#the past year has been so very much everything going wrong at every turn | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yeollie-plz · 6 months

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Fill

Miguel O’Hara x F! Reader

Synopsis: You babysit Mayday, it puts thoughts into Miguel’s head.

Genre: smut!

Warnings: smut, 18+, breeding kink, unprotected sex, pregnancy kink, p in v sex, kissing, biting, fingering, choking, spanking, daddy kink slipped in there at the end

Gif credits to owners!

Miguel was expecting to come home to his beautiful wife, eat some food, maybe make love to her, and bask in each other’s warmth until they fell asleep. What he sure didn’t expect was to come home to said wife babysitting Mayday for Peter. You might have forgotten to mention to Miguel that you were babysitting tonight.

Honestly, you didn’t mention it because you didn’t want him to say no and Peter and MJ really needed the night out. No baby. So now you and your husband were going to have a night in. With a baby.

To say Miguel wasn’t thrilled would be an understatement. He was borderline angry with you at the “slip” of your mind. It’s not like Miguel hated Mayday in any aspect but the thought of you holding a baby brought up strange feelings inside of him.

He had tried for the year that Mayday has been around to try and push those feelings down. But every time he saw you even glance at the baby had him all in a fit. Miguel didn’t think he’d ever be ready for a child again, but seeing you so motherly was changing his mind.

I mean, he didn’t think he’d ever want to get married again and there you were changing his plans.

You two have had the baby talk before, as well. You were always so understanding of his past and never pushed him too far. But he did notice the disappointment on your face when he had said he never wanted kids.

Never? Why had he said never? It was such a harsh conclusion and in recent months, it was one he was regretting making.

He could imagine you now, belly full of his seed, a prominent bump showing what the two of you had made.

Shit. He needed to get those images out of his or he wouldn’t be able to hold back.

Shaking his head Miguel retreated to the kitchen, leaving you to continue to play with the baby uninterrupted. Busying himself with looking through the cabinets, like he wanted to cook something.

“Miggy?” You questioned as you entered the kitchen, Mayday perched on your hip. He turned and took in the sight, imagining what a mini you would look like. He sighed.

“Did you want me to make you something to eat?” You were trying to read the look on his face.

“No.” He grumbled and pushed pass you and into the living room.

“Miguel, I know you’re mad that I didn’t tell you. But it was an honest mistake. Plus, you know I love Mayday and since we-“

“Don’t.” He cut you off. Your mouth snapped closed at what you were about to say. Before you could apologize Miguel made his way to the bedroom, slamming the door closed behind him. You blinked in shock, you didn’t want to start a fight in front of poor little Mayday. This would have to be brought up later.

It was nearing the time that Peter was supposed to arrive to pickup Mayday. You were a bit sad to say goodbye to her but you were also exhausted. Suddenly, you understood why Peter didn’t even change out of his pajamas most days. Especially with a spider baby!

She stuck to everything! And being someone without powers, your knowledge on the matter wasn’t very strong. Sure, you knew a lot about Miguel’s powers but he was what…Spider-Man number 30 out of 1 million? You wished you could ask Miguel for some help.

Eventually you figured out the best way to unstick Mayday was to distract her. Show her a toy, play peekaboo, maybe give her snack. Anything to keep her hands busy and off your ceiling. You hadn’t heard Miguel much through the night. You figured he had gone to sleep or was silently doing some work.

When you agreed to watch Mayday, you hoped the two of you would be able to do this as a team. But obviously, that thought was all wrong.

Peter came about 30 minutes later, knocking on your door. Miguel heard the door open, a few words being exchanged, and a rush of thank yous as the door shut once again. In a few quick steps you were moving across the house and throwing open the bedroom door. Miguel’s wife was not happy.

“Really Miggy? Slamming my doors now?” Usually the tone of her voice would make Miguel instantly apologize but he was too wound up to care.

“Yes I’m slamming our doors!” His voice was slightly raised as he gave a lackluster response, cringing at himself.

“All this and because I decided to help Peter out! You know they never get to go out. We are their friends Miguel, we should be helping them out!”

“I don’t mind helping out our friends, but this favor…I just.” He groans, running his face across his face and through his hair. His usually tight posture, slumping in exasperation.

“What Miggy? What is so aggravating about that little baby?” Your hands were on your hips, face turning red with your increasing anger. He was not going to get away with throwing this tantrum.

“It’s not the baby that is aggravating! It’s me seeing you with the baby!” His eyes soften as he admits the truth.

You were shocked, not understanding the meaning behind his words, “I’m the aggravating one?”

“No! Mi amor, it’s how I can’t get the thought of you round and pregnant out of my mind. The image of you running around chasing a child that we created. I thought after everything that I would never want that again but…”

It finally clicks, “You’re mad we don’t have a baby!”

“I’m mad I’m not inside you right now putting a baby in you” His eyes darken and rake across your form.

He crosses the room in three long strides, wrapping his arm around your waist pulling your body into his. His lips ghost along your neck, his hot breath creating goosebumps on your skin.

His mouth reaching your ear, whispering, “Do you want that? Want me to get you pregnant, baby?”

You can only whimper in response, which eggs Miguel on further, finally connecting his lips to yours. Desperation coats the kiss as he basically devours you.

He nips at your lower lip, pulling away. Looking down at you he takes a step back, your body reacts instinctively and tries to close the distance again. He stops you by cupping your clothed core. A strangled noise passes your lips as he uses his other hand to pull your dress over your head.

“Mmm, wore this like you knew I’d want easy access. Always so eager for this cock, hm?” His deep voice and words cause you to get even wetter.

The hand on your core moves a bit to tease you. He feels your wetness, moaning in satisfaction.

“I might not even need to prep you, baby. Wanna breed you like you weren’t meant to be bred.”

His hand grips your neck leading you towards the bed. The hand now makes it way behind your neck and brings your lips to his once again. The force causes you to moan.

“Why don’t you get on all fours for me?” He says it like a question, but you know it’s a command.

You do as you were told and get onto the bed on your hands and knees. You let your knees naturally rest a bit apart, knowing that he will just adjust you if he needs it. A hand runs down your spine, sending a shiver down with it. It reaches your ass and gives a squeeze before landing a firm smack there. Suddenly you hear a rip and feel your wet core exposed to the cool air. You glance down realizing that he had torn off your underwear.

You gasp, “Miggy!” Usually you would’ve found this extremely hot, if those weren’t your favorite panties!

“I’ll buy you new ones. Besides until you’re pregnant you’re not leaving this bed. You won’t be needing panties for a while.” Okay, now it’s hot again.

He doesn’t wait for you to respond and inserts a finger inside of you. He pumps the finger in and out quickly, testing how wet you are.

“Already all wet and ready for me. Just how I like you.”

Quickly, he pulls the finger out and before you can even protest at the loss he pushes his dick fully inside of you to the hilt. Another gasp passes your lips at the intrusion. He gives you no time to adjust before setting a pace, ravaging your body with his thick cock.

He continues his assault, pushing deep inside of you before pulling out almost completely and repeating the action. The force of his thrusts are making it hard for you to think, let alone hold yourself up. But when you start to fall to your elbows, his hand is quickly wrapped around your throat holding you up.

“Have you at the perfect angle, can feel all of you.” Is all he says as his fingers tighten on your throat. Your vision goes black from the intense pleasure.

He fucks into you harder as the pressure of his fingers releases slowly, letting some air back into your lungs. When you have enough air, you are moaning out as a particular thrust hits the perfect spot.

“Miggy please, need you to make me cum. Need your cum in me.”

His large body incapsulates yours at your confession. The hand that was on your throat makes it way down to your clit, rubbing circles into it. His teeth bite down into your shoulder, sending a shock of pleasure through you as you cum hard onto his cock.

The clenching of your orgasm causes him to groan and falter a bit, before he regains his head and pace.

“Mmm, gonna cum in you baby. Gonna make you a mommy.” He says as he shoots his seed into your awaiting womb. His orgasm seems longer and stronger than usual as he bites your shoulder once again.

After he recovers, he releases your throat, letting you fall into the plush sheets. Miguel slides out of you and pulls your body into his. He rubs your back in slow circles, calming you both down.

Eventually you speak up, “So what do you think? Think it worked, daddy?” Lust drips from your voice at the name.

“Fuck, maybe, and even if it didn’t I’m ready to go again. Just want you so full of my cum that you can feel it with every breath.”

And fill you he did.

4K notes · View notes

joonsytip · 4 months

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Withering for You || Seungcheol- Part 4

Pairings: Seungcheol x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, CEO! Seungcheol au, Husband! Seungcheol au, Wife! Reader au, Music Teacher! Reader au, Arranged Marriage au, College Sweetheart au, Exes to Lovers au

Synopsis: When you are arranged married to the man, whose heart you had broken years ago, even dreaming about mending things seems next to impossible when he has been holding grudge for all these only to return it to you tenfold.

Warnings (specific to this part): drama, crying, profanities, everyone is hurt and sad, everything is on rocks, mentions of infidelity (doesn't happen to though), mention of alcohol consumption, betrayal, italics represents occurrences in past

Word Count: 6.3k

TAGLIST FOR THIS SERIES IS CLOSED!

Banner credits to my baby @hoeforhao <3

[ SVT Masterlist ] [ SVT Flick - Fic Masterlist ]

They say betrayal is worse than death if you taste it from someone you trust, someone you love. It's stingy, it's sickening, it's scathing.

You have always believed in soulmates, entitled Seungcheol to that word since you've known him, even wanted to make promises of eternity with him. But you should have seen the signs, should have never crossed the lines. Must not have tried to slip into the loopholes.

But you got blinded by greed, a hopeful stance of getting back together. Was it so wrong to wish a happily ever after with the one you have loved selflessly? Apparently it was.

"Sit.", you tell Seungcheol and the later obeys.

And as he does so his eyes fall on a very familiar document kept on the table. Instantly, he goes numb.

You observe him for a moment and play the recordings Jiah had given you. Midway, a panic stricken Seungcheol runs to you and pauses the recording.

He grabs your arms and says in desperation, "I didn't do all this Y/N. I admit I had planned all this because I wanted revenge but please trust me, it wasn't me."

"Unhand me.", you command him coldly, "Your touch disgusts me."

Seungcheol looks at you alarmingly before freeing your arms. He thinks of ways to convince you because in actuality, like he said he had planned it all but something out of scope happened. He fell in love with you again so long gone were all of those thoughts and schemes.

"What goes around, surely comes around.", you let out a chuckle, "Maybe that's why, I'm going through this. I get that you wanted to trample me upon. It's fair, to think about what you've been through because of me, I could have understood.", you look at him, "You could have handed me the divorce papers on our anniversary. Could have had other women and it would have wounded me. But-"

The tears pooling at the corner of your eyes are streaming down, "But how could you stoop so low? Knowing how much this academy matters to me, knowing what music means to me, you went out to attack my soul."

"No Y/N, I was a fool, please please", Seungcheol is crying as well, choking on his words, "It was wrong of me but I would never--"

"They are calling me a thief. Because of this incident those out there are questioning my whole career. The career, I've pursued after fighting the odds, after struggling for years. The one thing that is entirely mine.", your eyes turn darker as you say, "You could have rather killed me, Seungcheol."

Seungcheol gasps and shakes his head frantically.

"Even if I clear my name today, there will be people who'll still doubt my ability. Some out there would assume that I might be guilty and just because I belong to an influential family, I must have pushed everything under the rug with money.", you are hurting yourself with every word you utter at this point, clutching your chest, "My image is tainted, my career is ruined. They will never look at me the same way."

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry Y/N", he gets on his knees and clasps his hands, pleading, "I would do anything to clear your name. I'd do anything to win back your trust just give me one chance--"

You take his hands off you saying, "I have always loved you, Seungcheol. Back then, even now, I have chosen you. But none of that matters now. You have stabbed me in the back but I'll be one to pay the price. I thought you'd be different but these genes run in your family. I can't even blame Jiah. You Choi's are no different from her--", you halt.

"What do you mean?", Seungcheol asks confused.

"As I said none of that matters now. You are so petty that you acted out the whole thing. You don't love me and from today onwards I won't either.", you answer him, taking out the wedding ring from your dress pocket, "Here, I'm giving you what you wanted.", you take his hand and place the ring on his palm, "Congratulations! This marriage didn't get through it's first year. But I have a present for you. I have filed for divorce, the papers will be sent to you as soon as they're ready."

Seungcheol is at loss of words. He's unable to comprehend the situation. He wants to stop you but on what ground? The irreversible damage is already done.

"I have all of my belongings sent over.", you inform him, "And if you're planning to create a fuss about the divorce and what's gonna happen after the conference, head on. I won't be giving up like last time. I'll see through the end of it."

"It's happening again", he tells himself and sounds so broken when he speaks through his wavering voice, "Please don't leave me again."

"I had no choice, I was forced to leave you back then", you mutter under your breath, making it impossible for him to hear, "I was willing to stay this time but I have to leave, this time for my sake."

While you gather the rest of your belongings, Seungcheol stands there helpless. And as you walk out of the house, he watches you take away the life of his adobe with you.

Seungcheol numbly tunes in to watch the press conference. He sees you on the screen, out of his reach, out of his life. He listens to each word you say. How sad you look as you address the matter. Even though your legal team briefs the journalists, his eyes are glued to you. He observes how you don't explicitly mention him or the Choi enterprise but throw sublte hints to catch on.

But you make it obvious at the end of the conference by announcing your divorce to Seungcheol.

"I have filed for divorce against Choi Seungcheol and I would like to refrain you all from associating me with the Choi's in future."

Seungcheol is immediately thrown under the bus. People who were coining you as a thief are now praising you and busy portraying him as the villain.

But mopping won't do him any good. His mind reel backs to every word you have said before leaving. He needs to get answers to some questions. Most importantly, he has to get you back.

The next few days goes by Seungcheol handling the legal charges against him which are minor because he digs out enough evidence to prove that he wasn't involved in the slander and Jiah is the main culprit, adding exceptional charges to the list that would nearly ruin her and damage her company's reputation.

The Choi enterprise faces reputation loss as well which results in their stock plummeting and the board of directors complaining about the situation. But being humungous in business, the impact isn't uncontrollable and since Seungcheol is mentally exhausted his father lets him loose taking matters into his hands for the time being.

Everything is manageable or bearable except for the divorce papers which he has received on your first anniversary, that sits coldly on his office table.

"The house I bought is an hour drive from here and I'm planning to stay there for some time, just to take my mind off of things." you say fishing out your car keys, "I have saved my new contact number to your phones."

"But are you sure you don't want us to be there with you?", your mother asks worriedly.

"At least let us help you shift--"

"Dad, I have lived alone before as well. Plus Chan and my friends are gonna help me with the unpacking.", you move over to hug both of your parents, "Visit me after it's done. Plus I'm planning to throw a cozy house warming house, not soon though."

"We're proud of you.", your mother says patting your head.

"I'm sorry for all the troubles and stress you've been through for the past year.", you mumble, quickly wiping your tears, "I'll be fine, no looking back promise."

"We have always trusted you, just take care of yourself and call us.", your father says kissing your forehead.

Chan waits for you by the car and he doesn't let you drive throughout the time it takes to reach your new house. As your friends help you settle into your new home, you are grateful to them for keeping you distracted and not bringing up Seungcheol.

"I'm sorry, Kwan. The academy had to face such an incident because of me.", you say hanging your head low in shame because you don't want anyone to see your tears, the can of beer in your hand remains unsipped, "I have decided to take some time off, please handle the academy and it's okay if you want me to backout. I'll transfer my shares to you."

Seungkwan blames the atmosphere for the tears in his eyes. He wipes them and sits beside you, "I couldn't have done it alone. The reason the academy exists is because we both had given it our all. So take all the time you want but you'll have to return."

You lean onto him and it's your brother who comes to wipe your tears.

