permanently seared into his brain, never allowing himself to forget the moment.

Her eyes were red, face hot with anger when she pulled up to his house.

“You absolute idiot.” He hadn’t even fully opened the door before she was swearing at him, cursing him to the ends of the earth over what he had done. “You did this. You caused that pain…if I hadn't found her…,” her hands had started punching his chest.

“She would have been gone, all because of you.”

A part of Sanji died that day.

So when he got the same disease you had, he knew he deserved it.

Wasn’t it only right that he got the same death sentence that almost took you away?

It was slow at first, from what Nami had told him about your situation, Sanji knew this was how it started.

The first few weeks were bearable, he could go about his daily life without causing any suspicion. No one would ask if he was okay or anything, just simply being able to cough into a tissue and discard it quickly.

Then the blossoms came.

After one terrible night of constantly coughing up blood and flower blossoms, Sanji did some research. He knew the full blooms were next along with the finishing blow of the roots. It had only been a month since you had your surgery, and yet his hanahaki was a lot more accelerated in comparison to yours.

A month since he had realized he was deathly in love with you.

But he could bear this burden. Who was he to complain about his death trickling closer than it normally should?

Sanji remembered the moment he realized his disease would finish him more swiftly, that he was faster along than he typically should be; whether it was because the universe knew you could never love him back or it was simply his punishment for what he did.

Probably both.

Even though he knew he could easily fix the problem, he didn't have the right to get a second chance.

How could he?

How long did you spend hiding your condition away, not even when he had broken things off, before then? How long were you hurting because you knew he was lying when he said he loved you?

The gall he would have to have to go through with the surgery?

Absolutely not.

But deep in his heart, he also couldn’t bring himself to forget you. He’d rather be a coward and a liar than choose a life undeserving of him.

He would rather die than forget you, to never be able to love you again would be death itself.

He hated himself for what he did to you. The insolence he had to hurt someone as caring as you, why did he take advantage of that?

He himself every day.

If he had to live with constantly coughing up blood and bending over the toilet puking up flower petals just for you to live your life? Yeah, he could do that. He could live with the pain of knowing that you would never love him back.

That you could never love him back.

It quite literally was in human nature that he would never be saved unless he did the surgery, since you couldn’t even love anyone anymore.

Sanji’s hand lifts his handkerchief up to his mouth, his body heaving with a hard cough of petals.

He sighs.

♡‧₊˚

The TV light shines on both you and Sanji’s forms as the movie comes to an end, the ending credits miniaturizing as the screen recommends a shitty Christmas movie that has the both of you turning to the other.

“That was an unnecessarily long movie.” Sanji’s comment makes you laugh.

“Right? God, it was dragging on for a really long time.” Shaking his head he stands up to place the popcorn bucket on the kitchen counter.

You follow him holding the cups that held lemonade two hours ago. “It’s getting late, I should probably go.”

“Yeah, probably, oh wait-I bought something for you, meant to give it to you when we had dinner at your place but I forgot.” Sanji’s voice trails as he goes off to his bedroom.

You stand there for a couple of minutes before checking the time, “Yo, Sanji, did’ya get lost?” laughing to yourself, you walk over into the bedroom. Your eyes immediately meet Sanji’s form hunched over on the ground.

A gasp falls from your lips as you rush over to him. “Sanji, oh god, are you okay what’s wrong-”

You cut yourself off when you bend down to look at him, there you see a pool of blood on the hardwood floor, petals scattered around the scene with a full flower bloom sitting in his hands.

“What?” you can’t breathe.

Sanji says your name but you don’t hear him, your brows knit together as you look up at him. “I don’t understand why are you coughing up petals?”

No? This couldn’t be happening.

Your heart breaks.

Who did Sanji love so dearly that he was cursed with the same disease that had you in its chokehold not long ago?

You would never wish this on anyone, no one deserved to live through the hurt of having unrequited love.

“You weren’t,” he wipes his mouth, “you weren’t supposed to find out.”

“I don’t-why wouldn't you want to tell me? If anything, I’d be the only person able to understand. Sanji, who is it?” your eyes scan his face.

Sanji’s ragged breathing fills the air between the two of you. “I can’t.”

You furrow your brows even more, shaking your head. “Please just tell me so I can help-”

“You can’t.”

“What do you mean, I can’t? You’re not making sense.”

Sanji closes his eyes. “It’s you.”

You stop breathing, the figure in your memory rushes to the forefront of your brain like a tsunami.

In the past the figure was always blurry, never in frame in your mind, only being able to trace his silhouette, but now it was different.

It was like he was right in front of you like you could smell him, feel his hands in yours, his warmth. Feel his lips against your lips when he-

“It was you.” your voice was quiet, “You were the one I loved.”

His eyes snap at yours, a gasp falling from his lips.

“The person I loved so deeply… that it caused me so much pain.”

And there it was, the fog had been lifted.

“How could I have forgotten?” How ironic the entire thing was.

“Why would I ever forget about my love for you, Sanji?” you look at him, “What grief did you cause me?”

A tidal wave of emotions, affections, all poured out of your soul and into your memories. The months of coughing up petal after petal till they turned to full flower blooms. The fear that a root would pop up once you pulled your tissue from your face.

The pain and the hurt that Sanji had caused you.

The pain of knowing that he didn't love you anymore.

It all came rushing back.

“Why would you keep this from me?” you were getting angry, but was it for the right reason?

Hadn’t you done the same with him? Hadn’t you kept it from all the people you loved as well?

“You know why I went through with the surgery? It wasn’t Nami who made me, well not partially, but why I allowed myself to let her drive me to the hospital was because I didn't want you to suffer.” your eyes were burning, the tears threatening to fall.

“I don't understand?” Of course, he wouldn’t.

“You were obviously unhappy, Sanji. If I removed myself from the equation, it would solve everything and at…at first I thought dying was the solution I really did.” your eyes drop, “And maybe Nami finding me was a saving grace but, I originally wasn't gonna do anything.”

“Week after week, Sanji, I was drowning. I wanted to yell at anyone who would listen and ask why I couldn't have anything, why couldn’t I be happy? That the universe had some sort of fucking vendetta against me.”

“So I decided to let you go, to choose to live a life of unknown heartache, and when I finally thought I had accomplished that. The universe just spits in my face by cursing you.”

