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glam-targaryen · 19 days

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In Your Dreams: I ☁️🌙☁️

Azriel x Reader

A/n: Okay this is my first time writing in years but Az is Bringing me out of retirement. Opinions and ideas are always appreciated. Enjoyy😌

Summary: Az isn’t very fond of the newest member of the Night Court so much so that you even plague his dreams.

Warnings: This is a smut series. MDNI

part II

Song inspo:

“Az, you’re back!” Cassian’s booming voice probably alerts everyone in The House of Wind of his arrival just as Azriel touches down on the balcony.

Az can’t help the small smile directed at his brother. After being away on a mission for days, he appreciated Cassian’s loudness, it means home, comfort, relaxation-

Or so he thought until his eyes land on you, lounging on a sofa, book in hand but your empty eyes set on his own.

His smile instantly vanishes, replaced by a displeased glance before turning away.

Azriel cannot stand you. The newest member, a pick pocket from the Hewn City turned spy pupil for The Night Court. A dark presence that made him physically ill.

It’s no surprise you’re sat in the far corner of the room. Azriel hasn’t seen you speak to anyone beside Rhysand since your arrival. Even then, it was only about the minuscule missions he’d been sending you on the last 3 months.

Azriel simply nods at Cassian and Nesta. Words failing him as that illness returns deep in the pit of his stomach.

He can feel your uncanny gaze still focused on him, despite his obvious distaste for you. He knows that is precisely why you do it too.

Gods, you are the bane of his existence.

With a slight twitch of the brow, Az makes his way toward Rhysand’s study ready to give him yet another ear full about you.

How Rhys had even given you a position is beyond Azriel considering you were a straight up criminal.

Azriel had been on a mission in the slums of the Hewn City, the worst part, in fact. A part so small and forgotten that crimes are a first nature.

He just found the information he’d been looking for and his mood was nothing less than happy knowing he’d be back home soon.

That was until a cloaked figure had bumped him and continued on their way.

Naturally being in a more poor part of the city, Azriel pats his left hip making sure none of his weapons or money had been swiped. But they hadn’t.

It isn’t until he brings his left hand to move his own cloak and double check that he realizes his siphon is gone.

“How the fuck…” Azriel hasn’t been caught off guard like this in a long while. How could they swipe a stone embedded in his leathers without him feeling a thing?

Azriel wasted no time looking over the crowd to find the grey tattered cloak gracefully zipping through the crowd.

He follows just a swiftly. His eyes glued to the figure as he maneuvers past on goers.

The thief, as if sensing him, looks back for half a second before darting through the crowd, ducking and jumping over items and people. Still managing to move past them without bumping into anyone.

Az mutters a breathy, “Asshole” when he takes note of that.

At this point Azriel begins to push past the crowd. He can’t let them leave with it. Something that valuable, not just on market but to himself personally, will not fall into some slick criminals hands.

Just as they are about to round the corner Azriel sends his shadows in a silent command to detain the culprit. The shadows weave through the crowd even more speedy and graceful, wrapping around the hooded figure and yanking them back.

Their back hits the ground with an ‘oomf’ before they quickly try freeing themselves from the shadows constraints.

Azriel grabs their collar in one hand, lifting them up and bringing them to his eye level. The other hand snatching back the hood of the cloak.

He nearly gasps upon laying eyes on you. The bewitching darkness in your eyes bore into his, reaching for his soul as if you’d take it right from him.

Taking advantage of his perplexed state you kicked him in the stomach causing him to let go and his shadows to withdraw.

Azriel groans holding his middle and coughing once, twice.

You don’t hesitate to run down the empty alley but Azriel is quick to snap back.

You don’t make it half way through when he winnows in front of you. You slam into his chest and fall again, mud splattering the two of you. Azriel’s shadows bind your wrists above your head as he straddles your thighs.

You thrash beneath him, growling and clawing. His hands scanning over your arms, sides and hips until he felt the bulge of it settled on your hip…beneath the waistband of your pants.

He looks up at you, amusement dancing behind your wicked eyes as if he were being tested, ‘a will he, won’t he?’

His eyes flicker from yours to your somewhat now exposed navel. He can’t just…reach in there.

But he can’t just let you have it. He wouldn’t be wrong to take back what is his.

He scoffs, reaching under your waistband and pulling up a belt with a pocket attached causing you shriek almost inaudibly.

Azriel pulls the dull blue siphon from the pocket and looks back at you. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t half amused himself.

A strange girl from the slums of the Hewn City stealing his siphon and testing his honor as a male.

Though he is not crazy enough to indulge the amusement. You are a thief. Not just a common thief but a a thief able to pick a very valuable possession off of a very cautious male.

“What is your name?” Azriel asks still hovering over you.

You only glare back.

“I asked what your name is.” Azriel grows impatient above you but you do not respond.

It could have been over. He could have let you go and steal from some other fool who wouldn’t notice but…he didn’t want to. Perhaps your crime against him was too personal and punishment seemed fit.

“Get up.” Azriel roughly pulls you to your feet, shadows still binding your wrists. Your struggles are deemed futile when he whisks you away to his High Lord.

Azriel all but stomps into Rhys study, shutting the door behind him. “Your newest addition has a staring problem.”

Rhysand looks up from his notes to see his irritated brother throw himself into the seat across from him. “What happened to ‘hello’ ‘how are you’?”

Azriel sighs. “Rhys.”

Rhys leans back in his seat, a smirk on his lips. “What harm is a bit of staring? Maybe she likes what she sees.”

“Please.” Azriel rolls his eyes. “She likes nothing and no one.”

Rhys shrugs. “She’s not so bad, Az. You’re just pissed she was able to pick something off of you.”

“I’m pissed that you gave her a job instead of consequences.”

“How couldn’t I? I’d rather have someone that can out sneak my spy master on my side.” Rhysand teases.

“She did not ‘out sneak’ me. Her methods were textbook. Not sneaky at all.” Azriel grumbles his blatant lies. He knows not just any theif, not even an exceptional one, could do what you did.

Rhysand chuckles. “Whatever you say, brother.” He clears his throat. “I assume you found the shop?”

Azriel shakes his head. “I did not but I heard rumors of where it will turn up next.”

Rhys had assigned him a rather odd case, a book of lethal potions stolen from a temple in the Hewn City by a traveling shop now supplying those lethal drugs. Reports saying it makes users hyper aware, a party drug when used correctly but as expected there are those who abuse it, turning them aggressive and eventually killing them when too much is consumed. Azriel has spent the last week trying to track the shop down with nothing to show for it until today.

“Where?”

Azriel’s jaw tightens. “Coincidentally, in two days it will be in the same part of town…she…is from.”

Rhys chuckles at his brother’s pettiness once again. “She must really get under your skin with her staring.”

Azriel shakes his head, “Rhys, I’m telling you there is something off about her.”

“She’s been here for 3 months without incident. What do you suppose she will do?” Rhy asks entertaining the idea purely for the amusement of seeing a riled up Azriel.

“Steal. Spy. Hells for all we know she could be plotting everyone’s death.”

“Well, then I guess I should fear for your life when she accompanies you on your assignment?” Rhysand lifts a brow in mock questioning.

“Absolutely not. She will not be accompanying me anywhere…ever.” Azriel laughs at the notion.

“She knows her way around, she is successful in her missions and you need to get over your bruised ego and get along with her. She is supposed to be your pupil.”

Azriel shakes his head but before he can deny his High Lord, Rhysand continues.

“You will be taking her with you to retrieve the book and shut it down. That’s final.” Rhysand crosses his arms.

Azriel hesitantes but ultimately nods, dreading the thought of having to spend any amount of time near you.

.☁️🌙☁️.

Azriel is sat in the lounge, a book in one hand and a glass of scotch in the other. His eyes read over the page for the millionth time before he slams it shut and rubs his temple.

Sleep had evaded him, unable to stop thinking of this damned mission he has to take you on. At the fact that he must push away the alarms going off in his entire being when you are around.

Azriel knows something is wrong with you. It’s your expressionless gaze, the eerie aura that follows you and the stillness of your existence, even just standing around you’re still as a statue. You’re like a ghost. His own personal poltergeist.

As if on cue, he shadows curl up his neck whispering of your presence.

His stomach drops. He’d be damned if he had to endure you anymore than he has to.

Just as he retreats into the shadows in the corner of the den, you glide straight past the room entirely. Not even peaking into the only lit room of the house.

He knows it’s ridiculous but it irked him that you didn’t even look. Had you no curiosity either? And if you aren’t coming to the den, where are you going?

Regardless, he definitely isn’t going to find out. He has no intention of being anywhere near you. He wouldn’t subject himself to that.

…

But he wants to know. What if you had some secret hobby or routine? Something that made you…a person.

Why should that matter to him!? He doesn’t give two shits about what you do. His own curiosity only further proves how offbeat you are. He certainly will not follow you and he definitely won’t care what you are doing.

…

But what if you were up to no good? What if you were stealing from the High Lord every night after he goes to sleep?

Now that he can’t allow.

Azriel emerges from the shadows, peaking out from the door frame to find you at the end of the hallway. You enter the library and shut the door closed behind you.

He slips through the hallway and into the library, careful not to make a sound.

The empty library felt cold in your wake though there was no sign of you. You weren’t sitting on the sofas or searching for a book. There is only silence in his company.

Azriel strides through each row of bookcases lined throughout the room to no avail.

And now you’ve even disappeared like a ghost.

A beam of light enters at the back of the room earning his attention. The balcony.

Azriel stealthily crosses the room, concealing himself behind the bookcase closest to the balcony.

There you were. Sitting on the marble bench, staring up at the sky. Not causing any trouble.

Well, he has his answer, he can leave. He can go about his sleepless night.

But once again he did not want to, despite those alarms going off and the growing pit deep down. He couldn’t bring himself to move.

So he didn’t for a very long time.

He only watches your ominously still figure watching the sky. You do not look away or blink or breathe it seems. Not even a twitch of the fingers.

You just cannot be of this world.

“Azriel.” You call softly.

His heart drops into the swirling void in his stomach as chills sweep across his skin and the hairs of his arm stand.

You’d sensed him there. For how long? Though he doesn’t care what you think of him, he did not need you telling anyone he’s some stalker creep.

“You can come out.”

Azriel contemplates. He can leave as he should have done an hour ago but you already know he is here. Then again, maybe if he leaves you’ll think you were mistaken.

All of those options fly out of the door when you look back, directly at him.

He winces at his lack of options and being caught. How did you even know? He’s the fucking spy master and now he can’t even hide from you?

Azriel lets out a deep exhale, not even realizing he’d been holding his breath before coming out into your full view.

You look right into his eyes as he approaches you. Each step feels like a crushing weight as he struggles to maintain his composure.

“What are you doing out here?” Azriel asks firmly, not a shred of friendliness behind the words.

You only look back to the sky.

Were you ignoring him now? After telling him to come out?

Irritation begins to fill the void in him. The audacity. HE is the one ignoring YOU.

“What are you doing out here.” A command rather than question this time.

You subtly shrug.

Azriel rolls his eyes.

For a while the two of you are silent. What is he even supposed to say to you? You are the one that called him out here.

He isn’t surprised that you hardly speak but that doesn’t change the fact that it is annoying.

“You don’t speak much.” Azriel states plainly wanting to escape the awkward, silent tension.

“That’s your perception.” You match his blunt tone provoking his wonder. How could it be his perception when you don’t speak to anyone?

“I haven’t seen within 10 feet of anyone here.”

“That’s because you disappear anytime I’m in the same room as you.”

Azriel didn’t know what to make of your straight forwardness. Though he tends to speak directly himself, he’s not fond of such attitude. But coming from you, it seems fitting. “Perhaps I simply don’t enjoy your company.”

“Curious.” You look at him, standing up and making your way back into the library. “No male has ever complained about my company.”

Azriel follows close behind, watching your every poised step.

“As a matter of fact I’ve been told I’m quite the pleasure to be around.” You glance over your shoulder. That familiar sinister delight returning to your eyes, the same look you gave him when he realized where it is you held his siphon.

Azriel nearly trips on over his own two feet. The void beginning to whirl again. He cursed himself for needed to clear his throat. “Is that so?”

You stop abruptly and pivot on your feet, coming face to chest and tilting your head back to look up at him. His stomach leaps at the sudden proximity and your intense stare. He steps back.

“With my bright and bubbling personality, how could they not?” You raise a brow.

Azriel didn’t know if it was relief from the cut tension or the actual joke or both but he lets out a breathy chuckle.

“Not to mention my breasts and ass.”

Azriel’s shock couldn’t have been anymore evident. His lips part unable to form a single word, not that his brain could form a single thought.

Azriel hadn’t thought of you in any way other than suspicion but now, standing before him, he can’t help but notice your deadly beauty. The enthralling darkness dancing behind your eyes and those plump pink lips. The thin strapped shirt clinging to your ample breasts. The outline of your peaked nipples. The perfect angle he has of your soft cleavage.

“That was also a joke.” You clarify and turn on your heel continuing towards the door. “Kind of.”

It most certainly was not a joke.

The loose shorts gripping your waist do nothing to hide the outline of your backside. Each step you take further away from him only giving him a better view of the swish of your hips and the bounce of your ass.

“Goodnight, Spy Master.” You bid farewell without so much as a glance back.

.☁️🌙☁️.

Azriel couldn’t stop thinking of you, yet now it’s in whole different light. He would have never thought you to be so vulgar, in a cruel way maybe but not in a humorous way.

You’re so quiet and reserved and unsettling. He didn’t think you capable of making a joke, let alone a sexual one.

He couldn’t deny that it is a rather riveting piece of information. He should have known when you all but challenged him to reach into your pants a few month ago.

The memory of your tits sitting nice and pretty, your waist and full hips, your ass, all flood his mind.

Lying in his bed, Azriel turns onto his back, shaking the thoughts from his head.

He needs sleep. And he needs it now.

.☁️🌙☁️.

Exhaustion cannot begin to describe what Azriel felt. He needed not just to rest but recharge, and there is nothing better than laying down after a hard days work.

After what felt like forever he finally reaches his bedroom, twisting the nob and shutting the door behind him. He sighs, shutting his eyes and resting his head against the door.

“Azriel.” You call just as softly as you had earlier in the night.

Azriel whips around to find you sat on the center on his bed, feet under you and hands politely placed on your knees, as if you’d been waiting for him.

Azriel scans the room. Possibly a prank brought on by Rhysand but it’s only you in here.

“What are you doing in here?” Azriel hisses, sending a vicious sneer in your direction. And he thought ignoring him was the hight of your audacity but to enter his private quarters at such late hours?

“I haven’t been on my best behavior, have I.” You tilt your head to the side, feigning innocence.

Azriel’s brow pinches. “What?”

“I’ve displeased you in some way.” You slowly stand from his bed. “I can’t have that.”

Azriel swallows hard as you inch closer with every word. “After all, I am a pleasure to be around.”