"I'm so sorry Chan.", you speak through the tears, "I should have listened to you. I never thought that Seu--", you go quiet because it pains you to even say his name.

Everyone in room goes silent. It's not haunting rather comforting. But the successive ringing of the phones cause a mild commotion.

"Wonwoo keeps on calling us.", Eunsoo mutters, switching off her phone.

"Just tell him that I'm fine.", you tell her, "I'll give him a call later. I haven't visited Wonseok lately so I need to talk to him anyways."

It's amusing, how the night changes.

Seungcheol is distressed. He realises you are not the only one he has lost, he has lost Ms. Oh's empathy, he has also lost precious friend Wonwoo as well.

Wonwoo is back to his stoic self, the version he was when Seungcheol met him first. Only talks business with him, leaves as soon as he's done with assigned work. No more late night drinks, no more taking shots, none of the banter.

He watches you laugh as Wonwoo tells you something animatedly. He watches how your eyes are dull even though your lips are stretched.

Seungcheol had overheard Wonwoo talking to someone on the phone about his brother so he decides to visit him seperately just to check on him. He didn't expect to see you there, making him question since when you knew about Wonseok.

Your face falls when you're suddenly interrupted by Seungcheol's presence. He stands in front of you wordless, you don't bother to strike any conversation with him either.

"I'll get going, let me know if you need anything else.", you tell Wonwoo and turn around walk away.

"Y/N", Seungcheol says, "Can I please talk to you?"

You crane your neck to meet his gaze, "I don't think we have any business with each other. Do me a favour and just sign the divorce papers."

"I can't.", Seungcheol speaks out without missing a beat, "I need you Y/N, please give me a chance, let me make things right. I promise I won't let you down anymore."

"Enough with this act, don't assume you could fool me twice. I'm done with you.", you move around so now you're facing him again.

"You've changed your number.", he says meekly, "I don't get to see you anymore. That house haunts me, it's not the same without you."

You step in, closing the gap within you two, "You're facing the consequences of your actions. Stop acting like a fucking victim.", you spat out before walking out.

Wonwoo is torn. He doesn't want to take sides, it's even more difficult to see both of his dear friends grieving and suffering but there's nothing he could do.

"Wonseok is going through a series of surgeries because his condition had worsened and Y/N has been paying for them.", Wonwoo informs Seungcheol and before he could ask, Wonwoo adds, "You're already paying me more than I should be so I didn't want to burden you more. She had accidentally found out about Wonseok one day and decided to help me out even though I wasn't ready to accept it. She was determined and I couldn't stop her."

Seungcheol isn't surprised rather he is confused. This version of yours is what he was habituated to when you were dating until you convinced him it wasn't on the day you broke up. Something isn't adding up. Something about your nature and the way you act to what you had said that day are contradicting. You aren't mean-hearted, you are a giver so why did you years ago do something so bizarre, the thought is unsettling.

"She has been taking some time off from the academy, no one knows when she'll be back. She is so affected by the incident that she was ready to give up on the academy. The one she had built from scratch with her blood, sweat and tears." Wonwoo speaks disappointedly, "Do you realise what you have done?"

Seungcheol is ashamed, there's an unhealing pain in his heart thinking about you, about how he should be the one aiding you in your tough time but he can't because he's the reason you're in agony.

"As you know, I had also hated Y/N for what she had done. And now that you see me being friends with her is not because she's paying for Wonseok.", Wonwoo halts and takes a breath, choosing his words carefully, "It goes far beyond that. You have always been heedful, I think it's time for you to be vigilant as well. The truth might be far from what you've believed it to be."

Wonwoo doesn't spare another second on his watch as he walks away ignoring the desperate calls of his name.

Seungcheol's mind is not in place anymore.

Your thoughts are everywhere. Peace and happiness are some of the things you haven't gotten to feel lately. Though you've decided to spend time alone at home, the loneliness is caving you in.

Maybe tonight you're feeling a little more lonely than usual. Maybe you shouldn't miss the person who had pushed you to the edge of the cliff. Maybe you shouldn't be good with dates. Maybe you shouldn't trace your thumb on the calendar reminiscing about the day, you both had made it official years ago.

The damned tears aren't stopping, your heart isn't healing.

The bell rings and you are surprised because no one is supposed to visit you today. Quickly wiping your eyes and cheeks you don't bother to check the monitor and open the door.

At the other side of the threshold stands Seungcheol. Your red eyes gape at him as he looks at you shivering from driving all the way here in the snow.

"What are you doing here?"

You know getting your new address and number wouldn't be a big deal to Seungcheol given his network runs deeper.

"Can you let me in atleast, I'm freezing."

You cross over your arms and step aside. He saunters in and wanders off to have a tour of the house. He stops when he senses the glare you're sending him.

"If you realise that this house too plain for your taste you can always contact me. We're best in the business.", Seungcheol says as his lips purse in a line.

"I wonder from where did you get the audacity to come here?", you ask plainly.

"Just wanted to see you", he admits, "I miss you, Y/N."

You scoff at his words.

"Also, there's something you left behind, I found it while going through the drawers.", Seungcheol fishes out a notebook from his inner coat pocket.

You immediately recognise the object, raising your hand flat for him to handover it to you.

"I instantly got reminded of you always carrying it and scribbled down if anything came to your mind. Seems like you had kept this notebook from prior to university days.", he hands over the notebook and touches your hand gently in the process.

His touch turns to strong grip and he doesn't let go.

"Thanks.", you say trying to free your hand, "You should leave now."

The wedding ring on his finger feels cold on your skin.

"I know you remember what day it is today.", he says pulling you closer so that now you're colliding into him, your faces an inch apart. Your eyes are wide and the notebook falls as you're grabbing onto his shoulder out of reflex.

He has an undeniable look of longing in his eyes. You should just push him away, even kick him out but you find yourself frozen.

"I still remember falling in love with you, every moment of it.", he whispers, his gaze switching between your eyes and lips.

"So I do, Cheol.", his nickname slips out of your mouth so casually, there's a pause before you speak, "Why did you have to ruin it all?"

"I regret it all.", he gently holds your face, "But I realised that I never stopped loving you otherwise why would I despise you if I hadn't been in love in the first place."

"You could have broken my heart but you went after my soul."

"You did the same to me years ago. You took my soul away and I became just a shell.", he isn't complaining, just letting you know how difficult it was for him as well, "I planned everything to get back to you but what wasn't planned was my feelings resurfacing, falling in love with you all over again. I had forgotten all the schemes, had forgotten the reason why I hated you in the first place."

When he rests his forehead against yours, you close your eyes basking in the moment. What he did was definitely beyond any excuse but Seungcheol isn't entirely at fault. The fact that he was ready to start again with you after how you had treated him years ago proves the truth behind his words. The difference is you were forced to act out but he wasn't. He chose to destroy you.

So your eyes snap open and you're pushing him away.

"Leave Seungcheol.", you step away, "And never come back again."

Seungcheol sighs, "What should I do for you take me back? If you want I would never show myself in the vicinity of the academy. I wouldn't even ask you anything remotely related to your works or the academy. I'll stay all out of it, I promise."

"Nothing you do would make me go back to you.", your words taste bitter in your mouth, "We are not meant to be, we're not good for each other."

That is basically you firmly rejecting him, letting him aware that he has axed the mended fence.

Seungcheol smiles sadly, "Only if I could show you my heart and mind."

He then leaves with a heavy heart.

The next few days goes by Seungcheol racking his thoughts to make up his mind. Every time he thinks about you wanting to desperately cut ties with him, he relents. He laments on himself for what he has caused. At nights when he deliberately stays late, he mentally prepares himself to sign those papers because that's the only way to atone for his sins.

But those divorce papers get through every night without getting signed. Because when Seungcheol thinks he's ready that's when the realisation gnaws on him that he's actually not, that he'll never be.

And it gets harder each time he tries.

So one night, he lets his intrusive thoughts get the best of him and he ends up calling you.

"I'm trying but I can't bring myself to sign those papers", he speaks into the phone clutching it hard followed by a shaky breath, "I really want to give you what you want but whenever I think about not having you in my life, my willingness deters."

You stay quiet.

"Sorry to disturb you. Don't know what I was thinking. Please take care of yourself, bye.", he hangs up and collapses back on the chair.

Wonwoo watches through the blinds and he isn't new to this. Years ago Seungcheol had gone into a spiral, had almost given up on living post the breakup and now it hurts Wonwoo to see the history repeating itself.

So this time he promises to intervene for both of your sake, specially Seungcheol.

He has two things on his to-do list and though he isn't sure what the outcome will be, he's going to do them. He gathers everyone and let's them know of his plan.

"Mingyu, Eunsoo, Seungkwan", his gaze sweeps on the three, "You're gonna go and convince Y/N."

"I'll go to uncle and aunt.", Wonwoo says.

Eunsoo looks at him questionably, "We get our part. But are you sure your friend's gonna be okay?"

"Most importantly, I'm not sure how this will end because both of them are unpredictable as fuck.", Mingyu adds.

Seungkwan who was silent the whole time, speaks, "Guys, let's go for it. We will handle the aftermath.", he looks at Wonwoo, "You'll have to take care of Seungcheol because he's gonna hurt the most."

"It's better to be over it, Seungcheol deserves to know."

"What's wrong with you guys?", You ask absolutely astonished. All of your friends have suddenly busted into your house and are now advocating you on something that is supposed to be out of their box.

"Why are you suddenly siding with Seungcheol?", you say with a frown, "I'm feeling betrayed. I'm gonna call Chan now."

Eunsoo and Mingyu break into cold sweat knowing how scary your brother can be. Seungkwan sighs looking at the other two and gets that he has no other way but to sort down to what he's best at. He says, "Y/N, do you think we'd ever think ill of you? Do you think we'd be at your door because suddenly we felt emphatic towards Seungcheol? That's how lowly you think of us?"

The look on Mingyu and Eunsoo's faces are absolute comedic. They didn't expect Seungkwan would pull out his trump card.

Your gaze is unwavering when you say, "This won't work on me you know right?"

Seungkwan smiles, "Of course I know but we also know that you love Seungcheol and won't be happy without him. So we're saying all this just for your sake, not his, not anyone else's."

"You're wr-"

"You had 7 years but you couldn't get over him, even accepted his family just to marry him.", Seungkwan continues, "You had come across so many good men all these years but no one piqued your interest because you only had Seungcheol in your heart."

"Y/N, I did believe him when he said he fell in love again. I had seen the way he looked at you, the way he was protective around you. The way his eyes were always on you, radiating love. It may have started as an act but at some point it became real.", Eunsoo smiles at you, "He loves you."

"But Soo--"

"If you really loathed him, you wouldn't have waited for him to sign those divorce papers, you would have upsurged everything. You have the power to ruin the Chois wholly but you're just buying yourself some time.", Mingyi adds and immediately shifts to hug you, "What Seungcheol did was incredibly wrong, wait he didn't even do it. It was Jiah."

"Are you not getting Jiah did all just to separate you both again?", Seungkwan ask and you look at him wide eyed.

"She had done the exact thing years back and was successful. Please don't let her win again. If she can't have Seungcheol, she has planned all this for you to not have him as well.", Eunsoo voices out her concerns, "Don't let all these heartbreaks, tears and sacrifices go in vain just because of some misunderstandings. Don't do something you'd regret because you didn't mend it when you had a chance."

Your heart sinks at their words.

"Take your time but choose what you think is the best for you.", Eunsoo rubs your back gently, "Rationality shouldn't always take the stance, sometimes hearts should be listened to."

You take a deep breath and say, "Fine guys, I'll think about it."

The smile on their faces are unmatchable.

Seungcheol is worried when he receives a call from his mother asking him to urgently come to their house. Wonwoo is already waiting by the car and though Seungcheol asks if he knows anything he stays tight lipped throughout the ride.

"I'll be waiting for you right here. Call me if you need me.", Wonwoo says with an intone and for some reason it doesn't resonate well with Seungcheol.

He is led into his father's study where he sees both of his parents waiting. They are heartbroken seeing their only son. Seungcheol has lost weight, accumulated bags under red eyes, appearance unkempt.

"Take a seat.", his father says, "I have something to tell you and it's regarding Y/N."

Seungcheol immediately perks up at your mention. An eerie silence falls upon the room. Seungcheol's anxious gaze searches for his parents'.

"Y/N was forced to break up with you years ago. I had made her do so.", his father admits.

Seungcheol freezes. He thinks he's hearing things that are not supposed to make any sense.

"Ever since I had started the business I had been diligent to it. Dedication and honesty does account for success but so also being money minded and cunning. As years went by that consistency and success made me cling to riches, fame and status that came along with it.", his father says as he takes a seat gesturing him to do the same. "You must be remembering that we were facing financial crisis because one of our major investor had withdrawn. It had affected us greatly."

Seungcheol nods, "We were on the verge of facing bankruptcy."

"Since Jiah's father runs a finance company, we had made small sort of deals previously but that time the amount required was large and no one was willing to help us not even her father. But later Jiah came to me and offered me a deal."

"W-What deal?"

"That she would convince her father to provide us support only if", there's an ominous pause before Mr. Choi looks at him and says, "I remove Y/N out of your life."

A tear falls from his eye, as he hears the tale of betrayal from none other but his father.

"I have never liked Y/N, the reason was basic, she didn't belong to our circle. Initially I thought she was just a fling but so I agreed with Jiah."

Seungcheol is numb at this point, he just sorts to listening.

"One day I had brought in Y/N to let her know that she needs to find her way out of your life.", Mr. Choi's gaze falls, "She instantly refused. No matter what I said she wasn't willing to leave you. One meeting turned to two, two turned to three but she was hellbent on not letting you go."

"With Jiah constantly pressurizing me, threatening to nullify the deal if not taken action soon, I became desperate.", he confesses, "So I resorted to one thing I should have never done. I can never forgive myself for that."

You say in utter disbelief, "Why don't you tell your son to breakup with me instead? Stop pestering me, you know we both love each other and Mr. Choi let me make this clear, this is the last time I'm meeting you."

Mr. Choi gives you a sickening smile. He casually says, "Your brother is currently studying in Australia, if I'm not wrong."

You pale instantly, "W-What about him?"

"You're right, this is gonna be our last meeting. If you don't breakup with my son, I'm not sure what I'll do with your brother. What if you don't get to see your dear little brother anymore?"

"Mr. Choi, you can't do this. Please--"

"I'm not here to negotiate. I think you're smart enough to make the right choice. So tell me Y/N, what did you decide?"

You are crying and begging but there's no mercy reserved to spare for you. How are you supposed to choose between your brother and the love of your life? You will have to so you choose what's best for all, you choose both.

"Fine, I'll breakup with Seungcheol. So stay away from my brother."

Mr. Choi smiles in mirth, "You made the right descision. Rest assured."

With job being done, he is walking out of the hall when your call of his name reaches his ears.

He turns with an incredulous look on his face as he waits for you to speak.

"Promise me that you'll never tell Seungcheol about this incident.", comes your strained voice.

"I wasn't planning to anyways.", Mr. Choi says, "Even better for me, I promise to not tell Seungcheol about any of this."

Seungcheol runs to his father with the intention of doing something unspeakable but he stops right in front of him and collapses on the ground.

"How could you do this?", he sobs uncontrollably, "How could you stoop so low?", he balls his hands into fists and channels the anger on the floor, hitting it again and again that's when his mother steps in to stop him.

He looks at her and say, "How could you not tell me? How could you tolerate your husband even after knowing all this?", he then swats her away.

Getting up, he's gasping for air, unable to comprehend with the pain in his chest and head. Restlessness engulfs him but he doesn't let both of his parents to even touch him.

"I'm ashamed to call you both my parents.", he spats out, "I'll never forgive for ruining our lives. I hope all of this was worth it."

Then he's running out of the house ignoring the calls of his name. Wonwoo is immediately grabbing his friend, making him sit and drink water.

"You also knew but didn't tell me?", Seungcheol asks as fresh tears stream down his face.