“Don’t you see it? We don’t belong together, Sanji.” The anger was gone now, all that was left was emptiness.“We have the signs, we need to heed them and move on.”

Sanji says your name with a plea, but you ignore him. “Just get the surgery, stop hurting the both of us.”

“It does us no good if you're dead.” And with that, you walk out of the bedroom and out the front door.

♡‧₊˚

The quiet murmurs of the newscaster talking about the weather for the week could barely be heard from the running water you were using to wash the dishes.

You haven't seen Sanji in a couple of weeks, not since he announced that you were the one whom he was in love with.

And definitely not since you remembered he was the one whom you had loved before.

And while at first, you were angry. Angry at him for lying and keeping such vital information from you.

It later turned to guilt.

Guilt for getting angry at him. Guilt for causing him pain.

But it wasn’t your fault, it’s not like you chose not to love him, you physically couldn’t anymore. You signed that ability off months ago.

But you also missed him. Since you weren’t talking to him, you weren’t having your weekly dinners or your impromptu movie nights anymore.

You missed just talking to him. You missed the lame jokes he’d tell in hopes of hearing your laugh, that smile he’d get whenever he spoke about a new recipe.

You missed him.

But you were also confused.

After he had revealed that he loved you and you had remembered that your past love was him, it became too much for you to handle.

Glancing at the moon, you dry your hands on a towel and walk into the living room. The weatherman was currently informing you of a chance of rain tomorrow during the already cold late January weather.

Sighing you go to sit down before something catches your eyes. A picture frame that hangs on your wall glints as you walk toward it.

It was a photo of you and Sanji looking at the camera with wide smiles on display from Sanji’s birthday two years prior. On top of your heads sat a birthday hat colored blue for the sea theme your friends had thrown together as a joke for the blonde that year.

You remember how you felt that day, the anxiety of wanting to get Sanji the perfect gift and when he finally opened it, he had hugged you which had you blushing like crazy while you swatted his “thank yous” away.

God, where did this deja vu come from?

It was weird, you weren't sure what it was.

It felt like your entire being was full. Full of intense and overwhelming emotions, an emotion you shouldn't feel. An emotion that was eradicated from your life when you stepped out of that hospital.

But here it was, rearing its big ugly face once again.

For Sanji.

You stumble back as if you had been shocked with electricity.

Looking around your apartment you close your eyes.

How could this happen? Why were you still being punished again?

You had endured the pain, chose to get rid of it and now you’ve been having to live with knowing that Sanji also was experiencing the exact same pain.

Sanji.

How could you have been so cold? Telling him to do the surgery? What was wrong with you?

You missed him. You missed your love for him. The feelings you’d get when he’d look your way. Sanji was your ambrosia and you needed him to survive.

But you didn’t miss how you felt when he chose another over you. Those feelings you wished you hadn’t remembered.

You weren't sure how you were still able to feel Sanji's love. But here you were.

An anomaly that you were.

Guess that shows how deep your love truly was rooted.

How could you have allowed yourself to forget?

The drive to Sanji’s apartment was quiet, opting to not play music or turn the radio on so that you could think clearly with your new (re) developed emotions.

Pulling up to the driveway, you step out of your car. The jacket you have on trapping your heat from the cold winds of the night.

The few steps to the front door felt like a lifetime. The moonlight provided a little comfort to your restless self.

Exhaling, you bring your hand to knock at the door, a small part of you hoping Sanji wasn’t home so you could go home and pretend like nothing happened.

The door swings open revealing Sanji. His eyes were wide like he couldn’t believe you were standing in front of him.

“Hey…can I come in?” you look up at him expectantly.

“Yeah, yeah come in.” Sending him a quick smile you walk past him and into the living room.

He shuts the door and faces you, you turn and finally get a good look at him in the light.

He looked worse for wear, his eyes had bags under them, a sign he hadn’t been sleeping if at all. Whether that was because of your argument or his condition, you didn't know. One hand was in his pocket and the other was fiddling with his handkerchief.

“How are you…” signaling your hand at him, “I mean physically, how are you? What stage?”

He looks away, “well…I’m still living,” he chuckles quietly.

You sigh.

God the two of you were truly messed up.

“It all came back.”

“What?” he questions.

Your eyes begin to glaze over, “My memories, everything.” you wet your lips, “All of it, Sanji.”

“It just-all came back…on top of our argument, of you telling me you loved me.” Tears fell down your cheeks. “Of how I felt when you were-when you were with Pudding.”

He says your name.

“And I hated it, I hated remembering how I felt, Sanji. I remember pitying myself, wondering what I had done wrong, why you hadn’t loved me anymore,” he says your name again, “but I also remembered how I felt loving you.” you look up at him with your tear-streaked face.

“And I will never regret loving you, not then, definitely not now. I also don’t regret forgetting, because I understand why I did it. I loved you enough to be able to let you go. To be able to know you’ll live your life happily, whether that’s with me or someone else. I didn’t care. Just that you were happy.”

“But I wasn’t-”

You cut him off, “I knew you didn't love me how I loved you, but I still knew you cared. So if I had died, even from death, I would have hated myself for hurting you. So I chose to forget.” you wipe your cheek, “I just wish you had never gotten that godforsaken thing as well.”

“Sanji I…I love you wholeheartedly. You encompass my entire existence. I live for you. Even now, when I didn't remember how I felt for you. It was there. My love for you was still inside. And it always will be. I think even if you hadn’t told me you loved me now, I would have remembered anyway. Simply because that’s who I am, I am my love for you, you consume my entire soul.” You probably looked like a mess.

“You look beautiful.” Did you say that out loud?

You smile softly, “So when you admitted that you loved me, that I was inadvertently hurting you, I couldn’t take it. I had been the monster I sought to eliminate. So I pushed you away.” you sigh, “I pushed you away because I didn't want to go through the same pain again. I was selfish if you had just done the surgery, I'd be able to forget about this again and you wouldn't even remember.” you walk toward Sanji. “I’ve learned that I can’t run away from you anymore. And I’ve realized that I don’t want to lose you again.”

“So let me save you.”

Sanji’s face was red, his eyes were blurry with tears, his fist clenching his handkerchief filled with petals and blooms.

“I’m so sorry.” Sanji’s voice trembles, “I am so sorry, I caused you so much pain, if I could take it back I would. And I don’t even deserve you, I’m not worthy of your love, but if you allow me, let me make it up.”

