#then deep down is about how these people were the reason you came this far. and how your struggles or your horns were really your crown
Text
Series: Into the Abyss of Bad Habits | masterpost
Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Reader x Oliver Sykes
Hearts Like Ours. Additional multipart.
Chapter 2: The Angel of Death | Words: 8k
Summary: The morning after her breakdown, Reader does not expect to get any better until a certain person unexpectedly appears at her front door.
Tags and trigger warnings: established polyamorous relationship, angst, hard truths, anxiety, mentions of parent's negligence, comfort/fluff, noah only appears on phone in this part but he's mentioned throughout the entirety of the chapter, soft!oli, mentions of blowjobs, sexual content (spit used as lubricant, p. in v., protected).
Author’s note: this is mostly self-indulgent so bear with me, i love softness 🥹 It's also another attempt at writing something short and ending up with 8k 🫠
Regarding tags, I'm trying something new and tagging everybody down below in the comment section, given that as of lately a few people have reached out to tell me they didn't get the notification and I've read somewhere that tags indeed are not working well. So let's see if this does the trick.
When she woke up the next morning, her neck and stomach ached, a remainder that she had skipped dinner the night before. Sitting up, the two shirts she had slept with clung to her and then fell to the floor, reminding her why she had chosen to sleep on the sofa instead of the bed. She was alone. Noah wouldn’t be home for another three days, and Oliver was lost somewhere in the southern United States.
It was Saturday. How was she supposed to spend the entire day alone at home, with no work and no one around? She felt even more pathetic than she had the night before. What was happening to her? She hadn’t always been this dependent; she hadn’t always felt this miserable.
But then again, it wasn’t every day that your mother hurled insults at you and made you feel dirty in a way that was far from the real thing.
She ran her hands over her face. If only Luna were here... Given her age, Oliver had decided not to bring her to America, and now his father, Ian, was taking care of her.
Last year, they had talked about adopting a dog, mostly so she would have company when the boys were away, but with work and the idea of getting married, adoption had been pushed aside. Now she regretted not insisting more.
Still holding the shirts, she went upstairs and made a quick trip to the bathroom, overwhelmed by another wave of misery as she caught sight of herself in the mirror—eyes swollen from yesterday’s crying and her face as pale as a ghost. The sight of Noah’s and Oliver’s toiletries—their toothbrushes, shaving cream, face wash from different brands, a facemask Oliver had recently got from Lush…—only deepened her sadness.
Her deep sigh echoed in the empty space.
She had to eat something and get out of the house, get some sun and fresh air. She’d told Jack she would visit Sylvie, but the truth was she didn’t feel like it. She was happy for them. She was going to be an aunt. But she was feeling so blue that, she knew if she met Sylvie, both would end up crying, for totally different reasons.
So, she opted to tidy up and spend the day cleaning. That’s one of the things Noah used to do whenever his mind was not in the right place.
Before breakfast, she checked her phone, tempted to message the boys and tell them she was going through hell, that she couldn’t silence the voices in her head —especially her mother’s— and that she needed them because she felt like she was sinking. She wanted to swim to the surface but felt like she had a rock tied to her ankle, and she would probably drag herself to the bottom before they came home.
She hated being aware of the self-destruction her own mind subjected her to and not being able to do anything to stop it. It was a battle against herself that she couldn’t win. A battle she had fought before, and although it seemed she had won many times, those demons always came back sooner or later.
In the end, she just let Noah and Oliver know she was awake and, to distract them, sent a couple of photos of her underwear abandoned on the floor when she changed into somehting more decent. She knew that spending the whole day in pajamas would only worsen her state.
In the kitchen, she made herself a cup of tea and something to eat.
After having lunch on the back porch and letting herself be caressed by the sun in one of the hammocks, she went back inside, ready to spend the next few hours watching a comforting movie on the couch. Or perhaps an angsty one, and cry a few more tears. What did it matter now?
She remembered then she hadn’t picked up the mail for the past four or five days. A mix of excitemend and dread flooded her at the thought that maybe Oliver had sent a postcard from wherever he was, even if it was just from somewhere else in the country. He’d started doing that the previous year, and it was a sweet gesture that always warmed her heart.
Stepping outside, she found her neighbor Marina tending to her plants and flowers in the front yard, a lovely married woman in her forties with two children. They greeted each other, and Marina asked about the boys. She replied that there were still a few days left before they returned, and Marina, probably sensing her sadness, kindly suggested joining her at her house any afternoon for tea. It was a comforting gesture, though still far from the kind she truly wanted.
With only a couple of letter in her hands and no postcard from Oliver, she made her way back to the front door, only taking a couple of steps before the sound of a car pulling into the driveway and stopping made her turn around. The sight of the black Range Rover made her heart flip and almost lose her balance.
Oliver stepped out of the car, closing the door behind him without taking his eyes off her. During the short walk toward her, his green gaze remained steady and unwavering. He wore casual jeans and a t-shirt, exuding calm determination.
Before she could even react, he was in front of her, gently holding her face in his hands, and then he kissed her.
Her hands instinctively moved to his chest, her right one still clutching the envelopes. However she could, her fingers gripped his black tee tightly, as if fearing he might disappear at any moment.
His mouth was warm, his kiss passionate and urgent. She was left nearly breathless.
When she finally lowered herself from standing on her tiptoes and opened her eyes, her heart was pounding wildly.
“What are you doing here?” she managed to say, it being the only coherent thought she could muster. In truth, she didn’t care about the answer. It was enough that he was there in the flesh.
Oliver let out a sardonic smile. “Hello to you too, love,” he said, poking her nose. “Where am I supposed to be when my girl needs me?”
His words stunned her for a few seconds as he took her hand and stroked the back of it with his thumb.
Of course, it had to be Jack who told him.
“But—What about the tour? How did you get here so fast?” She asked, still gripping his t-shirt with one hand.
“We’d better go inside,” he suggested, nodding towards the house next door where Marina was watching them absently as she trimmed the dried leaves from her plants. Oliver waved at her, asking how she was with the easy charm of a gentleman.
Marina would have chatted for quite a while, likely making mention of his girl’s mood and asking Oliver the very questions she wanted answers to. But Oliver, sensing this, skillfully dissuaded her in less than thirty seconds, practically dragging his girl inside the house.
Once inside, with the door closed behind them, she dropped the letters on a small table in the entryway and threw herself into his arms, bursting into tears on the spot.
Having Oliver there, being able to hold him, inhale his masculine scent mingled with his perfume, and feel the brush of his long hair against her cheeks, felt like a miracle.
“Please, don’t go.”
“Love, I just got here.”
“I know, but I’m sure you’ll have to leave again in a couple of hours.”
With a resigned sigh, Oliver took her hand and guided them both into the living room, settling onto the couch.
Oliver observed her silently for a moment, studying her face for signs of the previous day’s tears and the sleepless night. They were all there, all too evident.
He gently stroked her cheek, and she leaned into his touch, savoring the moment, the warmth of his skin against hers.
“I can stay until tomorrow night,” Oliver murmured softly. “As soon as Jack called me, I booked the first available flight out of Houston. We have two days off until the next show. I have to be in Kansas City the day after tomorrow. But please, don’t worry about that now. What the hell happened?”
She struggled before mustering the courage to tell him.
She began with a vague summary of the events, but Oliver insisted on the details, wanting to know every word her mother had spoken.
She watched as he clenched his jaw, holding back a torrent of curses.
As a few more tears traced down her cheeks, Oliver gently pulled her into his embrace and fetched a box of tissues from a nearby coffee table.
“Why didn’t you wait until Noah and I were back?” He questioned, watching her wipe her tears. “We said we’d tell her together, precisely to avoid this,” he said, not intending to scold her but clearly unsettled by her decision to face her mother alone.
“I know, but I couldn’t shake the thought, and I didn’t want her saying anything hurtful to you, so I thought I could handle it on my own,” she confessed, sniffling into the tissue then dropping it on the coffee table.
“And did it do you any good?” Oliver asked, his tone soft, his gaze tender as he peered at her.
“No,” she replied, shaking her head, defeated. “It just made everything worse. I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours feeling miserable and missing you both terribly. Last night, I felt like I couldn’t breathe without you guys around. I just wanted to protect you…” she trailed off, her voice heavy.
“I know,” Oliver murmured, gently touching her face again. “But we protect each other, don’t we? We’re stronger together. If Noah and I feel low, we lean on you, and you make us feel better. That’s how it works. You have to let us do the same, doll. It’s taking you too long to get rid of this habit.”
She sighed, but she knew he was right.
“If you keep everything to yourself, then what’s the point of this? Of us? Of being in any relationship, for that matter?” Oliver continued, his eyes reflecting her own sadness. “We’re together because we love each other, and by love I mean that we’re by each other’s side under any circumstance. Loving us is not just you giving me and Noah blowjobs and letting us have our ways with you, baby. Loving us means you’ll let us know when you’re anxious, when you’re sad or angry. You’ll let us help you because we want and we love every part of you—the good, the bad, and everything in between. Wasn’t that clear?”
His words made her feel terrible, very aware of her mistakes, but she deserved it. If anything, to at least make her understand for once and for all that she had to lay her head on their shoulders whenever she needed, without a second of hesitation.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just hard… because loving also implies that you don’t want the other person to get hurt, and all I was doing was…” she trailed off. There was no point. Her voice turned into a whisper and then into desperation fading into nothing.
Oliver squeezed her hand and placed it on his thigh, speaking gently.
“Listen, I know this is hard to accept, but you don’t owe anything to your mother,” he began. “Our parents made us, but we’re not meant for them. You’re meant for me and Noah. Everything else, everyone else, is just a bystander to your story. You can’t force them to be a part of your life if they don’t want to, darling. It sucks. It fucking sucks because sometimes you want people to be part of your life so bad… but they don’t want to be; they don’t want to share your happiness, they might not even understand it, and that’s okay.” When he saw her face, Oliver chuckled softly. “I’m not saying that the things your mom said were okay, but you get my point. You’re not meant to live your life by your mom’s wishes or follow in her footsteps. You don’t have to walk with her. You’re walking with Noah and me.”
Seen that way, from that perspective, Oliver was undeniably right.
She had spent much of her life trying to please her mother, striving to be a perfect daughter even when she wasn’t consciously aware of it. Since formalizing her relationship with Noah and Oliver, she had come to realize how many decisions she had made in the past with her mother in mind rather than herself. And now, with her mother’s rejection of her relationship with the boys, all that weight came crashing down on her.
Her mother didn’t want her, didn’t want a daughter like her. But as a parent, there’s only so much control one can have. She wasn’t a child anymore, she was an adult, and she had done nothing wrong. She had simply fallen in love. Hard and twice.
Loving wasn’t a crime, and as much as it pained her not to be able to share that happiness with her mother, as much as her mother couldn’t see how happy Oliver and Noah made her, she realized that her attempts to make her mother understand had to come to an end. After all, Oliver’s words spoke the truth: the most important people were the two of them, her fiancés.
Staring at the ring on her finger as realization dawned on her, she was filled with profound sadness. She had lost her father long ago, a man who had chosen to go his own way, unable to wait until his children were old enough to let them walk their own path and make their own decisions. And now, she felt she had lost her mother, too.
One parent had not waited to see her grow up; had not held her hand as she learned to walk the path of life. The other one was unwilling to see her walk hand in hand with two men.
Tears welled up in her eyes once more before she could stop them. She was a mess.
“I know it hurts,” Oliver’s voice soothed her, his hand running gently throught her hair, “but you gotta let it hurt until it doesn’t anymore. There are some things we cannot change, and this, I’m afraid, is one of them, baby.”
Seeking solace, she moved to straddle him, unable to bear the distance anymore. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head on his shoulder, tears streaming down her cheeks and staining Oliver’s tee’s fabric. She let him envelop her in his embrace, pressing herself against his body as he held her close. He placed a couple of tender kisses on her shoulder and neck, offering her the comfort she needed.
She remained in his arms for a while, relishing the warmth of his body, the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat against her own, and the security of being in his arms. His whispered words of comfort in her ear were like a balm to her troubled soul.
She could easily drift off to sleep there, cocooned in his arms , feeling grateful that Oliver had dropped everything just to come home and be with her.
“Did you tell Noah?” She whispered, her lips brushing against his neck as she resisted the urge to move even an inch away from him.
“Yes, of course I did,” he replied, his hand finding the hem of her shirt and sneaking in to rub her back. She was soft as silk and he would be lying if he said he hadn’t missed the feel of her skin under his hands every single day and night he spent away. “But I want you to call him and talk to him. He’s worried.”
The sigh that escaped her this time was heavy.
“What?” Oliver said, teasing her. “Did you think that picture of your underwear on the bedroom floor was going to do the trick?”
She shrugged, not particularly caring.
“Come on,” he encouraged, pullling out his iPhone, resolute on not extending that dispiriting situation any second longer. “He might still be up.”
Without a chance to compose herself or check her appearance in the mirror, Oliver was already Facetiming Noah.
As soon as Noah’s face appeared on the screen, looking all cozied up in a hoddie and sat on his hotel bed, he saw her curled up in Oliver’s lap, her head resting on his shoulder with her tear-stained face, and his expression fell. Noah clicked his tongue, his brown eyes filling with sadness.
“Kitten..”
She tried to hold back another wave of tears and sobs. She sniffled and attempted to smile. But as soon as she uttered “I miss you”, she had to take a moment to steady her breathing and control her sobbing. Oliver pressed a kiss to her forehead.
A few moments were filled only with her soft crying, then, with some self-control, in the quiet of the house, she began to talk to Noah, recounting every hurtful thing her mother had said. Instead of feeling tortured by reliving those moments, she focused on the relief of sharing her pain with her boys, feeling lighter now that they knew.
Noah did his best to offer comfort from the other end of the line, though he knew it wasn’t a simple fix. He was just grateful that Oliver had rushed home to be with her, knowing that besides words of reassurance, she needed their physical presence.
Just as much as she needed them, he needed her and Oliver.
All those nights on the road, sleeping in bunk beds or alone in hotel rooms, had been manageable until he fell in love. Suddenly, sleeping alone felt like a punishment for every misstep in life. He understood her perfectly. And considering what her mother had said… Fuck. All he wanted was to be there for her, to hold her while Oliver comforted her, feeling complete with them by his side.
It was late where he was, and she could tell from the exhaustion etched in his eyes. Her own state wasn’t helping him at all, so she mustered the strength to encourage him to end the call and get the rest he needed. He promised her he’d be home soon. Just a few more days. Nothing would keep him from coming back home to her.
After hanging up, Oliver tenderly touched her face, his thumb stroking the side of her jaw as she breathed against him.
“You look tired, too,” he remarked.
“I didn’t sleep much last night,” she admitted.
“Want to take a nap? I could use one myself,” he suggested.
With a nod, she attempted to rise from his lap, but Oliver shook his head. He grabbed a folded blanket from the sectional and urged her to lay down as he nestled in beside her, letting her find a comfortable position with her head on his chest and her legs intertwined with his.
He enveloped her and covered them both with the blanket. He kissed her hair tenderly and she reciprocated by pressing a kiss to his clavicle. After exchanging whispered “I love yous”, she finally allowed herself to drift off to sleep, comforted by the presence of at least one of her boys being home.
Despite his own exhaustion after an impromptu flight and the whirlwind of the past twenty-four hours, Oliver found it difficult to fall assleep. He waited until her soft breathing indicated she was in a deep slumber before carefully disentangling himself from her arms and legs.
Ensuring she was covered with the blanket, he tiptoed to the kitchen, where he leaned with his forearms against the cool marble tiles of the island as he unlocked his phone and texted Noah.
Oliver: Still up?
Noah: Yep. Can’t sleep.
Without a second thought, he dialed his number, making sure to keep his voice low as to avoid waking her up. By the time he had filled a glass with water, Noah’s voice was on his ear.
“What’s up? Is she feeling any better?” Noah asked.
“She’s passed out on the sofa,” Oliver informed him after taking a sip. “But she looks tired, and sad,” he continued, glancing towards the open hallway door that lead to the living room, as if he could see her. He could picture her gloomy features from before she’d fallen asleep. “How about you coming back earlier? Could you make it?” He asked, aware of the significant distance separating them. Noah was in Europe, not just a few states away. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but if you could make it, give her a surprise, cheer her up… She doesn’t just need me. She needs both of us. And,” he made a pause before changing his tone, “you owe me a blowjob.”
“I don’t owe you a blowjob,” Noah replied, his voice rising slightly. “You didn’t send those tacos, man.”
“I’ll drive you to the damn restaurant.”
“Needy, huh?”
“Very. I want to see you before I hit the road again,” he admitted, then softened again. “She needs you here, Noah. Think you can make it earlier than scheduled?”
“Yeah, yeah…” he trailed off, as if preoccupied with something else. Oliver heard the clicking of a keyboard, muffled in the background. “I was actually just checking flights…”
“Oh, good.”
“The first one is in three hours. I could catch that one and—”
“In three hours?” Oliver exclaimed, furrowing his brow. “Dude, get some sleep first. I didn’t mean for you to—”
“I can’t sleep knowing she’s upset because of what her mom said to her,” Noah retorted, setting his MacBook aside and getting up from the bed. “We have a couple of interviews scheduled for tomorrow, but I’ll ask Jolly and Folio to handle them. I’m nearly done with my packing, so I can head to the airport in less than twenty minutes. If I catch that flight, I can make it home tomorrow before evening.”
“Fuck. Okay. That’s great. It’ll give us a few hours together.”
“Yeah, just come pick me up at the airport, all right?” he concluded. “Keep her distracted with something. Tell her you’re going to get a haircut.”
“Dude, she’s going to be glued to me the whole time because I’m leaving tomorrow night. And a haircut? That would be the lamest excuse after I left my own tour to be home with her. You have the worst ideas,” he complained as he shook his head. “Can you not get an Uber?”
“Just come pick me up,” Noah said, resolute, “and you’ll get that damn blowjob.”
An hour and a half later, her voice calling out for Oliver echoed through the walls of the house’s ground floor.
Oliver appeared at the threshold of the archway into the living room, holding a tray with pastries and two mugs of hot chocolate.
She blinked a few times, rubbing her eyes with one hand still half-covered by the fluffy blanket. Oliver struggled to decide if she looked adorable or too tempting to resist making love to her right there on the sofa.
“Am I dreaming?” She mumbled, prompting Oliver to let out a chuckle.
“Nah,” he replied, walking towards her. “These croissants were frozen. I thought Noah got rid of them after his lecture on how unhealthy and useless it is to buy frozen food, but surprise: he didn’t. So now I get to treat you,” he finished, setting the tray next to her. The smell of freshly baked croissants and hot chocolate filled her senses, and for a moment, everything felt perfect.
She gave him a tiny smile.
“Just don’t tell him I baked them for us,” Oliver added, his tone hushed, as if Noah was there and could hear them. He had changed into more comfortable clothes and was now wearing a white t-shirt and dark grey sweatpants she had washed and ironed more than two weeks ago.
“I will tell him,” she whispered, with a hint of mischief in her voice. Her sleepy face, however, made her look more adorable than mischievous.
Oliver rolled his eyes. “He’ll make me wear the maid costume and cook homemade sugar-free croissants for him as punishment.”
“You look adorable in that, though,” she commented, grabbing one of the croissants and using her other hand to catch the crumbs.
“Do I, now?”
She nodded, her mouth already stuffed with a big bite. Oliver smiled and touched the corner of her lower lip, wiping away a crumb with his thumb.
“Feeling any better?”
Swallowing, she nodded.
“What do you feel like doing?” he asked, still concerned. He had dropped everything to be home with her, so he would only do as she pleased. “Movie and cuddles?” he guessed. “We can take it easy and spend the rest of the day snuggled in here. We don’t have to go anywhere. We’ll order takeout for dinner, then maybe a hot bath before bed.”
She absorbed his words, blinking and chewing slowly.
That sounded like… Heaven.
Instead of quickly agreeing to his appeal, which was irresistible, she asked, “What time do you have to be at the airport tomorrow?” There was a note of anguish in her voice because she dreaded the answer. She just wanted him to stay for a while longer, to extend that dreamlike weekend that was, in fact, her real life.
“Not ‘til late at night. We have the entire day together tomorrow, don’t worry,” he reassured her again, taking his mug of hot chocolate to his lips. She watched as the dark brown liquid touched his lips and how his own tongue licked them clean afterward. “Let’s choose a movie and get comfy, yeah?”
The next fifteen minutes slipped away as they struggled to decide on a movie. By the time they settled on one neither had seen, the croissants were gone and Oliver had finished his chocolate. They cuddled through the entire film, occasionally shifting positions, playing with each other’s hair, and kissing. They made comments about the movie and chatted about he film and other trivial things.