"I only came to know recently and Cheol even if I had known, it's not my story to tell.", Wonwoo answers.

It takes Seungcheol over an hour to calm down.

"You don't need to attend me, I'm fine.", Seungcheol says stoicly, "You can go, I have somethings to take care of."

Though Wonwoo refutes but Seungcheol is adamant, leaving no choice for him but to obey his boss.

As soon as Wonwoo gets out of the car, Seungcheol drives off.

You are extremely tired, mentally and today for some reasons are you feel thinned out physically as well.

Staring at the cello, ominous thoughts fill in your mind. Because no matter how hard you try, you are unable to produce anything. There are no notes or no tunes, it's all blank.

And you're scared, what if music doesn't choose you anymore? What if you can't produce anything for the rest of your life? All these possibilities scares you enough to spend sleepless nights. It has disturbed your appetite as well.

Tossing and turning, as you've been doing for nights with minimal sleep at dawn hours, you sit up startled when the doorbell rings.

All the exhaustion is now replaced with concern when you see Seungcheol who continuously weeps at the door.

"What happened? Are you okay?"

Just a shake of head and he keeps on crying.

It's been about twenty minutes since he arrived crying and you're seriously considering about calling Wonwoo.

The way he's visibly hurting, hurts you too and you resort to hug him, patting his back, "If you're hurting because of me, please don't.", you say softly, tears pricking at your eyes subconsciously.

Seungcheol pulls away, looking at you. His sobs stop and the first thing he does is hold your face and kiss you. You're surprised, his lips graze yours but you don't kiss him back. Your hands push his chest and he's detaching himself mumbling a string of apologies.

"It was all for nothing.", he sounds so heartbroken when he speaks, "All those years spent in pain, hatred and resentment towards you, you didn't deserve any of it."

You have an inkling and it doesn't settle well in your bones, "Whatever you're saying is making no sense. Why are you here?"

Seungcheol looks dead in your eyes, "Because I know now. I know what happened all those years ago."

Your soul leaves your body at his words. You never wanted him to find out because you knew it'd tear him apart.

"W-Who told you?"

"Does it matter?"

And your very first instinct is to grab your phone and make a call to his father but Seungcheol doesn't let you. The phone gets snatched from your hands and thrown away somewhere.

"Why did you do it?", he asks and his questions irks you.

You scoff, "Are you seriously asking me why I did it after knowing everything? Seungcheol, I was threatened with my brother's life, what did you expect me to do?"

Seungcheol shakes his head, "No that Y/N. Why did you make dad promise you about not telling me about this?"

"What could I have done Seungcheol?", your voice cracks, "I loved you so much and trust me, I tried everything I could to be with you, to not hurt you but-- it killed me to lie to you. I went through hell and back trying to stop myself from telling you 'no I'm lying, please don't leave, I love you as much as you do'.

"That day I took your heart away.", You exhale sharply, "I didn't want to crush your soul as well, didn't want to make it anymore difficult for you then it already was. I knew how much you looked upto your father, how much you cherished your parents. I didn't want you to fight your family", your heart twinges as you continue, "Though it wasn't possible for me to love again, I prayed that you would move on, meet someone who'd make you forget all the sorrows I gave you. I wished for you to fall in love again and live happily."

You chuckled through your tears, "Won't lie, it would have hurt me but if it assured your happiness I'd have hurt myself all over again, all of the times."

Seungcheol observes you quietly, he absorbs your words to his heart.

"What does that make me, Y/N?", he asks defeated.

"You weren't at fault, Cheol. I chose what it seemed the best for all of us."

"I hated you, married you and plotted revenge. Hurt you and now indirectly lead to something that almost ruined your career.", he speaks as if he's narrating a monologue, "I kept wounding the wounded and siding with the foes."

"Stop blaming yourself. What you did was indeed wrong, you should have never attempted take a blow at my career. But years ago, even after all that you were ready to start again.", you remind him.

Seungcheol completely shuts himself out.

"Till yesterday, I was in a dilemma. They say if you love someone you should let them go. Call me selfish but I couldn't even think of parting ways with you. I wanted to fight for us. I'd have courted you until you got bored of me. I would have waited for a lifetime, even if you'd have moved on.", he avoids eye contact so that his resolution doesn't deter, "But how could I tie you to the people who tried to harm you, harm your family?"

"I won't beg for forgiveness anymore. Honestly, I don't want you to forgive us. If you're having second thoughts about us, discard them. Please just discard me.", he voices out in desperation, "Be selfish and choose yourself this one time."

He takes out a paper from his coat pocket which you recognise very well.

"Till yesterday signing these papers seemed impossible for me but it's surprising, how events turned out to be.", he takes your hand and places the paper saying, "I have signed them. This time I chose what's best for you."

There's a sickening churn in your stomach that makes you realise that there's nothing you can do.

"I love you, Y/N."

The weight of those words fall heavy on you as Seungcheol closes in.

"For one last time, please.", he says holding your face.

You incline towards him and instantly his lips are on yours. One of his hands now settle on your neck firmly as your lips dance on featherly. His other hand is gripping your waist to hold you in place. The saltiness of his tears burn on your tongue, making you suck in a gasp. His kisses you till his heart's content because it's a kiss of goodbye before resting his forehead on yours.

"Don't go", your strained voice whispers, "Please don't go."

Seungcheol whispers back, "I have to. Please don't stop me, I'm not strong enough to refuse you."

The tears stream down your face, "Would nothing I do be enough to stop you?"

"Y/N, please", he pleads, "You were right when you said we're not meant to be because I have only hurt you. I don't deserve you."

"Cheol..."

He steps back and you're suddenly engulfed by coldness.

"The chapter named Choi Seungcheol in your life ends right now.", he balls his hands, grits his teeth, does everything to not let those tears spill, "Since you might not submit the divorce papers, I have already handed over a copy to your attorney."

He turns back, rubbing his chest, the pain is unbearable.

"Cheol, please..."

"It's snowing so don't follow me outside, you'll catch a cold. Goodbye Y/N."

Then he leaves, from your house, apparently from your life.

And you realised not all stories have a happy ending, there's not always a happily ever after.

→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip. ©️

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starryylies · 3 months

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Omg 141 with touch-starved gf that just gets turned on from every little thing they do cause she's not used to it. Been heavy on my mind

TF-141 with touch starved reader

Hiiii sososo sorry for replying late, everything is getting postponed cuz of work :((((

I hope you enjoy this anon! Thank you so much for the awesome request, I love it!!

PRICE-

ꨄ︎ loves it loves it lovesssss itttttt

ꨄ︎ thinks you’re like a cat who actually loves cuddles but acts like she doesn’t

ꨄ︎ calls you his kitty

ꨄ︎ loves patting your head and calling you his “good kitty”

ꨄ︎ loves how he’s the only one who’s seen how touch starved you are

ꨄ︎ lives for the reaction you have for when he even touches you slightly making body stiffen and your thighs clench from arousal.

ꨄ︎ will keep his hand on your thigh in public all to make sure you behave when others are around

ꨄ︎ loves teasing And welll taming you

ꨄ︎ thinks it’s adorable how you get all whiny when you’re turned on by his teasing.

ꨄ︎ but how can he stop when you look so pretty trying to hide your arousal

ꨄ︎ would make sure nobody finds out though, not because it’s embarrassing but because he doesn’t want anyone else to get the wrong idea and mess with you

ꨄ︎ will make you hump his legs when he’s busy

ꨄ︎ Loves how desperate you are when turned on :(

ꨄ︎ “use your words princess, you want me? my what exactly? Say it”

ꨄ︎ “bad fuckin’ kitty making me fuck you in the neighbors bathroom all cus youre a wet fuckin’ mess”

SIMON-

ꨄ︎ it takes time for him to get adjusted in the beginning

ꨄ︎ ar first he found it a bit overwhelming since he’s had terrible experiences in the past but as you guys go on with the relationship he slowly finds it comforting.

ꨄ︎ has a low sex drive in the beginning but will try his best to please you,

ꨄ︎ so in the beginning he started off by kisses here and there till he gets used to it more.

ꨄ︎ likes how you cling onto him as a koala :)

ꨄ︎ is very touch starved in the beginning but feels awkward about it

ꨄ︎ sometimes felt inadequate but those feelings are lost when he’s fucking you till you’re a babbling mess moaning into the pillow case. :)

ꨄ︎ slowly as your relationship deepens I believe his sex drive will increase greatly and now he’d be more comfortable being clingy and touch starved

ꨄ︎ would make sure you’re well satisfied especially during the days you ovulate

ꨄ︎ you both are like each others cuddly cats ₍˄·͈ ‧̫ ·͈˄₎

ꨄ︎ loves the way you whine under his touch

ꨄ︎ loves giving you kisses whenever he can in the house.

ꨄ︎ very protective and will make sure nobody takes advantage of you

ꨄ︎ loves the way your pussy clenches on him when you’re under him.

ꨄ︎ swears he will cum fast if you continue squeezing his cock so hard,

ꨄ︎”ugh fuckin’ hell princess not so right, gonna’ Milk me dry righ’ here love fuckk”

SOAP-

ꨄ︎ oh this man is a menace, will purposely tease you

ꨄ︎ he loves how you squirm when he tries kissing you

ꨄ︎ loves how you visibly gasp when his hand brushes against you

ꨄ︎ loves keeping his hands on your waist

ꨄ︎ will make sure you’re always satisfied, you’re still horny after one round? Let’s go again

ꨄ︎ will purposely make you sit closer to him when you guys are out teasing you by slowly moving his hand from your knees to your inner thighs~

ꨄ︎ kisses you so much, loves how audible whimpers escape your mouth when you’re on his lap and are making out

ꨄ︎ thinks you’re so cute when you tug onto him :))

ꨄ︎ loves the way you melt underneath his touch

ꨄ︎ is quick to notice when you’re frustrated and needy for him

ꨄ︎ he will pretty much fuck you like he hasn’t fucked in a year because god he lives for the little sounds and reactions you make.

ꨄ︎ pats your head too!

ꨄ︎ likes giving you massages :)

ꨄ︎ the massages lead to you pinned underneath him while his hands are gripping the bed while he pounds you till his balls are drained

ꨄ︎ “fuck Bonnie lookin’ so messy under me. you’re fuckin’ droolin, takin me in so good.”

GAZ-

ꨄ︎ biggest menace here, makes sure you’re always hot and bothered with him

ꨄ︎ oh god this man cannot keep his hands off of you

ꨄ︎ he will never ever get his hands off (until you say so ofc) but his hands will always be somewhere on your body caressing you

ꨄ︎ makes sure you get turned on when you guys are out

ꨄ︎ loves the quickies that happen when you both are out cuz you goy turned on cuz of him

ꨄ︎ thinks you’re an adorable mess when you’re horny

ꨄ︎ will buy a small panty vibrator for when he’s deployed

ꨄ︎ will turn it on any time he pleases so you don’t feel lonely when he’s gone :((

ꨄ︎ asks you to tell him in detail about what you did with yourself when he’s deployed

ꨄ︎ loves coming home from deployment finding you so needy and hot, climbing on top him the second he comes back

ꨄ︎ will probably try out many ways to tease you more

ꨄ︎ holds your hand or keeps his hand on your waist wherever you guys go.

ꨄ︎ If you’re ticklish he will definitely tickle you there whenever you feel low or anything.

ꨄ︎ loves taking care of you and loves when you cling onto him.

ꨄ︎ loves how sensitive you get when you guys are fucking but will ask you over and over again to see if he’s not crossing any limits.

ꨄ︎ “ya likin’ it babe? You like it when I come home only to catch ya playin’ with yourself? Couldn’t even wait for me could ya?”

ꨄ︎ “Yeahh fuck takin me so good, don’t squirm baby m right here, If it gets too much tell me okay?”

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californ1asnow · 6 months

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Call Me Up Again - pt. 2 Mike Schmidt x Reader

Part two of All Too Well Angst!!! So much angst everyone I've decided to turn this into a miniseries, this post being the second part. I'll continue to link chapters as I post them This is also being updated on ao3 (cough cough) No warnings this time 1.9k words

Snowflakes fall silently, coating everything around them in a white dust. The wind blows with a crisp chill, nipping at all the rose-pink noses. It sends shivers down the backs of those who dare be out in this weather. The pumpkins and fake graveyard decor that had once littered every home’s front yard has long since been swapped for tinsel garlands and pine wreaths.

The Schmidt residence beams with colored string lights and holiday music. A tall, sturdy evergreen sits patiently by the window. Its branches are decorated with years worth of homemade ornaments, ranging in all size and age from both Mike and Abby. The red skirt beneath it falls relatively empty of presents, only donning the few small ones Mike could afford to buy this year. They’re wrapped pathetically in an old birthday paper, the only wrapping Mike could find to reuse.

Usually, the tree is so full that he’s had to store things in his closet, but that was when you were still a part of their Christmas. Stockings hung happily above the fireplace and a love so innocent it wraps the house in a warm glow. However, it’s void of that feeling now, instead Mike is left to pick up the pieces that you once fit together. Abby doesn’t understand why you don’t come over anymore, or why Mike has been so quiet lately. All she knows is that something went wrong, and now everyone is upset. She’s stopped bringing up your name in conversation when talking to Mike, because it always ends with him withdrawn and retreating to the solidarity of his room.

That didn’t stop her from drawing you, though. Sometimes she’d sit at her desk, tears collecting in the well of her eyes, and doodle old memories of the three of you. She remembers them being happy, but by the time the crayons were set aside and the picture was finished, it was a glum mess of dark blues and frowning faces.

After a drawing is finished she’d slip past Mike’s room, quietly tiptoeing out the front door, and make a break for the house across the street. Your house. She’d work fast, her feet carrying her quickly to and fro. It was unclear from her perspective whether you paid attention to what she’d give you, but by the time she slipped a new piece of paper underneath your door, the old one she had gifted you was gone.

Mike was unaware of it all.

He had found a new job in town where he could bury all his thoughts. It was working construction for a local contractor, a job that certainly wasn’t ideal but it paid better than what he’d been used to. Unfortunately, it required longer hours and ate up all his free time, meaning Abby needed a new babysitter. A job that was once happily filled by your company, now replaced with an afterschool program suggested to him from a flyer he found at work. He hated the thought of her sitting in essentially another classroom, surrounded by strangers and snotty kids, but it was his only option left.

With a third of his paycheck dedicated to it, Abby now spends her weekdays at the nearby YMCA.

The first time he told her about the new program didn’t go over very well. He remembers it clearly.

“Abby please,” his irritated voice interrupts her incessant protesting, “listen, it’s the only place that can watch you.”

“No it’s not!” She yelled at him, her finger pointing to your house across the street, “I want her back!”

A pang of guilt struck his chest at her words. The lack of your presence has clearly been taking a toll on the both of them, but it’s the first time Abby’s ever been so vocal about it. He crossed his arms with a sigh, watching his little sister stare up at him with solemn eyes. Her lip quivering ever so slightly, evident that she’s holding back tears.

He crouches down to her level, just like he had done to you so many nights ago, “I’m sorry,” he pleaded with her, “but she’s not coming back right now.”

Her head shook with disbelief, stubbornly stuck in her spot, “Then make her come back.”

–

You’re not sure when the Mike shaped hole in your heart stopped aching, but it’s significantly less sore compared to a fresh wound. That’s not to say the constant reminder of him and Abby living across the street from you doesn’t sting. It’s hard enough to ignore all his calls, but trying to get to your car while avoiding his gaze is even worse. Eventually, he gave up on contacting you by the third month of radio silence. It hurt both of you, but you knew deep down neither of you could continue functioning like how you were.

The back and forth pull of his affection took too big of a toll on your mental well being. You can remember every moment down to the exact detail of how much you craved for him to just do something, anything.