Azriel can only watch. Your shorts doing little to hide your exposed legs and soft thighs. That fucking shirt hiding your tight nipples.

You come to halt with only centimeters between you, looking up at him with that deceptively virtuous gaze.

He could smell you. An intoxicating scent of amber and jasmine. Like a garden in the fall.

Azriel’s heart thunders in his chest. Not fast but hard. He was sure not only you but everyone in the house could feel it. His whole being pulses with each thump as you reach for his chest.

“Let me be a pleasure.” Your delicate fingers just barely touches his chest, drawing a line down his chest. Then lower. And lower. And lower-

Azriels eyes widen as he snatches your hand in his. His chest heaving, trying to gulp down the air that slips away from him. You, however, seem un phased, eager, if anything. “W-what do you think you’re doing?”

The scent of his own arousal permeates the air he desperately tries to breathe.

With half lidded eyes and a slight pout of your lips, you take your wrist from his loose grip and place your palm over the back of his hand, brining it up to your cheek and leaning into it.

Azriel’s blood turns cold at how tender your touch is, gentle as the embrace of death. Your skin warms his palm as you drag his hand down the side of your neck painfully slow, his thumb tracing the column of your throat.

Gods, he wanted to bite it. To latch himself onto that spot. If it was possible to envy one’s own hand, he’d turn green.

“I see how you look at me.” Your voice low and sultry. “You despise me.”

You move his hand down your collar bone, to your chest, settling between your breast. Something deep inside Azriel twists and knots, his cold blood turns hot as it rushes into his pants.

“Let me fix it.” You groan, trailing his hand further down to your stomach. “Let me show you…”

Azriel bites the inside of his cheek to keep his own sounds at bay. His brows pinch together at the sight of you. The rise and fall of your swollen, flushed breasts. Your bottom lip trapped between your teeth and the look of pure carnal desire.

“…just how much of a pleasure I can be.” You whisper breathlessly when you lead his scared hand beneath the waistband of your shorts.

Azriel chokes back a guttural groan when his fingers reach the slick folds of your cunt. Looking into his eyes with a feral hunger, you guide his fingers in sensual circles around your most sensitive spot. Hushed whines hum from your chest, purring at his governed touch.

His middle finger twitches against your clit, testing for himself. You respond with a low moan.

Azriel’s eyes flutter shut trying to reason with himself.

This was wrong. So fucking wrong. Azriel can’t even stand the sight of you yet here he is with his hands down your pants for the second time, and he felt just as he had the first time, he wanted to ruin you.

Another flick of his fingers causes you to throw your head back.

Azriel growls. A fire ignites in his chest, coursing through every nerve of his body as he gives in to you.

His fingers take a course of their own, rubbing your center with fervor. A noise somewhere between a yelp and moan escape your parted lips. You grabbing onto his arms to steady yourself as pleasure over takes you.

“Fuck, you’re dripping.” Azriel leans forward to whisper in your ear. His warm breath tickling your skin as he asks, “Who made you this wet?”

You only moan, digging your hands into his bicep.

Still massaging your clit, he brings his free hand to strike the fat of your ass earning a very loud moan.

“Tell me.”

“You!” The stinging sensation mixes with your pleasure, encouraging you further. “Azriel made me this fucking wet.”

Azriel hums, gripping your hair and tilting your head back. “Mhm. Keep being a good girl and I’ll forgive you.”

His attacks your neck, teeth clamping down hard in what he knows will scar but he didn’t care. He wanted you marked. Proof that he could take control, even over someone with such a silent attitude as yours.

You hold back a scream. As much as it hurt, he knows you like it. “Dont hold back. I want to hear the pretty noises you make.”

Azriel’s tongue laps at the column of your throat, finally nipping at the spot he craved minutes ago. Your moans vibrate against his lips.

He pulls away to look at you. Eyes shut and jaw hung in ecstasy. His cock twitches in pants at how good he can make you feel.

The sight was anything but dark. Dare he say heavenly.

Suddenly, your eyes open, fixating on his. Lust and desperation laced in your stare as you plead, “I want your fingers in me. Please, Az.”

Azriel smirks down at you arrogantly. “Yeah?” You nod frantically, your moans and pants driving him absolutely wild.

“Whatever you want.” Azriel pulls away from you, sitting at the edge on his bed, knees spread as he pats his lap. “Come here, pretty girl.”

You stand between his legs but before you could straddle him, he grabs your wrist, roughly turning your back to him.

His texture hands glide down your back, feeling every curve until he reaches your shorts, yanking them down in one swift motion and leaving your rear exposed for his viewing enjoyment.

He gathers as much of your ass in his hands as he can, squeezing, caressing and parting for an even better view. Your slit and inner thighs glistening from your wetness.

He does dare to say heavenly.

“So fucking pretty.” He leans forward, placing a soft kiss on your ass cheek and quickly slapping it right on top.

You jerk forward with an amused hum.

Azriel grabs your hip and brings you down to him. Your full weight falls onto his solid cock, strained in his leathers. He moans at the impact.

Azriel’s hands trail up from your hips, over your stomach and under your shirt and to your breasts. You whimper as his fingers lightly trace over your firm nipples and kneed at your breasts.

Azriel revels in it. The way you feel, the way he makes you feel. His lips latch to your neck sucking as he rolls your buds between his fingers.

“Azriel, please.” You breathe, writhing against him.

He groans, flicking your nipple harshly and immediately finding your center. The tip of his middle finger sliding up and down, toying with your hole.

“Please! Please put it in.” You whine, reaching up to tug at his dark locks. The sensation pushing him over the edge.

Promptly, his middle finger plunges into your cunt, pumping at a hungry pace.

“Oh, fuck! Azriel, yes!” You grip his hair stronger, receiving another painful bite and a slap on your tits in return.

Azriel adds another finger and you clench around them. “So fucking tight, angel. I bet you’ve never been fucked so full with two fingers, have you?”

You shake your head and throw it back over his shoulder when his fingers disappear in you to the knuckle.

“Can you take one more for me, angel?” Azriel hums placing sloppy open kisses to your bruised neck.

You dont respond.

“Answer me.” Azriel pinches your nipple, urging for your response.

“I…I don’t know.” You hesitate.

Azriel guides you to look at him, your face inches from his. His brows pinch and with a slightly patronizing pout he nods. “Yes you can, angel. Don’t you like how full I make you feel?”

You bite your lip and nod. “I can take it.”

“Good girl.” He breathes with a smug expression. Azriel can’t get enough of you like this. Pleading. Submissive to his every whim. The satisfaction of seeing that stoic demeanor dissolve because of him.

Azriel slides a third finger in slowly. Hells, you’re so fucking tight around his fingers, he can only imagine how you’d feel on his cock.

You release a long, aching moan and arch your back against him.

Azriel gasps at the sudden movement against his pants. It wouldn’t take more than a minute to make him explode. “F-fuck, y/n. Keep doing that.”

You grind in his lap, feeling his length throb beneath you. “Like this, Az?”

“Yes, angel. God’s, yes.” Azriel’s fingers sink into your cunt, over and over. Your screams of pleasure blend with the sopping sounds of your wet pussy.

Azriel was absolutely sure this was heaven.

“I’m so close! Mm, you gonna make a fucking mess out of me?” You rut against his cock.

“Fuck yes.” Azriel’s free arm wraps around you pressing you further into him and he fucks you with his fingers. “C’mon. Make a mess for me, angel.”

“Azriel!” That’s all it took for you to crumble in his lap. Your entire body trembles and euphoria seizes control of your body. Your screams informing all of Veleris of who made you cum so fucking good.

As you ride out your orgasm, Azriel lifts his own stuttering hips to grind against yours. The full weight of you quivering and fidgeting against him builds a blissful tension deep within him. And with the string of his name still being sung from your lips, the coiling pressure couldn’t hold anymore.

“Oh shit, I’m gonna-”

.☁️🌙☁️.

Azriel shoots straight up out of his bed and on to his feet, panting and looking around his room, illuminated with the first light of day.

But there was no one. No you.

Azriel blinks and wipes his eyes. It was a dream?

He looks around once more.

It couldn’t have been a dream. He’s dreamt of many females but never anything so…real.

He could still feel the weight of your body flushed against him. He could still feel the blissful aftermath of an orgasm.

Azriel looks down at his stained tented pants. His half hard cock still dripping on his thigh.

What the fuck was that? Why the fuck would he dream of that? Of you.

Mor? Sure. Elain? Once or twice, but you? Someone he couldn’t even stand to be in the same room with?

Azriel huffs and makes his way to his bathroom to clean up, angry with himself and his deplorable dream. A nightmare, he decides, considering it involved you.

#a court of thorns and roses #azriel #azriel smut #azriel fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x reader smut #acotar smut #acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel angst #Spotify

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blkkizzat · 4 months

Text

WFH!Nanami

Work From Home Nanami = best house husband

a/n: lol this is nanami brainrot while I wait for my Toji fic to get beta'd so I know how dog it is. ETA: FYI, this is a semi-repost of a self-ship collab with a now deactivated account. I repurposed my selfship part to reader and expanded to WFH. cw: smut (pussy pounding, gagging on CAWK) fluff, nanami being the perf husband and male specimen per usual wc: 1.6k

WFH!Nanami doesn’t have to worry about waking up early to go into the office but he still rises with the sun to get his day started and do his favorite thing, which is to spoil you. Waking you up with gentle kisses, placing a hot espresso by the bedside and being your personal snooze button when you tell him 5 more minutes (he is so punctual it will be 5 mins on the dot).

You will still likely end up strolling into the office late regardless though because knowing you, you can’t start your day until you’re squirting all over daddy. But this is Nanami, he is nothing if not efficient so your early morning romp is definitely in the shower where he can clean you up after in order to get you out of the door sooner, your breakfast is already packed to-go.

WFH!Nanami love language is acts of service. You never stress about what to do for lunch either because there’s always a Michelin star worthy bento waiting for you next to your keys before you leave for the day.

In fact, what Nanami doesn’t know is that his bento is famous not only around your office, as your envious coworkers gather round to see what your perfect husband has prepared for you today, but also on TikTok. The ‘KentosBentos’ TikTok account you made has over 350K followers who not only watch for the mouth watering yet nutritious bentos but to also hear you gush over the cute little notes your hubby leaves for you.

Your top video has over 2.5 million likes and thousands of swooning women in the comments when WFH!Nanami made you an extra special lobster bento for your birthday and left you the note: ‘In all the world there is no love for me if I don’t have yours. Happy Birthday to my lovely wife, whose smile shines bigger and all the more brighter than the sun, moon and stars.’

Continuing with acts of service WFH!Nanami always has an equally delicious dinner ready for you when you get home. On days you work overtime and arrive home late, there's always a warm bubble bath waiting for you first. You love to rest with your back laid against Nanami’s utterly ripped torso in the tub while his thick arms envelope you. Relaxing into the safety of WFH!Nanami’s hold, your doting hubby kisses your temple and gives your keyboard fatigued hands a delicate massage. Nanami is nothing but a patient yet active listener while you recount your stressful day at work.

On days when you both get the opportunity to work from home you email WFH!Nanami a meeting invite to block off his calendar for 30 min during lunch. The invite is always titled ‘Ken and Barbie’s Lunch Meeting’. The location? ‘Pound Town’ The time? Noon, sharp!

Of course WFH!Nanami never actually schedules it on his work calendar lest his boss sees the meeting. (Gojo would never let him hear the end of it). As a result, since he never actually has the time officially blocked off, on some rare occasions he does actually get booked for a real lunch meeting at Noon that he cannot reschedule.

Meeting or no meeting though you are determined to keep your lunchtime dick appointment with WFH!Nanami. A noon dicking is a noon dicking and it’s a non-negotiable for you as you don’t often get to stay home from work!

WFH!Nanami is focused and poised during his camera-on meetings with his team. Therefore he doesn’t hear you open his office door. Nor does he see you as you drop to the floor with feline grace, hips swaying seductively as you crawl right under his desk. In fact, Nanami does not notice you at all until your soft hands grip his thick powerful thighs and you’re sliding your body up between his legs. Never faltering on-camera, WFH!Nanami’s stiffened jaw and tensed shoulders are the only tell-signs of you palming his rapidly hardening cock under the desk.

WFH!Nanami who tests the absolute limits of the stress ball he keeps handy (usually for tough negotiations) when he feels you press your hot mouth on the fabric covering his dick. You know your stoic husband won't ever outwardly falter when on the clock but you know inside he is a mess. That much is clear to you by the girth bulge straining against his tan fitted slacks.

WFH!Nanami who knows you are upset about him working through your ‘lunch meeting’, but wishes you wouldn’t torture him like this while he’s on the clock. He can tell you are enjoying yourself though as your sinful little tongue drags tiny kitten licks over the hard bulge in his pants. Soon though you are pawing at his zipper and pulling his girthy cock free through the hole, not even bothering to undo his belt. Taking him fully into your mouth, WFH!Nanami bites his inner cheek, when his boss Gojo makes a comment on how he looks more tense than usual when he should be thrilled after closing the biggest deal of the year.

WFH!Nanami who takes a long moment to deeply clear his throat before he calmly relays to Gojo that he is very pleased with the win but already thinking of the next big acquisition for their company. Yet Nanami’s voice hitches ever so slightly when your pink stiletto nails dig into his muscular thighs. It fools the rest of the team but Gojo merely raises a brow before cheerily moving on to the next subject.

WFH!Nanami spares a look downward at you once the work conversation has shifted to see you gazing up at his mouth full of his cock. You wear an angelic look as if he can’t tell the hand that left his thigh and is now slotted between your own isn’t furiously rubbing at your clit. He knows you are pleased at finally drawing a reaction, even a small one, from him while on the clock.

WFH!Nanami whose eyes twitch when he’s closing the call he sees his boss Gojo’s knowing smile and hears the start of the question, “So Nanamin… is Y/N, working from home to–”

WFH!Nanami doesn’t stay to hear the end of the question, quickly exiting the call and ignoring the message pings full of raunchy emojis he receives from Gojo.

WFH!Nanamiwho is still seated grabs you by your hair and ruthlessly face fucks you as soon as his camera turns off. He forces you swallow all eight and a half inches of him as you gag and slobber around his girth. Your jaw begins to ache but your eyes still roll back into your head with pleasure and you go limp in his grasp. You are willingly allowing your loving husband to turn your throat into his personal cocksleeve as you rub your cunt up against his leg, so close to cumming from the chafing of his slacks against your cunt.

Frustrated and annoyed it isn’t long before WFH!Nanami cums himself. His leg you are riding jerks up into you giving you the extra push you need as you moan around his cock and cream on his leg leaving a wet spot. WFH!Nanami has you choking down his thick seed. His cum and your drool dribble down the sides of your face when he finally slides out of the warm cavern of your throat cunny, leaving you panting as you try to catch your breath.