You close the gap between the two of you and pull his lips toward your own. They’re slightly chapped and both of your guy’s faces are wet but you don’t care. You feel his fingers carding through your hair, pulling you deeper.

This kiss was different from any others before, this one was filled with desire and want but it was also filled with joy and love.

You were finally happy.

You pull away first, breathing heavily and your face flushed, “You already are.”

“I love you so much, please never forget.” you wipe a stray tear, cradling his face.

You want to commit this memory in your brain. No more forgetting, no more letting go. To make sure that for the night, no cough was to be heard, no petal was to be hidden,

just two lovers finally with one another, forever.

#astraariel♡#one piece #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x y/n

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ddejavvu · 11 months

Note

i’ve never heard anyone talk about this but there’s an episode of cm where the bau has to turn around on the jet and aaron says “i’ll inform the pilot” sooooooooooo i’m feeling pilot!reader who’s super confident and always flirts with him PLEASE

disclaimer: i don't fly planes i don't know the process of rerouting mid-flight but i tried my darndest

It's not every day that a case is solved before the BAU even land, but this unsub wasn't as smart as everyone thought he would be. He'd revisited his third crime scene just in time for the police to show up, and he won't be getting out of prison anytime soon.

Derek lets out a scoff of a laugh at the man's idiocy, already reaching for his headphones, "I guess we've got our weekend after all. Prentiss, you ever gonna tell me what sin to win means?"

Aaron stands as Emily narrows her eyes at Derek, a smirk curling over her lips, "There are some questions, Morgan, that if you have to ask, it means you probably couldn't handle the answer."

Before Derek can fire back Hotch heads for the curtain, "Alright, you two. That's enough. I'm going to go tell the pilot we can turn around. They'll need to reroute us."

There's a hum of acknowledgement that circles the jet, and Aaron passes through the snack station, rapping his knuckles gently on the door to the cockpit.

A green light flashes over the doorframe and a bell chimes, the door unlocking automatically with the press of a button inside.

"Y/N," Aaron greets you, on a first-name basis from calling you to work alone. He tries joking, something he forgets to do sometimes at work, "Just kidding. We're headed back to Virginia, can you pull a u-turn in an airplane?"

You turn to grin at him, face peeking out from the side of the headrest, "What, you forget your toothbrush?"

He's glad his joke went over well, and he laughs at your own, a smile gracing his features, "They don't need us anymore. Are you able to reroute us mid-air? Or will we have to land first?"

"If there's not much air traffic we can turn," You hum, peering at diagrams and screens that Aaron doesn't understand, "But if it's busy we'll just have to land and set up another flight path."

"Understood," He nods, checking his phone that looks comically small in his large hands, "When will you know?"

"Right," You hum, analyzing the display in front of you, and checking a note you've made for yourself on a sticky note that's stuck to your seat, "Now. I think we can make it without landing, but we'll have to wait for a commercial flight to pass. Shouldn't take longer than 20 minutes to turn, then an hour to get back."

"Thank you," Aaron heaves a relieved sigh, thankful not to have to waste more time than they already have, "You're a lifesaver. I owe you one, really."

"Breakfast in bed," You decide, your shit-eating grin only widening, "Hey, next time you're on a case, we'll share a hotel room. That'll make it easy for you."

Aaron doesn't know exactly how to respond to such a bold statement. He's bold himself, but not with flirting. He feels his cheeks heat up and prays you can't see it, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he calculates his response.

"Pancakes or waffles?"

"Waffles," You laugh, "And whipped cream."

"Mm, okay," Aaron pretends to deliberate, headed back to the doorway, "Over the top, or on the side?"

"It's not for the waffles," You chime, and Aaron is infinitely glad you're turned around again to face the display in front of you, because it means you don't see him trip over the base of the doorway, "Why else do you think we're sharing a room, Hotchner?"

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

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axelsagewrites · 4 months

Text

Robb Stark*Cant Catch a Break

Pairing: robb x f!reader

Word count: 1223

Warnings: making out, sneaking around, almost oral, handjob, getting caught, slight begging, teasing, horny desperate robb, angry mother

Masterlist Here

a/n: i promise i'll have some requests up soon i just am struggling with one of them the now so its taking me a bit plus christmas etc but enjoy some horny robb i wrote at 2 am

Ned and Catelyn had intrusted their eldest with the most important task ever. Babysitting the kids. As Robb waved goodbye to them as they drove out the driveway your headlights switched on a street back when you got the ‘they’re gone’ text. Hey, you had to seize the opportunity.

“Hey,” Robb grinned as he opened the door, deliberately leaning on the frame to show off his arms not that you were complaining.

“Hi,” you grinned back as you leaned up to kiss your boyfriend, ignoring the loud ew Arya gave as she walked past, “Do I not get to come in?” you pouted.

“I suppose you can,”

“Oh, you do?”

“Yeah,”

“On what conditions?”

“A kiss,”

“How about more than a kiss?” you teased as you kissed him again.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he mumbled against your lips.

“Whereas I’m going to kill myself if you two don’t get a room,” Jon grumbled as he walked down the stairs as Robb finally let you cross the threshold.

“Good idea Jon,” Robb smiled obnoxiously as he grabbed your hand, “You know where to find me. Now forget,” he said as he pulled you along up the stairs with him.

“Hey, you’re supposed to be babysitting!” Jon yelled.

“We’re not babies!” you heard Rickon yelling in the background as Robb pulled you into his room.

Usually in his snaps or video calls it was a mess but today it looked passable, “Oh you cleaned for me, how sweet,” you smiled as he closed the door, pushing your back against it as his lips dangled just above yours.

“What can I say? I’m a gentleman,”

You laughed as your hand snaked up to the back of his neck, “Its just a shame I don’t plan on acting very lady like,”

Usually, you loved Robbs siblings but if one more knocked on the goddamn door you may just combust. Sansa had come complaining about Arya hogging the tv which meant Arya then came to complain about Sansa being an ‘air head’ for watching reality tv which resulted in Robb going down to tell Jon to deal with it. Jon however had also been up about four times to ask dumb questions like where the batteries were or if you wanted any pizza put on or any other excuse, he could muster to ruins Robbs evening with a shit eating grin.

“Where were we?” Robb asked as he all but slammed the door after helping Jon figure out the oven.