All those times you held him in your soft embrace whispering sweet nothings in his ear, reassuring him everything will be okay, just for him to turn around the next day and never bring it up again. Or when you’d run your warm fingers through his hair to calm him down after a panic attack, and he’d let his head rest in your lap. Words of affection dripping off his lips like a rich honey, warming you up from the inside out. Then he’d disappear for a while, claiming he needed some space to figure stuff out, all the while you’d beg and plead for him to tell you what’s on his mind, only for him to give you nothing back.You stood by him regardless though, keeping a silent promise that you’d always be there for him when he needed it, a love that was never reciprocated back.

A long sigh escapes from you, eying the new delivery that just appeared by your door. You shuffle towards it weakly, unsure if you really wanted to torture yourself by looking at it. It’s one of those things that curiosity will drive you to do, unable to ignore it like a pedestrian passing by a car crash. The paper crinkles under your touch, unfolding it reveals the familiar childlike style of Abby’s drawings. A man drawn in green crayon frowns up at you, holding hands with an equally sad looking child. Your gaze drifts over to the other side of the paper, highlighting a person relatively similar to you standing alone with their arms crossed, angry. Your heart hurts at the sight of it, knowing that Abby is implying that you’re angry at the two of them. You shake your head quickly, trying to evade any tears that threaten to spill. It’s not fair for Abby to be caught in the middle of whatever is going on between you and Mike, and you realize that.

The sound of your phone ringing breaks your train of thought, and when you check the caller ID your breath hitches. Standing in the middle of your living room frozen with indecisiveness, you stare at the screen while chewing on the bottom of your lip. Without thinking, you accept the call.

“Hello?”

There’s a sound on the other end of the line, somewhere in between a choke and a gasp, and then your name is mumbled out in disbelief.

“I didn’t think you’d actually pick up…” Mike’s voice is still a little startled, mimicking the internal panic in your chest.

You suck in a deep, steady breath before answering, “Yeah, I didn’t think so either.” There’s a slight pause from both of you, unsure how to continue the conversation. It’s felt like years since you last heard his voice.

“Are you…doing okay?”

“...Yeah.” Your answer is unconvincing, but Mike doesn’t have any ground to be able to question it. So it’s left like that, timidly dangling in the air between you both.

You hear shuffling in the background, and a smaller voice asking a question before he dismisses it. Your heart lurches thinking about how Abby is there, trying to figure out who her older brother might be on the phone with. It almost makes your cool demeanor crack, urging you back into your savior complex.

“Uh, sorry about that,” your phone crackles back to life, “anyways, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Oh okay.”

“Can you,” he stops, leaving you on edge, “meet me somewhere?”

The lack of response from you causes him to start rambling, going on about how it would be better to talk in person, and how it would be easier if you could see each other’s expressions. Soon afterwards, a string of apologies ensue, and you pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration.

“Okay Mike. Promise me this will be worth it.”

“I promise.”

–

A young waitress stares nervously at your booth. Orders continually piling up, hungry customers giving her rude looks whenever she ignores their impatient huffs. It’s been a good thirty minutes since you first showed, and she’s checked up on you at least a handful of times by now. Mike had suggested this little diner down the street from your house, and you agreed to meet here.

However, it seems like you’re the only one who showed up.

Your back is pressed against the uncomfortable foam board of your seat, a leg bobbing rapidly out of habit. You pick at the pills on your sweatshirt sleeve, trying to avert your gaze from the sympathetic waitress. Prior to your predicament, she had asked if you were dining alone, and you told her no. However, It’s starting to look like you just might be. With anger bubbling inside of you, a voice in the back of your head is saying you should have seen this coming. It’s so typical of Mike to make promises that he’s unwilling to keep.

The air smells like grease, mostly from the old fryers sitting in the back of the kitchen. Oil bubbling and brooding in their tanks, waiting for someone to drop a morsel of food so it could shrivel in the scalding lard. Stomach stirring with disgust, a wave of nausea washes over you. It’s unclear exactly what’s causing it, you’d like to give credit to the sleazy restaurant, but something deep down points to the lack of a certain person’s company.

You keep your attention trained on the dwindling heat of your coffee. Both corners of your mouth scrunch downwards at the smooth ceramic now held in your cold hands. When did watching a cup of coffee become so interesting?

“Would you like some more?” The sweet but timid waitress asks you, now back at her spot beside your table.

A joyless smile flashes across your face, a futile attempt at masking your dejection. Pushing the cup forward, silently accepting a fresh refill from her kettle.

“He’s not worth it.” She adds, tipping off your mug. Her eyes refuse to meet yours as she does so, and you are thankful for that fact.

“No,” you respond back, “he never is, I guess.” Your voice is shaky, as are the hands that are folded in your lap.

Mike is not worth the years of being hurt and pushed away. Not worth the tears that fall after coming home from a night spent at his house, inconsolably sobbing because you know no matter what you do it leads back to the same thing. To give up all your time, love, and patience just to receive nothing in exchange.

It’s not worth the unrequited love.

“Can I have the check please?” You ask quietly, still avoiding the gaze of the girl next you.

Her head shakes with pity, fingers wrapping around the arm of the kettle, “it’s on the house.”

TAGLIST - @wriothesleysbimbo @psbc @victimsofadownn @that1lxnlybxch @callsignwidow

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt angst #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x y/n #taylor swift #all too well #angst #fnaf

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vivwritesfics · 18 days

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Fake It Till You Make It

Chapter Six - Where Is The Party Princess?

The Princess of Monaco is wild and out of control. She needs to stop being in the tabloids for all the wrong reasons. Charles Leclerc has had a spot of bad press since his very public break up. He needs some good PR. What better way to fix their problems than to pair them up?

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a/n: thank you so much to @nirrahbrii for help with some translations! i don't think this chapter would have been the same without that little world lol

Where Is The Party Princess?

The Monaco Post prides themselves on their ability to keep the public updated on the whereabouts of our favourite royal. We've documented every one of her scandals, from the time where she was fifteen years old and found herself detained by the police, to last year, when she was caught in bed with American actor, Glen Powell.

For the past few years, we have thanked the Princess of Monaco for providing us with such stories. She was a royal like no other, one we found our readers could relate to.

So, that leaves us to wonder, where is the party princess now? It has been a week since we've last seen Princess Y/N. Our sources have reached out to members of the royal family and staff for comment, but only managed to get one reply.

It seems, dear readers, that our beloved party Princess has run away.

"Are you sure you want the party princess to drag you down to her level? Because that's what's going to happen next time we're pictured together."

Charles turned his full body towards her. "What're you saying?" He wore a frown on his face, one that didn't suit him. She realised it immediately. He looked so downtrodden when he frowned. "Do you want to break this arrangement off?"

Once again she shrugged. "Just giving you the option to get out before you end up like Frédéric Archambeau," she said.

"Who is Frédéric Archambeau?"

"Exactly."

Charles sucked in a breath. He drummed his fingers against the arm of the chair and stood up. "That's it," he said, striding towards her. "We can break off this arrangement, if you want, but I'm not going to leave you to here to rot."

She scoffed. "Stop pretending to care."

Immediately, Charles took a hold of her mug and placed it down onto the coffee table. "Come on," he said, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet. "We're going away."

She couldn't stop the laugh that was pulled from her lips. "Fuck off, Charles," she said and pulled her hand out of his.

But Charles grabbed her again. He pulled her towards her bedroom. "Pack a bag, we're going somewhere warm," he said and pulled open her wardrobe.

"Where?" It wasn't a genuine question, more of a challenge. She sat on the bed and folded her legs under her body, watching him. "Where the fuck are you taking me?" Her voice was bitter, filled with venom as she watched Charles.

He found a suitcase under her bed and began throwing clothes in. It was impossible to sort out what was clean and what wasn't, so Charles just threw it all in. "Australia," he said. "Or Spain. We can go wherever."

"I don't want to go with you," she said immediately.

Charles released an exasperated sigh. "I am begging you to go along with this," he said as he crouched in front of her. "Don't even do this for me. Do it for yourself!"

"Why?" She cried. "Why the fuck do you care about me?!"

Charles dropped his head into his hands. "Please," he said quietly. "Just, let me help you."

It wasn't for her, she realised quickly. For some reason, Charles needed this. He needed this trip, she just didn't know why he needed her. "Fine," she said and began filling her suitcase with everything she'd need for a trip away.

A relieved breath left his lips. "Thank you," he whispered.

That was how she found herself in Greece with Charles Leclerc. For the first few days, the tabloids had left them alone. The Monaco press wasn't around to write new crap about her (so they'd been recycling the same old crap).

It took a few days for her to really warm up to him. She knew Charles, sure, but she knew the Charles the world saw. She knew the rich kid from Monaco, the one that the tabloids wrote about, the one that had the tiktok edits made about him.

She didn't know the real Charles. The Charles that loved his friends. The Charles that had so much he wanted to do with his life. The Charles that was genuinely so funny. She knew the F1 driver that doubled as a super model, she knew CL16, not Cha.

Cha. When had she taken to calling him that? It had happened all at once, but she hadn't stopped. It was maybe their second day in Greece, their second day of peace, their second day of getting away from it all.

Every call she'd gotten from Henri, she'd ignored. She didn't need her brother's constant scrutiny. He didn't approve of the trip, that much was clear, but she didn't care. Henri had tried calling Charles, but, at her request, he didn't pick up the phone.

Both the Princess and Charles were used to being waited on through their vacations. They were rich enough that it had become expected. But, for this vacation, Charles wanted it to just be the two of them. No interruptions, nobody to report back to the press.

Just the both of them making the most of it.

She stepped out of her bedroom in the villa and yawned. Her body was adorned in nothing but shorts and a vest top as she walked across the cold stone flooring, heading towards the kitchen.

Charles was already sitting there. He sat in just his swimming trunks, a coffee in front of him as he went through his emails. (As embarrassing as it was to admit, it had taken the two of them two days to work out how to use the coffee machine. She and Charles each had a coffee machine, but this one was different, not as simple as having a 'go' button.)

"Wanna go out for drinks tonight?" She asked as she sat opposite him. Her body was turned towards the kitchen doors, looking towards the pool.

She hadn't had a drink since they'd gotten to Greece. Charles was incredibly proud of her, although he hadn't said anything. "We can go for a few," he answered. Nothing too crazy, Charles wasn't sure what to do with her if she got too crazy.

He was barely able to take care of her after they'd gone to The Hole In The Wall.

Maybe that was what led Charles to suggest something else. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't in good conscience take her out for a night on the town. They'd managed to stay out of the spotlight for this long, and Charles could see how much good it was doing her. Doing both of them.

He wasn't ready to drag her back into it.

"What if we stay here?" He asked, standing up and walking towards the glass doors. He carried his coffee mug with him as he looked at the pool sparkling in the morning sun. "We could have drinks around the pool."

She let out a snort, one she assumed he would have found unattractive. "You still that embarrassed to be seen with me?" She asked through her snort. But then she saw the way his face fell. "I'm joking, Cha. Yes, I'd love to have drinks with you around the pool."

They went about their day, swimming in the pool, lounging in the sun, going out for lunch together (always in big hats and sunglasses. It wasn't the most covert operation, but it was working).

In the evening, Charles attempted to make dinner. He wasn't the best cook out there, but it was something he enjoyed. They'd gotten drinks on their way back from lunch, shopping in the little supermarket on their way back to the villa.

It wasn't supposed to be anything fancy, but she still dressed up. Charles had the nicest shirt and shorts combo that he'd brought with him and she wore a pretty little dress.

He wasn't going to admit that the sight of her walking down the stairs, sitting in the little out by the pool in that pretty little dress, it would have had a weaker man on his knees. Charles didn't know how he was still standing. Maybe because he wanted to help her, maybe because he respected her brother too much to try anything on.

She sang his praises while she ate, a far cry from the girl he'd practically forced to pack a bag just a few days ago. This was a side of her that the world had forced to hide away. This was the side of her he wanted to see, the real her that he wanted the world to fall in love with. Not the her that the world had decided to hate.

When they finished eating, they just sat there, drinking and talking as they looked at the pool. "So, are you actually friends with my brother, or is it just because he's the princess?" She asked as she drank from her wine glass.

Charles let out a laugh. That was exactly the kind of question he'd expected from her. "Henri and I are actually friends," he answered, not paying attention to the way her toe hit his knee (he didn't mind it, not one bit). "I'll admit, I felt bad when people called me the Prince of Monaco, and that may have contributed to me wanting to be friends with him. But our friendship is real."

She nodded as she sipped. "Must be nice having the Prince of Monaco at your every beck and call," she mumbled.

"You're saying that like you don't."

That dry laugh he'd heard so many times before, that dry laugh that Charles hated to hear, left her lips. "Trust me, Cha, I don't." She finished her drink and stood up. "At least, not the real Prince of Monaco."

He couldn't tell whether it was the alcohol that controlled her. But she hiked up her skirt and sat himself in her lap. It was so sudden, so unexpected, he had no idea what to do. Her hands were around his neck. "I'd rather have the unofficial Prince of Monaco at my beck and call. What do you think of that?"

Charles couldn't react. He didn't get a chance to, not when she pressed her lips to his own.

It wasn't slow, it wasn't full of passion. No, it was quick and clumsy. One taste of her lips against his own. And, when she pulled away, she laid her head against his shoulder. "I shouldn't have done that," she whispered as she played with his hair. "Oh, crotte."

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callsignvenomcod · 5 months

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a soft life

Prompt: Retired! Simon Riley. A slow life in a Manchester farm.

warning: mentions of PTSD, mentions of cartel related violence, mentions of violence, MDNI.

PS: Opening line is from the book "Jarhead" (2001) by Anthony Swofford.

______________________________________________________________

A story.

A man fires a rifle for many years, and he goes to war. And afterwards he returns the rifle in at the armory, and he believes he's finished with the rifle. But no matter what else he might do with his hands, love a woman, build a house, change his son's diaper; his hands remember the rifle.

Sometimes he could still hear the bullets.

For a long time, it was hard to convince himself he deserved to grow old. It might have been a given fact to some other people but not for those in the military, not for Ghost, at least; not after Tommy and Beth, or Las Almas or Johnny. It took him a lot of time to be grateful to be almost 40. For several reasons, he never saw himself living past 20.

And now he was opening up the crates of the chickens he kept in his very own farm, a piece of land he actually owned, without a mask on, very far away from the bullet sounds and a barrack, from the mud and the camo, away from everything and everyone, not sound in the horizon but the chickens and Riley, the border collie dog he got, barking at a three somewhere in the distance.

He retired the summer he turned 40, there was a ceremony and everything, with Laswell and Price and he got more chest candy that would eventually end up in a wooden chest, never to be seen again, under the bed. There wasn't a reason, he just had to. He was in his prime, physically, but his mind was made of glass lately, everything rubbed him the wrong way, couldn't even train recruits without snapping too hard at them, making them quit, yell at them too much, scare them too much, beat them up to a pulp too much.

Every man in the military had a story. A life before, a life after. And in the middle, sand, or mud, or just camo. A war that last years, a mission that lasts hours. Silence and nosie.

He, like other recruits, like other Sergeants, Lieutenants, Colonels, had shadows over them. It took months for him to stop looking over his shoulder while doing the big shop on a sunday, started going to those overnight groceries store to shop alone instead. The butcher's reminded him both of his adolescence and the carnage he had caused, flinched whenever he saw a mohawk kid walking down the street, looked twice sometimes only to find a stranger.

Sometimes he could still hear the bullets, aye.

He turned in his paperwork and retired silently with lots of medals under his name, lots of dead men and probably women under his knife, missing friends, missing nerves and too scarred to be a model now. Ha.

Oh, and Y/N's wanted to get away at some point anyway.

Y/N. The last drink he never should have had, the cut that made him hide his face, and the party that made him feel his age. Pulp's words, not his. All it took was a few nights shopping at the Tesco she was working in as a cashier, late night shift, for them to become acquainted.