WFH!Nanami wordlessly wipes your face with the tissues he keeps on his desk and promptly ushers you out of this office, locking the door behind you. You aren’t upset though as you know what's in store for you once his work day is over. The locked door is more to keep him IN, than keep you OUT. Nanami would have to take the rest of the day off if he were to properly discipline you now. You being forced to wait and wonder how long he would take to finish his work was part of the punishment anyway.

You know WFH!Nanami is ready to administer your punishment once he calls you out by your FULL government name “Y/N Nanami!” Tonight is different and there is no dinner nor warm bath for you. Just a tired Nanami, weary of his bosses teasing and ready to take out all his frustrations on his wife’s naughty little cunt.

Your cunt in question nearly starts voguing in anticipation as heat pools between your legs once you are called into the bedroom. You already know what time it is once you see WFH!Nanami loosen his tie and take off his belt slowly while sternly saying your name once more.

The belt and tie?

Oh, the belt is used to tie your arms behind you and the tie is now a gag, for having such a filthy cock-loving little mouth he will tell you. It’s not long after that until you are face down, ass up getting pounded into the mattress as WFH!Nanami nearly cracks the headboard with the force he is using to thrust into you. Your cries of “K-Kento!” are muffled into the makeshift gag when a firm slap causes your ass to ripple more aggressively against his pelvis.

Nanami growls deeply into your ear.

“Welcome to Pound Town, Barbie.”

Any muffled cries for mercy fall on deaf ears as WFH!Nanami is too focused on his retribution for your earlier antics as he continues to wreck your pussy from behind. His heavy balls smack against your clit and your sloppy cunt echos vulgar squelches that bounce off your bedroom walls and erotically ring in your ears. The hand pressing your head further into the pillow beneath you is the same hand Nanami wears his wedding band on. It glimmers brightly even in the dimly lit room.

WFH!Nanami loves seeing his ring and remembering his vows in the moment. 💖

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or graphics, do not translate.

a/n: Nanami brainrot overload (i wfh! lord god when is it my turn, bring me a nanami i BEG) and day 18 without adhd meds lol, finally finished something though. Nerd!Geto and The Nursery ft. Toji is soon I promise!

reblog to get your on WFH!Nanami but comments and likes are always appreciated!

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dulcesiabits · 2 years

Text

umbra.

summary: You offer your blood to a wounded vampire in an alleyway, and now Ruggie can’t seem to leave you alone.

notes: 1.9k, fic, cw for violence, a short fic about Ruggie for @ridhearts fantastic vampire au!!

Ruggie hisses as he rips out a chunk of wood lodged in his shoulder, throwing it down the dim alley he’s currently hiding in.

Stupid vampire hunters, thinking their stakes would be enough to take him. Those things were about as effective as a sharpened pencil, and yet the hunters never learned. It’s not like getting stabbed repeatedly was fun, though it was far easier to deal with than the other weapons the hunters liked to carry around.

As soon as Ruggie got his hands on whatever human thought it would be cute to try to sabotage their monthly exchange by ambushing the Savanaclaw coven with the hunters… well, he’s certain some of the more restless coven members would appreciate having a human to chase down and tear to pieces. Ever since they implemented the deal with the neighboring town, giving blood in exchange for residents no longer fearing leaving their houses after dark, some of the vampires had been complaining about how boring it was to no longer hunt--

Footsteps. Ruggie’s ears twitches as he sits up, wincing. He isn’t in any condition to deal with more threats, not with all his wounds. He hadn’t been able to kill all of the hunters, so have they come back to take him down for good...?

“Are you okay?”

A pair of worn sneakers stops right in front of him. Ruggie’s eyes trail up to meet your concerned face, and he relaxes when he realizes you’re just some nosy human.

“Just fine,” he jokes weakly. You’re peering at all his wounds, and the stake still lodged in his thigh. Your gaze lingers on his fangs in particular, glinting in the faint moonlight. Ah, shit. Maybe he could snap your neck before you alerted--

“Do you need blood?” In one fluid motion, you roll your shirt sleeve up to your elbow, baring your wrist in front of him. “You’re a vampire, right?”

Are you stupid? Ruggie bites back the retort. What sort of person just brazenly offers their wrist to a vampire? If he wasn’t so nice, he could just drain you dry and leave your corpse for the rats, did you consider that?

Besides, he doesn’t recognize you. Ruggie has made it a point to memorize all the residents in the local town, which makes their dealings go much more smoothly. Are you new? Or just a visitor? Either way, it’s more dangerous for someone from out of town to get involved.

He’s not in any position to argue, though. He’s weak, and far from any ally, and a stupidly kind human is far preferable than an aggressive one.

“...I can’t make any promises that you’ll be safe,” he says instead.

You shrug. “Sure. I know the risks.”

“So... why are you doing this? Kinda weird to trust a vampire you just met, if you ask me.”

You pause, twisting a bracelet around your wrist. “I couldn’t just leave you here. It would have felt... wrong.”

Oh, so you weren’t just kind, you were also a bleeding heart. Lucky for him, at least.

Ruggie hesitates, before taking your wrist and bringing it close to his lips, his fangs grazing over your vein. You shiver, but simply incline your head. You never look away the whole time, your eyes boring into his own.

You’re strange, which is maybe why Ruggie impulsively kisses your wrist before he bites down as carefully as he can, first blood drawn.

---

It’s been a week since Ruggie last saw you.

After that night, he had staggered to his feet and left, and the two of you went your separate ways. It’s bothered him since, the fact that you helped him for nothing in exchange, and now it’s like he owes you.

Maybe you’ve already skipped out on town, gone back to whatever place you came from. Or maybe you got into some sort of trouble. Should he have walked you home that night? Anyone out that late should have known the dangers, but...

Ruggie has too much to worry about already. You were just a weird human, and there were plenty of those around. Still his thoughts drift to you, unbidden.

One evening out on town, he finally sees you again, carrying around a bag of groceries at the night market. Ruggie can’t believe his luck; he’s already running up to you before he knows what he’s doing.

“Hey,” he says.

“Oh! Hi,” you say, shifting the bags in your arms. “You’re that vampire that was bleeding in the alley.”

What a great first impression he gave you. “Do you need help with that?”

You shake your head. “No, it’s okay! I don’t want to bother you.”

You walk farther down the road, but Ruggie follows you.

Every two weeks or so, the humans in town gather together, stringing up lights and setting up stalls around a dusty plaza. You could find anything from homegrown vegetables and pots of jellies and jams, to handcrafted necklaces and watercolor paintings by local artists.

Those were just from the human vendors, though. Sometimes an enterprising vampire would discreetly set up a stall and sell blood, magical artifacts, or the odd trinket. It’s an unspoken neutral area, where both humans and vampires mingle without fear.

“Do you need anything else?” Ruggie persists. “I could help you bargain, if you want. I’m pretty good at that.”

“Can you just answer one question for me?”

“Sure.”

“Why do you want to help me?” you ask. “It’s not like you owe me anything.”

So you say, but he did. Bargaining and carrying your groceries were nothing compared to what you did for him, but it would go some way to filling the debt he owed you. That way, in the future, you couldn’t use it as a bargaining chip against him.

“...You helped me, so I want to help you. Is that so weird?” he says.

You tilt your head again, considering his words. “It’s not weird, but... okay, why not? Here.” You shove your groceries at him. “Why don’t you help me get some good deals? I just moved here, so I don’t know where I should shop.”

“Easy! You’re never gonna get better deals than you will tonight,” he boasts, and you slip your arm around his free one. Ruggie tries not to let his surprise show as the two of you walk along.

It even feels sort of nice.

---

It’s weird how easy it is to talk to you.

Whenever he has any free time, Ruggie spends it with you. Following you around town, showing you all the hidden paths and secluded stores. Pointing out residents, telling funny stories about them or their families. Taking walks in the park, feeding the stray cats that laze in the sun.

Part of it is that he doesn’t want to owe you, and it never hurt to be friendly with the humans in town so they don’t do stupid things like call the hunters on him. But the other part of it is that he likes you. A lot.

You touch him so casually, too, and never seem to give it a second thought. Grabbing his hand to lead him somewhere, linking arms as you stroll, leaning your head on his shoulder when you’re tired. Most of the humans he dealt with were afraid of him, so he’s not used to this, not at all. But it feels good, sometimes, how affectionate you are. Ruggie hasn’t been alive in centuries, but your hands are so warm it makes him forget.

Recently, you’ve been inviting him to come over to your apartment, where the two of you will just watch movies or TV shows to pass the time.

“I was approached by the hunters today,” you say casually, feet crossed on your couch.

“What? Why would they do that?” Ruggie asks, more focused on you than the movie.

“Because I’m ‘closely involved with the local coven,’ they said. Someone told them I’m friends with you, and I have a history of making friends with vampires, so I’m suspicious, I guess.”

“You have?” It makes sense if you’ve known other vampires in the past. It would explain why you were so casual with him, why you let him drink your blood that night without a second thought. Human and vampires having relationships isn’t particularly rare, so... why did it bother him so much?

“Oh, yeah. I used to live in the Heartslabyul area. I used to run around a lot with these two vampires, Ace and Deuce. I don’t know if you’ve heard of them? I had to move because of my job, but I’ve been meaning to go back to visit.”

“Ace and Deuce,” Ruggie says slowly, trying to dig through his memory. “Yeah. I’ve heard of them. They’re notorious troublemakers, right?”

You laugh. “No more than you are! Man, we had some good times together.”

“Do you want to move back there? To the Heartslabyul area?”

“Hmm. I mean, I miss my friends, but I like it here a lot. I mean, I got to meet you!”

Ruggie clears his throat. How could he respond to that? “So... when you say you were friends with those two. Did that mean, you know...”

“Did that mean...?” you prompt him to continue.

“Did they ever drink your blood?” he asks bluntly.

“Not really. Ace acts like he’s too cool to beg a human for blood, and Deuce is still a fledgling, so he hasn’t bit his first human yet. We just talked, hung out... mostly the same things I do with you.” You pause. “Are you asking because you want blood right now?”

Your couch is so small that your knees are touching his. If Ruggie turns and leans closer, he could kiss you.

“What? No. But...”

“But?”

The movie plays on, but he isn’t paying attention to it anymore. He doubts you are, either.

“You know how the coven’s made deals with the local townspeople? They supply us their blood, and we don’t hunt them?”

“Er... are you saying I need to join in...?”

“Nah. It’s nothing like that. I’m asking if...”

“Oh! You want to be the only one to feed on me?” you prompt. “And you’ll only feed on me in return?”

“Yeah, something like that. It wouldn’t be too bad, you know? I’m pretty close to the coven’s leader, so none of the other vampires would bother you, and if the hunters try to mess with you again, you can tell me and I’d get them to back off--”

“Ruggie,” you say firmly. “You don’t need to justify anything! I’ve seen some Heartslabyul vampires enter relationships like that with humans, so I know how it goes. I mean, I wouldn’t even accept if it was anyone else, but since it’s you, I’d love to.”

"Then... Why don’t we make it official right now?”

You move to roll up your sleeve again, but he grabs your wrist to stop you. Ruggie traces a pulse point on your neck with a finger, looking at you with a silent question. You nod, pulling the neck of your shirt down so he can have better access.

There’s no impulse this time as he kisses your neck gently, a balm to sooth you before the sting of his bite. It’s something to mark your relationship, too, and Ruggie will let you choose whatever name you want to call it. He’s not picky, not as long as it means the two of you are tied together.

He wraps his arms around your waist to hold you steady before he bites. You taste a little like salvation to him. As Ruggie drinks, he wonders what you’d think if he asks you to become a vampire, so he could stay by your side forever.

#liya writes #twisted wonderland #ruggie bucchi #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #twst ruggie #ruggie bucchi x reader #vamp au #im so sorry.... this is so self indulgent.......#even more so than usual.... im looking away.......

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kuzann · 6 months

Text

Escape from the Holidays

My Holiday Truce present for @deuynndoodles! Sam and Tucker get Danny away from the Santa argument for some much-needed relaxation. 💜 Also on Ao3!

Danny trudged his way through the fall season, doing his best to ignore the Christmas merch that was already showing up in stores by Halloween. Holiday creep was annoying in general, but for Danny it acted as an omen of things to come once December rolled around. As the weeks ticked by the knot of stress and anxiety grew in the pit of his stomach; the worst month of the year was approaching and there was nothing he could do about it. He would simply have to endure whatever misery the yearly argument brought just as he did every year.

December 1st arrived. The more restrained organizations of Amity Park at last began to put up their Christmas decorations. FentonWorks lit up in red, white, and green just like the rest of the neighborhood and, like clockwork, the Santa argument began. Danny was long past caring whether Santa Claus was real or not; the only thing that mattered was the fact that the argument made every single December a writhing mass of stress and mess cleanup.

Five days after the start of December he and Jazz sat in the living room after being summoned for a family board game, only for the Santa argument to overshadow everything before the game could even make it out of the box. Jazz hid her face in her newest psychology book while Danny glowered at his parents and wished he’d thought to grab his phone before his dad pestered him into coming downstairs for ‘family time’.

He was just checking his watch for the dozenth time when the front door slammed open. Sam and Tucker hurried into the living room, still breathless from running over. The sudden intrusion put a temporary pause on the argument as the Fentons turned to their new guests.

“Mr. and Mrs. Fenton, there’s a ghost attacking the docks!” Tucker said, still a little breathless from the run as he jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

“You gotta hurry before he gets away!” Sam added. “He’s trying to steal a bunch of shipping boxes!”

“No ghost is making off with holiday gifts while the Fentons are on the job!” Jack declared as he and Maddie drew their concealed weapons. They barged out the door past Sam and Tucker and out into the snowy night.

“Nothing stops the holiday argument like their mutual hatred of ghosts,” Tucker said with a knowing smile.

“Well, we better get going,” Danny grumbled as he stood. “So who is it this time? It’s the Box Ghost, isn’t it?”

“It is, but he’s not our problem tonight,” Sam said with a proud smile of her own. “Come on, you really think your parents can’t handle the Box Ghost?”

“Well since my mom’s out there I guess I shouldn’t worry...” Danny admitted with a small smile. He was already starting to feel a little better now that he didn’t have to witness the Santa argument. “We do need to figure out something for dinner now, though,” he added as he shared a glance with Jazz.

“Don’t worry about it, you’re coming over to my house and we’re ordering takeout,” Sam said.

“We call it Operation: Get Danny Away from the Stupid Santa Argument,” Tucker added with a grin. “And Jazz too, if she wants to hang out with us.”

“Well given that I’ll be all alone here after you guys leave...” Jazz began. “You’re sure you’re okay with me joining in? I’m not gonna cramp your style or anything?”