By the time the sun began to set on the horizon, the house was enveloped in the serenity their nearly routine evening. She was in the living room, tidying up the small mess they had made, folding blankets, and arranging the cushions on the sofa. Meanwhile, Oliver busied himself in the kitchen, plating the takeaway food that had arrived just minutes before.
If Noah had been there, he would have been nearing his time out in the studio. Then he would’ve joined oliver in the kitchen to set the table.
That was a familiar routine, which happened at least once a week, usually on Fridays, marking the start of a long weekend where work was left behind and their time was fully devoted to each other.
Whenever the three of them were engrossed in individual tasks, especially in the afternoon or evening, the house exuded a peaceful ambiance. Sometimes, Noah would light incense and play relaxing background music as they went about their activities. If they crossed paths in the hallway or in any other room, Noah would grab her waist and pull her in for a kiss. If he encountered Oliver, she would hear a sweet exchange of words and laughs between them from the other room.
It was lovely, what they had built. A precious home and a beautiful family.
After filling their stomachs and clearing up the kitchen, Oliver urged her upstairs for a well-deserved hot bath, but she declined, stating that she prefered the shower.
As mesmerizing as the idea of a hot bath sounded, the reality was that, despite their efforts to get a larger-than-average tub for the master bedroom’s bathroom, Oliver was too tall to fit comfortably if she was also inside. What to say about Noah? He just outright hated bathtubs and found it a waste of space. It wasn’t that he couldn’t fit in with either of them; he simply couldn’t fit comfortably on his own.
After some persuasion, she finally found herself naked under the hot shower, with Oliver’s bare body behind her, his hands massaging shampoo into her hair. The intimacy of the moment was heightened by the familiarity of the shampoo the three of them shared.
They took turns washing each other, making sure to apply a bit of pressure here and there to relieve sore muscles, especially Oliver’s, strained from days of performing on stage for over two hours and getting to bed late. The physical demands of his routine weren’t always ideal, but she appreciated how they had toned his body over the years, giving him strenght and stamina. She relished his manly physique, a mix of rough and soft areas that she found squishy. She just loved every part of him.
When he got down on one knee to soap up her thighs, she took the opportunity to wash his hair, enjoying the sweetness that spread through her veins and to her heart when he pressed a few kisses from her navel down to her lower belly.
After they were thoroughly washed, Oliver rinsed his hair under the water one last time, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, lips parted, neck exposed and muscles on display as he moved his hair back with both hands.
As attractive as the sight was —which, under other circumstances, would have just gotten her on her knees, and not exactly to wash his thighs—, the part of her that craved a deeper connection took control. She wanted a closeness that went beyond the physical act of giving each other pleasure.
She wrapped her arms around his torso and pressed her cheek to his chest, acutely aware of the ticking clock and the precious time slipping away from them.
Oliver didn’t say anything. He kept the water running and hugged her back, resting his chin atop her head. The mirror above the sink and the window overlooking the garden had fogged up, and the vapor was filling the room even though they had left the door open.
Minutes passed, the water turning cold, droplets hitting the tiles, her breaths soft and steady, following the rhythm of Oliver’s heartbeat. When she lazily ran her fingers down his back and wandered down to one of his buttocks, she felt him shiver slightly, and her curse nearly disrupted their peace.
“You’re cold,” she pointed out, peering up at him.
“It’s okay, love.”
But it wasn’t. Taking his hand, she turned off the water and pulled them out of the shower, handing Oliver his towel while she grabbed hers.
Oliver wasn’t done soothing her. He let her dry herself up and brush her hair. He left the bathroom for a couple of minutes to get some underwear, finding another one of Noah’s boxers in his drawer. Instead of pointing it out to her and reminding her that the boxers with the chibi drawings of Titan were Noah’s, he laughed and opted to keep them there. He would enjoy watching Noah huff and rummage through his own underwear looking for those specific boxers when he returned.
Returning to the bathroom only wearing black boxers, his wair still wet and dripping, he used the towel to dry it a bit before discarding it on the floor and refocusing his attention on his girl. She was occupied checking her eyebrows in the mirror, a habit he found amusing because he could never understand what she thought was wrong with them. Taking advantage of her distraction, he poured some hydrating lotion into his palm, rubbed his hands together, and kneeled to spread the cream on her thighs.
She let out a cry of surprise at the sudden cold sensation, but quickly adjusted to it and found herself enamored with the way he looked up at her as he massaged her body once more, tenderly applying lotion to her skin. The smell of lavender filled the room as he stood up to gently smooth it onto her shoulders, his hands moving in slow, soothing circles. She was truly getting spoiled as his touch traced the contours of her arms and back, each caress a silent promise of his love and devotion. She closed her eyes when she felt threathened by another wave of emotion and gratitude. She wouldn’t be hard on herself again and say that she didn’t deserve him, or Noah, but the truth was that they were too good to her, and her heart kept on swelling every time they shared a simple yet intimate moment as such.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said, her cheeks red—perhaps from shyness or perhaps because it was too hot in the bathroom.
“Shh. I love pampering you, and that’s why I’m here now. In two weeks I’ll be back to busy boyfri—fiancé, sorry, mode, with no time to shower with his loves because the artist’s life is a twenty-four hour job. So, rejoice,” he finished the sentence by touching her nose and leaving a stain of cream for her to spread.
She muttered an “ouch” and glared at him, nearly pouting at the truth of his words.
While that had been an isolated scenario and the timing of both bands’ tours had coincided leaving her alone for quite a long period of time, she couldn’t really complain about her job or about her life in the big picture. She was as happy as any girl could be with two men loving her unconditionally day and night, which made her aware that if somedays they were not attentive as she wished, it wasn’t because they chose to be distant. It was their demanding jobs, so different from her mundane one. Their careers sometimes took a toll on them, but it was a sacrifice they made for something they loved, and she admired them for it. They were passionate and dedicated, as they were with her, too. She would never ask them to prioritize her over their bands because they themselves knew when to put a stop to it and get their feet back on solid ground. It was sometimes a difficult balance to navigate, but with each other’s help, they knew how to make it work without letting it consume them anymore.
Her eyes followed Oliver as he walked barefoot to the other side of the bedroom, heading towards the drawer where he would find his worn-out clothes for sleeping. She watched with a tender expression as a smile appeared on his face when he spotted how neatly his t-shirts and sweats were stored in the drawer. As mundane and tedious as the task of folding clothes may seem, it was something both of them enjoyed doing together every once in a while—seated on the carpeted floor, picking up each item from the laundry basket and adding it to one of the three piles next to them: Oliver’s, Noah’s, and hers.
Folding clothes was sort of a meditation, and given that she had spent the last weekends alone, one of them had been dedicated to reorganizing the cupboards and drawers, including refolding all those clothes that had been thrown to the back of the cupboard.
She could have stared at Oliver for hours, but the clock would still keep ticking.
Licking her lips and rubbed the heel of her left foot on her right calf, her expression fell a little as she called out to him.
“Yeah?” He asked.
“Make love to me?”
Her voice came out as a whisper, a plea that he didn’t understand, for she didn’t have to ask for that. Ever. So he nearly laughed, but aware that maybe it wasn’t the best reaction, he dropped back into the drawer the clothes he had picked and walked to her, with determined strides, his green eyes focused on her as if nothing could make him look away.
“Did you even consider I wouldn’t intend to?”
Uncertainty clouded her eyes, but her hand released the corner of the towel she had secured atop her chest, letting the only fabric covering her body fall to the floor.
Oliver’s gaze fell to her breasts, and then down below, as if he hadn’t seen that same beautiful body, those edges and curves, merely five minutes ago.
She parted her lips to speak, to ask him to touch her, but Oliver was quicker. He picked her up in his arms, prompting her to wrap her legs around his waist. She stared down at him for a few seconds, struck by the light those green eyes contained, how much power to turn someone’s life into something beautiful with just one look.
Oliver carried her to bed. He laid her down on the mattress, her head propped up on the numerous pillows that Noah, ever the minimalist, didn’t understand. In a matter of seconds, Oliver discarded his boxers and crawled up to cover her body with his. Holding his weight on hands and knees, he bent his head down and kissed her, her hand sneaking up to the back of his head and tangling in his curls, still damp from the shower and with the lingering scent of the shampoo.
The kiss was hungry, desperate, wet. She kept pulling him down to her, as if she could do more than just kiss him; as if she could just drink him in, swallow him, keep him in her heart forever.
He already was.
His hand pushed at one of her knees, silently instructing her to open her legs for him. When she complied, he touched her folds, his fingers navigating her delights just for a couple of seconds before sinking two fingers inside of her, letting her wrap around his digits with welcoming warmth.
Her hips arched towards him.
“What do you want, love? Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you,” he murmured.
“Just you,” she sighed, knowing that he would always keep his promises.
Skipping foreplay, he removed his fingers from inside of her and sat back on his heels, asking her for a condom that she retrieved from one of the drawers on the other side of the bed. He put it on, then spat on his hand and covered her core with his saliva before leaning over her again, fusing his body with hers, one inch at a time.
He loved how her breath caught in her throat with every movement, every push in. Her eyes widened and her expression contorted into one of pleasure.
When he was finally settled in to the hilt, he sought her hand and intertwined his fingers with hers before placing their hands above her head, on the pillows.
He began to move. A delicate, sweet and hot cadence.
He understood that this time it was not just about pleasure; it was about the connection that having their bodies merged brought to each other. It was about finding peace and safety in the vulnerable state of offering yourself to the other, about the relief that it brought to her —and him— knowing they had found each other in this massive universe and that nothing else mattered at the time.
Just him, her, and the ghost of Noah, the lingering scent of him that still permeated his side of the bed, on the sheets that she had refused to change after they had left.
They kissed. Oliver swallowed her moans, relished in the way her nails dug onto his back, the way her thighs pressed him to her, the way she breathed him in and held him, wordlessly telling him she would never let him go.
Making love like that focused on the fire of their sexual energy, their passion, and desire, and let those align with their hearts and souls with every thrust and every cry in response. It brought them balance and harmony. It was something beyond the drive and rush experienced any other time, yet someething they needed all the same.
That night, she needed that, the slow pace, the eye-contact, and he didn’t mind. How could he? He was benefiting from it all the same.
Ever since Noah introduced them to this slower, more mindful practice, Oliver’s connection with both of them had deepened, and it had brought him closer to them (if that was even possible).
Lost in the passage of time, Oliver whimpered against her, his breaths ragged as he penetrated her over and over and as he looked down at her expression, her eyes closed because she was getting close, her mouth agape in pure bliss, little sweet and honeyed sounds coming out in waves, music to his ears.
A few thrusts grew harder and rougher unintentionally, and she moaned loudly, trying to supress a scream by biting onto his arms, right onto the inked angel of death that adorned his skin. One of his hands cupped her breast, squeezing and rolling her nipple between two fingers, giving her just the touch she needed. His face was buried in the crook of her neck, but his voice reached her ears as he told her he was about to come and needed to feel her climaxing around him, too.
The seconds that followed were intense, but not very loud. He spasmed inside of her at the same time that she arched to him, their hips meeting. They rode each other’s orgasms, and the mattress welcomed the dead weight of their exhausted and sated bodies a while after.
The bliss that came after that moment gave way to a heavy, contented silence filled with the heady and comforting fragance of sex.
Oliver’s body pressed down on her, just a tad sweaty, but she found her sanctuary in his embrace, only imperfect due to the missing weight pressing on her from the other side.
“Thank you,” she whispered after she removed some hair from her face and brushed her lips against Oliver’s stubbled chin. Her thighs trembled a little after she let them fall on the mattress, on either side of Oliver’s legs.
“Always,” he replied, tickling her cheek with his wild strands of hair and tracing a path of kisses down her jaw and neck until he could taste her nipple in his mouth. A moment later, he was back at her mouth, his large hand cupping her cheek, his words seeking reassurance of her well-being.
She sighed for what felt a long time. Her fingers, in the meantime, weaved into his damp hair, holding him close. The weight of his body on hers felt grounding, a reminder that he was there, real and solid. His presence and the feeling of him filler her, from the spot between her legs to her heart and soul, was a balm to her frayed nerves, soothing away the remnants of her ealier distress.
But still. Something was missing. Someone.
“I’m still upset,” she admitted after a breather from his kiss. She didn’t want to say it right after they made love, but she knew Oliver would understand. That’s what that entire day had been about: her understanding that he would listen, try to comprehend, and never ever diminish fer feelings and emotions.
“Why?” he asked. Their voices mere whispers in the night, in a room that also seemed to miss Noah’s presence. “Is it because I have to leave? Doll, Noah will be here in no time.”
“I know… I’m so happy that you’re here, that you came for me…” Her eyes had wandered down, slightly conflicted at her complaint. “But I want you both,” she confessed, loking back up at him. It wasn’t much of a confession because he already knew that. That had actually been the truth that had got them three together in the first place, the confession to Noah that had urged him to find Oliver and propose to him to share the girl of their dreams in the middle of a tour in the UK.
“I miss him, too,” Oliver reminded her, palming her hair, his cock still inside of her. He wouldn’t leave the warmth of her body until she asked him to. Missing Noah was one of the things he hated the most in their relationship. Sometimes they spent months without seeing each other. Oliver would come home and Noah would have left the day before, keeping them on opposite schedules. That was why last year, Oliver had tried to get Bad Omens to play in the same summer festivals as Bring Me The Horizon, so that at least they could be together after their performances and while traveling from one country to another, sparing the enormous pain of coming back home to realize the other wasn’t there yet.
It felt relieveing to share that feeling with her. It felt like missing him together took some of the weight off their shoulders. They would lean on each other and wait until Noah was back. Luckily for her —and for him— Noah was now on a flight on his way home, and unbeknownst to her, she would have both his boys home tomorrow, all devoted and willing to kiss the same ground she walked on.
“You know what I miss the most about him, actually?” Oliver started to say, his tone a bit more earning and cheerful as he rested his body weight on his elbows and as his fingers moved to reach her ears and start to play with her earrings.
“What?”
“That annoying habit of his of touching my legs with his bare feet under the blanket.”
Her laugh filled his heart with such relief that he couldn’t even put it into words. He had felt so anguished when Jack called him the day before. All he could think about was how she must have been coping alone after meeting her mother to tell her about the wedding. As Jack spoke to him on the phone, Oliver recalled that night after Jack and Sylvie’s engagement party. Noah and he had tried to make love to her to keep her racing thoughts away from the disastrous first meeting with the woman who would be their mother-in-law, but she had been totally restrained by her anxiety and so upset that they hadn’t been able to calm her down for two days.
He didn’t want her to feel like that again, and he knew her state would be even worse now since they weren’t there with her. That’s when he grabbed his phone, wallet, and passport, and headed to the airport.
“You know he does that on purpose, right?” she told him, remembering all the times she had been pissed at their antics on either side of the bed. She often found herself squished between their two bodies as Oliver kicked Noah to keep his naked feet away from his calves and Noah pretended to be half asleep while trying to touch him again. In the meantime, she was getting knocked from both sides, suffering Oliver’s kicks and the brush of Noah’s cold feet against her own. “He loves it when you squirm under the sheets.”
“Of course I know,” oliver admitted. “I’m going to make him pay for it one of these days.”
“I’d love to see that.”
Wriggling underneath him, Oliver understood she was getting uncomfortable.
He got up only to remove the condom and clean them up a bit, then tucked them both under the covers, letting her find her safety cocoon not on his chest or in the crook of his neck, but on his bicep, which she often mentioned could be used as a pillow. She found exceptional comfort in resting her head against the angel of death tattooed on his arm, his bicep big enough to offer the perfect-sized spot for her to drift into the realm of dreams.
The only thing missing was Noah’s arm around her stomach as she lay on her side, keeping her protected from all the evil in the world as he reached over to grab onto Oliver as well, his palm finding his place on Oliver’s hip.
They would keep their bodies connected and fall into a peaceful sleep, as if enchanted by a magic they couldn’t see but that was always there, always present in their love for each other.
CHAPTER 3: THE CROW WITCH - COMING SOON
#into the abyss of bad habits#oliver sykes x reader#noah sebastian x reader#bad omens#bmth#bring me the horizon#oliver sykes x noah sebastian#noah sebastian fic#oliver sykes fic#noah sebastian fanfic#oliver sykes fanfic
76 notes
·
View notes
Text
Man I can't believe I had the chance to go to a performing arts school up through middle school and I fuckin quit after 6 months just because I got bullied. BRO YOUR HOMEWORK WAS POETRY!! YOU HAD TO PRACTICE DANCING TO COTTON EYE JOE AS YOUR BIG UNIT TEST. GYM CLASS HAD A CIRCUS UNIT!! YOU HAD A WHOLE DAILY CLASS ON IMPROV!!! YOU FOOL!! YOU ABSOLUTE IMBICILE!! YOU COULD HAVE BEEN A YOUTUBER!!! YOU COULD HAVE BEEN ONE OF THOSE TWEENAGERS GETTING LOADED BY MAKING SHITTY YOUTUBE SHORTS IN 2008-14!! But noooOoooOOOoo little miss Noellie (who WANTED TO GO!! who worked SO HARD and sent in an application essay and did an INTERVIEW to get in!!) couldn't handle disruptive classmates or little scuffles and petty grudges and general Attitude of the other students and cried to mommy to put her back in public school. I am EATING MY HAIR over what Could Have Been. I COULD BE SOMEONE'S ANNOYING YOUTUBER!! I could be a DISGRACED DISNEY CHANNEL STAR!! I could be an America's Got Talent winner! A mild to moderately successful comedian! I could be making short films!! But no no no precious thin skinned baby me heard a few new cus words and watched a teacher get heckled and begged to give up The Dream in favor of?? Quiet math tests?? I am such a fucking quitter I quit everything the second it gets too hard I always take the out as soon as it's offered what's my fucking damage.....
#I had SO MUCH POTENTIAL and I SQUANDERED IT!! weak ass third grade PUSSY! Your life could have been SO SICK!!#or you could at least be addicted to cocain or something interesting like that!! Boring ass goody two shoes always just staying home doing#NOTHING bitch make a REAL FRIEND go to a God Damn PARTY live a little instead of just hiding in the closet eating saltine crackers for years#waiting for it to be quiet outside before you ever even toed the line#mentally ill self-isolating motherfucker#you could have shrugged it off you could have GROWN A PAIR and FOUGHT BACK but you just ran and cried for mommy#victim complex little bitch baby always whining and exaggerating and making shit up fucking LIAR I am you and I KNOW what you did and I know#you knew it wasn't the truth and you regretted it the moment it came out of uour mouth but once you'd said it you just swallowed it back and#doubled down incriminating or discrediting others with your lies. For why? Because you didn't like them? You could have ruined someone's#life you wouldn't have hesitated mayhe you did and don't even remember because you cant keep your mouth shut with your pants ablaze#manipulative little shit and to WHAT END? Pity? Sympathy? Attention? Entertainment?? What was even going on in your stupid ugly head?#This is a callout post for my third grade self that possessed demon ass evil nine year old. That kid drowned anthills in olive oil and#poisoned a wild animal once. That kid cut plants just to see if they oozed. That kid modified her whole ass personality on a dime for a boy#she had a crush on. INSTANTLY dropped a LIFELONG CULTURAL ALLEGIANCE (thats what football teams were like back then in our town) because he#said he had the opposite allegiance??? What the fuck? girl had NO integrity none zip zilch.#No empthy either that kid looked at everyone else on earth like they were friggin space aliens and she was the only one with Real feelings.#bitch literally thought like 'I have Feelings they just have Reactions' bitch what the fuckkkkk#that nine year old was fucked the hell up!!!#and for literally NO REASON!! No cause!! Just born fucking evil and weird. jesus fuck.#Evil ass bitch caused her autistic brother months of nightmares and then laughed about it and wrote poetry about how evil he was because he?#was a kid??? Normal sibling rivalry taken way way way too far defamatory ass statements#and this girl had NO CONSEQUENCES because she could lie and manipulate her way out of ANYTHING she had the baby eyes and the helpless charm#and played dumb soooo well . read people like some calculative evil AI scanning their faces for microexpressions and overanalyzing each word#choice like holy shit. its not That Deep. pretentious shit trying to play 5D chess on a checkers board.#Manipulating shit just to see what happens?? zero awareness?? no asking just skipping straight to testing for yourself??#'What happens if I step on this' it fucking breaks 'what does that taste like?' it's not fucking yours to mess with 'if I hit this person#how will they respond?' they'll be upset use your goddamn judgement you are NINE not TWO do you even care a little about any other person??#Are you just living in some other reality???#callout post for the fucking demon child inside of me#im so goddamn problematic I'm so so so deeply mentally disturbed and broken for no reason
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
the storytelling in this album i will die
#growing pain is about falling headfirst into reality#then chasing that feeling is about running on the ground after you fall trying to find like something#then back for more is the feeling of wanting to go back to before because reality is too hard#then dreamer is about finding your dream and getting your name back. and it becomes your motivation to continue on#then deep down is about how these people were the reason you came this far. and how your struggles or your horns were really your crown#and then happily ever after is about realizing life isnt a fairytale and our endings are all unknown and isnt that better that we make#our own future? that we dont know what happens next?#and then skipping stones. OMG SKIPPING STONES THE METAPHOR UGH. its about how the ripples on the water when you skip stones#those wounds on the water. one day they will disappear and the water will calm again. so head towards that ocean. and stop dwelling on the#thoughts hanging on your fingertips. stop thinking about what youll be losing. LOSS IS A UNIVERSAL HUMAN EXPERIENCE. instead go forward#LIKE UGH WTH WHO GAVE THEM THE RIGHT TO KAJSDHFLKJDH#and then blue spring and do it like that#LIKE UGH#THIS ALBUM#I CANNOT#THE ALBUM PREVIEW I NEED TO STAB MYSELF
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
ALASTOR X READER
~Anyway you want me baby~
Taking Angel’s Poison and giving it a spin.