A year of mutual pinning, a single night in which Y/N placed the bourbon bottle and the batteries inside of the paper bag and looked up at Simon, change in hand (because he paid in cash always, no traces behind) and smiled at him. COVID had made it easier to transition from the skull balaclava to a medical mask and then to a bare face, so Simon looked at her behind the black medical mask and stared at her while she opened her mouth.

-Why do bees have sticky hair?

Simon blinked, looking down at her. -Pardon?

No line behind him. It was the first time the cashier talked to him other than "Goodnight" and "Drive safe", or "It will be 5.66, please". There was a faraway sound of some sort of 80's American pop music, something to pass time by. Simon had noticed her since the first time he came into this very same Tesco a few months ago, had noticed how she sang along whatever music was on, how her Tesco blue uniform looked too big on her, making her look insanely small and slinky. He noticed how she was always almost without a medical mask and whenever she used it, it was laced around her chin; he noticed short, clean nails, and a heart necklace over her chest, a pair of dazzling dove eyes, full hips, a belly.

He really noticed the full hips.

The girl fucking giggled and repeated. She must had a bit of Irish in her judging by the sound of her accent. Simon felt as awkward as a teenage boy in front of any girl ever -Why do bees have sticky hair?

The man shook his head, still confused, a quid in his hand.

-Because they use a honeycomb.

Ah, a woman after his own heart. Such a lame joke.

He snorted out a laugh.

It simply slipped and he memorized the name tag before grabbing his shopping bag and shaking his head, hearing her giggle behind him as he exited the store, and he came back two days later after convincing himself he needed two jars of red bean jam instead of the usual one.

Sometimes he could still hear the bullets.

And now she sleeps here; and Simon had stared at her sleeping form wondering how much time it would take for her to start hating his way of loving, of being, how many times he would go silent on the phone, a bad texter, a worst caller, how he hated crowded places and loud noises and most of their dates happened in her flat, when her roommate was out, staring silently at a film on TV, her friends thinking she's getting her brains fucked out by an experienced, older, lust thirst Vet when in reality, Ghost was gathering up the courage to wrap his arm around her shoulders.

And now she sleeps here.

In the crook of his neck, his thigh over his hip, wild hair all over the bed, sometimes inside his mouth because he stopped using a mask a while ago.

In the mornings, tangled in their bed, warm sheets, the soft breeze of Riley sleeping under the bed, her sweet sweat and vanilla scented skin under his, it took Simon a few seconds to realize he was sleeping in the company of someone; in the arms of a woman and in his own bed, a king size bed with soft white sheets that were washed and changed every 5 days, not a twin bed in a barrack, that his years of active service were over, not forgotten, as if, but that he could allow himself to become whatever he might end up becoming if the 141 didn't happened.

-Come here, boy. Come here, Riley. Yeah, yeah...- said Simon scrunching down to caress right behind Riley's ear, the dog sticking out his long tongue and barking of joy mixed with the hyper sense of his breed, the soldier being careful not to break the eggs he held in a small basket. Simon had found him a puppy a few months ago, seemed like years really, in a litter box with 6 of his brothers and sisters, a beat-up cardboard sign reading "For adoption." And Simon picked up the only one with a lazy ear. He knew deep down that Y/N would appreciate that and simply put him in the passenger seat of the black Bronco truck he owned and drove all the way back home. -You're up early, eh? You having breakkie with us?

He had fallen into a comfortable routine now. He would wake up, crawl over Y/N's sleeping figure, careful not to wake her with the crack of dawn, 5AM with the BBC on his headphones, a 6'2 shadow jogging through the hills of the outskirts of Manchester, for an hour only the dark of the road, the eventual baby blue of the sky, the warmth of the sun. Sometimes Riley was up for it, sometimes he stood behind cuddled up in their room. And upon his return he would work out in their driveway for another hour, noticing the growing presence of what the media now called a "Dad Bod" (Y/N's words, not him) and eventually hearing soft barefoot steps coming from the room.

There was tea for two before he had to head out, get some tasks done, and a soft kiss hanging from Y/NS plush lips, and he would always try to push it, try his luck. He would smile against it, whispering "Good morning..." with a lazy voice, hands on Y/N's full hips, kneading them, in need of them, and Simon would press up with hard on against her stomach, while deepening the kiss.

It never failed to make her wet. It never failed to make her forget the kettle on the fire for a minute and simply give into his kiss, his embrace; him, overall. Simon would pick her up, easily, laid her on the counter, and her robe would open for him, with or without his help, and she was always so wet for him, so ready to do it.

-Simon...- she will say. - Breakfast...

And he wasted no time into twisting her words, dropping to his knees as if he was in the presence of a saint, of a virgin, of the end of the world, staring at her glistening cunt first thing in the morning, looking up with the adoration she deserved; she would gulp and argue it was not what she meant but she would recoil and whimper when Simon stuck his tongue inside his cunt anyway, overlapping her folds, blissfully eating her out before the sun was completely out.

The dog kept barking all the way down to the house, past the barn and the driveway, the small stable with the one horse they had, the pen he was building to eventually own sheep, and Simon felt the cold breeze of the early morning seeping through his black knit sweater and his jean jacket, as he walked all the way across the grass fields and into his porch, the swinging chair Y/N liked to read in, in a need of a reparation.

-Right...- he whispered to himself seeing the hammer he left outside to remind himself to fix the damn chair, bloody hell. Riley's nose peeked through the front door, opening it with ease and technique allowing themselves in, and the cold of the outside world was quickly gone.

Simon stepped into a cozy home, with a color palette he would have never picked, all warm yellows and oranges, pinks and whites, and soft cushions, warm blankets, a picknick turntable in the coffee table; and music, soft music he didn't recognize coming from it, a spinning record on it with yellow and pink lyrics, a girl signing about a loved one, and another voice, a present one, horribly trying to sing along.

He snorted out a laugh when Riley started barking and the voice was interrupted abruptly.

-Simon?...- Radio silence. -Babe?

Oh, the sound of his name in her mouth.

He crossed his living room, stepping into the kitchen, holding four eggs in a small bowl, one from each hen they owned, and he stood in the door frame, just a tad taller than him, admiring the view. He had endured white missions in the Russian winter, literal months of the gruesome torture and gory tasks and they all suddenly made sense because there was a girl.

Ah, there was a girl, alright.

Today was English breakfast. No peas for him, no sausages for her. It was stereotypical but easy to make and no one was around to judge them anyway. Next house was a few miles down the road, and even the road was far away, the town was a 30-minute ride. It was their little bit of heaven. The man stepped in, handing her the basket like every other day and kissed her temple, as she grilled some tomatoes slice ups leaning back against him. His hands would find her hips again and she would yawn with intimacy, hair still a mess, thighs still sticky. -Teas on the table, love. It's gone get cold.

-Ah, it's alright...- he said, hugging her tightly, as she kept leaning on him. -Slow morning today, eh...

She had been there and stuck around whenever the PTSD started acting up. She was the one that loved him when he started going fucking mental; and stuck around when she found her burning up SAS gear, a lost look in his eyes as he did so. He would throw in a Ghost mask and watch it burn for a moment, before murmuring a shocked sob and reaching out into the flames to retrieve it. She stuck around while he drank too much bourbon sitting on the porch, skull mask on, his dogs' tags held so tightly his knuckles will go white with force. Y/N even stuck around when the nightmares came, and she would wake up to Ghost whimpering on his side of the bed, breaking a cold sweat, his jaw tight and her brows furrowed, screaming out "Johnny! Johnny!" before waking up in tears, in raged hot tears down his cheeks, short of breath, his head a full of bullet noises and sirens wailings, pictures of his team and the blood and the grease paint. A mess. A shaking shadow.

Every October 11, she will make sure to hold him a little tighter, kiss him a little softer, love him, if it was possible, a little louder.

And she was here now, cooking breakfast, no peas for him; now he was living a soft life, with tea every morning, and a dog named Riley, with soft hands that wondered around his chest whenever he thought about Soap too much, about Gaz and that helo. But she was here now, and she had no sausages today, as they sat down on their small chair in their small kitchen in their small farm. He was living a soft life, and he didn't think of himself as worthy of it, but he must have been done something good to have her cooking breakfast and sleeping in their bed and caressing their dog under the table.

Tomorrow, Ghost would ask her to come out to the porch to find her reading swing fixed and a wedding ring.

She's going to say yes.

He didn't heard the bullets anymore.

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Hello! Venom here.

Thank you so much to anyone that's been liking my story.

Happy 2024!

#simon riley #cod headcanons #cod mw2 x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty smut #cod x reader #cod #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #ghost cod #modern warfare #mw2

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blackreaderfics · 9 months

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Off the Record | Clark Kent x Black!Reader

↳ Pairing : MAWS Clark Kent x Rapper!Reader (You)

↳ Rating : M (18+)

↳ Summary : Clark knows Kryptonians don't experience sexual attraction in the same way humans do. One night, he figures out who exactly turns him on.

↳ W.C : ~1.2k

↳ Tags + Warnings : logicalnerd!clark, clark is a late bloomer kinda, kryptonian biology is weird i guess, allusions to asexuality, sexual awakening(?), pwp, masturbation, fantasizing, onlyfans lol, mentions of leaked sextape

Masturbation was healthy; that much Clark had already known from sex ed classes and Google searches. And though he knew from his research that most pubescent kids started jerking off in middle school, along with having erections, he had never in his 30 years of life experienced sexual attraction. Ever.

When kids in high school drooled over naked women posing on the covers of Playboys or Maxims, he still tried his best to act the part of "horny teenager". He had crushes in his teen years too, but he never actively sought out sex.

There was this one time when a girl he liked had tried to initiate sex, but he was honest to a fault and truthfully told her that he didn’t like her in that way. Needless to say, she’d gotten offended and never spoke to him again. Since then, he’d hidden that quirk about himself from every single one of his romantic partners without fail.

Don’t get him wrong, Clark has had sex before and from what he could tell, he was pretty good at it too. Just like with his studies, as long he understood the proper mechanics of the subject at hand, he could go above and beyond for any performance.

It was basic biology. Having an erection required a higher flow of blood towards his penis; which he could do himself pretty easily since he had amazing control over his body. That was the result of learning how to be Superman for the past few years. Because of his “training” he lasted long and the (very) few men and women he chose to bed loved him more for it.

There were still some things he thought he’d never understand the concept of, however. Like, how do Kryptonians procreate if he can’t seem to produce the semen to ejaculate? The white liquid he’d seen in porn as a teen was like a myth to him. Jor-El never mentioned that in the Fortress of Solitude. He wouldn't be finding any Kryptonian biological literature available to read at any Metropolis public library either. It wasn’t like he didn’t try, but after some (controlled) tests, he concluded that perhaps Kryptonians didn’t ejaculate and he was okay with that.

So when Clark felt a strange sensation in his pants one night when he saw you on TV, he immediately thought that he’d fallen ill. Which was strange for him because, well, he’d never gotten sick. But there you were, mesmerizing him as clips flashed on screen of you rapping while wearing a risqué outfit leaving nothing to the imagination. Suddenly everything felt too tight, too hot. He gulped, nervously pulling at the collar of his t-shirt, but a knot remained lodged in his throat.

The camera angles panned across your chocolatey skin and ample curves, cutting right at moments where it veered dangerously into porn instead of what it was supposed to be—a rap music video. Clark had seen porn before and full-on bare naked women anyway, but he’d never been affected like this before. So why now? And why you?

Once the music video ended, Clark snapped out of his trance, but it wasn’t long before the now rock-hard and throbbing situation in his pants urgently reminded him of more pressing matters.

He quickly powered on his computer to search your name and, not long after, pictures of you filled the screen. There was a never-ending stream of shots of you on the red carpet, you on stage, photoshoots, and pictures you’d uploaded yourself on social media.

Every time his eyes would linger on a photo of you in a suggestive position, i.e. licking a popsicle or pushing your breasts together, his cock would twitch against his zipper. It didn’t take a genius to figure out where his cock wanted to be right now and it was right at the back of your throat. He unbuckled his pants, letting his first-ever unassisted erection bob up and against his sweater-clad stomach.

He’d never fantasized about someone having his cock in their mouth until tonight. Sure, his partners had given him blowjobs before, but he couldn’t even pretend to enjoy them. Truthfully, it looked like it hurt when they couldn’t even take all of him in, and he never liked to be the reason anyone felt pain. Clark scrolled on.

You had a sex tape? His brow furrowed in disapproval though he could feel his face grow warm. He couldn’t pinpoint what exact emotion he was feeling right now. Whatever it was, it definitely wasn’t a positive one.

The page he had landed on showed a closeup of you, eyebrows knitted in ecstasy as someone (he didn’t want to know who) hovered behind, hands gripping your ass, already in the middle of ravishing you. The screenshot made the corners of his mouth tug down in a frown. He didn’t particularly like the idea of watching other people have sex at all. And he especially didn’t want to see some other guy “balls deep” inside you instead of him.

More importantly, it just wasn’t right. He’d seen reports that your tape had been leaked without your consent; by watching it he would be actively infringing on your sexual boundaries. That definitely wasn’t right either and though he desperately wanted to, he didn’t have the heart to press play.

Onlyfans? Clark's eyebrows quirked up in curiosity. He clicked on a link he’d found on your Instagram page and there you were; verified with pages of content ready to be unlocked. After a moment of thought, he concluded that this was the most ethical alternative; much better than masturbating to your pictures or your sex tape. This way you would be paid for your work, and he would gain implied consent as a customer. He felt much better about this as he clicked the blue purchase button.

His cock throbbed again when he finally saw you, full lips planting soft kisses onto a dildo, your large almond eyes heavy-lidded and boring into him with lust. That’s when Clark brought a hand to his cock and began to stroke. What was once a motion that was alien to him, felt more and more natural as he pumped, matching his strokes to your pace. Your image on screen bobbed your mouth up and down making lewd slurps and moans, purposefully throating the shaft to the hilt. Each brief moment you came up for air brought a mess of saliva with you.

Clark watched on, immersed, bucking his hips into his fist as he imagined he was the one making you make those vulgar sounds. But something in the back of his mind was disturbed. Was this what he, Clark Kent, liked or was it an innate biological desire he couldn’t control from a planet he never knew? He felt disconnected; outside his body until, not even a minute after he had started the video, a sensation he’d never felt before came over him. He groaned and tightened his grip as he felt himself release.

A warm sticky liquid had dripped down his cock and onto his hand. Clark grimaced down at the mess he’d made, breathing erratically until he finally calmed down. His cock twitched and the last of dregs of his cum spilled out from his reddened tip.

He'd made two major discoveries that night:

1. Kryptonians did ejaculate after all, and 2. When it came to you, he wouldn’t be able to last very long.

©️ blackreaderfics // credit to cafekitsune for the dividers

#I have a part 2 idea for this ><#I want him to be assigned to interview rapper!reader lmao #i didnt mean for this to be kinda funny but it is #clark kent x black!reader #x black reader #black reader #clark kent smut #clark kent x reader #my adventures with superman #maws imagines #maws x reader #maws x you #brfwrites

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arsenicflame · 3 months

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Ed gets amnesia (Izzy-centric, pre s1 banishment, past edizzy to some degree)

It starts something like this: a rope left out after a raid, a captain showing off to the crew, a workload stretched too thin to have noticed the accident waiting to happen...

When Ed wakes, it's almost immediately clear something is wrong. He's lost a few years of memories- not much in the grand scheme of things, but it's enough that the man who lays in front of them is almost unrecognisable to the man they knew. He's from just at the point where he was starting to get frustrated with the 'ease' of being Blackbeard, tiring of his old life, but still so full of life and love in ways the present Ed forgot how to be.

He's a lot more on guard, for a start, waking up surrounded by strangers, even if they are treating him very nicely. He doesn't trust them, he doesn't even fake trusting them, just shuts them out completely.