“Any Fenton who isn’t part of the Santa argument is welcome in my book,” Danny replied.

~~~

Sam’s parents were surprisingly pleasant when the four of them arrived; Danny was under the impression that they didn’t care for him or his family, and tonight he had the sneaking suspicion that Mrs. Manson was going to rub being a superior parent in his parents’ faces at some point in the near future because of all this. Jazz lingered to give them a full rundown of her college plans when they asked what she was up to as a matter of courtesy, which gave Sam ample opportunity to get her other guests upstairs and into her room without any further delay.

Her room was dimly-lit by warm red string lights she’d added recently. The effect was almost cozy, despite Sam’s likely intent of using them to boost the goth look to her room. It was certainly more calming than the sea of Christmas lights that decorated most of the city. The curtains were already drawn when they arrived, blocking off any view of the city beyond. Closed, comfortable, and warm.

“So what kind of food are we feeling like tonight?” Sam asked once they were safely in her room.

“Something other than pizza,” Danny replied as he flopped down on a massive black bean bag chair. “I think I’ve finally had enough pizza for a little while.”

“I could go for some Thai food,” Tucker added as he dropped onto the oversized bean bag next to Danny.

“I know a great Thai place.” Sam turned to a nearby bookshelf and took a binder labeled ‘Restaurants’ from it, then leafed through until she found the page she wanted. “Here we go,” she said as she took the menu from a sheet protector within.

“So organized,” Tucker said with a chuckle as Sam passed the menu to them.

“Well when you have dietary restrictions it helps to remember the places that can accommodate,” Sam said.

“Smart,” Danny said. He leaned in, bumping shoulders with Tucker as he read the menu as well. “Think I’ll pick the pad thai with chicken.”

“Red curry with beef for me,” Tucker said.

Danny leaned back against the bean bag and closed his eyes as Sam left to ask Jazz what she wanted. It was quiet in Sam’s room—soundproofed to keep her and her parents’ music tastes completely separate, for everyone’s sake—and no holiday music reached them here. He could almost pretend that this was just any other month and that he didn’t have another miserable holiday season to look forward to once he left. The ball of stress that sat sharp and heavy in his chest slowly began to unwind.

His phone buzzed with a received text. Danny opened his eyes and checked it: Valerie had made it to her grandparents’ house and was asking how he was doing. He smiled and texted back: [Glad ur safe. Sam & Tucker rescued me from Santa argument so doing good]

“Val checking in?” Tucker asked.

“Yep, she’s safe at her grandparents’ house,” Danny replied. Worry over Valerie staying safe on the slippery roads had been sitting at the back of his mind ever since she left the previous day, and it was good to have it resolved for now.

Sam returned with Jazz in tow. “Food’s ordered, now we just have to wait.” She strolled over and dropped down onto the unoccupied side of the bean bag. “Did I miss anything?”

“Valerie made it to her grandparents’ house,” Danny replied.

“That’s good. The roads are pretty treacherous this time of year,” Sam said. She stretched, then fell back against the bean bag, bumping shoulders with Danny. “She’ll be here next time we do this.”

“Next time?” Danny raised his eyebrows with the question as he looked at her.

“Yeah we were thinking once a week,” Tucker added. “Maybe more often. Depends on how stressed out you get.” He gave Danny a playful poke on the forehead.

“We couldn’t just sit back and let you be miserable for the whole season,” Sam said. “Besides, it’s nice to get a break from the holiday rush.”

Danny smiled, and he let out a long slow sigh as he sank into the bean bag a little further. “Thanks, guys.” He pulled the two into a hug. “This really means a lot.”

“Don’t mention it, dude,” Tucker said as he and Sam returned the hug. “So what should we do while we wait for the food to get here?”

“I found this card game called Five Crowns recently,” Sam said. “Let’s try it out.”

~~~

The Jacks were wild by the time the food arrived at the front door. Danny and Tucker were almost tied for last place with scores exceeding one hundred points while Jazz sat squarely in the lead with only thirty-five. With two hands to go there was still a chance that Sam could unseat her as the to-be winner, but only time would tell.

Sam brought the food up and the four of them sorted out their meals from the bag. They dug in, chattering all the while about school, video games, movies, future plans. The cards had been laid aside for the moment, to spare them the possibility of getting messy from the food.