Porn with no plot? Slight Degradation kink. Pet play. Orgasm denial.
You made your choice to deal with the devil and now you’re at his mercy
No one knew why you were always with the red demon. When the Radio Demon came back from his ‘sabbatical’ he had a pretty little thing by his side.
If people saw you, Alastor wasn’t too far behind.
There were many rumors.
many think you were just his little errand girl.
others thought you were the reason he was gone.
but oh…how wrong they were…
You were a poor, underpaid, and abused dancer. you had met Alastor when he had dealt a deal with Husker in the club you worked.
he had peaked your interest when you witness him strip Husker of everything.
he had power. Power was the only thing in this damned place that got you anywhere.
and you wanted that power.
with his help, you could be and have anything.
and so you made the mistake approaching him.
“I want to make a deal” you said confidently.
his sharp smile widened as he quirked an eyebrow at you.
”what would you give me my dear?”
You couldn’t offer him money. So you took a deep breathe and gave him your best flirty smile “I’ll be yours. Anything you want”
his clawed finger caught your chin, angling your face to bring his face closer “you sure about that my dear?”
you nodded and just like that; you had struck a deal.
but this deal wasn’t what you thought.
you thought maybe he would have you do his bidding, or request you do weird shit.
No.
Alastor had found you mildly amusing that you would willingly strike a deal with him. So he took it upon himself to make a special deal with you.
“What a pretty pet you make dear”
your jaw was aching as you swallowed his dick. You whined at his words. You had been doing this for hours and practically had a puddle of your slick underneath you.
Alastor was sitting above you, leg on your back and purred as you gagged when he pushed your head down further.
you looked so pretty with your lips wrapped around him.
he held you fast in place with your leash wrapped around his hand.
feeling your momentum slow, he slide out of your throat with a pop.
he wrangled you til you were in his lap. The sound of static hummed in the air as he positioned you right above his spit covered dick.
You whimpered in embarrassment as he toyed with your throbbing clit.
he chuckled as your hips sought after his fingers before pushing you down onto his member.
you hissed at the inrustion and let out a moan as he slowly bounced you.
he tilted his head, watching your pretty face contort in pleasure.
“Who said you could feel good dear?”
you gasped as he set a rough pace. You felt the leash tighten around your neck, restricting your breathing as he mangled your insides.
”A-Alastor!”you cried out as he hit that sweet spot inside you.
all you wanted was relief.
his smile was vicious “do my pretty pet want to cum?”
he had asked you this multiple times and you knew what the result was going to be, but frantically you nodded as you hoped he would give you mercy.
but what fun would that be?
Alastor chuckled deeply as he thrusted harshly inside you.
he loved how pliant you were.
you would do anything to please him just to get some relief.
unfortunately for you, that just wasn’t how things were.
he decided when you got pleasure.
he let out a growl as he felt your inside clench around him
”don’t you dare”
you felt tears well in your eyes. You wanted to be good.
but fuck it felt so good.
you let out a high pitch whine when you felt that tight coil in your belly.
”please please please please” you begged.
he flipped you onto your belly and pulled the leash tight, wringing your head back, causing you to gasp as he hovered over you.
Admits his harsh thrusts he placed a soft kiss to your forehead
”how you want me dearest?”
your eyes clenched as he quickened his pace
You were so close.
he hummed and before that coil could snap…
he pulled out and you felt the warmth of his cum spilling on your ass.
you groaned and glared at his smiling face.
he scooped a little off your ass and smeared your lips
”lets try again shall we?” You sucked his fingers clean and whine when he released your leash enough for you to turn around and with only the thought of being able to cum, you spreaded your legs for him again.
Alastor’s ever sharp grin widened at you.
”and how do pretty sluts like it dear?”
“Any way you want baby”
what a good little pet he made you…
#hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#alastor#alastor x reader#alastor the radio demon#smut#hazbin hotel fanfiction#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x reader smut#alastor smut#alastor x y/n
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part 4 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』
summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.
warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking.
there is a mild noncon scene in this chapter. read at your own risk or skip past it.
word count: 5.2k
← previous chapter | next chapter →
In that strange place between waking and sleep- that's where you currently existed. You made a home there, wading through the waters of confusion as the events of last night came flooding back to you. At first none of it felt real. It was all a dream. . . it had to be.
But there was a foreign warmth beside you and something heavy weighing down on your chest, and while your limbs were numb with sleep you could still register that it wasn’t you. Not your arm.
Not your warmth.
So you opened your eyes and joined the land of the living once more.
The mornings on Caladan were lovely. Light filtered through your curtains regardless of the frequent overcast, the sprawling farmlands vibrant and oh so alive all around you. Your childhood home was all blue-grays and greens. The halls smelled briney- slightly citrus during the spring and summer months. The air was always humid, despite the chill; moisture clinging to your skin and clothes.
Feyd’s room was slate gray and black, slightly bigger than the one you had been sleeping in since your arrival on Giedi Prime. The air was acrid, the scent of iron so heavy in the air that it almost tasted sweet on your tongue. It was on your palate now, nearly causing you to gag when you took in a deep, steadying breath.
You had wanted to go home the second you stepped foot on the industrial planet, if only because you despised change. You wanted your family, your horses, your ocean-side view. Now, looking back at how childish your home-sick reasonings were, you couldn’t help but feel naive.
Not one, but many, had conspired against you. They had hopes that their pale prince would cut his losses and grow bored of you, but took it upon themselves to rid their hallowed halls of your presence. Anger began strumming through your veins, begging for release.
You did not let the feeling take shape. Acting on hate alone would be your undoing, you knew that. Yes, you were not as strong as some of Geidi Primes weakest warriors, but you made up for it with your. . . inherited gifts.
Your hand flew to your neck, hissing when your fingertips made contact with the tender skin. You groaned, your larynx screaming at protest. Did this mean. . .
No.
No, no, no.
You sat upright in bed, Feyd groaning as his arm was flung off of your chest due to your haste. Unable to process the reality that he had been touching you so casually, you instead focused on the fact that the noise you had just emitted sounded choppy. Garbled. Useless.
“My voice,” You started, eyes widening to the size of saucers as the words reached your ears. It was exactly as you feared. “I can’t use it.”
You could barely speak normally, let alone be able to manipulate the Voice. How long would it take your throat to heal? A few days? A week? A month? It had only taken two days for a few of the Baron’s men to plan out their attack. Who knew when they would try to strike again? You were a sitting duck and you refused to die like this.
“You won’t need it.” Feyd’s deep voice sounded beside you, the sheets rustling as his muscled body rolled over on the plush bed.
You tried in vain not to be distracted by his naked chest- by the planes of perfectly toned abs and the swell of his biceps as he stretched them above his head. It was gross to be attracted to him; disgusting, really.
Even in the light of day- if you could even call the murky gray that came in through the blinds light- the shadows seemed to pool around the bloodthirsty man. He wore them like a second skin. Had become them and learned to wield them at will.
His face was once again spotless, no blood to be found on him from last night's activities. He had been utterly soaked just a few hours ago. It had dripped down his sword arm, his nightshirt clinging to his chest and shoulders. . . and he had washed it all away down the drain like the lives he had taken meant nothing.
And it probably didn’t mean a damn thing to a man like him. Someone so used to reaping souls and shattering lives.
Your chest swelled as you turned to face him, scooting as far back on the bed as you possibly could. When you had fallen asleep he was lounging on the couch. He must have slipped into bed once you were asleep, outwardly lying about the fact that he would put distance between the two of you.
“I am not safe here.” You spat out, your broken voice still dripping with venom.
He seemed bored, as if your worries were unfounded. “I will cleave the heads off of anyone that even looks in your direction.” He said simply. Not a threat but a crimson stained promise.
Gone was the starry eyed girl who saw nothing wrong with the galaxy. Your innocence had been stripped from you the second that the man’s hands had found their way around your throat. Your body finally seemed to register pain now that you were fully awake. Your back felt like hell- a purple bruise no doubt marring your skin where it had connected with the heavy dresser. And your cheek? You brushed your fingers over that spot next. It felt hot under your touch.
“I can protect myself.” That was a lie. You could taste the horribly constructed fib on the tip of your tongue and it was bitter. Impossible to stomach.
Feyd sat up on his elbows then, looking over your face. His eyes hardened on your cheek, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth when his eyes started to dip lower. How was it possible that anyone expected you to ever grow used to his presence? His eyes on you felt like a hot brand. You attempted to flinch away from him as his hand reached out for your neck, but he touched you anyway.
“I should have savored that kill. Taken my time.” His voice was still gravely from sleep, but the anger was clear on his face.
Seeing you like this, for whatever reason, enraged him. You didn’t want to know why. . . at least you told yourself that. A man like Feyd couldn’t possibly care for anyone and you doubted that he would ever be capable of such an emotion.
“Do you truly take joy in murdering others?” You couldn’t understand him. There was no common ground between the two of you. He was a complete mystery to you.
They hadn’t even been your deaths, and yet here you were, feeling torn about all of the blood that had been shed. Feyd had killed seven men last night. Were you really worth all of that?
“I’m culling the herd,” He sat up then, his eyes sparking with a sick sense of delight that had your stomach roiling. This sounded like the ramblings of a madman.“They were weak, body and mind. Disobedient soldiers should always be purged. They were a disease, and I treated them as such.” The corner of his lip tugged up into a small smirk, as if he was reliving the moment that his blade cleaved through flesh and bone.
“You went overboard on my behalf.” They would hate you more now. Those guards no doubt had loved ones, all of whom would be gunning for you now.
“Would you rather I left them all alive? Given them a small slap on the wrist?” He was leaning in now, as if being closer to you would give him a better understanding of where you were coming from.
The sheets wrapped around your limbs, acting like restraints as you tried to back away from him and his intimidating presence. You couldn’t help but feel as though he was sizing you up, questioning whether he could swallow you up in one bite. His eyes, lidded with sleep and hazy with something you couldn’t quite discern told you that he would eat very, very slowly. Your fingers twitched at your sides, his eyes narrowing as though he could smell your fear in the air that the both of you now shared due to your close proximity.
“No,” You hated that you were agreeing with him. “They would have found another way to kill me. I just hate that you had to make such a show of it all.” I hate that I couldn’t kill them myself.
Who were you to decide if someone lived or died for their crimes? And yet. . . you were glad that they were dead. You couldn’t find it within yourself to feel sorry for them. They got exactly what they deserve, so why did you feel so awful about it?
Because the “old” you would have begged for their lives to be spared. That sweet, innocent girl would have abhorred the blood and gore, which begged the question: who did that make you now? Has this place truly changed you so intrinsically in a matter of days? You hated the idea that you were adjusting to the environment. It terrified you.
Feyd could see the anger churning behind your wide eyes, no matter how hard you tried to mask it. You were beautiful like this, so accepting of his nature. . . and yet you still fought him. Still fought this. He adored you for it. Loved you for it. There it was again- that word. He let the phrase sink into his bones, settle inside of his chest.
‘I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.
Look at what I can do for you. Let me kill again for you. Let me prove my worth. Let me have you. Let me taste you. Let me devour you until there is nothing left.’
He was so close now that the heat and smell of him was clouding your mind. Much like the smog outside, he was poisoning the air around you. The sheets tightened around your legs as you tried to kick them off of you, hellbent on escaping the bed and dressing for the day. You were starving, sore, and in desperate need of another hot bath. You still felt dirty after last night, like the stains hadn’t been completely washed away.
He was looking at you with those eyes. God, his eyes. . . they were blue, bottomless pits and you were sinking. . . drowning. You found it hard to breathe while he was looking at you like that. He was assessing you with a heated gaze that unwillingly set your insides ablaze. His hands were suddenly on the sides of your upper thighs, the insides of his wrists brushing against them. You could feel skin against skin, your thin nightdress doing nothing to shield you from his touch.
“You wanted them dead, I can tell.” And he smiled at that, a genuine one full of misplaced mirth.
“I don’t want anyone to die.” Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, so heavy that you suddenly found it hard to speak.
“I didn’t take you for a liar, little Atreides.” His head tilted to the side as he licked his lips. He was so close to you that his tongue nearly brushed against your parted lips.
And then he was pulling away, his warmth being ripped away from you far too quickly. Feyd left you on the bed as he sauntered over to his closet, unabashed of his half naked body- almost as though he was proud to show it off to you. His broad shoulders, toned back- it was well earned. It was the body of a warrior- of a killer.
You had to remind yourself that he was a murderer, tearing your eyes from him. It was almost as though you couldn’t get enough oxygen. Your lungs ached as you realized that he had practically siphoned it out of the room with his commanding presence.
He terrified you down to your very core. It was as though he was seeing your soul for what it truly was. . .
And it was as black as his own.
The Na-Baron’s hand against the small of your back felt more like a collar than anything. You couldn’t help but wonder if that was how you appeared to others now, like nothing more than a pet. It was a silent show of ownership, as were his hardened eyes as he turned his head to glare at each and every guard that passed in the hall. Their familiar uniform had your knees buckling and your hands shaking. He must have felt those tremors, for his fingers tangled themselves into the fabric of your shirt, like he could anchor you to him. ‘You’re safe with me,’ the gesture seemed to say.
The floor had been wiped clean of last night's massacre and it was almost as if it had never happened at all. You wished that you could delude yourself into believing that it hadn’t, but your aching bones were a constant reminder. An Atreides did not belong here.
The distance that you craved was not something that Feyd seemed keen on granting. When you had finished bathing earlier, your skin scrubbed raw, you had found him lounging back against the bed, eyes trained on the bathroom door. His presence was stifling, as were the halls of this strange empire. They appeared to be tightening around you, reminding you of your lack of freedom.
A canary in a gilded cage.
“I’ve been filled in on the events of last night,” The Baron said as a way of greeting when the two of you found your way into the dining room. “You had your fun it seemed, nephew.” He didn’t sound angry, which was good you supposed. Then again, he didn’t sound very approving either.
Feyd paused for a split second in the doorway, his lips pursing in confusion. You recalled him saying that the Baron always ate his meals in his own quarters. Your throat bobbed as Feyd’s hands urged you further into the room. Suddenly you were no longer hungry. Like a child, you wished that you could dig your heels in and refuse to make your way any further inside. While his nephew scared and confused you, Baron Vladimir Harkonnen was an absolute waking nightmare. From his pale, unattractive face to his plump, gluttonous build- even his eyes seemed completely void of any light. Your quivering worsened because you knew, even if Feyd wanted to keep you alive for whatever reason, that he would not disobey his beloved uncle. You would never expect that of him. If the Harkonnen wanted you dead. . . then so it shall be.
“It was very enjoyable.” Feyd said simply, sitting down in the chair directly beside you.
The Baron, at his spot at the head of the table, felt miles away. He was assessing the two of you, his gaze bouncing from your form and then to that of his nephew. It wasn’t until Feyd placed his arm over the back of your chair that he finally smiled. It looked more like a sneer than anything else, and all at once you wished to punch those teeth right out of his skull. His ill treatment of your father would never be forgotten, forced marriage or not.
“You two look. . . close.” He concluded, folding his hands in his lap as he sat back. His dark robes hugged all of the wrong places- he was greed in the flesh.
Feyd didn’t say anything, but he did lean in closer. It occurred to you that he was acting almost like a shield between you and his uncle. All at once your shaking stopped, your eyes flickering up to meet his face for the briefest of moments before you finally looked down at your plate. Again, the food did not appeal to your appetite. There were no fresh fruits or vegetables. Everything was brown, beige and white. The meals here were void of any color or variety and you found it fitting.
“We slept together last night, as it should have been from the very beginning.” Feyd said, no room for arguments. His tone was final- absolute, even in the face of the one person that he answered directly to.
Your cheeks were suddenly blazing hot as you realized how easily his statement could be misunderstood. Your lips parted, as though you could defend yourself and set the record straight, but the Baron was already nodding. He didn’t care either way. You were sent here to procreate, afterall. What the two of you did or didn’t do meant nothing to him. As the daughter of Duke Atreides you were nothing more than a pawn- a bargaining piece at best. Your blood boiled as you stabbed your fork into whatever meat had been served. It was all you could do not to brandish the small serrated blade that laid beside your plate and shove it through one of Vladimir’s overly assessing eyes.
“I just thought that she might have wanted her own space before the ceremony,” He started, gesturing towards you. It was as though you weren’t even in the room at all. “But I’ll make sure that her things are brought to your room.”
You did want your own space. Desperately. This whole situation felt wrong, and yet you were helpless. A few more days in your own room was nothing, really. Not when the two of you would be sharing a room for the remainder of your lives.
“It’s our room.” Feyd corrected, using his free hand so that he could take a sip of his drink.
His arm brushed against the back of your neck as he leaned forward ever-so-slightly so that he could place the cup back down on the table. The brush of his skin against yours sent a chill down your spine.
“Very well. Your shared room.” And the Baron seemed pleased.
The cogs started turning in your head as you stared at that expression on his face. Was that gloating that you sensed?
He looked as though he had won.
It would make no sense at all for the Baron to be so concerned with the status of your relationship, and yet there he had been, smiling as if he had bested you. Did he know something that you didn’t? It would be dangerous to voice the thoughts that you were having- unwise. Feyd was sure to take his uncle’s side on everything. At the end of the day you were little more than a warm, wet hole to breed. . . right?
Your skin crawled, your breathing growing more and more shallow as the seconds passed. What would your mother do if she was put in a situation like this? The urge to talk to her was stifling, and yet you were here alone. You had no allies here. You had been left to your own devices.
“You aren’t going to beg me to train with you today?” Feyd asked from the open door of the bathroom.
He’d left it wide open while he changed, as if he was daring you to gawk and stare. You were too busy panicking to even care that he could very well be naked mere feet away from where you sat on the bed. The Baron was guilty of something, that you knew with certainty. You bit down onto your lower lip, staring blankly ahead at the wall as you became more and more consumed by your frightening thoughts.
“What are you thinking about, little one?” His voice was right beside your ear and you jumped back, staring wide eyed at where he was kneeling before you.
He stared up at you expectantly, waiting for you to tell him what currently had you so quiet. His uncle had been unusual at breakfast, more so than Feyd was used to. The Baron was a busy man, and the last thing on his agenda was to eat with his nephew and his bride-to-be. He was cautious, and yet he didn’t want you to know. He would handle your safety from now on, even if that meant going against those that shared the very blood that pumped through his own veins.
The expression on your face had him leaning closer. You were so meek. . . so fearful. The need to protect you was overwhelming. How could someone ever want to hurt you? His eyes flickered over your bruises for the one hundredth time that afternoon, rage settling like lead in the pit of his stomach.
“I’m thinking. . .” You started, eyes becoming glassy. “That I was sent here to die.”
Feyd, for the first time in his life, felt helpless. He did not know how to calm you down. The man didn’t know the first thing about comforting someone, but the thought of leaving you to your own devices and panic had a gasp escaping his throat.
“Do you not believe me when I say that I will protect you? Have I not proved myself?” Actions spoke louder than words, or at least Feyd had always believed that, and yet you didn’t seem to understand what he was trying to say. His actions weren’t enough.
“You’re protecting me because you have to. I understand that well enough, but that doesn’t mean that something won’t happen. You are the enemy Feyd. My enemy.” You spoke with so much conviction and looked at him like you hadn’t just gutted him.
Feyd felt as though you had physically slapped him across the face. The chase was fun, but this. . . this wasn’t you acting hard to get. This was you drawing a very clear line in the sand. You didn’t like him and perhaps never would. And maybe it made Feyd even more despicable than anyone ever thought possible, but part of him did not care. You could fight it all you wanted, it did not negate the fact that you belonged to him. It did not negate the fact that he cared for you. . .
Cared so deeply that it had him questioning whether or not he had ever really known joy or a true sense of belonging before now.