Stede and Roach figure out what's going on pretty quickly and try to explain it to Ed after that, about what's happened and all the things he missed, but he doesn't believe them for a second- how could he? If he got hurt, Izzy would be there waiting for him to wake up. He always has been, always is, his predictable and reliable Izzy. He says as much to Roach and Stede, the only thing he will say, and they just... side-eye each other. They can't believe it- Izzy?

Anyway, Ed completely shuts down after that, so someone runs to get Izzy. Izzy, who had decided, after everything- especially the past few weeks on the revenge- that there's no way Ed would want him there. He's still lurking on deck because he can't stand not knowing how Ed is, but he knows that's not his place any more. So to say he's surprised when Stede comes and begrudgingly grabs him is an understatement- Stede doesn't tell him anything, obviously, just that Ed’s asking for him.

The way Ed’s face lights up as he walks into the room is a punch to the gut. There's a cheerful greeting, the kind he hasn't received in years, and Ed’s yapping on about what he's been told and what happened and "this ship, Iz!" and he's just... floored. He can't say anything in response, not even to confirm their story because this is Ed, this is his Ed, who's face is turning worried, joking about how it looks like Izzy’s the one with a head injury, and Izzy can't cope. He just... storms out of the room.

Izzy’s up on deck, and he's not even yelling, or working, or really doing anything, just aimlessly coiling ropes in a daze when Ed appears on deck after him. He's thrown his leather jacket over whatever of Stede’s clothes he was wearing, a return to his Blackbeard armour to be seen by crew, and he jogs up to Izzy and starts getting handsy with him, physically turning him to looking him in the eyes and check he's ok, just generally being casual in a way that nobodies ever seen them- a way that nobody expected Izzy to tolerate (but of course he does, its Ed).

Izzy'll stutter out a response and Ed will wrap his arm over his shoulder, casually, like that's a thing they do. He'll ask for a tour, for him to explain everything, like what's the deal with this Stede guy. He's still enamoured with The Revenge and all its bells and whistles, only now he wants it with Izzy. It's all 'Iz' and 'mate' and affectionate and a side of their relationship even the Queen Anne crew haven't seen in years, a complete shock to absolutely everyone except this Ed.

Ed shows Izzy the model of The Revenge again and Izzy is both heartbroken and so indulgent because that's the Ed he had once, and he's going to take every second while he can. Ed can show him every single trinket on the entire ship if he wants. Izzy's always been willing to indulge Ed to some degree (it's Izzy, after all) but there's usually external factors, like they're in the middle of a raid, storming a hostile ship, or being chased down by the Spanish without any plan and over the years Izzy’s taken to just trying to redirect Ed quickly rather than letting him get distracted with the next shiny thing. It's been a sticking point between them, Ed's distractions and Izzy's rigidity and inability to have fun even when the occasions fitting.

But, for all Izzy's gripes with The Revenge, he does know it's safe for them- or at least that he could take on any member of this useless crew who tried to take advantage of his captain's momentary incapacity. So he does, for once, feels safe to indulge Ed. And God, he wants to. He has wanted to. He wants to watch him forever, like he did when they were little more than kids. He wants to forget all the mistakes he made just to see Ed smile and light up at him one more fucking time. He's not going to throw away this opportunity, no matter how badly it hurts him in the end.

Ed's memories don't come back in a day or so, so the crew keeps getting these shows of their relationship in a way they've never seen before- all these casual touches, and the way he'll turn to Izzy before anyone else, even Izzy laughing a couple of times. The crew gets to see a completely different Izzy- one more like the man he'd have been on The Queen Anne, a man they can see means something to Ed. He's not just his rotten first mate, a necessary evil of Blackbeard, at some point it becomes very clear that Ed did like Izzy, that he chose to have him around. It's like being back when Ed and Izzy were on the same page, at the height of Blackbeard, their partnership, when things were GOOD.

And of course, Izzy’s going along with all this. He's not telling him anything about the way they're different now, about how they finished breaking their matelotage 6 months back, about how they've been living at arms length for years, about how this simply isn't who they are to each other any more. He couldn't possibly do that, not when he gets to live the best days of his life all over again, just for a few short days. Maybe he'll get a week or two, if he's really lucky.

It's hurting him, obviously, it feels like his heart is being ripped out every time Ed touches him, every time he corners him in the depths of the ship (still so untrusting of this unknown crew- not helped by how they treat Izzy. He sees the side eyes and cruel comments and notices in a way the present version of him never did, too wrapped up in Stede and the madness of this ship) but hey. Izzy’s a masochist. He'll take anything Ed gives him, and he'll especially take this opportunity to have one last taste of what he's lost.

At the time it faded so slowly he didn't realise he was losing it until it was all gone, but he won't make that mistake this time. He knows their time together is limited, and he's going to take every fucking second he can and hold it close forever. If Ed makes him leave after he remembers? After he realises the way Izzy took advantage of him? It's worth it, to have this again, one last time.

#this is probably somewhere between too fleshed out and not fleshed out enough. yet somehow still not the right amount of substance #but i didnt want to waste another month making the additional thoughts ive had on this idea flow w the rest so this is what you get #perhaps ill come back and add my (mostly eds perspective on all of this) thoughts in at some point. who knows #if you want a vibe as to where that goes ; huge inspirations in this concept draw upon the lyrics #'But I hate when I feel like this / And I never hated you' :'''''')#(lyrics from poke by frightened rabbit which is your edizzy song recc of the week)#nyxtalks #ofmd #our flag means death #izzy hands #israel hands #edward teach #blackbeard #blackhands #edizzy #post dedicated to my dearest sage for bouncing this concept with me !!! i love u SO much

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gabessquishytum · 4 months

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Burgess didn't summon Dream of the Endless in human form, he called to the Eldritch manifestation -- the "monster" with no human form and tentacles, that drives men crazy to look upon it.

Everything, human & animal, in the Burgess manse died the night of the summoning. Everyone in town or some miles from the actual house that didn’t die when Dream initally manifest went crazy. And unfortunately, Dream was trapped and couldn't free himself from Fawlty Rigg. The land and the house became a haunted and derelict, crumbling, with the Eldritch Dream trapped.

The crazy spread through the surrounding area slowly, but inexorably. With Dream forgotten, with his humanoid shape unknown,,,,,with the "story" of haunted land growing.

Hob, working on his first degree, on old architecture with haunted pasts goes to investigate for his thesis. Hob is old 😏 and has found that while most places, structures, have interesting histories, they are very rarely haunted.

Hob heard about the area around Fawlty Rigg being cursed, and certainly it was fodder for tales (Lovecraft's The Color Out of Space seemingly based on the area was published 30-ish years ago). But Hob has yet to find a place that drove him mad.

When he gets there a flock of ravens seem to be watching him - so at least animals are back?!? And creepy. Hob is only there for a few days when he thinks he hears his name being whispered on the air from the basement?? (a basement he hasn't been able to get into yet.) And every time he goes out to his car, there was a raven sitting on it,,,,,and today it spoke his name. So maybe this place is driving him crazy.

Jessamy: Hob Gadling! Thank dreaming. You can save Lord Morpheus!

Hob: I can save who now?

The raven tells him that his centennial stranger is trapped,,,,in the basement of this crumbling building. And that his presence has weaponized dreams and nightmares for the people in the surrounding area, driving every one mad! Hob as one of the only people who remembers, knows, Lord Morpheus's humanoid form, might be the only one who can help Jessamy's king back to himself.

Oooh this is a really interesting concept. Imagine what it's like for Hob as he goes through the crumbling house, into the basement, surrounded by the crushing feeling that something is just wrong in the air. Hob has felt a lot of weird stuff in his life but this is something else.

The thing contained in glass sphere is a squirming, pulsing, writhing. It's absolutely terrifying, and Hob nearly turns tail and runs. But at this point in his life he's not the type of man to just leave any kind creature locked up in a cage. He does as Jessamy told him, wipes away the paint around the sphere... and covers his eyes.

The sphere explodes, and Hob’s brain nearly explodes too. His consciousness is overwhelmed by an extreme burst of power. His nose is bleeding and he's still seeing terrible images in his brain when the explosion dies down and he manages to pry open his eyes.

There's his centennial stranger, sitting in the middle of the broken glass with sand seeming to pour around him. His eyes are glowing faintly and he's just looking at Hob.

And Hob isn't sure if he's gone mad like the rest of the people in the area, but he stumbles across the basement and scoops his stranger up in his arms, away from the glass. He's muttering that it's gonna be ok, and his stranger is clinging onto his and still leaking sand... its horrible. But Hob has never felt such pure joy in his heart.

He'd love to know what the hell he's holding in his arms! He's fascinated and, lets be real, kind of turned on by the idea of his stranger's power. He could swear that Jessamy winks at him on the way to the car.

Hob’s life just got hella fuckin weird... but hes going to do whatever it takes to nurse his stranger back to his natural self. However much sand he gets in the car.

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft

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tomssexdoll · 11 days

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OKAY HERES UR REQUEST BAE

obv mafia bill and he’s been at his hideout/mafia base all day for the past few days leaving you feeling neglected and never seeing him due to him having important business. finally one night he returns when you aren’t asleep and you confront him about his lack of presence which he rants about how shit is hitting the fan in his business which turns into an argument. and when you were getting all bratty and heated he blurted out sum “just shut up and let me fuck you” TEEHEE so he then fucks yoh very aggressively🙏🙏 “bein’ so needy lately.. gonna fuck the brattiness outta you..” “you jus’ needed some dick, yeah pretty?” and he starts overstimulating you too cuz he’s going ham on ya shit‼️‼️ “stop whinin’ and take my cock, this what you been craving right?” “such a perfect slut f’me.. taking me s’well” IM SO GOOD AT DIRTY TALK also i tooted again it stinky

MEOW OFC FREAKY GYAL

Craving you

PAIRINGS: Bill 2011 x Female reader CONTENT: ANGST + SMUT SYPNOSIS: Bill is a mafia boss and runs a very important business to keep his terrifying reputation. He has been really busy lately and barely at home with y/n, when he returns she complains about how neglected she feels by him. A/N: cum WARNINGS: dom!bill, sub!reader, p in v (doggystyle), choking, hair pulling, fingering, arguing and yelling

Me and Bill have been together for 3 years, we met from our families exchanging services at a dinner party, we instantly fell in love with each other and soon got together.

He runs a very important and high risk business, he hasn't really told me what it was, his excuse was he didn't want me to get caught up in it because of how dangerous it was, I pushed it a few times but all I got in return was more excuses.

Lately he's been super busy, at his hideout all day, every day. I got so sick of it, being neglected, at home just by myself with nothing to do, I wasn't allowed to go out without him anyways.

I missed him a lot, his kisses, cuddles, the way he holds me after sex, everything. I just wanted him back but I knew there was nothing I could do, he couldn't even come back home for the night and sleep with me.

One day I was in the bedroom, getting ready for yet another sleepless night without him when I heard the door slam shut downstairs, I heard his heavy footsteps go up the stairs and into our bedroom.

"Baby.." he sighed in relief, going towards me. His figure getting closer, I just ignored him and crossed my arms. "What's wrong honey?" he grabbed my chin, forcing me to look up at him.

"I don't like how you've been away for so long, I feel neglected!" I raised my voice, standing up. He grunted, "baby..I didn't want to leave you all alone like this but you know how dangerous my job is, some shit hit the fan in the business and I needed to take care of it, you don't understand how worried I was for you, how much I wanted to be home with you, kissing and cuddling you" he ranted, grabbing my arm roughly.

"Oh you were worried? Bullshit Bill, you never even called or texted, I was worried you were dead at one point, I couldn't even talk to the guards about it" I yelled, pushing him off me. He rubbed his temples in frustration, "for fuck sakes..are you fucking dumb? Does what I say go in one ear and out the other?" I scoffed "fuck you Bill, you really know how to comfort me don't you?" he groaned "how can I when you act like this?"

I rolled my eyes, "you're a fucking asshole Bill" muttering to myself. We continued to argue for the next 5 minutes, screaming at each other, yelling insults and heart crushing words to each other.

"You know what? I'm sick of you acting like a fucking brat" he spat "just shut up and let me fuck you" he grabbed my arm again, my eyes widened as I looked up at him, "Bill.." I stuttered slightly.

"Get on the bed" he commanded, his jaw clenching. I bit my lip, trying to stop myself from grinning like an idiot, if I did my punishment would be worse.

I slowly got onto the bed, bending over and waiting for Bill. The bed dipped and the sound of ripping came from behind me, I turned to look and he had ripped my shorts and panties off, leaving my pussy completely exposed to him.

"Fuck.." he groaned, swiping 2 fingers at my folds, "gonna behave for me?" he growled lowly, his other hand slithering up to my hair, pulling on it tightly, I winced and nodded "yes..please put it in.."

He chuckled, "bein' so needy lately, gotta fuck the brattiness out of you.." he stood back up and I heard his pants drop along with his boxers. He climbed back on the bed, grabbing my hips and pulling me closer, his tip prodding at my entrance.

His nails digged into my hips as he shoved his cock inside me, filling me up instantly. "Ah!" I cried out, grabbing onto the sheets until my knuckles turned white.

"Take it.." he groaned, starting to pound his cock into me roughly, his tip instantly abusing my g spot, "fuck!" I moaned loudly, arching my back to meet his thrusts.

Bill was always rough during sex so it wasn't something I wasn't used to, no matter how angry he was before or during sex he would never fail to comfort me after.

"Feel good baby?" he grinned, his hand reaching out to my neck and squeezing it softly, "y-yes!" I whimpered, he pulled me up to his chest with his hand, kissing my neck roughly.

"Mhm.." I mumbled, drunk off of his cock. At this point he was going even faster, his tip kissing my cervix as his cock was buried deep into me.

He groaned, throwing his head back in pleasure, his length ramming into me at an inhuman pace, nearing me closer to my orgasm.

His hand came down to my clit, rubbing rough circles. All the pleasure surging throughout my body made me overstimulated, it was too much for me to handle, "too much! fuck!" I cried out, the grip on my throat tightened "stop fucking whining and take my cock, this is what you've been craving right?" he rasied his voice, rubbing my clit harder now.

"Mmmph! Ah!" I whimpered, legs trembling slightly. "Such a good girl..taking my cock so well aren't you?" he grinned, letting go of my neck and letting me fall back onto the mattress, I breathed a sigh of relief, softly rubbing my neck.

I knew it was going to leave a mark but it was so worth it, then his hand came down to my ass, smacking it roughly. I yelped, jolting a bit at his spanks, "cum for me slut.." he grunted, grabbing my hips roughly and slamming his cock into me, "fucking cum!" he yelled, his cock throbbing into me, his release as near as mine.

"Fuck!" I cried out, my orgasm crashing down, cumming all over his cock. "Ohhh!" he screamed, burying his cock deep into me as he shot his load, covering my walls completely.

"Holy fuck.." he panted, grabbing me and pulling me onto the mattress with him, laying back and trying to catch out breaths. After resting he finally spoke up, "just needed some dick, yeah pretty?" he smiled softly, stroking my hair softly as he looked down at me lovingly. I nodded, a little embarassed for how I acted, "sorry for being a brat..you know how I get when you're away for a while and you don't contact me" I sighed, he brushed a few stray hairs away from my face "I know honey, honestly I can't stand it too.."

"I'm thinking of bringing you to the jobs with me, it's risky but I can't just leave you at home for days on end" my eyes lit up "really?" he chuckled "oh of course, they wouldn't mind because I'm the boss and they do what I say" I smiled brightly like an idiot, grabbing his face and kissing him roughly.