He crossed the room to where you sat on the edge of his bed. His lips quickly found yours as he moved you to lay down on his bed. “This is better,” he teased as his lips moved to your jaw, kissing down your neck as his soft hands slipped under the thin fabric of your top which he’d tried to get off at least three times already.

As his hands cupped your tits, squeezing slightly making him groan against your skin there was a soft knock on the door. Robb groaned so pathetically you wondered if he’d cry, “What?” he called.

However, Rickon took this as come in which he did making Robb quickly shoot up to be kneeling over you as you fixed your top as Rickon pouted, “Its bedtime,”

“Goodnight little man. Close the door on your way out,”

“But story time,”

“Get Jon to do it,”

“But you always do it,”

“So, it’s his turn,”

“but you’re better at it,” Rickon whined, stamping his four-year-old foot with a pouted lip.

You sighed as you looked to Robb, “Cmon how long can it take?” you whispered.

Robb sighed as he looked down at you, “But we were gonna…you know,” your head turned to Rickon then back to Robb and the look you gave him was enough, “Okay fine, c’mon Rickie,”

“What were you doing on top of her?” Rickon asked as he padded out the room, Robb quickly behind him to tell him never to repeat what he saw with the promise of candy.

You were straddling his lap as his head rested against the headboard. you had finally ditched the t-shirt leaving you in a cute bra and skirt as you grinded against Robb’s painfully hard bulge through his strained sweatpants. Thankfully the sweatpants were the only thing left on him. His hands had moved under your skirt, grabbing your ass as you tugged on his curls making him moan into your mouth.

Your lips moved to his jaw, kissing down his neck, “What are you doing?” he half groaned as your hands roamed his abs as your lips moved to his chest, kissing all the way down his torso.

“Can’t say you haven’t earned it,” you grinned, shuffling back as your hand moved to palm him over the fabric of his trousers making his head roll back, “Unless you want me to stop,” you teased.

“Dear god don’t stop,” he groaned as your hands toyed with the hem of his waist band. “You wanna hear me beg? is that it?” he asked, his desperate eyes searching your teasing ones.

“Maybe, could be kinda hot,” you teased as your hand slipped under the fabric to take hold of his hard on making him moan softly. Your hand wrapped around it, stroking it softly, “I like it when you’re all desperate,”

“Fuck please baby. I really am desperate, so fucking desperate please,” he said as your hand sped up slightly.

You grinned as you leaned down, moving the fabric away painfully slow to reveal his hard cock already wet with precum. You leaned down to place a kiss to his tip, Robbs hand moving to rest on the back of your head as your tongue poked out to lick it when suddenly the door slammed open, banging off the wall as laughter rang out.

You shot up as Robb quickly pulled up his sweats and jumped out of bed, accidentally pushing you on your back in the process, “Bran I’m gonna fucking kill you!” Robb screamed as he chased his cackling brother down the hall as you scrambled to pull your top back on and run after him to stop murder.

As Bran bolted down the stairs, Robb soon after him, and you just reaching the top of the stairs the front door swung open to reveal a once happy looking Ned and Catelyn. Their faces first turned to shock as Bran ran into his mothers’ arms still grinning like a Cheshire Cat then to confusion, then you felt Catelyn’s eyes fall on you and then quickly turn to Robb in anger.

Meanwhile Ned put the pieces together slightly slower before muttering “poor kid,” under his breath as you quickly rushed down the stairs.

“I’m just gonna-“you said, pointing to the door which you were soon heading out of, “yeah. Bye Robb, bye guys,” Cat watched you leave with a fury and Ned with a sorry glance.

“Wait but-“ Robb said, trying to reach out but you gave him a sorry look as you left the house, hearing him sigh and go, “Aw man!” he said before muttering, “I can’t Catch a fucking break,” making Cat cross her arms and Robbs life suddenly flash before his eyes. One thing was for sure though. He was going to kill his brother.

General taglist: @strvngestark @headinfantasy @meg-ro @427120lxld @obx-josie18 @ravenmoore14 @tessakate @justtilly @jjkjbhj @clairacassidy @valeskafics

Game of thrones taglist: @mysunflowerspace @xyinparadise @nyotamalfoy @asgards-princess-of-mischief

Robb Stark taglist: @kimm4710

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#robb stark x reader #robb stark #robb stark imagine #robb stark smut #game of thrones smut #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #asoiaf smut #asoiaf #modern robb stark #modern robb stark smut #modern robb stark imagine #modern robb stark x reader #kinktober

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sweetiesicheng · 1 month

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the8 - concert

word count : 577

"will you stop moving?”

"the wire to my mic pack keeps moving," the8 whined while moving in his chair.

"i have to get your makeup done. you want half of your face to not have makeup?" you said to him. he stayed still for a second and you put some product on his face before he started moving around again. "babe, really?"

"you try wearing this," he said to you.

you grabbed a different brush from the pocket in your apron and dipped the brush into some product. "going for your eyes. stay still so i don't poke you," you instructed him.

the8 closed his eyes and you applied eyeshadow to his eyelids. despite how uncomfortable he was, he stayed still so he wouldn't mess you up.

"okay, done," you said to him when you were done.

"we need performance team on standby!" someone announced, yelling into the room.

you moved out of the way so the8 could stand up. he took a sip of water before leaving, with you following behind him. you followed him to where he would enter the stage from. someone held a flashlight for you while you fixed his hair for a second.

"you know, my hair is just going to be a mess after like two songs," the8 said to you.

"did you forget that this is my job?" you replied to him. "okay, you're good for the stage," you smiled. the person holding a flashlight turned it off, so you could barely see the8 now. "ready?"

"always," he replied to you. "thanks."

"mhm," you replied and kissed his cheek. however, you remembered that you were wearing lipstick. "oh no," you said in panic.

"what?" he asked.

you reached into your pocket for a napkin but couldn't find one.

"what is it, love?"

"i'm wearing lipstick, and the lipstick is on your cheek," you said to him. "hang on. let me run back."

"sorry, gotta go!"

the8 hurried away while giggling, and you watched him hurry up the stairs to get on stage with the other performance team members.

"xu minghao!" you yelled before groaning.

"what's wrong?" one of the staff members asked you.

"you're about to see..." you mumbled and looked at a monitor.

of course that song is on the set list...