“I am not them.” He rasped out, knowing that you’d understand exactly who he was implying.
He was not like the others. He never had been. He had a penchant for cruelty and a talent for killing, but he would never hurt you for sport. He knew of Harkonnen men that battered their women simply because they could, but the mere idea of putting his hands on you made him want to sink his blade into his own chest and twist. How could he ever explain that to you? Put his emotions into words when you knew so little about him? How could he tell you that he’d been dreaming of you since he was a child? Vivid, prophetic dreams that left him lonely and impatient.
“But you are.” There was a strange glint in his eyes that had your words leaving you in a breathy whisper. You were being vulnerable with him. Showing him your worst fears and letting him know that you currently had no more aces up your sleeves. The Voice was useless to you right now, and no matter how skilled you were in combat, it would mean nothing if you were up against an entire planet of people that wished you dead and silenced. You had kept the fear bottled in for three days now, and you had no one to confide in.
You would regret this, you knew it with a surety that nearly had you choking on a sob. This information could be used against you. He’d make sure that you met your end the second that you birthed him an heir. . .
So why did he look offended by your words?
His plush lips parted, blue eyes widening for a second as he fully comprehended what you had just uttered to him. Having you as his would be sweet, yes, but it paled in comparison to the idea that you would eventually care for him in the same way that he did for you. It lit a fire inside of him, and he didn’t understand how to make you see.
Feyd needed you to open your eyes and understand that he was not your enemy. He was the only person on all of Giedi Prime that was absolutely, without any question or doubt, on your side. He would burn the entire planet to ash if he had to. He’d serve his uncle’s heart on a silver platter and let you eat your fill if it meant that you would come to understand his level of utter devotion.
You blinked and suddenly you were on your back, a small grunt escaping you as his calloused palm pushed against your chest, too fast for you to even register. He was on top of you, straddling your hips. The weight of him on top of you had your teeth clenching, your traitorous body reacting in a way that sickened you. Civilizations had worshiped at the feet of long forgotten Gods that weren’t half as beautiful and cruel as Feyd-Rautha.
“You are my wife-” He started to speak, but you were quick to interrupt him, refusing to back down.
“Not yet.” You seethed.
Feyd couldn’t help but want to fight you on that, to challenge the unnecessary bite in your tone. If you were so hellbent on treating him like an enemy then so be it. He’d push you to a breaking point. He’d make you love and trust him. He’d show your true enemies such cruelty that you’d have no reason to doubt his convictions.
And before he could reign in his emotions, before he could feel any guilt, he was lurching forward. Long fingers tangled themselves into your hair as his lips pressed against yours. Unyielding, he dominated your mouth, teeth sinking into your lower lip. He needed to taste you- your mouth, your blood.
Sweat, tears, slick. He wanted all of it on his tongue.
The years spent waiting and biding his time had been worse than he realized, for the second his lips pressed against yours he found it hard to stop himself. The need that coursed through him now was more powerful than anything else he had ever experienced. You yelped against his mouth in pain, trying your hardest to flinch back at the sharp pain in your lip. The mattress and his unyielding grip on you kept you from moving even an inch. He took advantage of that small sound, his tongue lapping at the roof of your mouth lazily, the salty iron of your own blood invading your senses.
And he was everywhere. His weight was on top of you, his arms on either side of your head, his fingers buried in your hair- and you couldn’t get away. You tried bucking him off, hands grabbing at his training shirt so that you could try and pry him off of you. The muscles in your arms strained as you pulled, thighs quivering as you tried your damndest to flip him over onto the bed. You would not kiss him back.
No matter how badly your instincts were telling you to give in. That voice in the back of your head was loud, but the sound of your own pounding heart in your ears drowned it out. Your body burned as he slid his hips down slightly, changing his angle so that he could grind himself against you. The friction sent a jolt of what felt like lightning shooting up your spine. It took all of your self restraint not to moan into his mouth, which would no doubt motivate him to push this even further.
You felt him. All of him, even through all the layers of clothing that separated the two of you. He was hard, to what must have been a point of physical pain, over a mere kiss. His lips were unexpectedly soft on yours, far softer than the very few men that you had kissed in the past. They moved languidly against yours, and you wanted to be disgusted by the fact that he seemed to be enjoying himself immensely.
You hated the part of you that craved this. You could deny it all that you wanted, but the dull ache between your traitorous legs told you what your mind could not: a sick part of you wanted this. Maybe it was the very same part of you that had wanted those guards dead.
You should hate him. You wanted to hate him. You needed to hate him.
And then his hands were sliding down the back of your neck, his lips sliding down the base of your throat-
“Stop! Feyd, stop!” You finally found your voice, sucking in a breath of air. You felt dizzy, and yet your body was more alive than it ever had been.
Traitor. You were a traitor to your family.
He sat up then, eyes glazed over, his thick lashes casting shadows on the tops of his cheeks in the dim lighting.
“Do you hate me?” He panted out, voice thick with an emotion that you couldn’t quite place. It was as if he could read your mind.
“Yes.” You lied. This lie was even harder to swallow than your last for whatever reason. Maybe it was the heady look in your eyes or your swollen, well kissed lips. . . but Feyd knew you weren’t telling the truth.
“I’ll fuck you until you want me,” And his harsh, horrible words didn’t quite match the tender way he cupped your cheek. “And then you’ll want me so badly that you’ll love me.”
He got off of you then, forcing himself away from you before he made a mistake. Today was not the day to claim you, not with the previous night so fresh on your mind. He would figure out a way to apologize for his loss of control later. For now he needed a change of scenery, preferably one that didn’t have a bed. . . or a couch. . . or a table. . . or a counter-
“Pig,” You spat in his direction, quickly fumbling to straighten out your now wrinkled clothing.
“Your training clothes are in our closet. Put them on.” He was still breathing heavily, pacing around the room with his hands on his hips. His cock was straining against the confines of his pants, begging him to turn around and finish what he started- make good on the promise he just made to you.
“Are you crazy?” You screamed at him, lurching up from the bed as though you were going to attack him.
Slowly he turned to face you, his features twisting into something that looked a tad bit like forlorn yearning.
“Yes,” And he nodded, not denying the fact. “Yes I am.”
← previous chapter | next chapter →
ೃ࿔ savage bonds taglist:
@elf-punk @shitfuckeryclownverse @mydarlingelvis @heartarianagran @ohdearmaggie @chalametism @killingboredom @obsessedvibee @avidreader73 @softboo @tedcruzumakii @luminnara @narniansmagic @torchbearerkyle @ziggy-stardust-world @tian-monique @adoxra @zz-snow-zz @tiredsleepyhead @icontrolthespice @itsparksjoyhuh @verveta345 @shegatsby @zae5 @ertepla @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @lotus-888 @meetmeatyourworst @moonchild-artemisdaughter @abswifey @flower-frog @auroranodyssey @forgedfromthestars @moony-artemis @juliskopf @moonsoulk @serrendiipty @atrxidxs @the-ruler-of-death @mintoblobo @just-pure-trash @randominterwebthings @springholland @so-dramatic1 @ashy-kit @aslutforscarletwitch99 @sofia-013 @gamorxa @ricecakeslove @alexandrainlove @selfishlittlebeing @ceres27
#savage bonds fic#savage bonds#feyd rautha#feyd x reader#feyd x you#feyd rautha x reader#feyd rautha x you#dune part two#dune part 2#dune#austin butler#feyd rautha harkonnen#dune x reader#dune x you#dune fanfiction#feyd rautha fic#austin butler fic#feyd rautha smut#paul atreides
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi !!!! I’m sorry if this is bothering you and if so you can totally ignore this but…
I’ve been thinking about how Ghost would react to reader gradually pulling away from him because she gained some weight and is self conscious and ashamed and doesn’t want to be seen by him, so sculpted and beautiful… but of course he’s feeling low because he wants to be close to reader and so he asks and she finally explains it to him (ready to be broken up with…)…. And I’d love to read your take on it !
You can make it female or gender neauteal I don’t really care !!!! Thank you anyway ❤️❤️❤️❤️
Wildflowers Grow in Ruins
(Ghost x F!Reader, word count: 5 k)
Summary: Reader tries to break up with Ghost because she thinks she's not good enough for him.
Tags/warnings: FLUFF, soft sensual smut 🔞, hurt/comfort, light angst, Jealous!Ghost, Soft!Ghost, self-loathing & self-body shaming. Good girl talk/praise kink. Reader is female and wears a skirt for smut plot purposes.
A/N: I hope you like this take & I hope you don't mind that I tweaked this request just a little bit!) Also: JFC I'm wordy. The "I need to explain why they're fucking!" meme comes to mind every time I write anything.
Wars are exhausting.
You know fighting for something can empower people. Fighting against something usually just depletes your strength.
But waging a war against yourself…
Now that is pure hell.
It started somewhere in your youth. You thought adulthood would take it away; that reason and tolerance would take it away. You were supposed to feel more confident in yourself, more positive about life. And for a moment, you thought you might just succeed.
But standing beside a god of war is no easy feat.
He came into your life like a walking myth, swept you away, and you only laughed as you went. It was fun at first. He was supposed to be your savior, the solution to all your problems. If a man like him found you attractive, perhaps it was the world that was crooked and not you.
But then you got soft: you started to gain pounds. Meanwhile, he became even more magnificent. It reminded you that it had all been just a dream.
Perhaps it was his eyes that seemed to worship you, that seemed to look past your every flaw. Perhaps it was the hands which never seemed to get enough of your skin. Whatever it was, it was too much. And at the same time, never enough.
The day has finally come to let him go.
You think yourself heroic. It's like it should be: it's only right that you finally release him to someone better than you.
But inside, the noble feelings twist and turn and curl around your throat and stuff your stomach full of ice - the kind they fill glasses of mojito with. The drink you'll always remember him by because he teased you about it: that you wanted an ice-cold summer drink even in the middle of winter.
Now you feel cold all over, and wish he could warm you like he used to.
You would forsake all the mojitos of the world to keep him. You would renounce the whole drink if it came to that; if you could make him yours.
But he's not yours. He never was: he was just on loan to give you a taste of what it would be like to have a man like him. That taste should be more than enough for a lifetime. You should feel grateful.
So why is it so hard to let go?
The key on the front door turns, and your heart shoots up your throat: you're supposed to settle this thing once and for all. You're supposed to let go of him today.
And still, when he arrives, you can't find the courage to say what you need to say. The words are stuck in your throat, but tears are not. He should already be a memory, but you find yourself suffocating on memories as you cry. You've learned to do even that in silence, like the rest of your suffering.
You take a few deep breaths, wipe the tears away, shove the rest of them down your throat – you save them for later, later, when he's far away and you can finally curl up and cry your heart out without no one there to look. Fucking later.
Good.
Good.
Great.
You put your heaviest armor on. It protects weak and soft flesh because you can't meet him all bare. Then you step forward with the knowledge that you’re a thoroughly wounded guerrilla while he is a seasoned, well-rested veteran. The fight is nowhere near even, but it's ok. You are not meant to be in the presence of immortals anyway.
The man looks at you warily as you finally enter the room. That haunted look has followed you for some time now as the distance between you has grown.
It should be easy, what is about to come, because he hasn't touched you in weeks. You haven't wanted him to.
Or you have… But it's not easy to have his hands on you when your body is only a vessel you hate. How can you even think about pleasure when all you think about is how it must feel for him to caress something as awful as this?
The man is a vision, and he settles for a peasant. It should be against the law, but it's not… so you figured a some time ago that you should simply find the strength and grace to do ii: do what's right.
"I need to talk to you."
Your voice comes out neutral, and it makes you more confident, if only for a second or two.
He lifts his chin: already knows what's coming, because he's not stupid. You've been shutting down for weeks, and he hasn't done much about it. But when the thunder rolls in, he doesn't flee. Probably because he fears nothing.
"Go ahead then," he says, equally as neutral, equally as icy. Got his armor on, too.
This should be easy…
It's really not, so you decide to rip the band-aid off in one yank.
"I think we should go separate ways."
The following inhale from across the room pierces the air like a bullet. You can hear his breaths gain depth and speed all the way to where you're standing.
"Ok."
It doesn't look or sound like he's ok. If anything, he looks like he's trying to process the sudden storm.
"Ok…" His eyes are on the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. Then he starts to pace around the little kitchenette you've shared for almost six months, just before you started gaining weight.
He stops to look out the window, then turns to you, and the hurt in his stare comes through like a thousand needles pushing through skin.
"Is it because of my work?"
"No."
"What is it then?"
Your breaths are getting out of hand, too. He looks like a lost, tired creature in an abandoned animal shelter for a moment, and it breaks your heart. It squeezes the organ inside a flaming fist until it shatters like it has never been nothing more than ice.
Your lip starts to tremble, and he notices, as per usual. Nothing escapes this man, except perhaps the true reason for your anguish.
"Hey. Hey."
He comes to you and hugs you like it's the only thing that matters: to comfort you when he sees you're about to cry, no matter how crushed he's feeling himself. The sudden warmth, the intimacy after weeks and weeks of pain is knee-buckling.
"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?"
His voice is soft, so soft… The tears rush forth now; there's no way of stopping them. What the hell can you even say to a question like that? That you wish he could grab a magic wand and turn you into someone gorgeous, the woman he deserves?
His embrace feels good, kind of. It also feels smothering because your self-hate makes you want to disappear from existence entirely. His eyes are equal to physical touch, a probing scan that sees every little flaw, not to talk about massive faults, the ones which make you feel like you're simply disgusting. His touch only reminds you how you must feel like to him: soft, too soft, weak.
And he must hate weakness.
"What do you need me to do? I'll do anything," he tries with a parched throat, then swallows.
It's fucking horrible. This isn't going at all like you had imagined.
"It's not about you," you struggle out of his hold, and he lets you go with reluctance. You have to basically fight your way out of a bone and steel prison. Why would he even want to hold a pathetic woman who's on the brink of ugly crying on top of everything?
"What do you mean?"
He's slightly breathless – and restless as fuck. He's usually so calm; nothing can get to him, nothing can rattle the tower of raw strength. Now you've not only pierced some invisible armor; you can hear pieces of it falling on the floor.
"Have you found someone else?"
What the…
"No." You put as much weight on that word as you possibly can. To imagine that he thinks you are cheating… Fucking cheating on someone like him. "Jesus Christ…"
He takes a deep breath and sighs deeply, sighs out relief, perhaps. Then his razor-sharp stare fixes on you again, and you can see the fear turning into something akin to concern. You suspect you have to tell him the truth, otherwise he will dig it out of you.
"I'm just…"
Jesus, this is just humiliating.
"I'm just not your type."
"What the hell are you talking about," he mutters, the impending fury giving way to momentary surprise.
He gets intense sometimes. This time, the ferocity is born of barely concealed distress. He's broad and magnificent, even in despair. He’s just so fucking fine… The perfect man, someone you had never even imagined yourself with. Pulled down to the world of puny mortals, evidently stressing about losing one.
Losing you.
"If you have someone new, you can just bloody well tell me."
"It's not that. You don't understand–"
"Try me."
"I just…" A tear escapes down your face as you finally break for him. "I'm fat. Okay? And ugly. And–"
"Stop right there."
The look on his face is just… It's priceless, you suppose.
"Bloody fucking hell…"
He looks at the floor, then runs his fingers through the short cut hair on top of his head. You've yanked those blonde strands more times than you can count, nearly every time he's been between your legs, and you miss it – you long for it, like fallen angels long for heaven.
And if there was a time this man was rendered speechless, you would say you were witnessing that moment right now. His brows knit together, then he looks up at you again with blaring disbelief.
"You're serious?"
"Yes."
"This is the reason you wanna break up?"
Ugh.
"Yes?"
His voice grows rougher with every question until it resembles thunder, and you suspect this is the commanding tone his soldiers are used to hearing.
But you're not: it's gravelly, harsh, and betrays the feeling of having been insulted. You feel even more devastated with yourself – it appears you can do nothing right.
"Where has this… idea even come to your head?"
"I don't know."
"And you never thought to ask my opinion?"
"Would you please stop yelling," you whisper and blink back some putrid tears. His mouth is snapped shut, his head pulls back just a little as he realizes what he's done.
"Sorry," he says with a half-whisper, and you catch the strain in his throat. You've never seen him cry, but now his voice is suddenly thin and frail. "I'm sorry."
He takes a step, then another, places fingertips on the counter as if to take the faintest support.
"Can I touch you?"
You don't really want him to do that, but you feel pity for the man. He's trying to find a way through this mess, and you want to help him.
"Yes," you whisper, and he immediately comes and takes you in his arms again. Hot tears disappear into his shirt, and you sniff a few times. He feels so good, so safe, even when you're about to lose him. His hold tightens around you, and the kitchen is silent; the whole world is silent. You don't know if you're being put to a grave or if you're in a deaf womb, waiting to be reborn.
"Now I don't know who's said this shite to you but ugly is the last fucking thing I'd call you," he declares above you. As if it was some bully whose fault it is that you were this way, a bully he could deal with with his fists or a gun. If only things were that easy…
"Have I said or done something? To make you feel this way?"
Then the blade is turned against himself. The man desperately searches for a culprit so he can deal with them.
"No," is the only thing you can say because it's true: he has never done a thing to make you feel like you weren't good enough; quite the contrary. But then again, he doesn't have to. It's enough that he exists and resembles a god.
"Then why do you think you're not my type?"
"Because you're so perfect," you hear yourself wail, no, cry into that shirt that smells of sweet safety and familiar musk – his scent, another thing you have missed like it's the only way to heaven.
"That for sure ain't true."
"But it is."
He seems to have the utmost difficulty in grasping what the issue here is. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head with a rusty, laborious creak.
"Can't believe you wanna break up because of this," he finally says. You've chipped his pride, the ego that lives off of pleasing the ones he loves: the few chosen ones who he wants to give his whole life to.
"To me, you're perfect," he then says, and you simply… You stop breathing. "You're like… my dream woman. Ever thought about that?"
It can't be true, even if you vehemently, desperately want it to be. You reach out to his words like they're precious food after years of famine. Like they're sun and spring rain after being buried in the cold, dark soil whole winter.
"No…?"
"Never occurred to you that I might find you fucking beautiful?"
"Stop," you whisper, because it's too much to take in. He sounds so serious, so sincere.
"No, I don't think I will."
He pulls back a little and cups your face. Brushes away a tear, looks at you with so much love that it physically hurts; you feel like it's a lance that slowly drives through your heart.
"How about I kiss every part I love about you?"
You let out a soft little whimper. Fuck, that you want him to…
It would also be uncomfortable as hell. To try and let him love you and your body, which you have grown to loathe.
"It's gonna take all night, though. Wanna be as thorough as possible."
"Simon–"
"Love. I want you. Thought I'd made it pretty clear, but apparently I haven't. If you only knew how much–"
He sighs deeply. The man is frustrated with his shortcomings, thinks that this is all his fault. You cry a tear or two just for the sake of how absurd it all is.
"I don't want you to go. I fucking love you. Everything about you."
For the second time this afternoon, your lower lip starts to tremble as if this was some stupid, romantic movie. He can be so soft when he wants to, more romantic than the soft-spoken gentlemen in Jane Austen's novels. It doesn't even require any effort: underneath the cynical surface, there's fiery emotion, so powerful and raw that it almost bleeds out of him. Fuck… Does he even know what he's doing to you?
"I love you too," you whisper back, and the warmth that starts to bloom in his eyes is an entire sun on its own. It's hope, and you believe him, almost believe him.
"Then I'd say it's a bloody bad idea to break up."
You chuckle while few more tears push through to the surface.
"Simon…" You sigh and look back up at him, your armor falling to the floor too. "I feel like a wreck."
You allow him to see the pain, all of it. His breath is sharp as it hits him, but he still doesn't waver.
"Then let me help you."
The arms around you gain more strength, and you're crushed against a chest made of power. He tries to turn shit to gold, and threatens to succeed. You allow yourself to soften in his hold. How good it feels to be supported – no, loved.
"You don't even let me touch you anymore."
It's a filed complaint, but also heart-rending, soul-wrenching longing. You have evaded him for weeks now – hell, this shit began months ago and has escalated gradually, stealthily, until the moments together were a rarity, the space between you was full of frost; and not the crispy, happy summer drink kind.
"I thought you'd found someone else. Could've found out if that was the case in minutes, but honestly, I didn't wanna know."
Oh my God…
Has he lived with a growing suspicion and dread all these months?
That would explain why he has avoided you too…
He has allowed you to go to your supposed lover, has given you space to be alone and without too much attention. The man has shielded himself from pain.
Jesus fucking Christ.
"I'm so sorry," you say with a strained little breath. "I swear it's nothing like that. I just… I feel like a mess."
"Never seen such a gorgeous mess."
He speaks on your skin, the kiss on your forehead feels like an absolution.