He slowly climbed on top of me, kissing me back and holding my waist, caressing it softly.

tags: @itsmealaiah @itsangelll @tomscumdoll @tomkaulitzloverr @ge-billsgf @ballhair @charliesgoodboy @bkaulitzlover

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zjpg · 9 months

Text

just a girl

'politics'

last - m.list - next

[march - pre season testing]

WARNING: misogyny, mean parents, politics and feminism (?)

the past two hours were filled with phone calls, all because of some words on her helmet. her pr team telling her to stay off social media while they control incoming questions, red bull management trying to defuse the media, horner telling her to 'stay tight' until it all 'passes by', her parents arguing with her, her brother's giving their opinions. she's talked to so many people in less that five hours and she's exhausted.

everyone has been checking on her since twitter erupted with criticism, towards her and each other. but after her morning, she wanted nothing to do with anyone. the silence on her end since the press conference must've been concerning, bottas and kimi even called her. but she's been ignoring every incoming phone call and text message. she took a bath, read a book, made some friendship bracelets, just anything to get her mind off of the constant hate.

she's glad that other drivers and teams are sticking up for her. it made her happy to see that the wolff family had her back along with her own team principal. she has new stations reaching out to her personally and asking for statements, assuming her team already shut them all down, she deleted each email. so unprofessional.

she was reading as she played some soft music in the background, the hotel suite she had been staying in gave her a luxurious yet cozy feel. she felt safe and comfortable in her little bubble, until someone came and popped it by knocking on her door. she sighed, letting the music play but putting the book down before answering it. swinging it open, she saw the familiar eyes staring at her from the other side of the door.

"what are you doing here?" she asked with a head tilt, letting him in even though she didn't want to.

"you're not answer me, or anyone for that matter." pierre sighed and walked in, holding a box of what looked to be pastries from the café down the street. "apple strudel, eclair's, and macarons." her favorite pastries, charles and arthur always bought her one - or all - whenever she got sad as a child. now it's become a less prevalent tradition as they've grown, she doesn't show much sadness anymore.

she excepted the pink box from his hand, sighing but taking them to the kitchen as he follows behind like a lost puppy. "why are you ignoring everyone? shutting us all out isn't going to make anything any better."

she knew he was right, and that's why she only grew more furious. she didn't like being wrong.

"i just need some time alone." she grumbled and turned back to him after placing the goodies on the counter, leaning against it. "i've been getting phone calls, text messages, and emails all week from people wanting something from me-"

"i don't want anything from you other than knowing if you're okay."

"i'm fine!"

"it doesn't seem like it!" her bareface was nothing new to him or really anyone else, she never wore makeup at the tracks, but it's the state of her disheveled hair, yesterday's pajamas, and the red eyes that made the current state of her mind very clear to the frenchman.

she let out a breath and gripped the roots of her hair out of frustration before releasing them again, "pierre. i need some space."

"everyone's giving you space, addilyn, we're worried."

"well don't be!" she snapped, yelling at him. in all his years of knowing her, the only time he's ever heard her yell is during race's and he wouldn't even call that yelling. "i can handle myself! everything going on is so fucking unfair! but i can't show that i'm upset like the rest of you can. i can't be unhappy, i need to be grateful, i need to smile and be polite! it doesn't matter if i'm losing a race or getting sent death threats, i need to be happy!" tears verged her eyes, her lower lip wobbling "please leave."

"addi-"

"pierre. please just go. i don't want comfort. i want you out."

he didn't want to, but he listened. he wanted to hug her, validate everything she's feeling, tell her she's going to get through it and how much everyone loved her. but he could tell in her voice, her eyes, she really didn't want him there. and he didn't take that personal, or at least tried not to. because at the end of the day he will never understand what she's experiencing.

he sighed, inching closer to her, watching as she allowed him to give her a small peck on her temple, "please take care of yourself." he said before leaving. as soon as the door closed, addi collapsed to the marble floor, her knees betraying her. she sobbed loudly, thankful for the thickness in the walls.

this week long period between practice and the race was going to be excruciating, not just for her but everyone. the press and media are going insane on everything from news outlets to social media. a lot of people are standing up for her, but it's the portion that are sending her death threats that she sees.

she's never felt so powerless before. even being surrounded by over-powering men, she's never felt so powerless. she feels lonely, but a part of her likes that emptiness. the emptiness of not having to talk about the same three things every second, the emptiness of not having to force a laugh at an unfunny joke.

she looks through all her missing texts, she didn't realize how much they've built up over the past 24 hours.

claire your brother told me what your parents said, are you okay? don't listen to them i head you're kinda ignoring everyone at the moment. i'll leave you be just know we all love and care about you i love you🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

daniel It's easy to let words affect you, trust me I know. I've obviously never experienced anything near this, but I can't imagine how you're feeling right now If you need a good laugh I have this really great movie to show you, so feel free to stop by anytime😊

nolan Mom and Dad need to get their head outta their asses. I'm sorry they said thatCharles called me. Just keep yourself safe and healthy.

arthurAre you okay? I know you're probably not I'm sorry you're going through this. I heard your PR team is saying you aren't accepting gift right now It's probably best, for security reasons. But a little girl came up to me in the lobby and asked if I would give you a bracelet she made. I told her I would, so whenever you're ready just stop by. I'll keep it safe for you :) Love you. ❤️

christian We're getting it sorted out Keep your head high kid!

max People are idiots. Don't listen to them. You know your worth. Let me know if you need anything, I support you.

pierreI know you said to leave you alone. I just wanted to say I'm sorry for yesterday. It wasn't right of me to bombard like that. I hope you enjoy the pastries though! I saw them while I was out and thought you could use some right now. Let me know if that bakery is any good, might buy myself some :) Love you!🤍

lewisHey, Addi You want to come visit Roscoe? I'm sorry about what's happening. Can anyone ship out Jewel? We all need a comfort buddy sometimes. Don't let what people say affect you, I know it a lot more easier said than done, but try.

mom Answer your father.

dad Answer my calls Your manager needs to stop telling me what to do I am your father. I come before sports. Your brothers told me you just aren't speaking to anyone. Stop being ridiculous. I told you not to make outrageous statements like that during season. And you add it to your helmet?!? Are you crazy Addilyn? You're going to get yourself killed one day!

yuki Do you want some food? I can bring you some 😁 Pierre told me you're kinda shutting down. We're all worried. But i understand you need space. So just let me know if you need anything :)

louisI told you this would happen Idk why you didn't just listen to me I told you if you put that stuff on your helmet people would notice and cause an uproar Posted or not.

sebastian Addilyn? I heard something about you not talking to anyone. Charles told me about your parents, I hope that's okay. Don't be mad at him, I sort of pushed it out of him. I'm here if you need me Kiddo. Don't fade away. I'll be there for you. 😁

valtteri You okay? How are you holding up?

estabonWe aren't close or anything, but you called me 'Estie Bestie' so I'm gonna count that as being friends. You need to talk to Charles or Pierre. Or someone. People don't know what they're saying online.

charlesTalk to me. Addi I know you're going through a lot right now but please talk to someone. Nolan told me about the argument with your parents. And Pierre told me what happened yesterday. No one's mad at you. At least let me know you're alive

kimi Hey kid, talk to someone, it's getting concerning.

lando I've been trying to stay offline. every tweet I see just pisses me off. I tried not to call or text because I know you want some space right now. But I hate no knowing if you're okay. Please talk to someone. It doesn't have to be me, just talk to someone. Adds please tell me you're okay. I care about you a lot Charles helped me with that, I hope he wasn't lying to me.

of course other drivers and teams have messaged her a few times since the incident began, but those are just from last night and the current day. she sighed, thinking to herself for a moment before opening one of the chats.

addi i'm alive

charlesGood. How are you?

addicould be better.

charlesYou wanna talk about it?

addi I'm so tired. i just wanted to stand up for women everywhere and now i'm getting death threats.

charlesI know, Chérie. I wish there was more i could do for you.

addii just want to race.

charlesYou will. Next weekend And you're gonna win And prove to everyone that you're more than just a girl.

addidoes that mean you'll let me pass you?

charlesI never said the winning part was going to go easily 😉

addipassing you is pretty easy, was just hoping we could avoid collision 😁

charlesOh screw off!For real though, do you need me to come over?

addiCould you?

charlesYeah, I'll be over in just a second with Charlotte❤️

taglist: @love4lando @fairiepoems @leilanixx @ietss @charli123456789 @ayoanna @enhacolor @be-your-coffee-pot @alixnsuperstxr @vellicora @tpwkstiles

a/n: i lied i'm uploading cause i wanna be cruel :) ALSO i would like to note that i'm aware the slogans on her helmet are not only used in america, the hater's tweet was solely to show their ignorance and that they are misinformed, i'm well aware of the terms and phrases being used all of the world (as they should be) 🫶🏻

#˗ˏˋ lucie. ❝ just a girl ❞#lando norris #formula 1 #arthur leclerc #charles leclerc #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x female reader #f1 x oc #f1 imagine #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly insta au #pierre gasly smau #lando norris smau #lando norris insta au #lando norris imagine #arthur leclerc smau #arthur leclerc insta au #arthur leclerc imagine

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fizzingwizard · 1 year

Text

Randomly visited reddit and saw this:

My first thought: it's an incel pretending to be a woman, because what modern woman thinks she's spoiled milk a 30??? (Aside from also trashing her girl friends - girl, get better friends!) But their profile doesn't seem weird in any way, so, I guess there are some people out there who really somehow believe youth ends at 29. Even some who have aged past it.

It's not even true that all 30 year olds are less beautiful than they were at 20. People age in different ways at at different rates: yeah, your likelihood of getting wrinkles and gray hairs is only ever going to go up. But some people don't have their style figured out in their twenties - some people turn thirty and freaking bloom. And you can't call that a late bloomer. 40 isn't a late bloomer either! 20 is nice but it's not the heaven on earth it's cracked up to be, and 30 is just getting started.

Idk about the rest of you but you know those posts about how embarrassing it is to look back on 14? Yeah, related to those when I was 20. Now I've passed the big 3-0, and guess what - I think 20 year old me was so silly lol. So insecure, so afraid to make mistakes, so resistant to change. I enjoyed my twenties, but my early thirties have so far been way better: I'm more confident, less self-involved, and I find happiness so much more easily than I did back when I thought everything I did had to matter So Damn Much. And if you think that doesn't relate to being attractive: confidence is 90% of it. Just walk up and smile. A confident, happy person always attracts others even if they're just average-looking.

Also for people who like men, don't forget: men in their 30s usually aren't quite the energizer bunnies they were in their 20s when it comes to ~sexy times~ The 20-year-old stud who insisted he could go for a roll multiple times a day, every day, is probably much less gung ho at 30. And also more forward-thinking, and less amaaaaazed by omg boobies!!! When you're young, half the excitement is just how new everything is. It gets less intense, thank goodness. (But it's still hot!)

This post just totally rubbed me the wrong way. It read as a still young woman anxiously wringing her hands in apology for having the audacity to be single at... 30?? And apparently not trusting women to have good advice about dating at 30 (so no point in me responding to her, lol), but perfectly comfortable kissing up to incel mindsets such as "women past 25 should accept that they're sloppy seconds" etc. "Value as a partner" do you have intrinsic worth as a human being?? Yes??? Then your value does NOT degrade. Yeah, you might have gray hair, the horror, so unsexy (I've had very visible grays since I was 23 and been dyeing since 26 lmao). Doesn't mean you're less hot than some 20 year old who doesn't know what she's doing. Doesn't mean it'll be at all hard to find a partner who will love you warts and all. Do you have this same expectation of men? Are you gonna start dating a 30 year old dude and then complain that he gets tired more quickly than a 20 year old would?? Is he less sexy just because he doesn't party all night and drink twice his weight without effect? Overrated overrated overrated!

My parents divorced in their 60s. My mom's got a new boyfriend who takes her dancing under the full moon. They're living their best lives way past their so-called "prime" and no, that is not rare - it's just a choice. If you view yourself as having some expiration date, you're not gonna do anything to improve your happiness once you're past it. Don't let incels or misogyny or whatever convince you your perfectly wholesome milk has gone bad, because that is a self-fulfilling prophecy.

ETA: Well, while I was working this got 150 notes, and although that's barely a drop in the bucket, it's still a lot more than my rants usually get (about 2 lol). So I just want to clarify a couple things so I stop getting comments about them.

This post was from the askmen subreddit. I left that out, feeling "reddit" was context enough, but I guess the implications may not have been obvious, especially to tumblr users who don't also use reddit. Askmen isn't a horrible place (a number of the responders pointed out why they prefer older women to younger ones), but many of its members have a pretty incel-adjacent vibe. Plus there are a number of women (real or not) who post there, many of whom have a similar brown-nosey "unlike those radical feminists, I'm a woman who knows her place" attitude.

It's fine to suggest the OP may have internalized misogyny from being abused - but it's not a given, as nothing in the post is a definite indication of abuse by itself. Big kudos for the compassion - just keep in mind that my response was about general attitudes towards dating post-twenties and not about abuse victims.

To the person who thinks a relationship of six years makes a difference somehow?: You seem to have interpreted my post as an attack on people who feel insecure about returning to dating after a breakup. But I think it's clearly nothing to do with that. Of course it is natural to have anxieties about being single after so long, but nowhere in this post was that denied or mocked. Whether you've been together one year or six, this post would always be weird - those natural anxieties don't make misogynistic mindsets about decrepit 30-year-old women any less gross. If you had decided to write a reaction to the OP's post, perhaps you would have chosen to center it on the effects of coming off a long term relationship, and I'm sure it'd be insightful. However, I am not you, and I chose to react to the attitudes around aging in relationships reflected in the post.

#rant

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david-talks-sw · 1 year

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It's a shame that the multi-media franchise of star wars have twisted the original narrative of the Jedi. I really love the sequel trilogy, I love season 7 of TCW, and Dave Filoni is amazing storyteller. But over the years, it's gotten to the point where the Jedi are being criticized to such a degree that now some people believe the Jedi should've changed their entire belief system. It's great to criticize the Jedi. They are flawed and not perfect. But now because they are now being framed negatively over the past 2-3 years and so now, some justify their genocide, disrespect their belief system, and believe Anakin was a poor victim who got caught up in everything. Lucasfilm or any writer is to blame for this, but I think people need to look a little more deeper into the media literacy behind star wars, and consider the fact that a child is going to love the Jedi despite their flaws and will be sad when they see them get killed. Because star wars is made for children who can look up to the Jedi as role models.

All of this.

I frankly don't know what else to add, @thecenturyofmusic said it all.

I also think there's an argument to be made for shifting global values.

I don't know about how it was in the U.S. specifically, but I don't remember there being as much of an emphasis on mental health back in the early 2000s as there is today.

Back then, I remember many fans sorta getting the core story but hating it, which resulted in a lot of them just bashing the Prequels.

Nowadays, a spin has been put on the Prequels wherein Anakin is the poster boy for the mental illness, he's just a victim:

he grew up a slave which gave him severe PTSD,

then was ripped away from the arms of his mother by

an elite order of emotionless monks whose emotionally-repressing teachings are the perfect representation of toxic masculinity and force you to never get emotionally attached,

who berated and rejected him at every turn,

he also doesn't have a father figure except for the Chancellor, who grooms him and isolates him,

and instead of supporting him in his hour of need, the Jedi hurt Anakin psychologically to a degree where at some point he just loses it and kills them all, because as far as he's concerned they were evil to him.

And... yeah. It can be interpreted that way. It resonates more to people when seen that way.

But it wasn't meant to be seen that way.

If it was, then we'd have seen very different Prequels.

Watto would have physically abused Anakin left and right like he's DiCaprio in Django: Unchained, instead of joking around about humans with him.

Shmi would've been on the ground crying, holding Anakin's leg and screaming "please no give me back my babyyyy!!!"

Literally every shot of the Jedi emoting, screaming, chuckling, being worried would be absent and they'd all speak with a monotonous voice, including Yoda, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan.

If we were supposed to feel like Anakin is in the right and the Jedi are in the wrong then we'd be shown an Anakin who isn't petulant, arrogant and overly emotional. We'd see a normal person who gets berated by a group of unfeeling old men.

Anakin wouldn't call Obi-Wan his father twice (which is admittedly a nuanced situation because while Anakin may see Obi-Wan as a father, Obi-Wan sees Anakin as a little brother so hey).