"highlight" started playing and you could easily see the lipstick stain on the8's cheek. fans were cheering both probably from the lipstick stain and because of the outfits for their set.

you shook your head while watching, not because of the entirety, but because your boyfriend deliberately was showing off that he had a girlfriend to the audience.

he's glad i love him.

you continued watching the set and soon, "i don't understand but i luv u" came on. you watched the8 as he danced and felt like you were in a trance as you watched him. then, the song ended and the performance came back while the hip hop team went on stage.

you walked into a hallway, waiting for the performance team to come through. as they did, the8 came up to you and grabbed your hand; both of you walking to the dressing room together.

"so? how'd i look up there?" he asked you with a grin.

"trying to get me in trouble?" you asked him.

"nah, trying to show that i'm taken," he said with a chuckle. "you can give me some more."

"yea, maybe not in the middle of a concert."

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nadiawritessomething · 2 months

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ЕАRTH 42 | PART 1

Its rules, politics, lore, and why you shouldn't underestimate this element of the plot.

Many of you have asked to read my thoughts/analysis on Earth 42, and here I am!

I want to make sure to mention that the author of this post does not support any racial stereotypes, hatred of certain characters, or false information, so if you happen to find any of the above, please let me know right away.

I will continue this branch of my thoughts if this has at least one loyal reader, really. I have a lot to say about each character from Earth 42, you could tell that this is my fandom profile. I am here only for these analyzes.

So, I'd like to start by saying that many fans see Earth 42 as just a "scary and uncomfortable place" where fires are always burning and gunshots are always heard. And this description is not fundamentally wrong, it has its reasons: this is how the authors showed this universe at the end of the movie. Earth 42 was supposed to give the viewer goosebumps and the feeling that "something is wrong here" — and they did a great job!

But our task, as fans, is to develop the ability to see what the authors have deliberately left beyond the surface perception. So to speak, to "dig deeper," because it is the unwillingness of many to analyze beyond the surface level is the thing that leads to hedcanons about the toxic, evil Miles G or abusive 42Aaron. Both of these characters seemed "alien" and reserved, and therefore received this label from the fans.

But what is Earth 42 in the simplest of explanations? The answer lies in its LORE, which we also forget about quite often. Earth 42 is controlled, in whole or in part, by the Sinister Six. The Sinister Six is a group of 6 "classic" Spider-Man villains, including Electro, Vulture, Sandman, Dr. Octavius, Kraven, and Mysterio.

It's hard to say how long the Six ruled New York (or the world). Each of the official sources gives different information on this point. For example, the official art book "Across the Spiderverse: the art of the movie" says that the Sinister Six Cartel "took over the world", Jameson on TV says that they are only "fighting" for the control over the "streets" (it is not known whether it is a specific neighborhood or the whole city) and does not say anything about the whole WORLD that they hold in their hands.

Nevertheless, we, as viewers, can see the influence of the Sinister Six on at least Brooklyn clearly: Electro, for example, has his own 2G coverage and cell phone company, Octavius has his own corporation, and Vulture has an entire company. We can only guess at the exact purpose and goal of these companies because of the way the logos look, but it's easy to guess that they are most likely just bought out "old" brands that the Six, like every group of highly skilled, respectable villains, simply named after themselves and seemingly significantly degraded the service itself (c'mon, 2G coverage is a mockery of people, Mr. Electro)

We have to remember that there are people living under this tight control of supervillains (who are certainly smart or scientists, but I don't think they have ever run for politics), that everything we saw on the screen was not just a set piece effect - real citizens live in this place, struggling to exist in unknown conditions.

The fact that New Yorkers don't feel comfortable is shown not only by the lights and sounds of police sirens, but also by the details in the background.

For example, more than 80% of the windows in the high-rise buildings of Earth 42 are dark and faded, as if no one lives there (in contrast, Earth 1610 has many bright windows in almost every building shown). The poster of the popular song "Always 21" on the background of the 42nd dimension turns into "Never 21", which seems to hint that 1) children in this city do not hope to live to adulthood 2) the Six does not care about the state or quality of life of the citizens under their control.

Even the Morales' house itself shows the state of the Earth: the furniture is older and more "shabby", and the large wardrobes are replaced by old, neat nightstands on 42. A light bulb flickers in the corridor, and the only noticeable, bright light source is in the kitchen (this lighting was also done to draw the viewer's attention to Aaron and Rio standing there, but I am a supporter of the idea that no solution leads to one result only).

(By the way, in contrast, Aaron's apartment is more "modern" - there is a bike, several computers with headphones, and wires scattered around the place. I think it's more likely that Aaron has more money than Miles or Rio in general - he clearly showed us that when he "gave" money to Ms. Morales. There's a chance that this is the property he accumulated while working for Kingpin. Or maybe he's just lucky, lol)

On Earth 42, the colors green, black, and purple predominate. Not only do they signify the colors of the Prowler as an symbol, but are also quite cold and "unwelcoming" in their own right, especially this dark shade of green mixed with almost black rain.

At some points, there is also blue on the screen (mostly in the scene with the Mural), but this is most likely just the way the Sony's show the color scheme of nighttime.

If you ask me about my theories about Earth 42, I think the Six will be here for at most 5 years, at least 2 years. I think so precisely because it takes time to control a city (let's leave out the "whole world" part for now, because it's rather vague and was mentioned only once, let's just take New York for now). Even if we take into account the fact that the Sinister Six clearly did not agree to any "civilian" agreements, and local business bonafide owners were most likely asked to be removed, time plays a big role in fully controlling the power grid or building their laboratories/enterprises, it cannot be done in a month or even two. Especially if we consider that neither the city nor the enterprises themselves were empty: they still had potential customers and employees (if they were willing to work, of course, as 42Rio does, which is about two shifts a day on average).

We were also made to understand that Jeff's death was somehow connected to the Six's rise to power, as his mural is labeled "hero," which makes it clear that he did not die peacefully or from illness, and in the criminal situation close to Brooklyn 1610, there was no reason to die "heroically" because Spider-Man always kept things peaceful and calm there. My theory suggests that Jeff was probably one of the few police officers who did not agree to go over to the Six, and therefore paid with his life.

Jeff's death (if we take the photo in the Morales house, where Jeff, unlike the identical one on 1610, is not present, and Miles G looks younger than the conventional 13 years) occurred before Aaron's (1610) death, but if we take the closest dates to it, two or three years, at least. And, if we take the moment of Jeff's death as the "beginning" of the Six rebellion, we get this period of time as the minimum point in the chronology.