Then you notice it's not only his words which try to assure you. He's growing harder by the minute against your stomach, just from a simple hug. Just from being pressed against you like this, after weeks of dry, bitter longing.
"Miss your taste," he murmurs to your skin, his voice like sand wrapped in burning velvet. "The sounds you make when you want it hard."
Oh God–
"Miss your smile when we go to shower after."
"Hmh…"
"Don't wanna live without that smile."
You don't have to.
God, you don't have to…
"How about we make a deal," he draws fingers down your chin, coaxing you to look up at him. His eyes are stripped from the cold distance that greeted you just moments ago: now they are filled with warmth that spreads to your chest and belly and bones. You drink him in like summertide.
"You come to me every time you feel bad and I'll make you feel good. Alright?"
"...Ok."
He tilts his head a little to the side, not entirely satisfied with your shy little answer.
"Come on. Make me believe it."
"It's a deal," you say with more grit to it, even if you're nearly crying again, this time from relief.
"That's my girl."
Oh fuck…
He knows exactly what strings to pull, the good girl talk being one of the things that instantly makes your legs feel like jelly.
And why does he always have to use that voice when he calls you a good girl or his girl, that sultry smoke that makes you want to swoon until he catches you and carries you to bed?
The man seems to be a mind reader as well, because he sweeps you off your feet and does exactly that: carries you to your bed which has mainly seen silent tears and painful sleep last months.
"Poor thing doesn't even know how lovely she is."
He sounds amused in the face of your darkness: sees it in full and still doesn't fear at all. He's ready to battle your demons for you, and you feel like shaking: from his touch and that voice, from the stress and loneliness that starts to release as he lays you down on the bed.
He looks so different from the man that has haunted this place for the past months, the complete opposite of the reserved soldier retreating into the shadows.
He moves to kiss you, and it's been – what? Weeks since your last kiss? And even that was only a quick peck, nothing like this… Wet, and desperate; a devouring. It makes you clench around nothingness, and you finally surrender.
No one can fake such fervor.
You try to accept it: accept the fact that even if you hate yourself, he does not. For some reason, he adores you. His breaths hit your face hot and urgent, and he can't keep his hands to himself anymore. They wander over your waist and hips, they even risk to steal a feel of your breasts, and then he groans in your mouth.
"I've missed you. Fuck, I've missed you..."
You taste notes of burning leaves; tobacco, his only weakness. You fantasize on the thought that you might be another weakness, too.
"Remember when I fucked you in my office?"
"I've missed you too," you utter softly in between the kisses that threaten to turn into a sloppy mess. "So much..."
He smiles at that, and it makes you weak, even when lying down like this.
"Yeah…?"
"You were so loud I had to put a hand over your mouth."
His voice is thick as he laughs a short chuckle. Your inner walls clench again at the sound, you throb among the warm syrup surrounding you.
"Never seen you so wet. Almost dripped all over my gear."
"It's that stupid mask you wear," you hear yourself breathe like you've just been underwater. Feel yourself throb some more, feel a burning sensation in the nether areas from the scorched desert turning wet again. You want him so much that it actually hurts down there.
"Knew you'd like it. That's why I kept it on."
If this man keeps talking, your underwear is going to be utterly ruined. And of course he does; of course he continues to pour more love in your ear.
"Everyone looked at you like you were a queen," he grunts in your ear, sounding almost… pissed.
"Don't be ridiculous," you try to form sensible words. It's only a faint breath, really, but he huffs at your modesty.
"You don't have eyes in the back of your head, love."
Wow… He is a bit pissed.
Had they checked your ass out when you visited him?
It was the first and, what you thought, the last time you got to visit him at his workplace… but you never would have guessed the reason for him not asking you to visit again would be jealousy.
"Don't worry. I put those fuckers in their place after you left."
Whoa.
Ok…
First, he had fucked you senseless in his office – a highly inappropriate move for a man in his position – then got jealous because some soldiers had checked you out as you left with his cum practically dripping from your cunt.
You put yourself in his shoes for a moment: he's had to live with thoughts of you running to some other man's arms when he's not home, and then watch you waltz around his workplace after making what was supposed to be the last effort to make him love you… When he has loved and adored you this whole time, has watched the sway of your ass with the rest of those home-deprived, horny soldiers, thinking you had fallen out of love and were on your way to go see some other guy.
Had he invited you there to try and win you back, too? By showing himself to you in all his puffed up, masculine glory? A desperate man in a skull mask, hoping to get love from you…
There's so many misunderstandings; they rip your throat. A sob escapes, and he stops his caress.
"Love… Tell me to stop if you–"
"No. No, I don't want you to stop."
Your request comes out with such demand that he hesitates only a second or two. Then he moves on top of you and tugs your skirt up. You don't even have time to realize what is happening before he has worked himself out of his pants.
He's hard and heavy between your legs, and your eyes go wide as you realize he's not going to bother to take your briefs off. He just slides a hand under the skirt and draws the fabric aside, and the fat tip of him is pushed in the middle almost clumsily. It's hot, and slips down to your opening with ease.
Oh f–
"Been jerking off to you nearly every night at the base," he says just before he pushes himself in.
"Uh–...."
Your thighs spread wide as he fills you slowly, inch after inch. The sound that leaves him is starved: a dry, painful sigh. He's been waiting for this for god knows how long, and you're just as hungry to take him in. He seems endless, the way he finally works himself fully inside, spreading you even wider as the thickening base of his cock reaches its end.
"Thought you were getting railed by someone else while I only get to fuck my hand."
"Oh god…"
There's really nothing else to say as his balls press against you, heavy and taut. He's not going to last long.
"Yeah. Imagine that," he admits, breathless like you.
You look at him with what must be the most helpless stare of longing in your eyes. Then he moves, and you want to grip him to keep him inside. The first thrusts are divine, they're pure heaven, and your head sinks deep into the pillow as you try to get enough air, try to not scream from pleasure already. Somehow, all you are able to utter is a desperate little whisper.
"Simon–"
His cock is good enough to bring tears to your eyes. You're starving too, you're pulling him in with fierce hunger, and he groans, then nearly falls forward, his weight pressing against you, swallowing you, until you feel like you're an idiot for thinking that you're too big. The thickness of his chest rubs against you as he makes love to you with passion that echoes the first times you did this.
"Just wanna adore you, love." He's panting desperate somewhere above you. A god and a man, both furious and gentle. "I wanna adore you. Just like this."
You answer him with what must be those sounds he told you about, the sounds you make when you want it hard.
You want him to fuck you, to wreck you after weeks of loneliness and hate. To love you until you break into a million pieces.
"Simon," you whisper. "...Love me."
He halts, huffs in your neck. It's almost a sob. There's so much emotion and desperation in the air that it could be scooped up and sold in the streets.
"Always," he rasps in your ear, then moves to kiss you again. "Always."
The promise echoes around you, it coats your lips as he loves you with all he has. It's been so long, and he feels so good that you nails dig into his shirt, his shoulder, you try to hold onto him even though he's the wave that rocks you.
"You feel that?" He goes deep; he's out of breath and desperate, even more desperate than you. "That's love. You feel it, yeah?"
"Yes," you sob in his shoulder, tears trying to escape your waterline as you're going dumb from the pure sensation, the sensuality of it all.
"That's it, love. That's a good girl," he turns to your neck and gruffs in your ear as you whimper and moan. "Always such a good girl."
Shit…
"I, I'm gonna…"
Your legs wrap around his middle, your muscles twitch and your hands reach and grab – they claw and yank and tug everything they can: his back, shoulders, shirt, something sturdy to keep you from drowning in a glorious orgasm.
He laughs in your neck and continues to grind you through your climax even when you're shattering, sighing, moaning, writhing under him. He just laughs, the man who never laughs: from witnessing you respond to him calling you a good girl.
Fucking bastard…
Lovable, infuriating bastard who knows you to your core.
You're an overstimulated heap by the time he comes as well, not long after you, but long enough to make you feel like you're only a tender bunch of nerves. Your legs have fallen to the side, he has open access to take what he needs: you, your love, all of it.
His whole middle goes tense as he cums, he groans and swears somewhere deep into your neck, rolls his hips over and over again like it's a must that his balls press against you with every thrust that shoot his load.
Then he falls slack, nearly collapses on top of you, reminding you of what it feels like to be small under a giant like him. You're throbbing together, you're full and fulfilled, and he is still lodged deep inside you, panting and broken in a sweat.
"Jesus Christ…"
He sounds dazed.
Relieved.
"Should've done this weeks ago."
You laugh at seeing him so done – a man in love, torn by jealous yearning, finally taking what's his. You stroke his neck, his back – it's so good to have him finally there… So close, with no barriers in between.
"I should've talked to you weeks ago..."
"Yeah. You should have."
"Are you going to punish me?" You giggle a little – the flirt is light and frees your heart further from its recent jail. He moves to look at you with all the tenderness there is. It's too much... His love is too much. But you won't run from it anymore.
"Nah. Think I'm gonna spoil you some more."
He spoils you right away with a kiss. You surrender to his treatment with happiness: happy tears, even.
The medicine to your anguish has been the exact opposite to what you had first tried, what you had originally thought. The true remedy for your sickness is mercy. Perhaps some spoiling…
And love.
#simon ghost riley#simon riley smut#simon riley fluff#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost fluff#soft simon riley#simon riley imagine#ghost x you#simon riley x you#fluff and smut#call of duty
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
— mine yours. - s. gojo.
playboy!gojo x reader.
warnings : nsfw [ minor do not interact!! ], cunnilingus, orgasm denial, possessive!gojo, praising, lowkey angst, tbh this is pretty tame, not beta read lol, idk if i missed anything !
gojo was infuriating to say the least.
he was beyond spoiled, born with a silver spoon in his mouth. he was used to the best. he had the best clothes, the best schools, the best friends, and even the best women. he's known for having a new girl every now and then, always just as beautiful as the last, driving them around his luxury car until he got bored of them and dropped them.
he's used to getting his way every time, not settling until things were in his favor. he hates being told no when he wants something. he's persistent in all of the wrong ways and for all of the wrong reasons.
however, you couldn't bring yourself to complain as he was knuckles deep into your core, curling his fingers perfectly as he sucked on you clit. your hands were tangled in his white hair, back arched off of your comforter as you withered in pleasure.
the arrangement between the two of you was a bit different that gojo was used to. the girls he was with usually like being shown off. they liked being spoiled with the little gifts he would give them. they would brag about him to anyone who would listen, even going as far to post pictures of the two of them kissing, not that he minded.
you, on the other hand, acted like he barely existed despite spending almost every night in his bed and almost every morning eating at his house, wearing one of his shirts. you didn't go out of your way to see him, you didn't accept any of the things he bough you aside from a necklace on your birthday, hell you didn't even speak to him when you were in the same room if other people were there. he would be lying if he said his pride wasn't hurt.
"got the sweetest pussy, pretty girl," he muttered around your clit, the vibrations adding to the stimulation as you tightened your grip on his hair. he'd spent the last half hour between your legs, having pulled three powerful orgasms from you. he would deny you your release and have the ache build up a few times which led to an earth-shattering orgasm that made your ears ring and vision blur.
"everything about you is just so cute," he released your clit and took one last swipe through your folds before he began to kiss up your torso, stopping to deliver a harsh suck at each nipple before continuing his path to your lips. "so. fucking. cute."
"toru," you whined out as he removed his fingers from your cunt, bringing them to his lips to suck clean before kissing you deeply, your heady taste present on his tongue.
"patience, beautiful. you and i need to have a little chat," he said, opening the foil of the condom with his teeth and rolling it on. as he lined himself up with your entrance, he spread your legs, offering himself a full view of your cunt.
"we have to talk right now? it can't wait—ah!" gojo ignored your words, pushing slowly into your heat and pausing when he was mostly inside.
"please move," you tried to thrust your hips, but gojo was quick to pin them back to mattress.
"here's how this is gonna go. i'll move as much as you want me to, but you don't get to cum until you say that you're mine," he groaned in your ear, unable to resist the shiver crawling up his spine as he settled deeper into your core. you tossed your head back as the tip of his cock scraped your walls deliciously.
"didn't know—fuck!" your snarky remark died on your tongue as he suddenly began to thrust his hips, setting a pace that numbed your mind.
"you can keep the sarcastic remarks. not interested in those right now," he grunted, biting down on your shoulder, hoping to ground himself. your mind grew foggy as you grew closer to your release. you couldn't form coherent words, let alone fulfill gojo's request.
you weren't totally clueless as to where this behavior came from. if anyone asked you if you even knew gojo, you would deny it without hesitation. it didn't matter how many times he fucked you or how many late night dates the two of you went on, you would not admit to dating the man.
and it wasn't even to save face, you just didn't think what you and gojo had going on was that serious. you knew his track record and thought it'd be best to skip any unnecessary future drama that would come with being "satoru's girl".
"'t-toru~ i'm gonna—n-no, please~," you whined as gojo's thrusts paused as your release approached.
"aht aht aht, you haven't said it so you don't get to cum," he said, continuing his pace when he was sure your pending orgasm subsided.
"satoru please! i just wan' cum on your cock," you whined in his ear, arching your back as he grazed your g-spot.
"and i wanna hear you say that you're mine. mine to kiss. mine to hold. mine to fuck," he emphasized his sentences with harsh thrusts. "my girl."
"why—ah! why w-would i say that when y-you aren't mine? i k-know how you work, 'toru," you pushed out, forcing yourself to focus on speaking as he fucked you dumb.
gojo paused in his thrusts to look at you, disbelief painting his face. "you think i spend my friday nights watching scooby doo movies with you just so i can fuck you? you think i wake up before you to cook you breakfast just so i can get some pussy? you think that i help you go over your proposals a thousand time as test runs because i just want to have sex with you? i must've fucked you stupid or something because that's the stupidest shit i've ever heard you say."
"'toru, you know that's not what i meant. i was just saying—fuck!" your arms shot out to hold gojo's hips, hoping to stop his resumed thrusting.
"i know you meant, pretty," he hummed as he picked up his pace. "change of plans. you can come as many times as you want, but i'm not stopping until you understand that not only are you mine, but i'm yours. got it?"
fuck, you were in for a long night.
© JUPIPEDIA. all rights reserved.
#— (jupipedia.)#— (jupiter: after hours.)#gojo satoru x reader#satoru gojo x reader#gojo x reader#gojo smut#gojo satoru smut#satoru gojo smut#jjk x black reader#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk gojo#anime x black!reader#anime x black reader#*ੈ✩‧₊˚❕*∘∘˙˚༄💨 ( a jupiter production. )
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
FAMILY DINNER
Summary: Chris joins your family for dinner for the first time and it does not go as planned
Tw: Swearing, narcissistic dad, verbal arguing, panic attack mentions of alcohol use, mentions of ed(NO DETAIL), lmk if I missed something
______________________________
"Baby, it'll be fine. I'm sure they're not so bad." Chris spoke. It was 6:45, and you and Chris were heading to a family dinner. After you and him had started dating, him, his brothers, and your family have been begging to meet one another.
But you knew better. You knew your dad couldn't hold his tongue, and you knew your mom couldn't hold back her comments about how you sat, how you spoke, how you looked. You knew your brothers and your sisters knew how to mess with you, not enough to make you cry, but just enough to piss you off.
"Chris, you have no idea." You say, leg bouncing nervously as you both sat in the back seat of the van. You only agreed to go if Matt and Nick came with, knowing that Chris wasn't going to be able to keep his temper in check.
"Don't worry, y/n, it'll be okay. It's not like any of us are gonna provoke them. They don't have any reason to hate us." Matt chimed in from the drivers seat. Chris squeezed your thigh reassuringly.
"It's not you guys that I'm worried about." You muttered, biting your nails. You just hoped your dad didn't have much to drink tonight.
"Plus, we're youtubers, a little back handed comment isn't gonna affect us." Nick smiled triumphantly.
Boy, were they in for a treat.
____
After what felt like 2 minutes, Matt parked the car in front of your childhood home. You've dreaded this moment ever since you and Chris started dating. You knew the time would come, but you just ignored it and pushed it back as far as you could. But eventually, everyone became impatient, and you were pushed out of your comfort zone.
Chris wasn't prepared. None of them were because nothing could prepare them for what they were getting into. Growing up with 2 older brothers, a younger brother, and 2 younger sisters, you knew just how quick it could turn hostile. You knew how it could be peaceful one moment, and the next, 2 people are driving off, 3 are crying, and one is smashing plates.
It could get ugly quick. Mostly, you were able to hide most of your family troubles from Chris, only occasionally giving him bits and pieces. This was completely different. This was a full view of what and where you grew up, and if anything was off or revealed, Chris would be there to see. That scared the shit out of you.
And Chris knew that, so he didn't push, no matter how eager he was. He never pushed you to do anything that made you uncomfortable. This, though, meant a lot to him, so he did voice his opinion.
So here you were, standing outside of the home you grew up in, with your boyfriend and his triplet brothers. You take a deep breath before knocking.
Here we go.
You lean back into Chris, who's hand found home around your waist, squeezing gently. He kissed the crown of your head, whispering, "Relax, baby, we got this."
You nod as you hear the lock turn and the door open. Your oldest brother, Peter, who was 26, stood in front of you. He looked much different from the last time you'd seen him, which was like 2 years ago.
Last time you two were together was at Christmas when your dad decided to get plastered the morning of Christmas and destroyed everyone's presents. Thousands of dollars down the drain. You swallowed at the memory.
"C'mere kid." Was all Peter said before engulfing you into a long needed hug.
You melted into your brothers touch. "It's been too long. Way too long." You mumble against his chest.
When you pull away, you see tears in Peter's eyes. You slap his chest playfully, "Oh, you big baby, don't cry."
He laughs, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes. You laugh and hold his hand.
Nick clears his throat, bringing your and Peter's attention to the three same face boys.
"Oh! Yeah, Peter, meet my boyfriend, Chris, and his older brothers, Matt and Nick." You say, moving out of the way for the men to exchange greetings and hand shakes.
"I'd like to apologize in advance, I'm definitely gonna have trouble telling you guys apart." Peter laughs.
"Oh, don't worry about it. It happens all the time." Matt reassures. Nick and Chris nod in agreement.
"Okay, well, Dad's at the store - thank God -" He interrupted himself, putting his hands together and looking up, earning a chuckle from you, "but everyone else, excluding Cam, is here."
Your heart drops at his sentence. Your second oldest brother, Cameron, hadn't been to a family gathering since he moved out. You can't say you blame him, knowing your family, you wish you'd had the heart to leave too. It was still disappointing, despite how much you understood. Cam and you had always been the closest growing up, and your heart ached, knowing the rest of your family ruined that bond for you two. You and him were only 2 years apart, him being 22, and you being 20.
You knew you shouldn't have expected him to magically appear, but you were hopeful.
"That's okay. Let's go inside, I want them to meet the rest of the dumbasses." You say, trying to hide the disappointment, and it mostly worked, but when you turned around, you knew Chris knew.
He always knew.
You smiled at him and grabbed his hand, leading him into your house, gesturing Matt and Nick to follow.
Peter leads everyone down the hallway, the sound of playful yelling sounding from the living room. Peter took a left, walking into the room, smiling widely.
"Guess who's here!" He says happily, turning around to you, who stands in the doorway, smiling widely.
James, Maya, and Julia, your younger siblings, looked up and smiled widely.
"Y/nnnn!" Maya yelled, getting up and hugging you tightly. "Woah! Hey, hi baby." You say, smiling into her head.
Maya was the youngest, at 11 years old. She was the peacemaker, no matter how demanding, she probably had the best communication skills out of everyone. Which is saying something, she's 11.
"Alright, alright, save some for us." You look up and see your youngest brother, James, standing next to Julia, waiting their turn for a hug.
You let go of Maya and walk over to the 15 year old twins and embrace them tightly. God, how you missed them. This hug was shorter, only because your mother spoke up.
"Well, finally! What took you guys so long?" She asked, rolling her eyes. You break the hug, sighing heavily.
"Hi, mom. I'm happy to see you, too. Uh, this is Chris and his triplet brothers, Matt and Nick." You say, lifting your hand, gesturing towards the three men.
You smile as your siblings exchange greetings with the triplets, just as Peter did, happy that they were in a good mood. You turn back to your mom, who has a strange look on her face.
"What?" You ask, confused, sitting down on the couch next to her. "I thought you were only bringing your boyfriend? Or are you dating all three?"
Your eyes shoot to hers, a look of disgust covering your face. "What-Mom, no! Matt's talking to someone and Nick..." You cut yourself off, debating whether or not telling you mom about Nick's sexuality. It's not that your mom was homophobic, she just wasn't exactly open to it. You knew that if you told her, she'd figure out a way to make an untimely and out of pocket comment about it.
"Nick...?" Your mom gestures you to continue speaking.