Danny forgot the date after a while. It felt like any other night of the year, which was exactly what he needed. He was finally at ease as they set the remnants of dinner aside and picked up their game again.

~~~

Jazz won the game in the end, despite a valiant effort to defeat her on Sam’s part. Danny ended with a ridiculous sum of four hundred and twenty-six points. He didn’t mind. It was the simple act of playing the game that he’d enjoyed, win or lose.

With the game over they set about finding other ways to occupy the time. Sam brought up a new fantasy RPG she’d bought recently and asked if they wanted to do a joint save so they could enjoy the story together.

The three plopped down on the big bean bag chair again with Danny in the middle and took turns on the controller, laughing and riffing on the game’s sillier story beats and praising it for the things it did well. Meanwhile Jazz sat at Sam’s desk with a book open before her, a small smile on her face as she kept half an ear on their fun, chuckling every so often at one of their jokes.

Hours drifted past, carrying them late into the evening, and at last the three began to nod off. Sam and Tucker each rested on one of Danny’s shoulders, the book Sam had been perusing laying open across her lap while Tucker’s PDA had almost slipped out of his hand as he slept.

Once she was sure they were soundly asleep Jazz took a nearby blanket and draped it over the three, gently tucking the edges around them to trap in the warmth. Danny was truly fortunate to have such good friends. Getting him away from holiday stress was exactly what he needed, and with them whisking him away like this every few days he would be able to weather the season much better than he had in previous years.

Jazz tiptoed back to the desk and sat down again. She would wake them in a little while to take Danny home, but for now all she wanted was to let him sleep peacefully for as long as he could.

#Danny Phantom #phandom truce 2023 #DP Events #Phanfic #Danny Fenton #Sam Manson #Tucker Foley #Jazz Fenton #Fluff

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aleksa-sims · 1 month

Text

RL Story

CW: Divorce, addiction

It was a Friday, October 13th to be exact. Daniel and I are getting a divorce today. After weeks, he finally signed the divorce papers. I was devastated. It was so hard for me to take this step. But I had to finish it, for my Baby and also for myself, to finally forget Daniel. We met near the city hall, where we had an appointment with a divorce-case officer and judge.

Once there, I saw Daniel coming towards me. I honestly didn’t want to divorce him. I loved him, still, so much. 😥But... that's just the way life is. 😞... He looked at me... I wanted to hug him but instead I just said sadly, hi. Daniel seemed absent for a moment, staring at my belly. 🩵👶

He had this... empty look. Not sad or angry, rather.... emotionless.

With my eyes lowered, I just stood there. I struggled to hold back my tears. Exactly a year ago we moved together. I was so happy with him and now this. 😞

Me: I'm so sorry. I never wanted this! And I still don’t want it. I wish we could just go home together.

Daniel: Same, but...let's not get into that now. Relax and think about your Baby.

Me: What?

Daniel: It's gonna be okay. Trust me.... C'mon, let’s get this over with.

Me: Yea,,...whatever you say. 😞

Um.... well! Daniel and I didn’t get divorced today. The judge asked us why we wanted to divorce? D.'s & my statements left some question marks with the judge, I think? We have to wait six months, before we get divorced.... Daniel said that my jealousy (Tina, Irma...) & insecurity were the biggest probs for him in our relationship.😠... However, the real reason for postponing our divorce was bcs Daniel inherited Dominick’s plot & house. (division of property) Although I refused any claim to Daniel’s property!!

Me: Did you really, seriously mean what you said to them?

Daniel: I answered all questions honestly.

Me: Why didn’t you just give the real reason for our divorce? You took off!!! I didn't know where you were!! And my Baby isn't yours. This fact is the reason for our divorce! You can't handle that I'm pregnant. Or that we are both addicts, which would have been a good reason why we can’t stay together! 🤦‍♀️

Daniel: The juge asked me WHY, I left! You got it?.... You and my borther, your secrets drove me crazy. That fucking shit about Tina. I was overwhelmed with my shit, our drugs you and your delusions. I kept trying to make you happy! I only loved you and I only wanted you. But you just didn’t believe me. Be honest, it wasn’t my fault, just yours!! You don’t know what you want! And you can’t make decisions! But I’m not like N.! I don’t want to tell you what to do or how to live your life. You are responsible for yourself! Finally get it, or just stay with your soccer player and let him control you.

Me: What kind of shit are you talking?? Nico doesn’t do any of this to me.

Daniel: I talked to him! He said, you won’t be the same after he’s done with you. He told me this to my face!! And btw, I can’t stand Alex calling you Lexi!! 😠

Me: You must have misunderstood N. He isn't like that! He was just upset, bcs I confessed what I wanted from you the other day. Besides, you’re jealous too!!! Anyway.... I-.. I just can’t stand it around you anymore. And I’m sorry I was so jealous. I loved you so much. I wanted to do anything for you. I was terrified to lose you. I’m sorry. Sorry I was such a freak to you. But I didn’t do anything wrong with your brother, D.!! There was NOTHING between Alex and me!! IDK how many times I’ve had to say this damn sentence. Finally get it!....

Me: It hurts so much and it just doesn’t stop.... I don’t want to love you anymore. I wish you’d never married me. 😢

Daniel: Damn, I-... I'm sorry. I still struggle with that... stress disorder. Either I feel nothing-... or I boil with rage.🤦‍♂️

Me: It's ok.. I'm leaving.... See you in 6 moths. And.. stay off drugs, just... take care, Daniel. 😢

Daniel: Wait!

Me: I gotta go. Sorry. Bye!.... 😭

Daniel: I-...... love you.

I just wanted to get away from there. Far away from.... him.💔 Not really, but.... agh, you know what I mean. And I’ll see Daniel again sooner than I thought. Right after delivery. It was about that annoying name change. D. and I were officially still married, but I didn't want to give my Son his surname. D. is not his Dad, but N. Such a mess!!

Previous/Next

#ts4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #rl story #myrlgameplay #cw divorce #ts4 story

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thesparklingwriter · 1 year

Text

the sun's sweltering glare

“We can’t possibly stay in here all day and do nothing,”

tags: this is literally nothing but fluff, there is no plot, they don't do anything, they just lounge around in bed together and talk about things, i literally mean nothing happens i cannot stress that enough, this is one thousand words of nothingness

masterlist | taglist

When you wake up, the house is quiet. Aside from Zhongli’s gentle breathing, or the birds you can hear chirping outside your window, time might as well have frozen for you . The sun glares through your windows, pummelling you with heat, warping your vision with tiny waved distortions. You sit up, ripping the covers off yourself, desperate to get some air, but of course, the sheer heat almost drags the energy out of you and you flip back on your shared bed, defeated.

“What’s the matter, dearest?” Zhongli asks as he wakes, gently taking your hand in his. The heat has never bothered him as much as it does you and his hands are cool to the touch as he gently caresses your face.

“It’s too hot.” you complain, leaning into his touch. He chuckles, pulls you closer to him, and plants a kiss on your slightly damp forehead with an indulgent smile. If you didn’t know any better you would have assumed he had demanded the sun to work overtime, especially with the way he smiled smugly like the heat was his doing. “How are you even alive?” You ask him, noticing he’s still under the covers, dressed as if it were still the chilly early spring that seemed to last forever.

“I’m not as averse to the heat as you are,” he says softly, absentmindedly tracing shapes down your arms, making you shiver at his touch. If you were to ask him, he’d claim he had no idea of what he was doing, that it was never his intention to make chills run down your spine the way they do. But of course, you know better than to question him. You’ll most likely be greeted with faux innocence, a reminder of his mischievous ways. You relish in the way the cool silk of his pyjamas soothes your clammy arms as you pull him into a tighter hug, the way he lets you profit from his coolness, despite the fact he has places to be.

“You’re not averse to anything.” You groan. “It’s like you’re made of rock. Nothing bothers you.”

“Nothing will bother me for as long as I have you by my side.”

“You’re such a menace.” You smile, as he runs his hands through your hair. When you’re with him like this, it’s as if time stops for you, all the worries of the mortal world condemned to irrelevancy. “Don’t you have things to do today?”

“No one would come by the funeral parlour in this heat,” he says, with finality. It seems that even if anyone were to come to request his aid, he wouldn’t grant them his time anyway. “And furthermore, Hutao won’t be working.” He says with finality, gently kissing your cheek.

“Surely someone with a pyro vision would be accustomed to the heat,” you say, enjoying the air of peace the heatwave has brought with it.

“Are all who have been blessed with a geo vision as stubborn as the element they’re gifted?”

You stare at Zhongli. “Your arms are wrapped so tightly around me that I don’t dare even think about moving for fear of them getting tighter. I think I have sufficient grounds to argue that even the most relaxed wielder is significantly more stubborn than the average person.”

He laughs at that, so heartily that you feel his chest vibrate with it. “I suppose you have a point there, my dear.” The smile he gives you is indulgent, so charged with affection that you almost have to look away, embarrassed by the way your face takes on a pleased flush.

“We can’t possibly stay in here all day and do nothing,” you say finally, gently threading your hands through his hair and twisting it between your fingers.

“We certainly could.” Zhongli retaliates. “Who’s to stop us?”

“My boss.”

“You are your own boss.” He retorts, watching you with unleashed curiosity.

“I have a work ethic. Unlike someone I know.”

Zhongli doesn’t respond to you for a while, instead burying his face in the crook of your neck. “My interests aren’t currently aligned as firmly with work as much as they were in my youth.” He says finally. You take this to mean that you’re going to be stuck between his arms for the next two hours. But to be honest, is there really anywhere else you’d want to be?

notes: big thanks to @auraxins for hosting another super fun event! i had a blast writing this!

taglist: @ainescribe @thelonelyarchon @aixaingela @medusuu @tartigglez @atlaincorrect

#event: for the summer #zhongli x you #zhongli #genshin impact #zhongli x reader #zhongli fluff #genshin fluff #genshin x reader #zhongli fanfic #zhongli genshin #genshin impact zhongli #zhongli genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact fluff

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masivechaos · 1 year

Text

FAMILY LINE

post azkaban! sirius black x fem! reader

Request: yes / no

see the request!

Synopsis: Sirius has to stay at Grimmauld place and it brings back old memories

Warning/content: talking about an abusive childhood, kissing, my english

a.n.: 0.7k words - family line by conan gray! sorry this is short, hope you still like it :)

masterlist/ marauders masterlist / navigation / taglist

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.──

“Sirius?” you asked softly.

The man blinked, returning to reality, a smile finding its way to his lips quickly “Yes?”

“Are you okay?” you tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear carefully, talking quietly, not wanting to scare him. He was staring at the family tree, his fingers tracing the burn where his face was supposed to be.

He nodded, forcing himself to look at you, he didn’t want to alarm you. You cupped his face with your hands “Sirius… Tell me what’s up…”

The last years were complicated and full of emotions. In a matter of a few months, you discovered your first love wasn’t the murderer you thought he was and your best friend was actually alive and a traitor.

And now Sirius had to live in the house he grew up in, in the house responsible for all his cries and sorrows, in the house his parents raised him but forgot to love him in the process. You felt like he was a scared child again.

He never told you in detail what happened here but you could see the way he was staring at the walls when no one was watching.

Sirius’ eyebrows furrowed “I- I’m fine” He always told you he was good at lying and it was true except that you were used to it now and could read him like an open book. You guest he picked up this ability from his mother who probably was the number one manipulator you knew. But Sirius wasn’t mean, he was, in fact, the kindest person you’ve ever met and it made you feel good that even after thirteen years of jail you could feel his lies, after all this time you still knew him like you used to.

“No, you’re not,” you rested your forehead against his.

“I don’t like it here,” he finally said. “I managed my way out of this and now- now I’m here again.”

Without even thinking you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into you, giving him as much warmth and comfort as possible. “But they are not here anymore. No one is going to hurt you”

“I know…” you heard his voice break. You pulled away just enough to see his grey eyes. That’s the moment you remembered how much he hated them. He said it was the same as his father’s. But all you saw was that the moon seemed to have settled in his eyes and you had a chance to look at it every time you gaze at him.

“But even if they’re both dead, I can’t seem to forget what they did. And I hate that they thought I wouldn’t understand. I was a kid but I wasn’t clueless.”

Sirius took a deep breath that broke your heart “If they loved me they wouldn’t have done this to me” You didn’t speak, it seemed like he needed to let it out. “When I was in Azkaban, there was a moment I felt like I was insane, I was finally like them.” He let out an awkward laugh.

“Sirius,...” you sighed as you softly stroked his cheek with your thumb “You’re not like them.”

“I am.”

“You’re not.” You kissed Sirius’ lips and you could feel him relax slightly “You will never hurt anyone… You’d never hurt anyone. Even after all they did, you stayed the same.”

Sirius fled your gaze shyly, “You…,” he wet his lips uncomfortably, “You really mean it?” he said quietly and in front you he became an insecure child again. Eyes big and wide asking you if nothing was wrong with him.

“I do, Sirius.” Those three words were enough for a tear to roll down Sirius’ cheek. He borrowed his face in the crook of your neck as he cried more and more “It’s going to be okay, love,” you whispered again and again until his sobs soften.

“You might share a face and a last name,” you said when he was calmer, “You are not the same, Sirius. You’re nothing like them.”

You held him as tightly as possible, you had found the teenage Sirius again. Sirius missed you so much, there was so many time when he wanted to have you by his side. He might not have a family, but he had you. And you felt like home

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.──

⋆ ★ sirius back taglist: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @saturnband @cauliflowertree @madison-rebel @moonlitmeeks @loveeharrington @meredarling @elenatries2write @juneberrie @faeriieblush @gilmore-angel @heartfucks @sparklenarniawizard @moondemon123 @mystic-writings @siriusblackstwin @natashxromanovf @goodoldfashionedluvergirl @garfieldsladybird @starconfettii @kidcuisinesvcks @percy-the-hufflepuff @fairydxll @spookydarkwitch @duxpuella @innerloverpainter @doyouknowwhoyouare13 @venussflytraps @diorgirl444 @oncasette @locke-writes @maddipoof @widowbf @starlit-epiphany

#the marauders era #hp marauders #marauders era #the marauders #sirius #sirius black x reader #sirius black x female reader #sirius black one shot #sirius black #sirius black fluff #remus lupin #james potter #solaris is writing! ੈ✩‧₊˚

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saulocept · 1 year

Text

cause love don’t get no higher than this

pairing: nicholas wolfwood/f! reader

rating: m

summary: He’s been a little too stressed out lately. Luckily, you’re there to help him out.

notes: some warm up, tbh. been a while since i wrote anything so! lots of apologies. tags include: smoking, blowjobs, slight praise kink - nothing too explicit. had this idea for a while, ran with it, and now im apologizing for it. sorry

Rest and relaxation. R&R. That’s what you’ve called it, dragging him and everyone else inside the nearest pub you can find. He hates it, somehow – the word, mostly because he neither feels rested nor relaxed, and trying to force himself to doesn’t seem to be working. In fact, he’s certain he’s downed one too many drinks, and still he feels stressed, jittery, his limbs aching to move, do something, anything but stay still, be in a single spot for too long.

It’s easier to think that he’s just high off the adrenaline. The previous battle had been intense, if he could even call it that. It’s not like he fought anything; he’s not too stupid to think he could take on a giant mindless desert monster anyway, especially when it’s far too hungry and probably hasn’t eaten for days. For the most part, he’d just ran, hiding behind alleyways and abandoned houses, trying to reach the nearest safe space he can find.

He didn’t know how long he’d ran, exactly. The next thing he knew, he’s standing in front of a small town, nameless, though not quite abandoned. There’s a sign in front of him: huge letters in blood red, though they’ve faded so much he could hardly read them anymore. He thought it might be the name of this town, though he’s not nearly curious enough to want to confirm. Whatever. It’s not like it matters, anyway.

The rest of the day passes by without much of an incident. You’re the one who’d pressed on ahead, strutting toward town without a care in the world. The rest of them follows after you without much complaint, likely a little too tired from running to think about anything else. You, however, were still a little too full of energy. It’s almost amusing seeing you running around from place to place, approaching villagers and asking them questions none of them had enough energy to ask. He snorts, shakes his head, watches as you beckon them along, urging them to follow after you. No wonder you and Meryl get along so well.

In the end, though, it’s all because of you and your incessant questions that he’s sitting in this pub, nursing another drink. He’d hardly call it relaxation, or rest, but he supposes it’s better than nothing. Here’s to another day of survival.

He breathes out a sigh, places his empty glass back on the table. He reaches for his pack of his cigarettes in his pocket, grabbing a stick and placing it between his lips. He’s still trying to find his lighter when the lady in front of him: the bartender, nameless and old and greying, yanks the stick out of his mouth, bending it between her fingers. It crumples easily under her touch. “No smoking on the premises, young man,” she chides, giving him a stern glare.

He stares at the wasted stick in front of him with open mouth, silently mourning its loss. Fuck, and he hasn’t even got a lot of them left. Realizing that the woman’s still glaring at him, waiting for a response, he nods his head, shoving the pack of cigarettes back in his pocket. “Yes, ma’am,” he says finally, slumping his shoulders and then sighing.

The woman turns away from him without another word.

How long does it take for a man to get drunk? Surely, he must’ve drunk enough glasses that the alcohol should be taking effect. But he’s not drunk yet, not even a little, and he’s starting to hate this because somehow, he feels even more restless than before, aching for something stronger, something else he can’t quite name.

He drums his fingers against the wooden table, stares blankly at his empty glass, breathing out another sigh. Boredly, he grabs the lighter from his pocket, turns it over and over between his fingers, steadfastly ignoring the glare the nameless woman keeps sending his way.

He isn’t sure how many minutes have passed before he feels a tap on his shoulder. With a grunt, he turns his head, glares at the intruder. “Oh,” he mumbles, his glare quickly disappearing at the sight of you. “It’s just you.”

“Yep,” you say, with enough energy to make him even more miserable. “Just me.”