Speaking for the residents of the local Brooklyn, we should definitely check the depression statistics, I think the world has never seen anything like it. On Earth 42, guns are canonically encouraged and legalized (billboards with the words "Got a gun?" on one of the early concept art), no one prevents fires and sirens, and the city looks like a complete chaos. And so those who did not find a way out in their past lives descend into crime, which is permitted here, and those who are less risky work from morning to night for a pittance.

Another interesting detail is that, despite all this, they are still quite... selective in their thoughts about their rescue. So, again, Jameson is on the TV literally begging for a vigilante to be sent to them, whom the Daily Bugle will support one hundred percent, while Miles G, the Prowler, the full-fledged vigilante of this city, walks by.

This indicates that the inhabitants of Earth 42 do not perceive the Prowler as a vigilante, and probably places him only one step above the conventional Mysterio or Octavius. Most likely, this is due to the fact that 42 lost their Spider-Man, and therefore desperately want him, a heroic, "proper" savior, and an antihero who can blow up a building or tie up a bunch of people when needed... is not so necessary. I'll come back to this part in the analysis of Miles G, but for now, let's just leave it as an analysis of the mentality of the local minds - they are desperate enough to ask for help directly, but not desperate enough not to ask for it on their own terms.

We can't really talk about details such as censorship, certain moments of life, or the infrastructure of Earth 42: we don't have a lot of information about it, so we can only make hedcanons.

In my hedcanons, the sides of the coins are called "Mysterio" and "the Lizard", and many new holidays have been introduced, such as "Octavius Glasses Day" or "National Electro SIM Card Day".

So far, we can only say that the Six has almost complete control over the city, its life is drowning in sadness and a continuous dark path, and people are trying to survive in all this, like drowning in water.

In conclusion, I can only say that Earth 42 has much more than just "fear and fire". It is, first of all, a world of suffering and hopelessness, showing all that Earth 1610 could have become (what Miles could have become) if it hadn't gotten Spider-Man. It's a place of horrors and habits, a place of agony and strange peace, a place of lovers and desperate people, a place of loss and oblivion.

...And an incredibly interesting universe for analysis and thoughts. So please think of it as such.

Tag list: @hobiebrownismygod @futureblackfilmaker @igorsnumber1fan @0luna123 @teaboot

#across the spiderverse #atsv #miles 42 #miles morales #prowler miles #miles g morales #earth 42 miles #spiderverse #aaron davis #jefferson morales #earth 42 #analysis #I hate this “10 imges per post” thing #LIKE I NEED MORE #MORE PROOFS PLS #LET ME SHOW MORE PROOFS #anyways hope you liked it!#will tag everyone in the comments

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angelwonie · 11 months

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LET ME IN || elijah hewson

PAIRING: elijah x reader

WORD COUNT: 3.3k

GENRE(S): fluff, a bit of angst, friends to lovers, hurt comfort

SUMMARY: when your best friend turns up at your front door unannounced, you decide to find out why he's acting so strangely. what you don't expect is for some repressed feelings to bubble up to the surface.

WARNINGS: smoking, mentions of drinking + being drunk, kissing, eli has daddy issues oops

this is it y'all i've gone insane... he looked at me once and this is what happens. @boobyskeetz made me post this btw

It’s far along in the evening when you come home to find Elijah Hewson sitting on your staircase with his head in his hands.

He’s slumped over, leather jacket around his shoulders and a slowly burning, unattended cigarette in between the pointer and middle finger of his right hand. The sky is pitch black, the only source of light being an ancient lantern whose shine just barely reaches Elijah’s hair.

You’re shocked at the sight, to say the least, the heaviness of your grocery bags suddenly a faint background noise.

“Eli?” you move closer, albeit hesitantly, and your voice makes his head snap up.

When he looks at you, you fight back the urge to gasp. His eyes, half lidded, just barely glimmer in the faint light provided by the moon overhead, leaving room for his undereye bags to stand out. And they do stand out — so much that you almost don’t catch him stumbling over his feet ever so slightly as he walks over to where you’re standing.

Almost.

“Are you alright?”

It’s not a question, not really, but he winces either way. You stand close enough to see it, but immediately, his lips pull into a lopsided grin to hide his initial reaction.

“‘Course I am,” he takes a drag of his cigarette, and uses his other hand to take one of your grocery bags. “Just wanted to see you, that’s all.”

You nod, watching him drop the unfinished cigarette to the ground and step on it. You wonder how many he’s smoked today and consider asking, but decide against it upon realizing you probably don’t want to know. Instead, you let him take your grocery bags wordlessly, following him up the stairs.

It’s a short staircase, but you’re walking slowly – too slowly for your liking – and there’s a million questions burning on your tongue. You hold them back, mostly because you’re tired, but also because something in Elijah’s eyes tells you not to push.

He’s the one to speak first when you reach the right apartment. “Hey, your flowers are still alive.”

He’s referring to the roses he helped you pick out last month. It was a treat for yourself, for finishing all your assignments, and you had taken the whole ‘plant mom’ job pretty seriously, even putting the roses in a prettier vase and putting it on display outside of your apartment.

“Yeah,” you chuckle. “They’re holding up really well.”

Elijah waits for you to unlock the door, then walks inside with you in tow. He wobbles a little as he drops down his shoes where he always puts them — where he’s put them ever since you told him three years ago it could be his spot.

You watch him shoulder off his jacket and start organizing the groceries in the fridge from afar, slowly taking off your outerwear. It’s warm inside, and your skin feels like it’s about to be set on fire after being out in the cold for so long. You think of Elijah sitting on your doorstep. How long was he waiting for you?

“Mind if I take a beer?” he cuts off your thoughts and you look up to find him with his hand on your fridge, an inquiring look on his face.

Now the lighting’s better, and you can clearly see his face. The creases between his brows, the focus in his gaze, the stubble that he’s let grow just a little longer than usually. Whether that’s a deliberate choice or simple forgetfulness, you’re not sure, but it worries you. His state worries you.

“Suit yourself.”

Maybe you should have said no, you think as he takes a sip of the drink and you’re reminded of the wobble in his walk. He’s probably had enough to drink already. To be fair, though, Elijah can be stubborn when he wants to, and something’s telling you today is one of those days.

When everything is either in the fridge or in a cupboard, you and Eli wander into the living room, shoulder to shoulder, without much to say. It’s messy, and he scolds you playfully for it — like he’s not the guy whose dorm you have to clean each time you come over.