You open your mouth to speak, but you hear the front door open. Oh shit. The party has started.
"Dad's here!" Maya shouts, running to the door. Chris sat down on the couch next to you, Matt and Nick next to him.
You notice Nick talking to Julia about her favorite music artists, and it looks like their having a good time. Peter and Matt seem to be getting along, while Chris and James talk about the most recent Celtics game.
Despite all the calm conversations going on around you, you can't help but feel nervous. Your dad's here, which puts everyone, at least on your side, on high alert, making sure they tiptoe on their words.
Chris notices you tense up and place his hand on your thigh, which you reach and squeeze his hand, not for his sake, but for yours.
Your dad walks in and freezes for a moment. It was a long moment, long enough for everyone to notice his presence and get silent. You and him stare at each other, not breaking eye contact for a minute.
Finally, after the deafening silence, you decide to speak. "Hey, dad." You breathe.
His shocked face turns into a soft smile. "Hey, kiddo, c'mere." You smile softly, cherishing the peace while it lasts. You stand up and walk over to your dad and embrace him. You knew what he was capable of, but you also knew how much he loved you and your siblings.
You could be mad at him all you wanted, but he's still your dad. "I missed you, y/n." He mutters into your head. You smile into his chest because as much as you hated to admit it, you missed him too. When he wasn't drunk or being an ass, he was a pretty awesome person.
You pull away, and he kisses your cheek before gesturing to the audience behind you. "And who are these fine gentlemen?" He asked.
You smiled. "That one's Chris, my boyfriend, and those are his triplet brothers, Nick and Matt." You say, gesturing to the boys, who wave as their introduced.
"Nice to meet you all, especially you, Chris." He smiles sarcastically. Here we go.
Suddenly, his demeanor changed. His shoulders tensed, and his fist clenched. You look at him curiously and wonder what flipped the switch, what pissed him off this time.
Chris smiles kindly. "Nice to meet you, too, sir."
Your dad nods before glancing at you and looking up again. "Dinner should be ready. How's everyone feel about spaghetti?" He clapsed his hands together.
He earns a collective 'yes' from everyone before picking up Maya in his arms and carrying her to the kitchen. Everyone stands up and begins to follow, except for you and Chris. He grabs your hand and pulls you closer to him.
"You okay, ma?" He asked. He must've noticed your demeanor change from happy and cheery to suspicious and confusion.
You nod your head hesitantly, still thinking about how quickly your father changed his mind about being kind. "Uh... yeah, yeah, I'm okay." You say softly.
He looks at you curiously. "Are you sure?" You nod again. "Yeah, let's go eat."
____
Quiet chatter amongst the families began at the dinner table, after everybody had gotten food. You noticed your anxiety seemingly grow stronger as the dinner continued. Nothing had happened yet, and that's what scared you.
Your leg bounced under the table, and despite Chris's attempts to soothe you by rubbing your thigh, nothing seemed to work. Even Chris's touch seemed to be too much, too overwhelming.
You feel your breathing catch in your throat, and suddenly, the gentle chatter becomes too overwhelming. The scraping of the forks echoed loudly in your ears as your hands started to sweat.
You stand up abruptly, catching the attention of all three triplets and James.
"Excuse me." You muttered before rushing to the bathroom and closing the door.
You curl into a ball, breathing heavily as tears fall from your eyes. You weren't having a panic attack yet, but if you didn't get your breathing in check, you'd get one soon.
You list off things in your head, things that make you happy. Sunshine, Chris, dogs in clothes, Chris, Sour Patch Kids, Chris
Speaking of which, you hear the door open, and you force yourself to look up, seeing your loving boyfriend. He got down on your level, taking your hand and putting it on his chest.
You catch on quickly, taking breaths that match his, well, kinda. Yours are shakier, but you're getting there. "It's okay, baby, you're okay. Shhh.." Chris whispers, his other hand rubbing your back.
You sigh as you finally take a deep breath of air, leaning your head against Chris's shoulder as he hands rub shapes on your back.
"It's okay, baby, you're stressing yourself out. It'll be okay." He whispers as he stands up and pulls you up with him.
He embraces you once again as you sniffle into his hoodie. You pull back and wipe your face aggressively, laughing quietly.
Chris cups your face, wiping your tears before pressing a kiss so soft, it was almost ghostlike, on your lips. You smile at him.
"Thank you, baby." You say rubbing his bicep in appreciation. He smiles down at you, kissing your forehead. "Of course, baby. I love you. Are you ready?"
You nod, and Chris opens the door, hand in yours as you all walk back into the dining room. Most conversations continued, but you noticed your dad and mom talking quietly amongst themselves, and it didn't look pleasant.
Your dad's eyes shoot to yours as he chuckles darkly.
Fuck. This can't end well.
"And what the fuck were you two doing?"
You smile, trying to swallow your fear. You notice Chris squeeze your hand, and you squeezed back in reassurance.
"Just had to take a breather. It's all good now, though, don't worry." You say as you and Chris sit down. You hope it's enough to satisfy your dad's curiosity, but unfortunately it's not.
"So you and him didn't just fuck in the bathroom." You freeze. Every conversation stops immediately at those words, as he wasn't quiet about it.
"What- dad, no. Why would you say that?" You sputter as a pink hue comes over your face. You glance at Chris, who's just as shocked as you.
"Sir, I'd never do that, especially here." Chris says calmly, but you can tell that one comment pissed him off completely.
Your dad stares at you both as a silence covers the room like a weighted blanket. Just when the tension seems to reach its peak, your dad speaks up.
"Good. Now, let's eat." He says, passing the food to you.
Jesus, this is gonna be a long night.
______________________________
Part 2 is coming soon.
@sturnioloblogs @y0urm4m @sturniolosmind @thenickgirl @muwapsturniolo @matthewsmocktailss-deactivated2 @breeloveschris @worldlxvlys @freshloveforthefit @miloisdone1 @vanteguccir @annamcdonalds67 @freshsturns @rootbeerworshiper @matty-bear @orangelala
#nick sturniolo#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo triplets x reader#chris sturniolo imagine#chris sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo fluff
771 notes
·
View notes
Text
BACKBURNER // PART 1
DESCRIPTION: She had grown tired of being on his back burner, the person that he had kept warm until he gotten the girl he has had his eyes set on for years... And with a little help from her friend, maybe... just maybe she'll finally be the first choice.
PAIRING: Seungcheol x Reader | Mingyu x Reader
GENRE: Angst & Fluff
"Her or me?"
She never thought they would have come to this – having to ask the man that has loved for the past year and half to make a choice.
She watched as his adam's apple bobbed up and down, nervously swallowing the lump in his throat.
He was silently pleading for her.
"Cheol. Her or me." She repeated, this time her voice firm.
"Baby," He began, reaching for her hand but she wasn't having it; pulling her arm back away from his reach. "Don't do this."
His lack of response was more than enough for her. She wanted to hear him say it; wanting a reason to keep fighting for whatever it was that they had.
The thing was. she didn't know if she even had the right to ask him to choose. It wasn't like they ever established or put a label on their relationship.
If it was even considered as one.
She knew she wasn't his friend. No.... friends don't kiss each other the way they did.
Friends don't go on dates. They don't call them when they're drunk to pick them up, claiming that they missed them and wanted to come home to their cuddles.
But they weren't lovers either.
Because two people who were considered lovers told each other that they loved each other. Lovers don't seek out for others attention and care because there was no need to.
They were in a gray area. They always had been – and y/n had grown tired of it.
Y/n grew tired of alway coming in second. Second to her. His best friend, Sunhee. The reason why he could never bring himself to establish their relationship.
Seungcheol had only been using y/n as a filler and she no longer wanted to be the person that kept the seat warm until the right girl came along. In this case, until Sunhee had given him the time of day.
He stood there in silence, unable to muster up any words.
"Fine, if you're not going to make the decision, I will." Y/n sucked in a deep breath, fighting back the tears that threatened to pool at the brink of her eyes. "We're done. I'm done. I can't keep doing this."
She was finally raising the white flag.
Grabbing her jacket off of the back of the couch, Y/n made her way to the door; taking one last glance at him. He didn't bother moving from his position – standing still in the middle of the living room as the girl he claimed he care about was walking out of his life.
A part of her wanted him to stop her, just one last time.
But seeing as he didn't seem to budge and she knew she had fucked up.
・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．
"Kim fucking Mingyu, get out here." She called out as the front door slammed behind her; dumping all her belongings on the couch next to his roommate.
"Geez," Minghao scooted away to the far end of the sectional, clutching the remote in his hand closer to his chest. "You sure know how to make an entrance."
She snapped her neck towards his direction, holding a finger up. "Not. A. Single. Word." Y/n gritted through her teeth.
"Gyu! Get out here! I'm scared!" Minghao cried, eyes wide.
"The hell is going on?" Mingyu chuckled, sauntering out of his room to meet a fuming y/n.
"Make him choose, he'll wake up and actually pick you." Y/n mocked, using a high pitched voice. "Fuck you."
Mingyu had grown tired of listening to her vent about how their mutual friend continued to toy with her emotions, coming up with the bright idea to finally voice her the thoughts that had been flooding her mind. She had unfortunately, allowed her best friend to talk her into giving Seungcheol an ultimatum; in hopes that maybe it will finally make him realize that it had been her all along.
Because maybe.... just maybe, he'll choose her. She should have known better than to listen to him.
Taking a step closer, Mingyu craned his neck to get a better look at her. "Have you been crying?"
"Yes!" She pouted, the tears welling up in her eyes once again – the scene of her standing in the middle of Seungcheol's living room replaying in her head. "You told me to make him pick! Guess what, he did! He chose her!"
He technically didn't choose. He didn't say anything.
But y/n knew that his silence was more than enough confirmation.
Mingyu tried to hold back the laughter the was building in his chest, but it was no use. He had always found her crying face a little funny; earning a smack across his chest as the girl allowed her tears to fall freely down her face.
Just as she had when she was driving on the way to his place, blasting her 'heartbroken girl' playlist.
"Sorry, come here." He pulled her into his chest, laughing harder as he heard a muffled sob against him.
"It's not funny!" Y/n stomped.
"It kinda is." He gave her a squeeze before stepping away from her. "Look, I told you he was a red flag. Hao, told you he was a red flag. You knew he was a red flag..."
Wiping away the remaining tears on her cheeks, she took a seat on the couch; letting out a loud groan. "What if red is my favorite color?"
Mingyu and Minghao exchanged looks before giving the girl the same one they had expressed to each other.
They had heard her defend Seungcheol countless of times and had no shame in freely judging her for it.
They were men, and men knew how men's brain worked.
No matter how many times she tried to make it seem as though Seungcheol's actions were done with no intentions of hurting her, they knew he was not smart enough to do that.
No man was.
When a woman thinks a man is pretending not to care, it was most likely because he actually doesn't.
They were simple creatures.
"Don't judge me. Both of you guys are horrible, horrible men too!"
She had her fair share of overhearing how they talked about the opposite sex – forgetting that she was woman as well. She had been around them for so long that they no longer considered her as a girl. Hell, she doesn't even think they considered her as a person.
Y/n cringed at how they talked about their recent dates and girls that blew up their phones, scolding them whenever they took it too far.
"Hey, we are horrible men who have the decency to tell girls we are not looking for anything serious. So if anything, we are pink flags." Minghao defended as he crossed his arms over his chest.
They were in their 20's, at their prime, and had women practically drooling at the sight of them. They simply had to exist and they fell at their feet.
They were just like any other men in the dating pool.
At least they had the decency to never ghost a girl and give her a heads up on what exactly they were looking for.
Just plain fun.
They didn't string them along.
Not like what Seungcheol had done with y/n.
"I need new friends."
・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．
She knew she shouldn't have agreed on going with Mingyu to this damn party.
It had been three weeks since she had last seen Seungcheol and she would have lasted longer if her best friend hadn't practically dragged her out of her apartment to accompany him to Seokmin's place for a joint birthday celebration he was hosting with Hansol.
A part of her prayed that he wouldn't show up.
Why wouldn't he though? They shared mutual friends.
Of course he would be there.
"Are you going to avoid me all night?" He had finally been able to catch her all alone as she had gone into the kitchen to grab another bottle of beer for Mingyu.
The beer that he had guilt tripped her into getting for him; claiming that it was the least she could do since he had been so kind enough to make sure she was never alone the whole night – deterring Seungcheol from approaching her.
So much for that.
The list of reasons to murder Kim Mingyu is slowly becoming longer and longer.
Y/n was heartbroken and wanted Seungcheol to suffer. She wanted him to squirm and feel restless – she wanted him to break the 'no contact' rule that he had been holding onto since she had walked out on him.
She wasn't going to be the first to crack. Not this time.
"Yes." She flashed him a smile before heading back to the dining room, taking a seat next to Mingyu. "Here, I hope you choke."
"What I do?" He took the bottle from her hand, bring his arm back to rest on the back of her chair.
"He followed me into the kitchen."
Mingyu watched as Seungcheol rejoined the group, making eye contact with him.
"My bad." He chuckled, taking a swig.
The night went on with the room filled with laughter and voices speaking over each other – much like any other time they were all together.
All while y/n ignored the hole that Seungcheol was burning into her skin; feeling his stare from across the table, the rest of the group didn't seem to pay no mind to the tension between the two.
And frankly they didn't seem to care – very aware that the two had an icy hot relationship.
All except Mingyu, who had caught on to this the second he sat back down.
"You ready to head out?" He leaned down, whispering into y/n's ear.
Turning to give him a disgusted look, she nudged his body away. "Ew."
"Play along." Mingyu said, low enough for just them two to hear – his eyes signaling over to where Seungcheol sat. She sneakily took a glance over at him, seeing his jaw tense at the sight of her and Mingyu being at such close proximity.
She met Mingyu's eyes, silently asking him what was going on.
"I'll tell you in a bit."
"Okay but don't fucking do that ever again." She shuddered.
The two have been friends since middle school – having seen each other through all phases of their lives. Including their awkward pre-puberty stages.
Other girls seemed to fall at the feet of Mingyu, thinking he was some gorgeous Greek God; but all y/n could see were the days he would be knuckle deep in his nose digging for gold only to wipe it on her skin right after.
He was pretty, she'll admit to that.
But he was gross.
"We're heading out." Mingyu announced, standing from his seat; holding his hand out for her to take.
A chorus of bye's was heard from around the table as y/n hesitantly placed her hands in his – allowing him to guide her out of the apartment.
Once the door had closed behind them, and was out of earshot, they immediately dropped each other's hands.
"Your hands are cold." His nose scrunched.
"That's not something I can control." Y/n snapped back.
They have known each other long enough for their friendship to turn more into a love-hate one; bickering like their lives depended on it instead of holding a proper conversation.
Mingyu stepped into the elevator, hitting the LOBBY button, "Just saying, geez."
"Wanna tell me why you had your hot breath in my ear?"
A mischievous smile appeared on his face and y/n knew right at that moment that she shouldn't have asked.
Any time he smiled like that, she had always run into some issue that caused her to regret every single decision she had made in her life – it was never a good sign whenever his canines were in full show.
"I know how you can get him."
Or maybe.... this one won't be as bad.
"How?"
"Pretend to date me."
"No."
"Wha– why not?" Offended at how quickly she had turned him down.
"No. Ew."
"It's not for real. We won't even kiss!"
"No."
"Fine. Then I don't want to hear how much you miss him." He stepped out of the elevator with her hot on his heels.
Despite being the one to end things between her and Seungcheol, y/n had spent the past few weeks venting to her friend how she wished he at least texted her. Or maybe fallen into the trap of swiping up on the stories she had posted on her social media.
"Fine."
"Fine." He shrugged, entering his car.
The two drove in silence, allowing the low hum of the engine and radio to fill the air – both of their social batteries at zero percent.
She had been absentmindedly scrolling through tiktok when she began to once again, allow Mingyu's coniving voice plague her thoughts. Y/n replayed Seungcheol's stoic expression in her head, knowing well enough that her and Mingyu's interaction had gotten to his head.
Y/n couldn't believe she was actually considering entertaining the thought of fake dating to make Seungcheol jealous.
But she was far gone from reasonable thinking, wanting to do anything just to make sure she could hear Seungcheol say the words.
She wanted him to pick her.
If he was a red flag, then she could even be redder.
"Can't I just use a different guy to make him jealous?" She spoke up.
Mingyu let out a loud cackle, throwing his head back. He knew it would only be a matter of time before she cracked. "Like who?"
"What about Wonwoo, he's single right?" She recalled to the time in their sophomore year when the two had drunkenly shared a kiss at a frat party. It was convincing.
"He's also not your type."
"You don't know my type." She rolled her eyes.
"Yeah I do. You like emotionally unavailable men."
"I do not–"
"Really? Jungk–"
"Okay!" She interrupted him, not wanting to be reminded of her ex who had made her cry for almost every day of the week during her senior year. It was not her proudest moment, but then again, most of the men she dated never made her proud.
"Come on, let me be toxic and mess with him." Mingyu snickered, slowing at the red light to send her a wink.
"No."
"Come on!"
"What's in it for you?"
"Please, making him angry is more than enough for me." A mischievous laugh escaped his lips.
Mingyu had always had some sort of competition with Seungcheol, dating all the way back to their freshman year of college. The two had always been playing a silent game of chess, finding ways to make each other upset over the smallest things.
Whether it was scoring more during a game, or dating the same girls... the two were always neck and neck.
But she knew he was right. If there was anyone that would grind Seungcheol's gears the way Sunhee did for her, it was Mingyu.
Y/n couldn't help but feel disgusted at herself as swayed into the decision. She couldn't believe she had become a pawn in the two's game.
"He better choose me by the end of this."
"Of course, baby."
"Don't call me that."
"Yeah that was gross." He gagged.
He called her baby.
And she only liked it if he called her baby. No one else.
#mingyu fic#mingyu x oc#seventeen fic#seventeen#mingyu angst#kim mingyu#mingyu x reader#seventeen imagines#mingyu#kmg fic#seungcheol x reader#seungcheol fluff#seventeen seungcheol#choi seungcheol#seventeen scenarios#seungcheol x oc#seungcheol angst#seungcheol fic#svt fic#scoups x reader#scoups fic#spamgyu#spamgyu: backburner#this will be multi parts decided i want to be annoying and feed into my delusions
882 notes
·
View notes
Text
If I can't have you, no one can. // Yandere!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader [ONE SHOT]
Summary: Aemond cannot bear to watch you be married to someone else.
WARNINGS: nsfw content, mdni: dark themes, obsession, possession, major character death, angst(?), yandere!aemond, smut (p in v, fingering), violence, murder, creepy behavior. + not proofread.
WC: 1,450
Aemond has always been obsessed with you as far as he can remember, he remembers the moment he fell in love with you.
He was a young boy, recently recovering from the incident at driftmark, wearing bandages around his face to recover, he didn't get out of his room much, too insecure to show his face after the incident.
The rare times he was out was to converse with his sister Helaena, and in those exchanges was when he met you, you were a lady of a small house, assigned to Helaena as a lady in waiting, or a playmate. She had introduced you to him and he was reluctant and had his guard up at first, but eventually he warmed up to you, and soon became friends with you too.
You saw him without his bandages once, it was an accident, Aemond panicked and screamed at you to get out, being extremely insecure at the wound, and you immediately obeyed, not wanting to anger him further.
You found him crying in a corner for an odd reason, and he looked up at you, before wiping his tears away and looking ahead. You sat down next to him to which he was surprised by.
“Why are you crying?” you asked him, and he sniffed, “You can drop the acting, I know you think I'm hideous, a monster.” he spits bitterly.
You gasp at that before quickly reply, “I do not, your wound is a proof of your bravery, I do not know how you got it, neither do I intend to pry on it if you are not comfortable, but it is a reminder that you are brave. That you overcame a dire situation.” you say and he sniffs once again, he hated being seen so vulnerable but never in his life did he feel so accepted and loved.
And then went on to tell you how he got it and by the end of the story you were seething, “Those vile bastards, how could they do that?” you seethed, Aemond was surprised at that before he chuckled, “I wasn't planning on hitting them with the rock, they are my nephews after all.” he explained his side and you nodded, defending him and taking his side.
It was the moment he fell in love with you, watching you talk about he didn't deserve that, you didn't pity him, you shared his anger and wrath, and from that moment onwards, he wanted to have you.
As you both grew older, Aemond's love got more twisted and dark, his love becoming obsessive and suffocating, he refused to let any man gaze at you longer than needed, always staying by your side and only leaving when he had to. He would lay on your lap as you read to him before pressing kisses on his forehead, you eventually fell in love with him too.
You were unaware of his doings, he killed multiple people who he saw as a threat, a threat to your relationship, he wanted to rip everyone who touched you to shreds, he wanted you to be only his, forever and ever.