We'd see Anakin explicitly state that he's afraid of his wife dying, maybe carrying her unconscious body to the temple steps begging for help only for someone to reject him at the door because "it goes against protocol" and that's when Palpatine swoops in.

Y'know, more explicit, emotion-eliciting stuff?

But we didn't see any of that. Because it wasn't about any of that. If it was, then it goes about delivering its message in the weakest way possible.

While nowadays, the popular take is that Anakin's downfall is the fault of everyone around him, the intended take was that Anakin's fall was his own fault. Anakin is a victim of his own flaws.

The Prequels weren't meant to show you what happens when you keep pushing a mentally unstable person, they were about cautioning children about not giving in to their own fear and greed.

"How does a good kid become a bad man?" He let his inner demons - fear, anger, greed - get the better of him.

And that's not necessarily a take most people agree with these days, but that takes us back to how much importance you actually give to GL's original vision.

#jedi order #anakin skywalker

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vivwritesfics · 2 months

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Fake It Till You Make It

Chapter Three - First 'Date'

1.2K

Series Masterlist

Party Princess's Potential Prince

F1 fans are always delighted to see the Party Princess and her year's of friendship with Fernando Alonso. Every Monaco Grand Prix the two greet each other like old friends.

They were seen embracing upon the Princess's arrival to the paddock. Most fans thought nothing of it. It was normal for the pair. Ever since she first met him at ten years old.

Although interactions between the Party Princess and Alonso have been nothing but platonic, some if us are left to wonder if there is something more going on?

Princess Y/N is known for the string of lovers she had. Here at The Monaco Press, we have been lucky enough to interview some of these lovers. When asked for a comment, several of these lovers agreed that their is a high likelihood that the Party Princess has found herself a much older man.

The Monaco Press will bring you the latest on this story as it unfolds.

"Why the hell are you in my apartment?"

Prince Henri walked around the apartment. No matter how large he knew it was, the mess and the clutter made everything feel so much smaller. He kicked away a dirty, sparkly dress. "Can I not come and visit my baby sister?"

"You could have given me some warning," she said as she picked up the dress and the clothes that surrounded it.

Henri shook his head. "Get dressed. We're going out to dinner."

But she sat down on the couch instead. Henri rolled his eyes and stepped over the mess, walking into her bedroom. "Hen, piss off," she called over her shoulder. "I don't want to go to dinner with you."

A dress hit the back of her head. She grabbed it from the back of the sofa and held it out in front of her. It wasn't like the normal dresses she found herself in in the middle of the night, which were far too short low cut. It was black, went down to her knees, and covered up her arms.

"Seriously? Henri, I'll look like a nun."

"I don't care. Do I need to get you shoes as well?"

She glared and marched past him, into her bedroom. She slammed the door shut, quickly got dressed and ran a brush through her hair. She grabbed some flats that matched the dress and pulled them on.

When she was finished she opened the door and stepped out. "Jewellery," Henri said, turning her back around and pushing her into her room.

Her jewellery was all expensive and gorgeous. She picked out some stud earring that, although they didn't look like a lot, were worth more than her rent. Her necklace was simple, too, and she didn't bother with bracelets. Checking herself in the mirror, she walked out of her room. "Good enough for you, your highness?" She asked with a mocking bow.

Henri offered her his arm. She reluctantly took it and followed Henri out of her apartment.

It was a surprise to find no chauffeur waiting for them. Henri opened the car door for her before slipping into the drivers seat. "I've booked out the entire restaurant," he said as he began driving through the streets of Monaco. "Don't leave until you've given him a chance. Please."

"Wait, him?" She suddenly cried. "Henri, I thought we were going for dinner! You can't just set up a date for me and not tell me!"

Henri tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "I can and I have," he said.

She huffed as she sank down into her seat. "Who is it?"

"Charles Leclerc."

Charles Leclerc. She had only met him once before. He and his brother were meeting the Monaco family for some super formal interview. Charles had looked at her for most of the interview, and constantly brought up his girlfriend. It was big headed of him to assume she wanted him to the point where he mentioned his girlfriend every five minutes and she'd decided then that she didn't like him.

"Why?"

Henri slightly turned his head towards her while still keeping his eye on the road.

"Why have you set me up with Charles Leclerc?"

Henri shrugged his shoulders, and she could have strangled him. "You need good PR and he needs good PR. It just makes sense."

For the rest of the journey to the restaurant she was silent. She didn’t want to talk to Henri, not when he was such an ass.

When he parked up outside of the restaurant, she still didn't move. "Y/N, come on," Henri huffed. "Stop acting like a child," he said and opened his car door.

If there were paparazzi around, they definitely saw her getting dragged out of the car by the future king. "Henri! Stop!" She cried as she tried to fight her brother off. But he was bigger and stronger than her.

Her had her inside of the restaurant and sat down at a table in no time. She scowled, arms folded over her chest as she stared at the empty seat across from her.

"You have my permission to do whatever it takes to keep her here," Henri whispered to the hostess as he left the restaurant.

Keeping her there meant serving her drinks and bread. Twenty minutes later, the black Ferrari with the white and red stripe appeared.

Dressed in a black suit, Charles walked into the restaurant. He looked incredibly handsome, but that wasn't what she was thinking when she saw him.

"You're late."

"Sorry about that, chérie."

"Don't call me that," she spat as another drink was placed in front of her. "You know this isn't a real date, right? You know Henri only set this up so that we look good."

Charles nodded his head. "I'm aware," he said, playing with the rings on his fingers.

"Then why are you here? To waste my time?"

Charles shook his head. Taking his wine glass, he lifted it to his lips and took a quick sip. He placed it back down and cleared his throat.

"Your brother and I have been talking," he began. "Because of my recent trouble with the media after a messy break up, and because of your constant PR blunders and messy nights out, Henri and I thought it would be a good idea if you and I 'dated'. That way we could pull the media's attention away from our fuck ups and onto our seemingly perfect relationship."

She let out a dry laugh. "Do you really think that'll work?"

Charles shrugged his shoulders. "There's only one way to find out."

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something just outside of the restaurant window. "Let me prove it to you," he said, reaching for her hand with a blissed out smile on his face.

When she saw the flash of a camera, she placed her hand in his and painted a practiced smile on her face. Her laugh, too, was practiced, perfected after years of unwillingly being in the spotlight.

"Do you think it'll look like too much if I drove you back to your apartment after this?" Charles asked as the food was placed in front of them.

She rolled her eyes and just hoped the paparazzi didn't see. "Nothing is too much for the party princess," she spat.

Permanent Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @prettiest-at-the-party @hellowgoodbye @minkyungseokie @formulaal @hiireadstuff @urfavnoirette @goldenharrysworld @andydrysdalerogers @hrts4scarr @llando4norris @evlkking @lilymurphy03 @hollie911 @customsbyjcg-blog @honethatty12 @nikfigueiredo @darleneslane @avg-golden-retriever

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whataperfectwasteoftime · 1 year

Text

Lead me not into Temptation

Pairing: Priest!Marcus Pike x reader/nameless OFC (no physical description, story uses 3rd person "she")

Rating: E (explicit smut, 18+ only)

Word Count: ~2k

Summary: I'll let @write-and-buried tell it for me:

A/N: My apologies to @chaoticgeminate who also had an idea based off of this UNCALLED FOR prompt in the Discord. I hope I'm not stepping on any toesies by posting my own take. When the spirit moves you, you gotta follow it, right? (Pun DEFINITELY intended.) Please enjoy 2k words of being in Priest Marcus Pike's fucked up little brain.

Masterlist

Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…

The familiar verse dances on Marcus’s tongue, but the words are barely audible in the quiet of his bedroom.

He doesn’t want to wake her.

The sheets have slipped down, exposing the swell of her bare breasts in the soft moonlight coming through the blinds on his window, and in the dim lighting he notices a drop of his spend drying just to the side of her areola that he had missed, somehow, when he gently wiped her chest with a damp cloth earlier that evening. His mouth suddenly dry, Marcus forces his gaze back down to his clasped hands.

Thy kingdom come, thy will be done…

Oh, God, what is he doing?

What has he done?

Even now, when Marcus looks back on the events of the past few months, he can't suss out when everything went so very wrong.

Each tiny domino that fell hadn't seemed so bad at the time, each little concession, each little slip of his airtight composure and control.

How could he have known?

How could he ever have known?

When his eyes casually swept over the pews during his sermon and landed on an unfamiliar–and striking–face, how could he have predicted what was to come?

When she had approached him after the service, introducing herself with a firm handshake and asking if he minded her sitting in on a few sermons and taking notes for her dissertation, how could he ever have known how much hunger he'd have for her.

Eager to talk theology with someone just as knowledgeable on the philosophy of religion, he'd been happy to stay after every service and answer her questions, jumping at the chance to really delve into his approach to leading his congregation.

When did it go so wrong?

When she started staying later and later, her eyes shining as she offered him quotes from some of history's greatest thinkers?

When she challenged him, flashing him that coy smile that he'd been starting to see in his dreams at night, pointing out any inaccuracies or accidental fallacies that fell from his lips? (She remembered everything.)

Or was it when she was in his office, perusing the many titles on his shelves and he had misjudged his distance as he'd come up behind her to slide a book back into place?

She'd turned, and suddenly they were too close; she was gazing up at him with wide eyes and parted lips and oh, how her chest was rising and falling so rapidly, and how easy it was to close the distance between them.

Every little step never seemed so egregious, did it? Marcus hardly noticed that they had crossed a line until the line was no longer in sight.

A slow descent into…

…on Earth as it is in Heaven.

Oh, but if this was Hell, eternal damnation didn't seem all that bad.

Marcus drank from her mouth as if he were drowning. As though he had been wandering, parched, in a desert for days with no water until he fell to his knees at her oasis.

A hunger he hadn't felt in years ignited deep in his belly, a pull toward her that he couldn't explain.

After he took his vows of celibacy, he hadn't truly missed the pleasures of the flesh until he had known the feel of her lips on his. There were so many other pleasures in life, so many other ways to love.

Marcus always loved with all of his being. With his mind, his heart, and with hands in service to others. With so many ways to offer himself to humanity, why would he miss just one aspect of devotion?

Give us this day our daily bread…

I'm not religious, she had confessed with an airy laugh one afternoon as she sat in his office, in the chair opposite his desk.

They had been discussing human nature, the fallibility of moral character, and she, with a wry smile, had challenged his idea that people could not be totally morally good without some kind of framework.

And you provide this framework? She asked with knowing glint in her eyes.

It had been just one week since the kiss.

Humanity is, by nature, imperfect, Marcus conceded. Even those of the cloth. I can only do my best to lead by example and guide my congregation in what I believe God has provided as a guideline for morality.

So if it weren't for you, she said, your entire flock would be tempted to murder?

That's not what I'm saying at all, he'd argued. People know what's right and what's wrong, but–

You're contradicting yourself. Do they know right from wrong without you, or not?

It's… it's the intricacies, he sputtered. I'm not talking about murder, I'm talking about… he trailed off, a little crease on the bridge of his nose as he searched for the right words.

She was smiling, her eyes crinkling around the edges, and Marcus had known, then, that he was in trouble.

With a shaky breath, he had slowly risen from his chair and walked around the deep mahogany desk in his office until he stood just in front of her.

I don't want to talk about good and evil, he had whispered, extending his hand and pulling her up until she was pressed against his chest.

What do you want to talk about?

I don't want to talk, he breathed against her lips before claiming them for the second time.

…and forgive us our tresspasses…

He can't get enough of her.

Never has he been so consumed with the sins of the flesh–not even as a teenager. He craves her; every time he has her in his bed, it isn't enough.

Part of it is the forbidden nature–this he knows. He's not supposed to fall victim to lust. Marcus committed himself to a higher purpose.

Now, though, that purpose seems futile compared to the paradise between her thighs.

During his sermons, he talks of chastity and of propriety.

At night, he worships at her altar.

He hadn't been chaste before he took his vows. He was seventeen once too, after all. He had given partners pleasure, and he had lost himself in their bodies.

When he dedicated his life to the church, though, he thought he'd left that behind.

He can't stop.

The minute his front door had clicked closed with the two of them inside of it for the first time, every carnal desire came flooding back to him in an instant.

His hands were on her waist, her hips, her breasts. They clasped at her cheeks and pressed against the hinge of her jaw to open her mouth to him. His fingers slid up her pretty bare thighs underneath the cute-but-modest floral skirt she had worn to Mass.

His mouth swallowed the soft gasp of pleasure as he lightly traced her folds over the fabric of her underwear.

He trembled at the sound of his name from her lips as he slipped a finger underneath the band and gently sank it, inch by inch, into her waiting heat.

The sound broke him. The only thought left in his mind was how to make her make more of them. With a soft growl, he started to pump his finger in and out of her, reveling in the way her head fell back against the wall and how he could feel her knees buckle slightly.

Fuck, he whispered softly to himself as he watched her face contort with pleasure. Oh, fuck. He couldn't stop–he'd never be able to get the sight of her out of his head now that he'd seen the way she looked just before she fell apart.

Just when it felt as though the sweet clutch of her velvet walls couldn't get any tighter, her eyes opened, and she looked right at him.

And when she fell, so did he.

…as we forgive those who trespass against us.

He had made love to her that first night.

Bodies close, their sweat-dampened skin sliding against each other in the dark. His lips hardly left hers for a moment as his hips undulated, letting their pleasures climb slowly.

He had always been a gentle lover, even before. Any roughness he might have had inside him, he always held it back.

More, she gasped against his skin. More, please, I need–harder…

She begged for his cock. For the desperate clutch of his fingers as they gripped her hips.

I don't want to hurt you, he protested softly at first. Precious thing, I'll hurt you.

You could never hurt me.

She showed him–

Marcus knew how to love. She taught him how to take her apart.

Send us not into temptation…

The sight of her spread out on his bed became a common one. Some depraved part of him loved to see her bare and wanting before he even unbuckled his belt.

He'd crawl over her, the fabric of his black dress shirt brushing against her nipples and making them pebble in the cool air of the bedroom before they were engulfed in the heat of his mouth.

Sometimes the only clothing he'd remove–as he kneeled between her spread legs, face inches from her glistening pussy–was his collar, slipping it out from his shirt and casting it to the corner of the room before burying his tongue inside her with a groan.

He wanted her all the time. It was getting harder and harder to deliver his sermons, preaching of honoring God, while his cock was already half-hard at the sight of her in the first pew looking up at him, her ever present notebook open in her lap as she listened.

All he could see in his mind's eye were those same eyes looking up at him while her lips were around his cock.

Come over, he'd ask–beg–her when she slipped into his office after Mass under the guise of returning one of his books.

It was a damn miracle that he hadn't yet spread her out on his desk, sending his sermon notes fluttering to the floor as he snapped his hips into her again and again.

His favorite sight was to see her on her knees below him. Face pressed into the bedding, she made those sweet, desperate sounds with every rough punch of his cock. When he pressed her head down harder with his hand, she'd sob, her cries of yes, please, more muffled by the thumb that he'd hooked inside of her mouth.

…but deliver us from evil.

She's everything to him.

Marcus should have known better than to try to maintain a casual–and highly forbidden–arrangement.

She's never asked, not once, but if she ever even suggested that he leave his life's calling behind and run away with her, he'd already be packing his suitcase before she even finished her sentence.

He wishes she would ask.

He looks up at her again, smiling, in spite of himself, at the sound of her soft snores emanating from her parted lips.

Perfect thing, he always calls her. Sweet girl, angel, temptress, siren, perfect, gorgeous woman.

Every endearment tumbles effortlessly from his lips except for the one he thinks of the most.

My love.

My heart.

Oh, God, what has he done?

As he looks back down, a tear escapes, the drop hitting his clasped hands perfectly and sliding down the slope of his thumb.

Amen.

#Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike fanfiction #The Mentalist #Pedro Pascal

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