You join his laughter though, and plop down on your couch a little more relaxed than before.

“How long did you wait for me?”

This time you manage to ask him the question, and he shrugs.

“A couple hours.”

He lifts the beer up to his lips and empties it, the can blocking out his view of you and your widened eyes.

What the hell is going on? His gaze tells you nothing. It’s so indifferent it makes you want to rip your hair out, because no matter how much he wants to pretend spontaneously coming over at three am is normal, it’s not. Especially when it comes to him.

Sure, if it were Robert, you would’ve figured it was just him acting on impulse, but it was never like that with Elijah.

“You could have just called,” you say finally, a slight quiver to your voice. “You should have just called. You know that, right?”

He meets your gaze, but not for long; after a second it drops down to his lap, like he’s embarrassed. You hold your breath, awaiting an answer. His fingers drum against the side of the couch, but then he changes his mind about that, too, and brings his hand to scratch the side of his face. God, what is he even doing? Trying to see how long it’ll take for you to snap and throw him out of the apartment?

Suddenly, he sighs deeply, dropping his hands in his lap. “Didn’t wanna bother you.”

You can’t help yourself from scoffing. That’s it? He ‘didn’t wanna bother you’? Maybe you would’ve believed it hadn’t he shown up unannounced at your front door in the middle of the night.

You almost open your mouth to say just that, but stop yourself when Elijah looks up again, and his bloodshot eyes meet yours. Something’s definitely not right. You can physically feel it, the tightening of your chest, the anger somehow pushed to the back of your head.

“Why are you here?” you ask him sternly, keeping your eyes on him. This time, he doesn’t look away.

“Do you want me to leave?”

It comes out meek, frail, as he almost chokes on his own words. You’re taken aback by the shiver in his voice, the drop of his shoulders. He places the beer can on your table and you swear his hands shake — just barely, but enough for you to see and for your heart to clench in response.

You shake your head. “No, I want to know why you’re here.”

He laughs humorlessly, leaning forward in his chair. His hands are definitely shaking, but you’re not sure whether it’s from the alcohol or something entirely different.

You know this face on him — he’s bothered by something, but doesn’t want to admit it. He’s always been like this, ever since you met him at school and watched his eyes glow with the same sadness after his teachers told him he should work on his grades. It was the same look on his face, the same millions of feelings threatening to bubble over the surface.

The only difference seems to be that now, he’s got no cap in his hands to close the bottle.

“I’m just tired, that’s all. Wanted to talk to you ‘cause the lads are too much noise.”

You frown and send him a look of disdain. Perhaps this isn’t something you should push on him, but seeing as he just magically appeared at your apartment while drunk, you do have a right to at least inquire what the fuck is going on.

“If you’re going to lie to me, you might as well leave.”

Silence follows your statement; silence so loud you almost regret saying anything at all. He grits his teeth, and you swear you can hear it from across the table — though that might just be your brain playing tricks on you this late in the evening.

“It’s my dad,” he mutters finally, scratching his stubble. “Not that that’s much of a surprise.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing new, really,” he exhales, closing his eyes briefly. “Just, you know, the usual ‘you’re wasting your life by not going to college’ talk. Total bullshit, as always. The only thing wasted is those twenty minutes of my life I spent listening to him talk about it.”

You breathe out slowly, fighting against the urge to look away from his gaze. He keeps it on you, unwavering, but you don’t know what to say. It’s dangerous territory, one you haven’t ever entered fully, and the worry of hurting him pangs at your chest; the legitimacy of his vulnerability scares you and moves you all the same.

You bite the inside of your cheek.

“He’s just worried, you know. I would be, too.”

“Why?” his lip quivers and your heart sinks in your chest; so quickly it forces a sudden nausea upon you. “Because I’m not cut out for this?”

“No, Eli, that’s not what I–”

He cuts you off — not with his words, but with his hands gripping the arms of his chair to help him stand. It’s so abrupt your words die down in your throat, leaving a dryness behind. Hovering above you, he still looks small, like he’s fading into the light above; barely even present as Elijah but rather as some mass of feelings clumped together, ready to explode.

“Do really none of you think I can make this work?”

It’s the alcohol, you think, god, you shouldn’t have let him drink any more — how could you be so careless? But no, it’s not your carelessness or his, and you know that, even in this state of panic, it somehow reaches your mind — the revelation that this isn’t a random outburst.

It’s the fruit of a tree that’s been growing for a long time; the ripeness isn’t fake, even if you’re unprepared to pick it.

“Do you really think that?” he asks this quietly, his voice barely audible, but it feels like he’s tearing your skull apart with a scream.

Do you really think that? The very assumption, the very thought, disgusts you. The thought that you could ever believe he won’t make it — it’s so unnerving you let out a shaky breath.

A movement of your legs from underneath you and you’re standing. Your feet tap against the floor as you walk up to him slowly, like approaching a scared deer. He is scared, you realize. Your fingertips tingle with the longing to run your hands over his face, but you hold them back, instead answering his question.

“No.”

He blinks, and you say it again: “No,” and again and again, “No, no, no, no,” until it almost doesn’t feel like a word anymore and more like some sort of bandage wrapped around a bruised bone.

“Your dad doesn’t think that, either. He’s just worried because he cares. Because he loves you.”

He falls silent. “I’m not so sure.”

“About what?”

He doesn’t reply instantly. You look down on his hands, only to find that they’re still shaking, and take a couple steps forward. Elijah doesn’t notice, you think, or if he does, he doesn’t show any disdain for your closeness.

“About love,” he says finally. “Isn’t love supporting someone unconditionally? Rooting for them, no matter what? That description doesn’t really fit my dad.”

“I think you’ve got it all wrong.”

You suppress the smile that threatens to form on your face when he sends you a confused look, his nose scrunched.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, you can support whoever you want without much difficulty,” you look at the floor, thinking of what to say next. “That doesn’t mean you love them. If you love someone, it means you’re willing to suffer through discomfort and pain to make them happy. You’re willing to spend your nights worrying if they’ve chosen the right path. You let them into your apartment at three am. That type of thing.”

Thirty seconds pass before you finally look back up, internally shivering at the way his stare bores into your soul.

“You…” he trails off, wincing like it’s painful. Uncharted territory, yet again — that much is obvious from how your heart bangs against your ribs. The silence in the room makes you worry if he might just be able to hear it.