And so begun your secret relationship, he would pull you to an isolate area to shower you in kisses and lovebites, he made your father get a position in the small council so you could stay in the keep, he would sneak to your room at night from the secret pathways.
He remembers vividly when he took your maidenhead, promising to marry you as he spilled his seed deep inside of you. He was the happiest man alive in that moment, he thought about you swelling with his child, and how much of a great mother you would be.
His plans came to an abrupt stop when he heard that you would be marrying a Cregan Stark, in hopes of bringing more allies to back up Aegon's claim when they usurp the throne, and also that Cregan had taken interest in you so much that he was willing to break an oath, which is never done by any Starks.
He saw red in those moments, felt pure rage, how could they propose that? The realm be damned for hells. He would rather rain fire on the realm than watch you get married off to someone else.
But alas, he was bound by duty and had to watch you be married to him, the wedding took place in the keep like your father had insisted, as the North would be too cold for them to visit.
The consummation of your marriage was to be done in your chambers. You had left early because you didn't want this either. Cregan was talking to important lords and it seemed that it would take a while before he retired.
So you laid on your bed thinking of what to do when you heard the door of the passageway open and your head snapped to the side finding Aemond, he immediately wasted no time pouncing on you.
“Fuck, fuck I can't let him have you.” He breathes against your neck, trailing kisses down to your breasts, he pulled up the chemise revealing your intimate area and breasts before he latched his mouth onto one and suckled like a hungry babe.
His hand trailed towards your intimate area, finding it wet already, “Is this for me or for him?” he asks, and your breath hitches in your throat when you feel him press the fingers down on your clit, “Y-you.” you say and he smirks before his rubs small circles against your clit.
His fingers trail down further and prod at your entrance before he slides in a finger, you gasp when you feel his fingers hit the rough patch almost immediately, it seems as if he knew it by memory. He thrust his fingers in and out, watching you squirm and moan his name, he wanted to be inside of you so badly, so he pulled his fingers out and licked them clean.
He undid his breeches before pushing your legs apart and burying himself in your cunt, you moaned in pleasure as you felt him spilt you open, you wrapped your legs around his hips and encouraged him to move, his hands pinned yours to the side before he started moving and rutting his hips against yours
You moaned and chanted his name like a prayer, he hands left your hands to grope your breasts as he kissed your lips, he pulled away to look at your dazed expression as he felt you clenching around him knowing that you are close, he watched as you closed your eyes before moaning his name out loud and coming undone beneath him, he groaned at the pretty sight.
His thrusts became more sloppier before he pushed to the hilt and came inside you with a loud gasp.
You both were breathing heavily, you pulled your chemise down and turned to him, he plopped down beside you, doing up his breeches and you rested your head on his chest, the moment was so perfect, but the truth weighed on him like a curse, and so he got up and paced the room, angrily, wanting to do something, but knowing he won't be able to do anything without destroying the alliance.
He can't let Cregan have you either.
You sat up and looked at him and then the atmosphere of the room shifted into a sinister one, Aemond going mad to his obsession with each second, he slowly stalked towards you before he stood in front of you, caressing your face and leaning down to kiss you.
“You're mine, you belong to me, I can't let him have you, no no, you're mine.” he grunted angrily and just then something evil popped up in his head.
His hand slowly reached for his dagger, you watched him, confused.
“If I can't have you…… ” he trailed off before kissing you.
“No one can.” he whispered against your lips as he plunged the dagger straight into your chest, digging it in your heart and stabbed you, you gasped in pain before the light in your eyes faded, falling unconscious.
He pulled his dagger out and watched as you fell backwards onto the bed, the life leaving your body, the blood soaking your chemise and now the white blood sheets, he snapped out of his dark thoughts and felt the weight of the situation.
He panicked when he realised what he had done, he immediately left the room when he heard the door open, hiding in the passageway, having guilt weigh on him, but he also felt satisfied in a sick way that no one could ever have you now, just like he can't.
Cregan screamed for the guards and for some odd reason, this entire situation somehow was blamed on the blacks, accusing them of sending assassins to kill you, this only made Cregan support the greens more.
Aemond had achieved what he wanted, but he couldn't bear to live along with the fact that you were gone, feeling lonely, he went mad and so, he followed you.
That day, Alicent screamed when she found Aemond's dead body, a letter written to apologise to everyone for leaving them behind, but he couldn't bear to live without you.
And so you and Aemond went down as a tragic story of unrequited love.
Where everyone tells the stories of how Aemond was smitten with you since a young age, but he watched you get married off to someone else and also die in the same night, it was told how he mourned and grieved for you, succumbing to madness before finally following suit.
The story was more sinister than that.
However they wouldn't know.
Nobody would know the truth.
———
#x reader#reader insert#aemond targaryen#aemond x fem!reader#aemond x reader#aemond smut#yandere aemond targaryen#MAE:DARK!CONTENT#yandere aemond#yandere#aemond fanfiction#aemond#aemond one eye#house of the dragon#hotd#house of the dragon fanfiction#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen fic#hotd aemond#aemond fic#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond the kinslayer#aemond targaryen x female reader#my lil war criminal
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
SORRY - T. KAULITZ
synopsis: you were drinking your sorrows away after yours and tom’s breakup, receiving unwanted attention at the random club you are at, until the last person you expected to see comes to your rescue.
content: angst + smut
a/n: again pulled this out of my ass this is becoming a very common theme LOL. this isn’t what i wanted to post but it’s been a week since i last put anything out so i threw it together, def not my best work and i feel like all i write is angst to smut whoops, hope u all enjoy anyway and thank u for 500 followers!!
the alcohol soon takes over as i down another shot, the liquid burns my throat and only fuels my recklessness. not that i mind, in fact, it is exactly what i need. tonight i don’t want to feel - tired of the everlasting burden of my emotions. i want to be numb, nothing but an empty vessel, letting the alcohol lead the way opposed to my diseased mind. music blares through the speakers, probably loud enough to cause some serious damage to my eardrums. but i don’t know how long i have been at this club for, though it is long enough for my hearing to become accustomed to the thick bass pulsating through my body, no longer wincing whenever i would near the speakers.
intoxicated bodies encircle me whilst i make my way to the centre, some just like me - alone and drinking away their self pity. others dance with their friends, slurred giggles leaving their lips as they sloppily sway their hips to the music, covered in nothing besides their skimpy dresses. those that i envy don’t dance alone, but with a man beside them, hands on their body, faces inches apart. they are able to focus on the one person in front of them, tuning out the hundreds of people surrounding them. but, each person that i see all have one thing in common - they fit in. and i want that too, so bad, instead of feeling so misplaced - that feeling ripe within me, apparent ever since he left.
everyone knew about tom and i’s breakup, hell, how could they not? ‘germany’s biggest heartthrob - tokio hotel guitarist tom kaulitz, parts with model girlfriend after two years!’ - that’s a headline most reporters dream of, christmas having come early for them when the news came out. and it spread like wildfire, his fans - who were particularly notorious for not being entirely fond of tom finding a long term girlfriend - had hit the jackpot. they speculated, some saying that i cheated on him, some insistent on me being too controlling - others even going as far as to say i made him choose between me and the band. but when it came down to it, they were just rumours, plain and simple. no one is aware of the true reasoning behind it - only the two of us knew why we parted.
it was a mutual agreement, yet tom was the one that initiated it. the distance inevitably put between us as a result of him travelling on tours, from continent to continent, state to state, meant that we rarely saw each other, this putting stress on the both of us. i wanted us to work, more than anything, yet the way we drifted apart from each other made it impossible, being with him feeling like a chore as every small disagreement would blow way out of proportion, usually fixed by sex, the cycle repeating for the last few weeks of our relationship, until it reached breaking point. and i didn’t want to be used for my body, though i knew deep down tom loved me for more than that, fixing our problems with physical intimacy was only a temporary solution - leading to us parting ways.
that was one reason for our breakup, however the other was far more serious, and tom wasn’t even aware of it - but i had been speculating for a while. with his frequent travelling, i knew that i wasn’t the only girl in his life. how could i have been? he would go without seeing me for weeks, and whilst he had changed past his womanising ways, it would be stupidly naïve of me to think that he had moved on from that lifestyle completely. or perhaps my mind was tricking me, the loneliness i was often left to increasing the paranoia. though he had never explicitly given me the impression he was cheating, the thought always nagged in my mind, making the breakup slightly easier once he announced that we were no longer working. he promised that he still loved me, that maybe in the future things would work out, but i knew that was just a way to make our separation less bitter.
the constant articles, pictures, videos, and speculations of tom with other women each week lead me to the present, drinking my sorrows away a month after our breakup, wishing that i had never let him go despite agreeing that us parting ways would be the best solution. i was tired too, sick of fighting for a relationship that was no longer there. sometimes it felt utterly one sided, like i was the only one willing to try. tom refused to admit this, reminding me that "i know how much he loves me". however we just didn’t work anymore, his claims of our love like empty spews of desperation, but any words uttered from his beautiful mouth were words of truth to me, until i came to the soul-crushing realisation that he doesn’t adore me the way he did when we first met, all those years ago.
but god, every time i see pictures of him with a girl that isn't me, my heart wrenches at the sight, slowly tearing my insides apart as i recognise letting him go as my deepest regret. and the anger at not only myself, but him for leaving me eats me up, alcohol and temporary fixes being the only thing that can put my ill mind at ease.
but tonight tom isn’t on my mind. i’m desperate, longing for the touch of anyone who will give me the attention. that is why i left the house wearing nothing but a tight black dress that barely passed my mid-thighs. tom would never let me leave the house in such an outfit alone. he was always over-protective over me, loving the idea that I was his and only his. however he had left me, and i don’t care how promiscuous i appear, because admittedly, i am more needy than ever. my body running way ahead of my mind, i move sloppily to the rhythm of the music, feeling two hands grab my waist gently, pulling me into them as i turn around, seeing a tall-ish guy with fluffy blonde hair smirking down me.
he wasn’t tom. he could never be tom. nobody could. not a single person on this earth could even come close to him, could make me feel the way he did, both mentally and physically. right now it doesn’t matter, i don’t care who he is, because, on the surface, he is a male giving me attention, something which i have craved over this last month of loneliness.
"hi there." I utter drunkenly, slurring my words and backing further into him, the alcohol sinking more and more into my system as i no longer care who is dancing with me, this being the first time i have experienced physical touch since tom. and oh god how i’ve missed it. i’m a mess; a desperate, foolish fucking mess. if tom could see me right now, he wouldn’t recognise me. hell, i don't even know who i am anymore - in all honesty i had lost every part of what i thought i was the second he had walked out of the door. somehow, through the alcohol and attractive man behind me, tom is all my mind can focus on - his body the only clear image in there, beyond the fuzziness from the alcohol. i utterly despise the way he has such an effect on me, knowing that he has already gotten over our relationship despite the years we spent together, even before we had started dating, we had been close friends. using all the strength within me, i drown out every thought of him, attempting to enjoy the bitter-sweet freedom and get over him.
"what's your name beautiful?" the mysterious guy shouts over the crowd, tightening his grip on my waist.
"doesn’t matter." i reply. honestly, it didn’t - i probably won’t see this guy ever again, not after fucking him anyway. in any other circumstance, i would be scolding myself for giving myself up so easily, selling myself like some cheap slut. now though, i’m no longer myself, turning to face him, latching my arms around his neck. "what's yours?"
"alex." he responds, clearly not looking to make conversation, his dick appearing to be doing all the talking. "do you wanna get out of here?" he signals to the door, my head nodding eagerly in response, craving for any intimate moment no matter who it is with. part of me convinces myself that i am with tom, that it is him i am leaving the club with, as i would every single time. i imagine that it is him holding me with such adoration, that it is him soothing me in every way possible, yet i know that he is never coming back.
my body pushes its way through the crowd, uttering broken excuse me’s as i walk by, legs becoming weaker by the second as my vision slowly blurs. i soon pick up on the reality of the situation, disgust and shame echoing within me as i realise how fucked up my mind truly is. i am about to have sex with a guy who I have never met before - whether or not tom had broken my heart, i deserved to have morals. the rationality ticking in by the second, i roughly pull out of alex's grasp, his tall frame turning around in confusion.
"i- i have to get to my friends." i lie, totally aware that i came here alone, my words barely audible as my breathing becomes uneven.
"no, come with me, don't be like this baby." he smiles, pulling me along with him, tears soon clouding my vision as the chances of me escaping the situation seem to slip through my fingers before i can gather any sense of what is happening.
"let me go!" i muster all the courage and strength within me and yank my arm away, stumbling backwards into the cold brick wall behind me, the harshness causing me to shiver as i bite the inside of my mouth, praying for something, anything, to take me out of this situation. alex nears towards me, our faces inches apart as he towers over me, my body weak and defenceless against his.
"stop being such a bratty fucking bitch and just come with me-" he begins, grabbing ahold of my arm, only to be pushed to the floor in a matter of seconds, my head looking upwards in confusion to be met with a face i dreaded and longed to see at the same time.
"fuck off!" tom begins, squaring up to alex, who is useless against him, the height difference almost humorous. if i hadn’t been scared for my life seconds prior, i probably would’ve laughed, though the only thing i am truly able to process is the confusion that soon replaces any fear within me. "you ever go near my girl again and i'll break your fucking jaw. you understand, hm?" he shouts, alex smiling to himself and walking away, clearly not looking for a fight, though his cold glare moments ago said otherwise. his girl. i am everything but, closer to being the complete opposite, though i am too startled to consider questioning his words right now.
my body refuses to move, paralysed in utter shock, wondering whether the alcohol is causing me to hallucinate. i hadn’t seen tom since the day i moved out of his house, and now he is standing in front of me. and fuck, he looks good. it doesn’t matter that it has only been a month, somehow he seems to look much better, and undeniably different. his hair, usually a dark shade of blonde, the thick locks tied into a ponytail, adorned with whatever cap matched his outfit, is changed, almost so drastically it is hard to recognise him. instead, jet black braids rest on his shoulders, the colour mirroring his entire outfit - dark and cold. his cap is replaced with a small bandana, fitted securely around his forehead, the silver piercing on his lips now just as dark as his hair, matte black, making the soft shade of pink on his lips stand out even more.
though his new look is certainly a shock, the more daunting realisation comes merely from his presence. he is here - standing inches away from me. i am unable to gauge his next move, his expression still just as harsh as it had been once he had threatened that guy. however, any doubts i have are quickly put to bed, his tensed frame nearing mine, planting a calloused hand on my shoulder before pulling me into a tight hug, his thumb caressing my lower back whilst his other hand rests in my hair. i sob into his chest, failing pathetically to hide my emotions as i cling on to him, my small frame shaking due to the cold berlin weather and my irrational state.
"i’m so sorry." he mutters, resting his head on top of mine. i cannot respond, choking on my tears and unable to do anything but hold onto him as if he may slip away. my vision is slowly blurring, the countless drinks i had making their appearance as i realise how badly i have fucked up by coming here. beyond my intoxicated state, i realise that i don’t want to be this close to tom. i long to scream at the top of my lungs, something about how he made me feel, how fucked up he is, and how much i hate him, but right now i am too shaken to even stand up alone, so i save my breath and prepare to spew my feelings out when i have the energy.
"we need to get you home." he mutters, pulling away after a couple minutes. i stare into his eyes for the first time since we broke up, his immediately filling with hurt once he registers my damaged expression. "god, this is all my fault." he whispers under his breath, guiding me to his car, grabbing his jacket that he always kept in the back for instances like this, knowing that i get cold easily. it brings me some comfort knowing that he kept the jacket there, though it probably means nothing. he places it gently over my shivering frame before climbing into the driver’s side and beginning to drive to my apartment. the house that tom and i shared was in his name, meaning that i insisted on moving out. despite us breaking up, he helped me find a place, a decent sized two bedroom apartment in the heart of berlin. though it wasn't nearly as perfect as our home, it was something, and i am grateful for it.
i face away from him, not willing to forgive him despite my vulnerable state just moments before. no matter how much he protected me just then, i can’t place my trust in him, my heart and mind still wary, the thought of him discarding me for other girls so nonchalantly after we parted fresh in my mind.
"i missed you." he announces into the empty silence, his head turning in my direction whilst i scoff in response. "don't lie to me tom." his words bring anger coursing through my veins the second they utter from his mouth, sobriety soon taking over me as the alcohol quickly wares off. if he missed me, he wouldn't have fucked every girl he has seen this past month, he would have come back, or better yet, he wouldn’t have left me in the first place.
"i'm telling the truth." he begins, hesitantly turning his gaze to meet mine, my eyes filling with tears before i can attempt to collect my composure. "i regret leaving you. i need you to-"
"do you have any fucking idea what you did to me? i haven't been eating, sleeping, you've just seen me almost have sex with a guy i'd barely known for five minutes for gods sake!" i shout, my voice breaking as the tears cascade inevitably down my cheeks, unable to hide my vulnerability in this moment. he winces slightly at the mention of me nearly sleeping with alex, his grip on the wheel increasing whilst his jaw is clenched.
he is hurt. i have known him long enough to be able to distinguish how he is feeling without him saying a word. the pained look on his face almost pleases me, glad to see him guilty over the emotional turmoil he has caused me, because i long for him to grasp even a small segment of how i feel, and my small outburst has definitely achieved that.
"i’m sorry. i never deserved you, now even less than ever. i fucked up, badly. i have no idea how to make it up to you. help me, please schatz. i want to be better, for you." he finishes, pulling into his driveway as the dark grey gates open, revealing the house that i share so many memories in, yet it feels strangely foreign, like i don’t belong here, and i never did.
"sure doesn't seem like it." i begin. "from everything i've seen online you seem to have gotten over me pretty fast. thought you were better than meaningless sex, but i guess not. same old tom." i scoff, shaking my head in disbelief of his empty words.
"what are you talking about? i haven't had sex with anyone. not since you anyway." he fires back, staring into my eyes, and for some reason, i don't think he is lying, the amount of time spent with him across my life meaning i can read him like a book.
"whatever, i don’t have the fucking energy for this. besides, you said you were taking my home. this isn’t my house anymore, incase you fucking forgot.” i state matter-of-factly, not in the mood for continuing this conversation, or even being around him.
"you can barely walk. no way was i leaving you to go home alone. you can spend the night here." he replies assertively, stepping out of the car as i do the same, slamming the door shut in frustration.
"you don't have to protect me tom. we aren't together anymore." i respond bitterly, looking down at the ground, wishing it would swallow me up. his hand gently grazes mine, testing his limits as he attempts to take his hand in mine, to which i quickly refuse, pulling away and looking at him in confusion.
"what are you doing?" i hiss, looking upwards as he puts his hands up, surrendering.
"sorry just, please come inside, you're freezing in that tiny dress." not having the energy to argue, i reluctantly sigh, following him inside, taking in the all too familiar surroundings and immediately reminiscing on all the memories i have here, longing to go back to the time when things weren't so complicated.
"look i-" tom begins, however his words are soon shortened to a stop as i quickly cut him off, lethargic and carrying a lack of effort to argue with him, because i know that no matter how long i let him speak, the conversation will only end badly, turning even more sour than it already is right now.
"i'm tired, please can we talk about this in the morning." i sigh, my head pounding as i groan out in pain, massaging my temples slowly and closing my eyes.
"okay, you take our- my bed and i'll sleep in the guest room. there's some of my hoodies in there for you to sleep in." he responds, a look of defeat evident among his complexion, relief coursing through me as i nod my head, walking up to his bedroom. the countless nights i spent in this room, wrapped in his arms, the countless mornings i woke up to his affection, the countless evenings we shared intimate moments all seem to be lost as i feel a stranger here, almost misplaced without a sense of belonging.
i open the wardrobe, immediately knowing which door has his hoodies from when i would often steal one, something he is used to me doing. i pick out my favourite one. it is simple - a white hoodie with writing printed across its front. to others, it holds little meaning, however even after our breakup, it holds thousands of memories, because it is what he wore when we had our first kiss, and the first piece of clothing he ever gave me, this small act something i won’t ever be able to forget. slipping my dress off and the hoodie over my head, his scent quickly envelops me, providing with all the security i have been longing for, my mind quickly breaking down as tears cloud my vision, my desire to have him holding me taking over as i wish that we would have never parted.
climbing into the soft sheets, i attempt to fall asleep, any element of lethargy in my body fading away as i crave to be in tom’s arms like i have been each time i have laid in this bed. his side is cold and empty, my body shuffling over to it as i snuggle into his pillow, reaching out pathetically to any remnant of him i have left. seconds feel like hours of me thinking of him, wondering if he cares anywhere close to the extent that i do, finding myself longing to take a small look inside his mind, because all i want is his love. the darkness encloses me, silence echoing throughout the empty house and only fuelling my wandering mind. every thought flashes back to him, and i loathe how he can consume my entire being without even being aware of the effect he has on me.
eventually, my eyes begin to droop, almost falling into a somewhat peaceful slumber, however before i can do so, the door creaks open, light from the hallway leaking into the bedroom, before it is cast out seconds later with the soft click of the door closing, footsteps nearing the bed as i feel it dip beside me. my body is afraid to move, instead laying still in confusion until i feel a single hand brush against my shoulder, causing me to whip my head around, tom’s eyes gazing into mine.