He slumps further into his chair. “What do you want?”

“What do you say we go outside,” you ask, and at your words, he turns to look at you again, eyeing you suspiciously. You keep a straight face, affect a flat tone; still, there’s a glimmer in your eyes that piques his curiosity enough. “Get some fresh air?”

“Fresh air, huh?” he echoes, and you nod, giving him a gentle smile at the curious look he gives you. With another sigh, he stands up from his chair, places a few bills under his glass; it’s all he’s got with him, but he figures it’s enough to cover for whatever he’s drunk this night, probably even more.

Your smile widens when he moves to follow you, and you lead him out of the pub, through a door he’d never seen before (the side one, he presumes), expertly dodging Meryl’s questions all the while. In the end, she’d let you both go without much of a fuss, though he could still feel her glaring daggers on his back, like he knows exactly what you’re up to. He turns around one last time to give her a quick wave, both playful and mocking at the same time, just to annoy her a little more.

And then he follows you out the door, and into the streets. It’s dark out, with only the street lamps to light his way. It’s not enough to see clearly; he could still hardly see a thing, but it’s enough to keep him from stumbling into things.

He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans, whistling a quiet tune under his breath as he trails after you, observing his surroundings. You’ve reached an alleyway now: empty, quiet, hidden from view. Dark enough that no one would think to stay in here for long. Sinister enough that no one would think to search here for you.

He hums under his breath, amused. “Wow,” he mumbles, and he can’t help but sound impressed, “You really planned all this, didn’t you?”

You shrug, turning to him with a coy smile plastered on your lips. A little too innocent that he knows it’s anything but. “What do you mean planned?”

He narrows his eyes, stares at you in suspicion, but you only bat your lashes at him, keeping the innocent act. “Come on,” you say soothingly, “I just thought we could use a break.”

He raises an eyebrow. “We?”

“You,” you correct, uttering the words a little too quickly that he doesn’t have much time to question it. There’s a sheepishness to your voice, your words, an uncertainty he finds rather endearing. “You seem rather stressed, so I thought I’d do something to cheer you up.”

“Oh?” There’s an edge to his voice now, and slowly, he takes a step toward you, inching dangerously closer. You remain where you are, quiet, staring up at him. He smiles. “And how would you do that exactly?”

You smile back at him, resting your hand firmly against your sides. There’s a glimmer in your eyes now that wasn’t there before, and the sight of it sends a little thrill through him. “Why ask?” Here, your voice drops, turns teasing. It’s your turn to catch him off-guard; you step toward him, closer and closer until you’ve finally cornered him against the wall. He doesn’t stop you, doesn’t move to push you away, and your smile widens, grows almost sharper in the dim light. You reach out, rest a palm against his chest, trailing it slowly downward. A bold move, he thinks, something he almost wouldn’t expect from you.

You take another step forward; you’re so close now, enough that he could practically feel the warmth radiating off you. He could smell you now, could almost taste you on the tip of his tongue, sweet as sugar. You keep your eyes on him the whole time as you trail your palm downward: slow and teasing and playful, stopping just at the hem of his pants, “You know I could just show you, right?”

He laughs, leans back against the wall as he watches you, tries to hold back a groan when he feels you palm him through his pants, squeezing him once through the fabric. Teasing. “Getting bold now, are we?”

“Mm-hm.” You’re kneeling in front of him now, fumbling with his pants, fiddling with the zipper, letting his cock spring free. He sucks in a breath, a little startled by the quickness of your movements, though he makes no move to stop you. You pause, looking up at him with half-mast eyes, giving him a tiny smile. “Only for you.”

“Alright,” he says, just because he refuses to let you have the last word. “Let’s see it.”

You make quick work of him. He’s not hard yet, not quite, but it doesn’t seem to deter you. In fact, it seems to have quite the opposite effect; you lean your head forward, press a kiss against the tip of his cock. Soft, almost teasing.

He bites back a groan, leans his head back against the wall, watches you with bated breath. It’s fucking torture, some new kind of agony, watching you take him into his mouth. Slow, and definitely on purpose. Like you’re toying with him, trying to see how much more of this he can take.

He glares at you, but it’s hard to look intimidating when he’s got his cock shoved in your mouth. You catch it well enough, though you only send him a mischievous look in response. He’s still halfway through figuring out what it means before you’re making another move, leaning forward, taking more of him in – not wholly, not yet, but you’re getting there.

Shit. It’s surprising enough that he can’t stop the strangled breath that spills out of him, soft and shaky and seemingly too much like a groan. He throws his head back against the wall; with trembling fingers, he reaches for his pocket, grabs the pack of cigarettes he’s always kept in there. He takes a stick, shoves it between his lips, fishes for his lighter. He doesn’t fumble this time. No tricks, no hesitations. He flicks it open, lights the cigarette between his lips, watching the flames dance around the edges. Bright red, orange, fading to black as quickly as he could blink.

He takes a deep drag, leans further back against the wall and watching as trails of smoke drift upward and away from him. He gets a moment of reprieve before you’re making your move again, swirling your tongue around the head, slow and teasing, fingers touching the rest of him, caressing, trying to make up for whatever your mouth can’t quite reach, and fuck, it’s too good that he can’t stop the way his hips jerk into you, shoving more of his cock in.

He hears you gag before he even realizes what’s happening. Shit. He startles a little; he tries to glance at you, concern etched on his face, but there’s a slowness to his movements, as though he’s just waking up from a dream. He can’t see a damned thing in this place, not even if he squints his eyes.

“You okay?” he asks, just to make sure. You give him a thumbs-up from where you are, and the sight of it is so ridiculous, unexpected, that he can’t stop the laugh that spills out of him, equal parts amused and disbelieving. Still, he lets it go, doesn’t press any further, slumps even more against the wall without moving too much, giving you room to adjust, catch your breath.

He rubs the butt-end of his cigarette against the wall, smearing black ash behind him. He folds it in half, throws it somewhere down the ground. Then he grabs another, lights it up, tips his head back against the wall as he closes his eyes and takes another drag.

You’re still trying to fit all of him in, taking in as much of him as you could, and he can’t help but feel amazed by your determination. He lets the cigarette dangle from between his lips as he decides to help you out. “Hey, come on,” he says after a moment, almost soothingly. He knows he still hasn’t apologized from before, not directly, but he does try to make it up to you, placing a hand on your head and patting you gently. Encouraging. “You can do it, can’t you?”

He's egging you on, trying to see how far you’re willing to take this, and he knows he shouldn’t, not when you’re practically choking on his cock, but you look so good right now that he can’t help it. He watches you then, grows quiet, runs his fingers through your hair absently.

Your eyes are glistening with tears. Drool spills at the corners of your mouth, but you’re making no move to stop. The corners of his lips twitch into a smile. He reaches out with his free hand, gently caresses your cheek. “Do you want to stop?” he asks, tracing little circles along your skin, slow and soothing.

You make a noise in your throat, and when he only raises an eyebrow at you, curious, you shake your head, wrapping both arms around his hips, leaning forward and taking him deeper into your mouth.

All of him now, he thinks, and it’s a sudden thing, unexpected and surprising. He throws his head back, unable to stop the groan that spills out of him. The cigarette drops from between his lips, but he can’t bring himself to care. It’s an awareness that comes to him vaguely, as if from a fever dream, and he stubs it beneath his shoe, crushes it in the process. He kicks it away from the two of you, doesn’t even bother to light up another.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and his voice is soft, raspy. He gives your cheek a gentle pat. The praise only spurs you on; you moan around his length, bob your head up and down. He clutches a fistful of your hair, tugging a little as he closes his eyes and focuses on the feeling.

“You remember your safe word, don’t you?” he asks you, just to make sure. He twirls a strand of your hair between his fingers, tugs at it once more when you don’t respond. You hum around him after, and he makes a surprised noise in his throat, one that quickly turns into a laugh a second later. He shakes his head in disbelief when he catches you staring at him, the mischievous glimmer in your eyes bright like stars. You really are something else, aren’t you?

His grip on your hair tightens, more desperate. There’s a warning in there, hidden in between, something he feels he doesn’t need to vocalize. He’s closer now, almost there. He knows you can feel it, too, knows you can tell; there’s a certain kind of hastiness in your movements, a quickness born out of desperation, determination – something that grows with every second.

It doesn’t take long; he tugs on your hair once more, a little more harshly than before, rougher. It’s a quiet warning, the only thing he manages to give you before he’s coming undone, spilling all over your mouth, your hands, between your fingers, on the ground beneath you.

He watches you swallow it down, all of it, moaning at the taste of him and licking your lips as soon as you’re done like you miss it still, can’t get enough of it, and the sight of it is almost enough to get him hard again, ready for more. Still, he ignores the feeling, pretends it isn’t there. This can wait, he thinks, and besides, this isn’t the kind of place for secret trysts, after all, even if it’s dark and perfectly empty.

He lets go of your hair, ruffles it a little and then moves to pull his pants up. He laughs when he sees you pouting at him, reaching out to pat you once more on the cheek. “Get up,” he says, and though his tone is stern, there’s no bite in it, no real venom.

You frown at him. Your expression’s one of pure confusion now, and he huffs out a laugh, shakes his head, reaching out to flick you gently on the forehead. “Come on,” he says, grinning when he sees you glaring at him, pouting. “You can’t really be this cockdumb to want to do it here of all places now, can you?”

“Oh.” You seem almost flustered now, embarrassed. “I thought—”

“That we’re done?” he offers, tilts his head to the side as he studies you. You’re squirming now under the weight of his gaze, more embarrassed now than ever, and he bites the inside of his cheek, tries to stop himself from smiling too widely. “We’re not—” here, he pauses, raises an expectant brow in your direction. He knows what your response is going to be, but he couldn’t stop himself from teasing you anyway, “Unless you want to, that is.”

“No!” The response comes, faster than he anticipates. He tries his hardest not to laugh, but the sound spills out of him at the last second anyway, and he’s rewarded by the burn of your glare, something he isn’t fazed by in the least bit.

But your cheeks are still burning, and you look practically ready to get swallowed up by the ground. He clears his throat, gathers his composure, deciding that he should stop embarrassing you any further.

“Come on,” he says again, trying not to smile. He reaches out, ruffles your hair, grinning when you give him another scathing glare. He moves away, stretches a hand in your direction, then slowly pulls you to your feet. You reach for his hand, holds it in yours, twining your fingers together. He snorts, rolls his eyes, though he makes no move to pull away, or push you off him, “Let’s go.”

#renwrites #nicholas wolfwood x reader #trigun stampede x reader

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taleasnewastime · 2 years

Text

Dating advice | Part ten

Summary: It’s been months – ok, it’s been years – since you last went on a date. And you’re sick of it. Sick of seeing couples kissing and holding hands in the street. Sick of your friends settling down. Sick of everyone buying houses and having families. You’re going to do something about it. You’re going to snap up a man, you’re going to tie someone down, you’re going to finally commit, you’re going to – you’re going to need a bit of advice.

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: fluff; angst; smut

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, reader gets angry, swearing, low self-esteem, angst, awkwardness.

Authors Note: … It’s a big turning point …

Previous | Next | Series masterlist

“And then she leaned over and said that’s never happened before.”

Erik lets out a massive belly laugh, his eyes closing, his head flopping back. You can see his whole chest rising and falling through his shirt.

You don’t find it as funny, but you still force out a small laugh. The sound so low over Erik’s laugh and the background noise in the bar that he probably doesn’t even hear it. By the time he’s looking at you again you’re sipping your drink, he doesn’t seem to read the fact you didn’t find the story funny, or at least doesn’t care.

“How’s the drink? Better than your last?”

His smile is large, kind, makes him look incredibly handsome and yet even while it’s all directed at you, it does nothing to you. Not flutter in your chest, no heating of your face, no desire to shy away from him. Still, you smile back, look down at the half gone pink drink in front of you. It’s your second drink, a French martini.

“It’s my favourite drink, and they haven’t disappointed.”

“Your favourite, huh? I’ll have to make a note.”

You give him another small smile. There’s a beat of silence, not awkward, but you realise he’s leaving it open for you to say something.

“Oh, what’s yours?”

“Probably whiskey.”

Of course. “Ever been to a distillery?”

“No, can’t say I have. Would love to though.”

“Yeah, I’d recommend. Some of the good ones are expensive but you walk out feeling tipsy after all the samples. Plus, you get great discount on bottles at the end.”

His lip curls at the edge as if impressed. “Well, maybe an idea for another date?”

“Yeah,” you say lightly.

Why doesn’t the idea excite you? If this was before you would have been jumping in your seat at the prospect. But now, somethings changed. Maybe the fact he ghosted you and is now acting like nothing’s wrong, like that never happened. But you also know it’s something else, because when he mentioned alcohol all you could think of was the pub and when he said it would be a good date, that you should go together, all you could think about was how much Yoongi would love it. About how much you would love to go with Yoongi.

Yoongi. He's getting in your head. He’s ruining your date.

“Anyway,” you try to steer conversation onto something safer. “I was listening to a podcast about this Wagatha Christie case on the way here. Are you following it?”

“Oh my god. Who’s not?”

You smile, genuine this time. The way his eyes brighten at the thought of two footballers wives suing each other is a sight to see.

“They were saying Rebekah’s agent lost her phone at sea so they couldn’t search it for evidence. I mean how convenient it that?” You carry on, glad to be on a topic you can both get behind.

“It’s ridiculous. The amount they’re spending on legal fees just because of a tweet.”

“Footballers get paid too much.”

“I always wanted to be a footballer growing up.”

You laugh and Eriks smile brightens at the sound. “Come on. Every boy wants to grow up to be a footballer.”

“Yeah, well, like you said it’s the money and fame. For literally kicking a ball around.”

“Yeah, can’t argue with that logic.”

You finally relax back into your seat, take another sip of your drink before smiling at him.

“Come on then,” you say. “Millions of pounds a week, what would you do with it all?”

“Firstly, take you somewhere better than this shit hole.”

You laugh, roll your eyes. “Real smooth.”

He takes a sip of his drink, his eyes dark as he looks at you. Still nothing stirs inside you. The conversation is easy, you like him enough, he’s hot, maybe you just need a little more time.

The conversation carries on for a couple more drinks before you head home. There’s a couple of awkward pauses at times, but nothing major. It feels the same as the first time you met up with him. Fun and you had a laugh, a nice date.

You both head the same way when you get outside, end up chatting and walking. You don’t think too hard about it, end up subconsciously walking towards your house and Erik just follows along. But as soon as you indicate your place and pause by the door you can’t stop thinking about it. Is it weird he didn’t ask to walk you home, just did?

You stand in silence for a bit, Erik trying not to show that he’s fidgeting on the spot, you trying not to overthink this too much. When you don’t open the door or say anything he speaks up.

“So,” he pauses, looks from you to your door.

“It was a nice night. Thanks for asking me out again. And for the drinks.”

“You know,” his voice has dropped, he leans in a centimetre and your eyes naturally fall to his lips. “It doesn’t have to end here.”

“Oh,” you quickly look back to his eyes then over his shoulder, you don’t want to give him the wrong impression.

Your thoughts immediately go to Yoongi, the fact you never invited him back to yours after your date even though you wanted to, the fact that he warned you not to invite men back inside. And then you catch yourself before you can keep thinking down that trail. It’s not the first time you’ve thought of him tonight, and it annoys you that even when on a date with another man, another very attractive man, you still can’t stop thinking about Yoongi.

Your fingers twitch at your side, your jaw working as you grit your teeth.

“It’s alright,” Erik obviously gets the wrong impression, and when you look back at him, he’s already starting to draw away. “If you’re busy we can do it another time.”

He’s giving you an out, you know. He’s misread your annoyance for nerves and has taken it upon himself to retract the invite. Even though he’s got the wrong reason, you gratefully leap on the excuse.

“Sorry, I’m just tired.”

He smiles, nods, and you don’t miss the way his eyes flick to your lips. More annoyance flares within you, a perfectly hot man, clearly wanting to kiss you and yet you’re pushing him away.

“I’ll text you,” he says.

You don’t even make a joke about how that’s what he said last time and yet it took him weeks to do just that. Just wave him off, mind slowly whirling with anger, building up and up into a storm.

It’s ever since you went on that date with Yoongi, he was supposed to be doing it to help you and yet he’s seemed to make you more undatable. He’s constantly on your mind, even when you’re with someone else you can’t stop thinking of him, comparing your date to his. And then that piece of advice, don’t invite any men back to your place, why did he have to plant that in your mind? Why did you have to follow it?

You become more and more irrational until you decide that the only thing to do is go and have it out with him. As if he’s personally sabotaged your date. As if by going and shouting at him will make anything better.

You don’t care. Reason doesn’t come into it. You need to let this anger out at something.

You storm into the pub, are a little annoyed that the door has one of the jams on it which means you can’t slam it shut. But never mind, because as soon as you spot Yoongi your gaze becomes like a tunnel.

He spots you when you’re halfway too him and despite the fact that you must have a face like thunder, he still smiles. You try not to let the way his eyes brighten at seeing you stop your anger. But it’s tough. That cute round face, those dark eyes, his cheeks lifting as his lips curl up. The pure delight in his face at seeing you. And then the realisation that you don’t look happy, that you are in fact storming towards him. His smiles dips and something flashes in his eyes.

“Hey, everything –”

“Your advice is shit,” you cut him off.

“Ok,” he elongates the word, clearly confused.

“Did you say it because you knew it would get in my head? Is that why you did all of this? Am I joke to you?”