You hear him inhale sharply, taking a step back so he can sit at the edge of your sofa. Following suit, you observe his eyes shining in the light, less red than before though still uncertain. His shoulder brushes against yours and you breathe in — he smells of alcohol, but it’s oddly comforting in the storm of your thoughts.

Elijah’s head turns to you.

“Have you… ever thought this is all for nothing? That I keep leaving the tour bus with more and more bruises for no reason at all?”

Your fingertips tingle again, and this time you do nothing to stop them from brushing over the back of his hand. It’s stupid, probably, but it feels right, his skin against yours. He’s warm, really warm, but it doesn’t bother you in the slightest, even when he leisurely drags his forefinger down the side of your hand. It tingles, but you don’t move away.

Elijah’s hand doesn’t shake anymore when you interlace your fingers together. Finally, you get the courage to speak.

“I’ve held your hair back while you were throwing up, Eli. Tied your shoelaces after a tiring show. Corrected your lyrics until four at night so you could send them to your manager before dawn. I wouldn’t do any of that if I didn’t believe you were on your way to the top from the first time I saw you,” you take a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut for a moment before you look directly at him. “I wouldn’t do any of that if I didn’t believe in you.”

It’s silent after that. For a long time. But his hand sits clammily in yours like a pearl in a clamshell, and you hold onto it for dear life, praying he won’t slip out from your grip.

“Promise me you won’t stop.”

Your head turns, startled by the sudden statement. His gaze scans you from head to toe, lingering on the curve of your lips, then your nose and finally your eyes, where it stops and plants its roots. You feel it spreading almost like wildfire, the warmth that comes with it. You almost tremble underneath it, squeezing his hand a little harder.

“Won’t stop what?” you whisper, eyes wide.

“Letting me into your apartment at three am.”

His gaze drops in a manner someone might’ve mistaken for lazy, but you know him well enough to recognize the vacillation in his eyes. You feel his fingers shiver in your embrace, every breath strained.

“Why not?”

You move closer, only by a centimeter or so, but he senses it — all the cells in his body seem to tingle with the paradox of wanting to touch and wanting to run all the same. Maybe it’s the unexpectedness of it all, or maybe rather it’s the arbitrary comfort that comes with it, that scares him to death, but whatever reason, he feels like he’s entering a deadly storm.

And perhaps it’s the alcohol and he’s not thinking straight, but this storm appears more inviting than any sunny day he’s ever witnessed.

He squeezes your hand tighter and leans down until his lips are impossibly close to brushing against your nose. You feel his hot breath on your face, sparks dancing across your skin to the smell of cigarettes and whiskey and beer, his hand shaking ever so slightly.

“Because I still haven’t gotten the chance to let you into mine.”

You smile — a real smile that you no longer manage to hold back. He mirrors the expression, albeit softly, lines appearing in the corners of his mouth. Let me in. Hues of colors appear in his eyes just as his shaky pointer finger grazes your jaw. Let me in. He cups your cheek gently, his lips parting in a breathless exhale.

Let me in, let me in, let me in.

He does. Just when the clock shows 3:47am and your shirt feels like it’s sticking to your skin, he finally closes the distance between you.

His lips brush over yours — it’s featherlight and careful, but you accept it all and kiss him back nonetheless. You can taste cigarettes on his tongue when he opens his mouth. Suddenly, the clock’s sound doesn’t reach your ears anymore, and all you can hear is the beating of your heart inside your throat. His finger strokes your cheek and his nose bumps into yours, but it’s fine. It’s more than fine.

You breathe in the scent of him, bringing your hands to tangle themselves in his hair in a moment of recklessness. Yeah, you’ve definitely gone absolutely crazy — but that’s a problem to solve later. For now, you’re kissing Elijah Hewson.

You’re kissing Elijah Hewson. It’s almost a revelation that dawns upon you like the waves of a tsunami, knocking the breath out of your lungs. It squeezes at your heart, a drawstring closing around it, and you have to pull away to breathe, to examine his face, puffy lips and tired eyes, to understand the gravity of your situation.

“We just kissed,” you say, and your voice shakes even though you strain to keep it calm.

“Yes,” he affirms, like it’s nothing. But it is something, and his eyes can't hide that. “We did.”

“But you’re drunk.”

“You think that’s why I did it?”

“I don’t know.”

He smiles and you swear your heart almost leaps out of your chest. “You do.”

“I don’t.”

He looks at you for a moment – your messy hair, reddened lips, the hesitation in your gaze – and makes his decision.

In less than a second, he drops down to his knees and you’re about to protest (because what does he think he’s doing?) until he grabs your hand and holds it between both of his. You furrow your eyebrows to hide the fact that you’re taken aback, though from the glint in Elijah’s eyes you figure you’re not doing a very good job at it.

He looks at you, like really looks at you, and you look at him the same. The fruit lies in the palm of your hand and squeezes to the beat of your heart when he speaks.

“I love you.”

Your breath catches in your throat when he kisses your knuckles softly, and keeps them against his lips. “That’s why I kissed you, why I turned up to your apartment at three am, why I don’t regret it. Any of it. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Something pulls at the very back of your throat. You keep your mouth closed, but even that doesn’t stop a choked whimper from leaving you — a sound that makes Elijah’s lips quirk upwards. He smiles, and you attempt to do the same, yet all you manage is a half-laugh, half-sob that shakes though your body.

Embarrassed, you look down, and you can hear Eli chuckle before the warmth of his arms envelops you whole. He hugs you tightly against his chest, fingers coming up to stroke your hair as you partly laugh, partly cry into his shirt. And even though it should be humiliating, the act feels so powerfully comforting that you let him hold you.

“I love you too.”

You whisper this into his chest, breathing heavily. He pulls away and you look up, confused, but he smiles that gorgeous smile of his, with teeth on display and smile lines appearing, and cups your jaw. His eyes shimmer with undoubtable joy.

He doesn’t have to say anything. You know.

“That’s a fucking relief, huh?” he whisper-laughs and you join in on it.

“Yeah.”

And you smile.

He’s let you in, and you don’t think you’ll be leaving any time soon.

#inhaler #elijah hewson #elijah hewson x reader #inhaler dublin #inhaler x reader #inhaler imagines #ryan mcmahon #robert keating #josh jenkinson

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