“I’m not –”

“It’s that, isn’t it? You saw me that first day and thought you could have some fun.”

“I don’t know what you’re –”

“It wasn’t pity at all was it? Have you been mocking me this entire time?”

“Y/N.”

“Having a good laugh behind my back?”

“Y/N,” he repeats your name, his voice level, his face flat. But you’re on a roll, are deaf to what he’s trying to say. You don’t even fully know what you’re saying, are so worked up that you’re just spouting whatever words come out of your mouth, half of it rubbish, most of it you don’t believe.

“I mean, I don’t know why I listened to you in the first place. I’m a grown woman, I should be able to make my own decisions not just listen to yours. I just can’t believe –”

You finally pause when Yoongi takes a step away from you. You look at his retreating figure about to shout after him before he speaks.

“Priya, you alright to cover me for a bit?”

Your eyes glance to Priya and your heart drops, you’ve never seen the look on her face. Sadness and then such anger when she looks at you. You look back at Yoongi and watch as he continues to walk away. When you speak again your words come out softer and less sure.

“Hey, where are you going?”

He pauses, back still to you and then twists. His features are dark, his mouth a tight line. He doesn’t look happy.

“Believe it or not, I’m not about to stand around in my own pub and be shouted at,” he turns back away from you. “Now, you can either come with me or get out.”

You glance back to Priya who gives you the barest hint that she thinks you should follow him, even then she rolls her eyes at the idiot you are.

As Yoongi slips through the door to the back you make your decision and slip behind the bar. Half jog to follow him, eyes doing a quick glance of the room realising that though it’s not busy, everyone has just watched what’s unfolded.

Ducking your head in shame you head into the back. Think you hear Priya mutter something about how you should be treating him how he deserves and not abusing him. Your shame only deepens. Part of you wants to run away, but you continue to follow; you’re not about to run away from this colossal mess you’ve created.

You’ve never been back here before. A hall with doors leading off, you’re sure one’s to the cellar he took a picture of for you and as you head down the hall you see that the one that’s been left a jar has stairs. You catch Yoongi at the top just before he disappears behind another door at the top.

His flat is not what you expected. You expected dark and moody colours, little to no decorations. But what you find is a bright space, a large comfy sofa facing a large TV. Walls of bookshelves, littered with photo frames and well-read books. There’s a small kitchen at the back of the room, partitioned off by a breakfast island. The space is homely, lived in while also being incredibly clean, not a thing out of place, and not a spot of dust.

And then there’s Yoongi. Stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed, face broody as he watches you take in his home.

Even if it wasn’t for the shock of coming up here and seeing all of this, the fight would have already seeped out of you. The short walk here and the looks of disapproval from everyone doing enough to make you realise what a mistake you’ve made.

It’s not Yoongi you’re annoyed at, it’s yourself. And yet you were so caught up in yourself that you came here and took it all out on him.

You are well and truly messing this up.

“I’m sorry,” you start. “I – that – downstairs.”

You take a breath. Yoongi lets you have the time to stop and start again.

“My heads all over the place, and that’s not an excuse. But, I went on a date today and I couldn’t even invite the guy inside my house. He obviously wanted to come in and I said no.”

“And that’s my fault?”

“You told me not to invite anyone back to mine.”

He rolls his eyes, this apology isn’t going very well. His arms remain crossed over his chest, his stance defensive, but he seems to relax a little, as if amused by what you’re saying. It only irks you more.

“It’s not like I forced you. I didn’t stand guard outside your house stopping rouge men from coming in.”

“No,” you huff. “You didn’t”

“So you’re pissed I recommended you do something, and because you did what I suggested?”

You work your jaw, unable to meet his eyes, especially now he has a wider, more obvious, smile on his face.

“You’re right,” you say feeling completely deflated. “I shouldn’t have come.”

Still, you don’t move and Yoongi doesn’t confirm that he agrees with what you’ve said, that he too thinks you should go. You both just stay standing facing each other.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat.

“It was pretty shitty.”

“More really shitty,” you correct him.

“In my own pub too,” he continues to dig, the smile still on his face despite his words.

“I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

You do. It was him, in your mind, which is why you took it out on him. And staring at him now, you feel like you’re cracking at the seams. All this built-up emotion starting to spill out at the seams.

“Maybe I should leave,” your voice comes out hoarser now, the smile dipping on Yoongi’s face. “I mean, I’ve been a complete bitch, treated you like shit – I can’t just stand here, in your flat and pretend it’s ok.”

“Hey,” Yoongi takes a step towards you, his arms dropping to his side. “You’ve apologised.”

“And yet it doesn’t feel like that’s enough.”

“I accept it.”

You pause. He sounds genuine, looks genuine. Yet you still feel so guilty.

You shake your head, eyes flick to the sofa and while you’ve said twice now that you’re going to leave, you slowly move towards it and take a seat. Your head goes into your hands, so you feel rather than see Yoongi come to sit next to you, the cushions dipping down with the extra weight.

“You’re too nice to me.”

“Maybe I’m just nice,” you can still hear the joke in his voice even though it comes out quieter, softer.

You shake your head again, still unable to look up from your hands. You flinch when a hand comes to your back, the contact so delicate you weren’t expecting it. To your relief Yoongi only draws away for a beat before placing his hand on your back just as delicately. When you don’t flinch a second time, he must decide it’s ok to keep it there.

“What’s this really about?” He asks, his hand rubbing soothingly on your back.

How is he always able to read what’s really going on? It’s like a blessing and a curse. You feel embarrassed by the reason, feel like you’ve really built it up and if you tell him the truth it’s going to make it that much more ridiculous. But you’ve never imagined Yoongi laughing when you think about telling him your feelings. He may not return them, but he wouldn’t shoot you down for your own.

You take a breath, sit up straighter so your head is no longer resting in your hands. Your heart is beating a mile a minute and with Yoongi’s hand still on your back you’re surprised he hasn’t expressed his concerns.

In the second or two it takes you to sit straight, you mentally prepare to look at Yoongi. Still the concern etched on his features doesn’t make anything better. You remind yourself of what you thought earlier; don’t run away from this problem.

“It’s not that serious,” you try to lighten the mood even though your smile is forced, and your words feel heavy. “I haven’t killed anyone or anything.”

Yoongi doesn’t crack a smile, just stares you down with those soul eating, yet still soft, eyes.

You feel sweaty, feel like you want to bolt out of this situation, feel like you would literally rather be swimming with sharks then say what you’re about to say. But you try not to overthink it, try not to think of the what ifs and buts. If you truly care about this man, if you truly have feelings for him, then you need to say something.

“I like you,” your voice husky and weak.

You clear your throat, eyes drift and snap back to Yoongi as if unsure where to look, too scared to look at him but feel like you need to say this directly at him. When you speak again it’s clearer and more convincing.

“I don’t mean in the same way I like Priya or Jimin. I mean, I like talking to you, I liked our date together, I like your smile and your hair and I don’t know, I like you. And you don’t have to say you feel the same way, I know the date wasn’t really a date, but I can’t get you out of my head and it’s driving me insane – which you clearly saw tonight.” You pause, take a breath, and then say, “I really like you, Yoongi.”

#yoongi fanfic #yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #suga fanfic #suga x reader #suga x y/n #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi series

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heavyhitterheaux · 2 years

Text

One and Only

AN: yall probably are going to want to fight Urban after this 🤷🏾‍♀️

Synopsis: You're tired of your long term boyfriend acting single so you decide to give him a taste of his own medicine

Pairing: Urban Wyatt x Reader

Inspired by my Luna love @sinsandsuccubus 😘💕

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

You couldn't quite put your finger on why your boyfriend was still acting the way he was as of lately, but you were tired of it.

But, you shouldn't be surprised.

This is how he acted before the two of you had gotten together.

The only problem is that even though you held the title of being Urban's girlfriend, the title shouldn't even exist at this point.

Any time he went out he would be surrounded by different girls.

And none of them were you.

People would tag you in the posts.

The strippers

The lap dances

Getting drunk and high in public

Oh, and let's not forget him doing a body shot off of someone's boobs that weren't yours.

But you still stayed.

For reasons that you couldn't quite understand.

At this point, it was embarrassing and humiliating to see that someone who was in a relationship that was publicly known act the way he did.

You saw the looks of pity.

You were told numerous times that you didn't deserve this from different family members and friends.

The fact that even Urban's best friend Jack told you that you could do better.

He knew Urban like the back of his hand and knew his ways and from the looks of it, things had only gotten worse.

He thought that the antics might stop since he had asked for you to be his girlfriend but it was the exact opposite.

Urban acted as if he never had a care in the world or a girlfriend waiting at home for him.

I guess he figured, if she hasn’t left by now, then what makes you think she’ll do it now?

As far as you know, Urban hasn't slept with anyone else, but you had a feeling if he kept this little routine of his up that sleeping with someone else would probably be next on the list.

You knew he loved you... or did he?

Or did he love you simply because you were reliable and always there for him when he needed it?

Urban was going on tour with Jack and you had helped him pack everything in his suitcases.

You were nervous to say the least.

Different city every night also meant different girls every night which also meant them not knowing how to keep their hands off your boyfriend and to themselves.

He leaves tomorrow morning around 6 am to catch his flight and you were dreading it.

You weren’t really dreading it because you knew that you would miss him, that was a given.

You were dreading it because you already know that there will be plenty of pics and videos showing his extracurricular activities.

For now the two of you were just laying around the house and having a relaxing day.

One thing about your boyfriend is that he was perfect in every other aspect.

You didn't want for nothing with him.

Except him engaging in hoeish activities.

When he was with you, he was the perfect boyfriend and it was like a switch was flipped.

It was almost as if you were dating two different people.

"I'm going to miss you." You confessed while looking up at Urban who had his eyes focused on the television in front of him. He broke out of that trance when he heard your voice.

"You know you can always come with me, baby."

"If I want to keep my job, I can't."

If you wanted to eventually break out on your own, you needed to learn all that you possibly could and pay your dues.

"Can't you take off for at least a week?"

Honestly, every time that Urban left he would try his best to get for you to go with him, but nine times out of ten you opted to stay home.

"I'll see what I can do but no promises."

"You work too hard mamas."

"I have goals I want to accomplish. I have to work hard."

"Not being my girlfriend you don't."

"Not everyone has a famous best friend."

"But still..."

"Like I said, I'll see." You replied while kissing Urban's cheek.

"That way we can fuck in multiple countries. Maybe even join the mile high club."

"URBAN!"

---

It took some convincing but you were able to get a week off from your job and told Jack and Neelam so that you would be able to surprise Urban.

So far you hadn't been tagged in anything displaying Urban's nonsense which you were thankful for.

Maybe he got it all out of his system and is starting to change?

Your flight had been delayed so you missed Jack's performance, but was happy that you would be able to spend more time with your boyfriend.

The entire team had gone out to celebrate at a popular club in the city after Jack's performance and you decided to make your way over there. After you had gotten settled, Neelam sent a driver to come and get you and you began to make the short fifteen minute trip.

Once you were inside, you immediately spot Jack in the VIP section and he motions for you to come towards him. He met you halfway and brought you in for a hug.

"Hey Y/N, I'm happy you’re here."

"Always happy to spend time with you guys. Where's Urban?"

"Umm.."

"Jackman start talking. NOW."

"Look, I warned him not to, but..."

You peeked over Jack's shoulder the best that you could since he happened to be a lot taller than you and all you saw was red.

You went around Jack despite him trying to pull you back towards him and made a beeline for Urban. If you were a cartoon, there would have been steam coming out of your ears.

You make eye contact with Urban as he gets a startled look on his face and pushes the girl off of his lap.

Caught red handed.

The only reason why you probably didn’t know sooner is that no one was actually posting pictures and videos of what he had been doing when he was out of your sight.

At this rate, he was worse than a toddler and never knew when to quit.

"Y/N! Baby, what are you doing here?"

"Don't baby me. I was trying to surprise you but I see that you're still up to your old ways. I should have known."

"It was just a little dance. Doesn't mean anything." He says while looking at you but slipping the girl some cash.

"Are you serious right now?"

"I'm not about to argue with you right now in public."

He had you fucked all the way up.

"Oh, but it's okay to basically embarrass me and be all over other girls in public?"

"Babe, quit overreacting! Like damn, you always do this shit."

"If you even think that this is me overreacting you have no idea what I'm actually capable of."

"You act like I'm fucking every girl I see!"

"With your eyes, you definitely are. And how am I supposed to know that you aren’t?"

"You doin too much right now. I have never cheated on you."

“No you just like to do body shots off girls who definitely aren’t your girlfriend.”

“That was one time.” Urban muttered before breaking eye contact with you.

You scoffed before answering.

"Hmm okay then. Pick one."

"Pick what?"

"Me your girlfriend even though that title should be used very loosely or your hoeish activities because you damn sure can't have both."

Urban had a look of disbelief on his face, but remained silent.

That was all the confirmation that you needed.

"Looks like I got my answer." You responded as your eyes filled with tears and went to make your way towards the exit.

Jack tried yelling for you, but you needed to get away from everything and everyone.

You knew you should have stayed home.

---

It had been about three months and you had cut off all contact with Urban and you told all of your friends to do the same thing.

You were at the point that you didn’t want anything to do with him.

If he wanted to move about like he was single, then there wasn’t even a second thought to let him go.

It hurt like hell, but for your peace of mind you knew that this was the best option.

He could be free to do what he wanted.

While you had to work on healing your heart.

But, that was okay.

You knew it wasn’t the end of the world and that relationships would come and go.

However, you just knew Urban was your soulmate.

As crazy as that sounds.

To get you out of the house, a friend of yours was throwing a party and had been begging you to go for weeks.

You really didn’t leave the house except to get food and go to work and you had officially turned into a hermit.

You wanted to get back out on the dating scene, so you immediately said yes.

Little did you know the surprise that would be waiting for you that would take place during the night.

Urban walked into the party surrounded by his best friends and simply took in the scene in front of him.

He partied, drank, and smoked a lot heavier than he had been because he missed you.

He admits that it was stupid on his part to let you go.

And for what?

Lap dances and body shots?

Now he had been lonely as hell and didn’t have anyone to blame but himself.

You wouldn’t answer him when he called, the unanswered texts.

After the first month, he stopped trying to contact you.

He figured if you wanted to talk to him that you would’ve.

We were now on month three and nothing but radio silence was coming from your end.

Jack had hit him on his arm to get his attention and broke him out of his thoughts.

“What?”

“Uhh, is that Y/N?”

You did look slightly different, but there was no doubt in his mind that it was you standing there across the room in front of him.

You had dyed your hair.

Was that a new tattoo on your arm?

And you were surrounded by a lot of male attention.

“We can leave...”

“Nah. I’m good.”

He in fact, was not good.

He had his eyes on you for the entire night, so much so that Jack was starting to get concerned.

But, you still had yet to notice him.

“Uhh, Urb, you are literally burning a hole in the back of her head. Go talk to her.”

“She doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“You won’t know that unless you go over there. Truth be told you never deserved her in the first place because of your fucking antics...”

“Thank you for that.”

“Just being honest.”

It wasn’t until he noticed you and the guy you were dancing with were basically fucking while you danced on him.

Jack saw the look on his face and before he could say anything, Urban immediately made his way over to you and proceeded to throw your over his shoulder.

“WHAT THE FUCK? URBAN?! PUT ME DOWN! NOW!”

The two of you made it outside before he put you back down on the ground and you had a look of disbelief on your face.

“Okay um, for starters, hi, hello ex-boyfriend that I want absolutely nothing to do with. Second, what the absolute FUCK is your problem?”

“Look, I just.... I get it.”

“You get what?”

“Why you would get so defensive and mad over me being around other girls.”

“Okay, you got a taste of your own medicine. But guess what? You’re single and have no girlfriend now so I could care less.”

You turned to walk away, but he caught your arm turning you back towards him.

“Please Y/N, just give me another chance. I promise to do right by you this time.”

“Oh, I see. You don’t like when someone does the exact same thing to you so now you’re trying to make up for the shit you put me through. Is that right?”

“For the most part.... yes.”

“And you expect me to say yes with no hesitation?”

“I just.. please baby. These three months have been absolutely miserable without you. I promise you won’t have to worry about me disrespecting you anymore.”

“I’m not your baby. How do I know this isn’t a ploy just to get me back and you turn around and do the same thing?”

“Well, you don’t. It’s just a chance you have to take, I guess.”

“But, am I willing to take it? That’s the question.”

“You know I love you and I always showed you that.”

“Except when you would rather go get attention from strippers instead of spending time with your girlfriend.”

“Mamas, I don’t expect for you to make this easy for me but got damn. It doesn’t have to be this hard either.”

“Oh, but it does. What you put me through....I would have NEVER done that to you. And you want to know why? Look at how you just acted in that party when a man wanted to dance with me. Someone who wasn’t you.”

“I don’t know what more I can say, Y/N. I just... if you give me the chance you won’t ever have to worry about something like that happening again.”

You were quiet for a few minutes contemplating on what you wanted to do.

Did you love him?

Yes.

Do you see a future with him?

Yes.

Would you be able to look past what he did when you two were together before?

You honestly didn’t know.

You took a deep breath before saying anything.

“Urban...”

“Yes, baby?”

You didn’t even bother to correct him this time.

“If I give you another chance, the SECOND I hear about you doing some shady ass shit we’re done FOR GOOD. And I mean for good like there’s no coming back from that.”

“Okay, I got it. Soooo that means you’re my girlfriend again?”

“If you don’t fuck this up, I expect to be your wife but that’s another conversation for another day.”

“Best believe, I’m going to make that happen.”

Urban then kissed you and proceeded to pull you into a hug and you completely relaxed in his embrace. You missed this but you damn sure weren’t going to tell him that.

Noticing this, he smirked.

“Looks like someone missed me a lot more than she’s letting on.”

“Don’t push it Wyatt!”

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#urban wyatt #urban wyatt x black reader #urban wyatt x reader #urban wyatt fic #urban wyatt fanfic #urban wyatt fluff #urban wyatt angst #urban wyatt concept

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formulawrite · 2 years

Text

Romantic Gateway // F.D.

Summary: Felipe has a different idea of romance than his girlfriend

Warnings: None

"I can't believe you just said that" he said almost offended

"It's a fact, Paris is more romantic than Venice" i shrugged

Felipe and I were having dinner at the restaurant at his hotel, summer break was around the corner and we were planning a romantic getaway for a week, but of course we turned into a competition

"Paris is not that great, Is too crowded, the food is not that great, and i don't speak french" he pointed at me with his fork

"yes it has it's down side like everything does, and i also don't speak italian but i still go to your house there." I said finishing my wine “but please tell me a more romantic scenario than dinner on top the Eiffel Tower with the view of the entire city lights."

"a nice lunch by the Italian shore, the best gelato in town, boat ride down the canal, then i'll take you back to our hotel room and..." he started to whisper on my ear

"okay let me stop you there cause i’m terrified of that boat thing, plus we both know i'll say i'm not going to eat to much ice cream but then i eat too much ice cream and feel too stuffed to do anything else"

we start to get up heading to the elevators

"it's not ice cream is gelato"

"same thing" I leaned against the room door as we reached the floor

"it really isn't"

"fine, but i still had a better time in Paris one time I’ve been there than every single Venice visit" I said throwing myself in his bed his room

"It’s not the place babe is the person, speaking of... who took you to such an incredible romantic journey in Paris that anything else sounds dreadful?" he sat next to me

"babe don't start"

"i'm not starting anything, i just want to know who turned you into number one Paris public defense attorney."

I close my eyes thinking if i should tell him

"...Lando. When we first started dating."

"really? the ex that broke up with you over an instagram dm on your finals week? really?"

I shouldn’t have told him, i roll my eyes starting to get up but he pulls me back to the bed

"no no no i'm sorry i'm just messing with you" laughing and caresses his thumb on my cheek "ok how about we meet halfway and do both."

"you want to go to Paris and Venice?" raising my eyebrows

"yes" he shrugged “why not?”

"can't we just go somewhere else? like Portugal? Greece? or Brasil? you're already going there i could join" i was whining, there’s no way i’m packing a bag three times

"i'm going on a business lecture for my sponsor and São paulo is not romantic, c'mon i'm sure we can do both in a week"

"if you were born 3 days earlier we wouldn't be having this conversation" this time i managed to get up and get my washbag for a shower

"Not everything has to do with me being a gemini, i promise i'll plan everything to perfection"

"fine, but if it's not romantic we're breaking up"

"yes ma’m"

I stop before entering the bathroom

"this has nothing to do with you wanting to outdo whatever happened in my trip with Lando right?"

"c'mon do you really think i'm that competitive?" he responded trying to sound innocent

"you just turned this conversation into a competition love" I shouted already inside the room

"you started" he shouted back

...

"wow"

He really wasn’t kidding when he said perfection, the hotel was amazing with a breathtaking view to the ocean

"i told you, it's not the place it's the person" he was putting our luggage around the room “but the place does help”

"it was one wow because we have a nice view, i'm not sold yet" turning around to wrap my arms around his neck

"you will be by the end of the night" he wrapped his around my waist

"you seem confident"

"i am, i prepared the perfect date for my perfect date"

"you're so cheesy" i smiled giving him a quick kiss "i love you"

"I love you too, we have a few hours until our reservation at the reastaurant maybe we can take a bath and relax a little"

"we?" i raised my eyebrows at his suggestion

"i only said we should have a bath, you're the one with the dirty mind here" walking me to the bathroom

...

He was right, the dinner was perfect, candle light by the shore, the walk to the gelateria was even better, the simple street lights illuminating the cobble stone street, we talked and laughed about stupid things while Felipe walked with his arm around my shoulder the whole path kissing my forehead from time to time. it really was perfect.

"oh my god"

He was right again, gelato and ice cream are very different things

"i know, you should start listening to me a bit more"

he laugh as I punched him on the arm

"you ruined me for ice cream for life"

I was suddenly startled by a voice next to me

"un bel fiore per una bella ragazza?"*

the man who approached us was holding a basket with roses offering me one, i looked at Felipe for help, i had no idea what this man just said. he started to get his wallet chuckling at my expression

"la sua bellezza merita un intero campo di fiori, forse glielo regalerò un giorno."** handing him some money and taking the rose "grazie" the man left nodding with his head at us and walking to next couple sitting a few table from us.

"what was that about?"

"nothing, just agreeing how beautiful you are" he said smiling and handing me the flower.

we left the shop and sat at a bench near the pier with my head in his shoulder while he caressed my arm. it was silent. comfortable silence. i could spend the rest if my life like this.

"you were right, this was perfect"

"i'm glad you like princesa" I smiled, i always do when he calls me that "i like seeing you smiling like that"

"i like it when you make me smiled like that" i reached for his lips

"i was thinking... maybe we don't need to go to Paris... maybe we could stay here a bit more" i looked at him with hope

"we can stay here the whole month if you ask me" he said burying his face on my neck

"now that's a little dramatic"

"not if it's true"

"how about we go back to the hotel and finish what we started in the bath" I got up pushing him with me to press his body against mine

"i never been more in love with you" we kissed before he practically dragged me to find a cab

Guess Venice is not that bad after all

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

* - a beautiful flower for a beautiful girl

** - her beauty deserves a whole field of flowers, maybe i'll give her that some day, thank you

#Felipe Drugovich #felipe drugovich fic #f2 #f2 fic

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hannahssimblr · 3 months

Text

Chapter Twenty-One

The days in Cyprus feel nothing like the days at home. They’re missing the structure, the pattern, the routine, and a few days in I lose grasp of where I am in the week. Is it Wednesday? Thursday? The boys study and write for far too much of their time, usually taking up the evenings hunched over their laptops, which I find horrifyingly wasteful, considering the breeze is such a perfect temperature, and the flagstone of the house is warm underfoot in April like some divine miracle of nature.

I’m doubly horrified to walk in on them both at the kitchen table one morning, laptops and papers covering every inch of the surface. “What the hell?” I say, still half dazed from sleep. “It’s ten, are you setting up to be doing this all day?”

“You’ll understand when you’re in fourth year, Evie,” Shane mumbles. “The exams are looming large.”

“Here’s a concept, enjoy your holidays,” I say, and I shuffle over to Jude to gently squeeze his shoulders. “Bibliography?”

“Bibliography,” He grunts, and that’s all he will say until he can tear his eyes away from it. He’s a terrible multitasker, and gets so absorbed in things that he might as well be on another planet. In fact, I’m surprised he even realises there are other people in the room.

Claire appears from the laundry room with a clean set of towels and swoops over to the kitchen counter to put them into a large canvas bag, then throws open the fridge to retrieve a jug of fresh orange juice. “Looks like a girl’s day out,” She says with sparkling eyes. “As in, no boys allowed.”

“Oh thank God,” I roll my eyes theatrically, “They’ve been such a drag this entire time, I can’t wait to get away from them,” In fact they’ve been completely lovely, and my joke is wasted on them now because neither of them is even listening.

Claire and I have a quiet breakfast around the kitchen island while the boys work and the birds chirp happily outside the open door to the patio, and when we’ve cleaned up and gotten ready for the day she goes to kiss her boyfriend goodbye.

“We’ll probably be all day,” She says to him with a hand that smoothes down his hair, longer and more relaxed looking than it’s ever been. “I have some pretty fun things in mind for us, so I’ll see you much later on,” She smirks at me, “Or maybe not, who knows what we’ll get up to, we might end up out all night.”

“As long as ye behave yourselves,” He mutters.

“Are you jealous?”

“Of your girls day?” He glances up at her with a smirk, “Yeah I’m mad jealous, I can’t get over it. Go on,” he smacks her lightly on the arse, “Get up outta here, give us some peace, the both of ye.”

She studs his whole head with kisses, and I smile to myself watching them. They’re behaving in such a way that would have ordinarily disgusted me, but seeing them like this lately has only made me happy, like a little girl whose parents are getting back together. I lean my hip into Jude so that he can wind his arm around my waist and kiss the side of my ribs. He looks up at me through thick dark lashes, one hand still resting on his keyboard. “Will you miss me?” He says.

“No,” I tease, “I’ve had way too much of you already.”

“Fair enough, I’m mostly good in small doses.”

“Yeah, get me away,” I roll my eyes and act like I’m so tired of him, but the moment that Claire and I are out the front door I feel the weirdest longing in my body, an absence like a phantom limb. We climb into the taxi that we called for, and as we’re reversing out of the driveway I crane my neck in the seat just to catch one last glimpse of him through the kitchen shutters, craning over his work with the morning light in his hair.

The flea market in Paphos is crowded. As Claire and I walk towards the centre of the heaving mass of bodies we lose ourselves entirely in a cornucopia of wares. There are stalls piled high with linens, pillowcases with delicate embroidery, rugs rolled and stacked against walls, brown clay pottery, little boxes adorned with tiny beads, stalls stuffed with leather goods, hats, scarves, bandanas. Lost in a maze of colour and texture I feel like I’m inside a painting.

Claire stops and drapes a patterned scarf over her hair, bending down to admire herself in a small mirror. “Grace Kelly,” Says the vendor, and he speaks English, knowing we are tourists just by looking at us, “This is a very beautiful scarf for you.”

“I don’t think I’m like Grace Kelly,” She says, and neatly folds it back onto the table. “I’m just blonde, that’s all.”

“No, you have the same eyes,” he insists, coming around the table to admire her, “Just like Grace Kelly, this scarf is the perfect colour for you.”

“No,” She says again, sounding bored, “I’m a bright summer, this scarf has autumn tones, I don’t want it” and she links her arm with mine and guides me away from him before he can start trying to convince me instead.

“That would have worked on me,” I confess as we move on to the next stall, “I feel like someone could charm their way into my purse by telling me things like that.”

“Don’t say that too loudly,” she snickers as we pass another vendor who starts calling to us, saying we’re English roses. “Irish,” Claire hawks back in her best Tullamore accent, then to me, “I hate that, do you not? When they always think you’re British.”

“They always do, what do you think it is about us?”

“Your sunburn, probably,” she teases, and I stop at a mirror at a clothing stand to examine the rosy blush across the shoulders and chest. “One time when Jude was in Thailand this guy tried to fight him on the street when he thought he was English,” I tell her, “When He said he was Irish, actually, the guy bought him a beer, what do you think that’s about?”

“Well he’s not really,” She says with a roll of her eyes, “Sounds like he’s just playing the Irish card when it means he won’t get dragged into a fight.”

I laugh, “I don’t know, a lot of the time he seems deeply Irish to me, sometimes I forget he isn’t. Like, all the way, at least, because his accent is so changeable, and the way he phrases things sometimes just really doesn’t feel that American,” The owner of the stall starts approaching with an armful of white linen. “I don’t know what he is. Something in between, it’s really so interesting.”

“You’re so obsessed,” Claire says with a laugh, “I challenge you to go an hour without bringing him up.”

“Everything reminds me of him though,” I huff, and the vendor, without saying a word, holds a dress out in front of my body so I can see how it might look on me, “I swear, I see a seagull eating scraps off the ground and remember a story he told me related to that too, he just bounces around in my head endlessly. Oh this dress is nice, what do you think?”

“Yeah, for sure,” Claire agrees.

“Genuine linen for a good price,” the vendor starts saying, as though she believes somehow that I might be a tough-sell. What she doesn’t know is that I, for the first time in my adult life, have a bank account with money in it that I’m more than eager to spend. Then she says more things about the weave, and the hand sewn detail, about how I would look good in anything, but I’m really just focussing on the way that the colour, this slightly off white, creamy fabric makes my skin look like soft porcelain rather than it’s usual almost sickly, translucent white, and now these delicate embroidered details across the bodice pick up the green in my eyes.

“What does it cost?”

“Usually fifty euros, but thirty five for you.”

“Twenty,” Claire pipes up.

“Okay, thirty,” they both look at me. “Alright,” I say, “Thirty seems fair.”

“You just bought a dress that you didn’t even try on,” Claire points out as we walk away, and I peer down into the striped plastic bag.

“You’re right,” I say, “But isn’t it beautiful?”

“It is, it’s just not like you, you know, to like, just buy something without thinking about it.”

“I think I like having money in my account that I can do that with, it just feels like, why not?”

“And if it doesn’t fit you?”

“Well I think there’s freedom in impulsive purchases.”

I like the market. I move from stall to stall and look at everything, the pottery, the rugs, the postcards, the stalls full of vintage items, old records and lamps and pieces of ceramic. I let my hand brush over things, like I’m really thinking about buying it, and sometimes I even entertain the idea, but I don’t, until we arrive at the one with the sweets, heaps and heaps of them, prismatic, primary shades, glittering with sugar, and I buy a bag of peach rings, because I was never allowed to have them as a child. For some reason these were considered expensive, luxury sweets by my mam, and she’d usually direct me towards the ones that the local shop had tied up in little plastic bags with 50p stickers on the side and filled with an assortment of whatever was leftover at the bottom of the tubs once most of them had run out. I eat several of the peach rings but get sick of them because they’re too sweet, and it’s okay, because Jude will eat them for me later. It feels nice to be frivolous.

There is a woman moving through the crowd in a long skirt and a colourful shawl who is stopping to talk to people as she goes, trying to sell them something, I don’t know. I look at her for ages because her clothes are mesmerising, all rich jewel tones that move around her body like liquid, and layers of glass beads hang around her neck, reflecting cones of coloured light onto her bronzed skin. I want to try and paint that light to see if I could ever capture it.

Claire pokes a sharp elbow into my ribs. “Stop looking,” she hisses, “She’ll only come over.”

“Who is she?”

“I dunno, some fortune teller or something, it’s a scam.”

“Oh,” I don’t look away fast enough, and she meets my eyes through an opening in the crowd.

“Oh feck, she’s coming over now,” Claire turns away and pretends to be busy looking at some lace, “C’mere, just turn this way.”

It’s too late. The woman is at my elbow. “Kalimera,” She says in a smoky voice, and I realise with a tiny thrill that she hasn’t realised I don’t speak greek, she doesn’t think I’m a British tourist. I look right at her as she goes on, saying something else that I can’t understand, and when she reaches for my hand and flips my palm skyward I don’t stop her, I don’t really know why.

“I’m sorry,” I say to her, “Um, in English?”

“Ah,” she says, her accent thick, words fractured, “The lines, they talk much. Destiny, life, heart.”

“You want to tell me about my future?”

“For God’s sake, Evie,” Claire grumbles somewhere behind us, “Let’s go, come on.”

But I don’t want to be rude. “You know, I’ve actually had my palm read before, I don’t really think that I need it today.” She doesn’t have to know that I’m talking about Jen, who just looked at my hand and made stuff up, but anyway, she doesn’t seem to understand me.

“Eh?”

“No thank you,” I say more clearly, “I don’t want it.”

She doesn’t care. “I see destiny line, great success, you work hard, eh?”

“No,” I say awkwardly, and wriggle free of her grip. “We have to go now.”

“Tarot,” She says abruptly. “You know?”

I blink, “Like, as in, tarot cards? Like, death, the lovers, all that?”

“Yes, yes,”

“What about it?”

Claire groans dramatically and tugs on the strap of my shoulder bag and I ignore her, my interest suddenly piqued.

“I can show you,” The woman says, “There is another reader, not me, over there,” She gestures vaguely down the street behind her.

“How much?”

She waves her hand around indecisively, “Maybe ten euros,”

I shrug, “Okay,” and glance over my shoulder at Claire who looks incensed. “Evie! What the hell?”

“I’m curious, “ I shrug, “I think it might be fun.”

“Yes, a fun way to waste your money.”

I sniff, “Well, it is my money, and I can do what I like with it.”

“You’re throwing it away on things like this, it’s all just fake, they just make it all up.”

“Well, maybe it’ll be insightful, I don’t know.”

She throws her hands up in surrender, “Okay, fine.”

I turn back to the fortune teller, “Where do I go?”

“Here,” She says, and begins to weave through the crowd. I follow, and Claire is at my heels, muttering into my ear, “Wherever it is, I’m standing right nearby, and if they try to scam you out of more money I’ll actually go mad on them, I just can’t believe you’re actually going to throw your money away on this, it’s just…”

We end up at a wooden door tucked in between a cafe and a bookshop. There are plants from the balcony overhead hanging low above it, and pots of ferns and climbing mandevilla creeping up the wall intriguing me, beckoning me inside like it’s a secret entrance that has emerged from the wall at this particular hour on this particular day when the sun is at its perfect height to thrust a chink of light through the gap in two buildings upon it, but there’s a sign on the door saying TAROT READINGS €10 which kind of ruins the mysterious allure.

“Here?” I say to the palm reader, but she’s already gone. Claire sees my stunned face and points towards a produce stall. “She’s there,” She says, “She’s off propositioning someone else, in case you were thinking she’s after vanishing into a puff of smoke or something.”

“No,” I lie.

“If you want to go in I’ll be right out here.”

“Alright,” I say, and push through the door.

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#lucky girl part 3

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