‘i can't do it." he mutters, scanning my eyes with his own, only the seas of brown are filled with sorrow, slightly distinguishable through the darkness.
as much as i want to tell him to leave, to scold him for disturbing me when i was finally close to falling asleep, i simply can’t. i am compelled to him, silently thanking his impulsiveness and finding myself pleading for us to work things out.
"can't do what?" i respond, laying on my side and facing him, our bodies at each side of the bed as he is slightly reluctant to push my boundaries.
"live without you, i can't do it. i need you." he replies, slowly reaching his hand out until it meets mine, his fingers clasping mine in the centre of the bed, this small act of physical affection being the only thing that binds us together, yet it is more than enough.
"you broke me tom." i whisper, blinking away the tears as i refuse to cry again, tired of being so vulnerable around him. “do you realise that?”
"i know, and i’m so sorry schatz. i’ll never be able to make that up to you. but i want to try, can you let me do that? please baby." his body slowly nears mine, until our faces are inches apart. he removes his hand from mine, my face falling in disappointment, however this quickly turns into curiosity as it moves only to reach up and caress my cheek, wiping the single tear that had fallen with his thumb. i wither helplessly into his touch, feeling completely and utterly trapped within his affection. i am bound to him, left hopeless and attached. no matter how much i try fight, it is useless, my body and my mind is unable to function without him.
"it’s only you schatz." he mutters, his face nearing mine as he captures my lips in a sweet kiss, the first one we have shared in over a month. the way his lips fit so perfectly with mine, their softness contrasting with the harshness he showed me all those weeks ago, makes me wonder how i managed to live without this feeling all this time. he is a drug, his kisses addictive as i find myself longing for more, desperate to make up for the lost intimacy as a result of our separation.
"i love you." he whispers against my lips, reattaching them almost immediately with even more desire than before, sealing every unspoken apology in the most beautiful way possible. the darkness between us is a barrier, preventing my vision from witnessing the man above me. tom reaches quickly to flip the bedside lamp on, faded yellow light leaking dimly around the room, illuminating his features as i can finally see every part of him. and oh god, is he perfect. his lips plump and parted, tinted with a rosy shade of pink, adorned with that same piercing that drives me crazy each and every time, tired and shaky breaths erupting from them whilst i stare into his eyes, deep pools of brown that i could get lost in if i look for too long.
his body. crafted by god himself - concrete proof that he really does have favourites. each inch of skin soft and sheen, resembling silk itself whilst my fingers slowly trail down it, melting into the pale surface , past his chest to his chiselled abs, gently grazing the muscle and refusing to break eye contact. my hand creeps lower and lower, tom becoming increasingly flustered until they reach the waistband of his boxers. at an agonisingly slow pace, my finger slips inside, fiddling with the waistband whilst touching the skin there, refusing to move my hand any lower whilst i take in tom’s expression. his eyes are flickering between being fully closed and half-lidded, barely noticeable wrinkles lining his forehead as his eyebrows knit together, lips parted with shaky breaths uttering from them, the cold air fanning onto my face, heavy against his warm kiss.
"fuck- please don't tease." he whispers, resting his forehead against mine and beginning to slowly kiss my lips once again, my body feeling full again as i soon realise how much i missed this feeling. complying with his plea, my hand slips further into his boxers, a choked breath muffling into my mouth as i begin to gently move my hand up and down. he struggles to kiss back, soft moans escaping from his lips and mixing into mine in the most delightful way possible as i pick up the pace.
"oh my god..." he trails off, his voice vibrating into the soft skin below my ear once his head falls just below it, my movements not slowing, the slight whines emitting from his mouth pushing me further, desperate to please him. the fast and sloppy kisses being placed onto my neck soon slow down, giving me the signal that he is close. he clutches onto my waist, his fingers running up and down whilst his legs slightly tremble, his release taking over as he lets out a loud groan, a string of curses following until he slips his boxers off, regaining his composure and climbing fully on top of me.
our faces are inches apart, my ragged breathing echoing my desperation to feel him inside me, because it has been so long since i have experienced the feeling, and it is like no other. his thumb runs along my lips, pulling the bottom one downward slowly and releasing it, before moving his head to the nape of my neck, placing slow and gentle kisses.
"you have no idea what i want to do to you schatz." he mutters against my skin, nipping at it gently, these words alone almost being enough to let go, to lose any remnant of composure i have and allow him to take me right there and then. his calloused hands reach for the large hoodie draped over my frame, pulling it over my head as i am almost completely naked, my underwear being the only barrier between us and exercising those silent promises of our love on the tips of our tongues.
"so perfect." he whispers, caressing my cheek lightly. pressing himself against me, his hand reaches to caress my now exposed breast, kissing and biting at any skin he can get access to, inaudible spews of satisfaction swallowing the silence surrounding us, my hands pushing his head further downwards ever so slightly, savouring the pleasure and wishing it would last forever. he slowly pulls away, maintaining eye contact as he reaches for my panties, swiftly tugging them downward and discarding them somewhere across the room, like the rest of our clothing.
skin to skin, the warm and bare air a mirror to our nakedness, we kiss with such hunger, such desire that our need for each other is palpable, so strong that i swear if i tried, i could feel it. because he is that love, his body living and breathing evidence that this love is real, not something that can only be felt inside, though the fire that his touch ignites within me is one that will burn forever, as long as he vows to supply the heat that is his affection. my hands clutch onto his back, his roaming my waist and pushing our hips into each other, ragged breaths echoing throughout the room as i find myself becoming too impatient. although part of me wants to savour this moment as it is our first special one in over a month, one part of me, the more irrational side, wants him to ruin me, wants him to claim me as his own and do whatever his heart desires. i am his to destroy, because if it means that i can be with him for eternity, then i am willing to do anything.
"tom…i need you." i whisper helplessly against his lips, no longer able to mask my hunger.
he places one final kiss to my lips, stroking my hair gently and positioning himself to my entrance. my eyes squeeze shut in anticipation, relishing this feeling and preparing for the intense pleasure that i have been so empty without.
“then i’m all yours.” he speaks softly, sliding into me slowly before i am able to repeat my desperate plea. because if i tried, i know that my speech would be inaudible, struggling to breathe at the feeling of him filling me up.
unaccustomed to his size, or any dick for the last month, i wince in pain before he is even halfway in, gripping his bicep and giving him the signal to stop. "wait a minute." i state breathlessly, biting down on my lip as he stops his motion, gently stroking my cheek with his palm and awaiting my permission to carry on. feeling him stretch my walls fills the hole within me, once hollow and empty, however the pain takes longer to subside, tom slowly biting and kissing the sensitive skin on my jaw whilst he waits.
"c’mon baby, you can take it." he mumbles against me, the raspiness within his voice vibrating up my spine, motivating me to tune out the pain and allow him to pleasure me. "okay." i whisper, pleasure soon starting to take over as he moves into me, stopping and throwing his head back as he bottoms out, his tip hitting my g-spot perfectly, this being enough for me to cry out, my screams echoing throughout the room, the air thick with passion. his eyes are screwed shut, sweat lining along his forehead, his breathing ragged and uneven, yet he only increases his stamina, picking my leg up and placing it over his shoulder.
the new angle sends me into euphoria, my vision turning white as i can do nothing but scream his name, my fingers raking down his back. he memorises the way he hits my g-spot, doing it over and over again, bringing me closer to my release, yet i can tell he is not there yet, prompting me to hold it so i can share my high with him.
"fuck me..." his voice trails off, his eyebrows furrowing as he savours the pleasure. my legs wrap around his waist, bringing him closer inwards, if that is physically possible. somehow he is still going, not showing any signs of lethargy. he is desperate to meet his release, hips snapping against mine with such intensity, his head buried in the crook of my neck, the incoherent groans escaping from his mouth fanning over the bare skin, sending shivers down my spine.
"tom i'm so close!" i moan, knowing that i will not last much longer. i do not know if it is the absence of sexual intimacy in my life recently, or my intense desire for him, but this time around, my ability to contain myself is long gone.
"i know baby, i know..." he sighs out, the feeling him twitching inside of me silently letting me know that he is almost there too. "just hold it for me." overstimulation soon takes over, the feeling of him moving in and out of me providing me with such overwhelming pleasure that my mouth gapes open, no sound escaping as i am utterly speechless, drunk on the sensation and a complete mess beneath him. i could cry at the feeling, on the verge of tears with each stroke, wondering how this moment is reality, seeming entirely too good to be true.
"okay baby, let go." he breathes out, his voice shaky as it is soon cut off with a choked moan, his load shooting into me as mine soon follows. i swear i can see stars, my eyes not able to stay still, my whole body the same as it trembles uncontrollably, tom’s slow and steady thrusts sending me into oblivion as he rides out our highs, his lips hovering over mine. "oh my god" is all he can say, still inside me, his mouth eventually moulding with mine, the kiss filled with so much energy despite the amount of stamina that was used just seconds before.
i am not done yet, my body feeling like it has just started as i have the motivation to go one thousands times over, addicted to the way he feels. "let me be on top." i mutter against his lips, the pillowy skin battling to try continue kissing me. in one swift motion, he flips us over, moving upwards so that his back is resting against the headboard, his hands placed steadily on my waist whilst i sit on top of him. i waste no time, hovering over him and sliding downwards, letting him fill me up and sighing loudly as i do, tom tightening his hold on me and muttering a slow ‘jesus christ’, his voice low, words as sweet as honey as they sound from the back of his throat.
pressing open mouthed kisses against my jaw, neck, collarbone, anywhere he is able to access, he groans out in pleasure, his hands remaining steadily on my hips whilst i easily maintain my rhythm. with a slight change in the movement of my hips, his tip presses against my g-spot, the friction causing me to cry out, him doing the same as his head falls backwards, eyes squeezing shut, savouring the ecstasy. my hands lay flat against his chest, watching it heave up and down with each unsteady breath he takes, his muscles flexing with each squeeze of my waist, this only encouraging me to go further, the sight of him being pleasured by me almost pushing me to my release alone.
the feeling so good i question whether i have reached heaven itself, though my actions won’t get me anywhere near, my mind wanders how i survived for so long without him, without his dick inside me, without his hands on mine - because right now he is my oxygen, my sole purpose. i can barely catch my breath, my legs shaking uncontrollably whilst my hips circle around his, feeling every inch of him inside of me. my body leans forward, skin to skin, as i bite down on his shoulder, becoming increasingly tired, however i am so desperate for my release that i continue my slow and lethargic movements.
tom is quick to pick up on my change in speed, grabbing my hips once again and angling himself correctly, before thrusting into me from below, the sudden pressure causing a throaty moan to escape from my swollen lips.
"fuck…missed this, missed you so much baby." he mutters, his whole body tensing for a second whilst he begins to twitch inside of me.
"i’m close." he groans, meeting my lips in a sloppy kiss before i can respond. i don’t even bother trying to hold it, instead allowing my release to take over me, my vision turning white as i cling onto tom’s shoulders, my head buried in the crook of his neck, crying out in pleasure as it is so intense i almost feel myself slip away. his release soon follows, mouth gaping open, eyebrows furrowing and sweat glistening his chiselled frame, outlining his muscle in the most attractive way possible. he still strokes in and out of me slowly, his hands wrapped around my small frame, no space between us. my breathing ragged, hair a mess and body trembling, i pull away from his shoulder to look into his eyes, pressing my forehead against his as i can do nothing but admire him.
“shit- i love you so much." he manages to breathe out, moving a few stray hairs from my face and planting a last kiss on my forehead, slowly pulling out of me, the loss of contact making me whine slightly as i cling onto him, afraid of losing him ever again.
"i love you too." i respond, certainty uttering from every word as i find myself more in love with him, the best sex we have ever had replaying over and over again in my memory, our naked bodies pressed together.
"i promise you, i never slept with anyone else. i never even kissed another girl. i couldn't, it wouldn't have been right, not when you were the only person on my mind." he speaks slowly yet firmly after a few seconds of peaceful silence, pulling my body further onto his as he rests his forehead against mine, stroking my hair gently.
i move my head upwards, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "why not? there's so many girls that you could've had. what was stopping you?" i ask, lacing my hand with his and beginning to play with his fingers, the skin soft and smooth.
"the fact that they weren't you." he responds, gently lifting my chin upwards with his pointer finger, tenderly running his thumb along my cheek. "i never got over you. i hope you know that."
deciding that actions speak louder than words in this instance, i place my lips on his, sealing our love with a sweet kiss as he instantly kisses back, laying downwards flat against the bed whilst i am still on top of him. i slowly pull away, my entire body aching, eyes fluttering shut as a tired yawn escapes from my mouth. tom reaches over to turn the lamp off, laying down beside me and opening his arms out, my head resting on his chest, his thumb running comfortingly up and down my arm. "goodnight meine liebe." he whispers, my throat sore from our rendezvous, so i place a quick kiss on his chest in response, my eyes falling shut as sleep takes me. our legs entangled, bodies together, heartbeats aligned, i feel him now more than ever. not just physically, but i feel him mentally, spiritually, our mind and being merged together as one.
requests are open! keep sending them in!!
#tom kaulitz#kaulitz twins#tokiohotel#tom kaulitz x reader#tom kaulitz smut#tomkaulitz#tom kaulitz angst#kaulitz#tom kaulitz fluff#bill kaulitz
660 notes
·
View notes
Note
hihi!!
if you’re still taking requests.. can you do a Hobie x fem!reader 😟‼️❓
Can Hobie be really close friends, and the reader has a fat crush on him. Like following him like a lost puppy, doing sweet things for him typa crush.
And like, one day she goes over to his place and he’s all injured and in his Spider Suit, and she like freaks out?
THIS IS SO CUTE RAHHHHH
apologies to everyone who’s request I haven’t gotten to yet; this ended up being a pretty long one because I just couldn’t stop writing lol
hobie brown x reader (reader finding hobie injured)
a/n: I changed it just a little bit and made reader and hobie roommates lol (as I’ve said previously I see hobie as 19-ish)
ps I need more spider-punk gifs theres like 3 total
so you and hobie have been best friends since you were kids
and you’ve been crushing on him since you were like 14-
and when you got your own place, it was only natural to share that with hobie
because of his struggle with being unhoused, he spent a lot of time at your place, so it wasn’t much of a change anyway
and sure the apartment was a little small, and not in the greatest neighborhood, but it was home
or at least you thought so
as hobie started coming come later and later, you became unsure if he felt the same
even worse he consistently came home with bruises/marks littering his face and arms, and you’re sure if you could see the rest of his body it would be the same
he’d always hound you for being out late because of the type of people who hung around this part of town at night, but if you even try to ask him to be more safe? he i just shrugs it off.
“it’s different” or so he claims, but you fail to see how.
not to mention that, as far as you could tell, he didn’t even have a reason to be out so late.
and as his late nights bleed into early mornings, you eventually stop being able to stay up waiting for him every night, and that worries you even more;
what if he just doesn’t come back one day? and you wouldn’t even know until the next morning!!
but your school/work responsibilities, as irrelevant as they may seem compared to your concern for your best friend, necessitated you having a full nights rest
but tonight? you can’t sleep.
hobie had promised you he’d be home in time to watch the new horror movie you’d rented. and yet, he never showed.
you had actually gone to bed early, exhausted and knowing sitting on the couch waiting would only breed more anxiety as each hour passed; but you hadn’t slept
you couldn’t. not tonight.
and so, you decide to just get up and have something warm to drink; maybe that would help soothe you
you lazily drag yourself to the kitchen, spend a few moments debating between tea and cocoa, before delicately mixing together your drink of choice
it’s then that you realize you had apparently left the tv on? the volume is off but there’s clearly light coming from your living room
so, you quietly enter the living room to grab the remote to turn it off; only to see a body laying across the small couch you had recently bought, causing you to jump
“jesus christ hobie what the fuck- WHAT THE FUCK HOBIE”
you quickly notice the crimson blood dripping from his deep looking wounds, seeping into his clothes- wait no. spider-man’s suit???
one thing at a time y/n.
“‘m sorry, just kinda crashed here” his voice is hoarse as he grabs your hand and squeezes it in some weird plea to keep himself grounded
“OHMYGODHOBIEAREYOUOKAYWHATHAPPENEDISTHISWHYYOUREALWAYSOUTSOLATEWHYDIDNTYOUTELLMEYOUREBLEEDINGLIKEALOTSHOULDNTWEBEDOINGSOMETHINGABOUTTHAT”
translation: omg hobie are you okay?? what happened- is this why you’re always out so late?? you’re bleeding like a lot shouldn’t we be doing something about that?????
you quickly stammer out before running to grab all the first aid supplies you had in the bathroom and heading back to a way too unbothered hobie
“calm down I’ve had worse”
“YOU’VE WHA-
“calm down.” he grabs you by the shoulders and makes you look him in the eye “I’m fine”
“people who are fine don’t bleed this much, hobie.” you began working on the worst looking wound, applying pressure with a cloth to hopefully stop the bleeding “why didn’t you tell me?”
“y’ worry too much; especially ‘bout me”
“of course I do! you’re my best friend.”
“we both know it’s more than that, love”
you freeze; you can’t look at him. you’re too embarrassed to let yourself admit that he’s right, because you had always been just friends. and you were terrified of ruining that.
“I’m sorry”
“look at me, y/n”
you can’t.
“feelings mutual y’know, if that’s what’s got ya all worked up” he laughs, shoving your shoulder a little in an effort to diffuse the tension you had built up within yourself “always has been; thought I made it pretty obvious. you always were pretty oblivious though”
“no I’m not!” he smiles; you always were defensive too
“pretty sure y’a are”
“I will literally let you sit here and bleed out”
“no you won’t”
no, you won’t.
you just go back to addressing his wounds, trying not to feel all giddy inside, but also doing your best not to overflow with anxiety.
what are you guys then? this changes EVERYTHING- is it weird that you live together now? is it weird-
“you’re worrying again. and don’t try to tell me you’re not; I know that face”
“it’s nothing. anyway, I’m all done; we should change the bandages in a few hours though, just to keep everything clean”
you get up to go wash your hands, and maybe heat up your long-forgotten drink, but you’re interrupted by hobie’s audible sigh
“you’re forgetting something, love”
“I am?? did I miss somewhere?” your voice gets progressively higher as you check him over, worry bubbling within you
“y’ did, yeah”
he pulls you closer to him, briefly cradling your face before allowing his lips to brush against yours
“stay? f’ me?”
#not proofread#hobie brown x reader#hobie brown#hobie brown x you#spider punk x reader#spider punk#across the spiderverse#marvel
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Memories — part two of memory garden
warning: gets pretty angsty here and character deaths 😓 mentions of suicide (jude bby is guilt ridden)
summary: you don’t know how much longer you can take it. The thoughts eating away at you telling you to kill someone in your heart you knew was pure good… but what happens when the voices turn on you?
a lil disclaimer yall i mixed cressidas name with cresta without thinking and realised half way through… i couldn’t be bothered to go back and fix it so i continued using it 😭 cresta is cressida!
— —
The next morning I woke up to Boggs shaking me and asked me to step outside, the sun was only just making its ascent.
I notice my restraint is off, Boggs must have taken them off before waking me up, I took a deep breath. I wasn’t sure why he had done it, I was in no right mind.
My eyes lifted at the doorway, Peeta was right there… No. I shook my head, following Boggs out the door.
He stood gazing over the destruction of the city, I tightened my fist when the echo of a voice tried to break through. Not now. This was the outcome of war and nothing I did to them now would prevent this. But the voices never agreed.
“Wanted to check how you were feeling after your first night” He explained once I joined him at his side, it was nice that he cared.
I shrug, glancing back over my shoulder “I don’t think it’s a good idea that i’m here, I was getting help back at the district… I don’t know why i’m here” I definitely didnt think it was a good idea, Coin had sent me here knowing i was far from recovery.
“Coin always has a reason” Boggs muttered like he’d been reading my thoughts “I think she has no use for Katniss and Peeta anymore-“ He eyes filled in the blanks his words didn’t…
“She sent me to kill them” I whisper back realisation smacking into, I was a weapon, again. But it wasn’t the capital this time, it was the rebellion.
When will i be free?
The voice sounds almost sad and I realise that it’s not a voice, it’s my own thoughts. My own depressing and given up thoughts.
“She can try and turn you into some psycho killer but the people in that room care about you, even if you don’t see it. So do I, the three of you kids have seen more hell than anyone deserves” Boggs explains, finally turning from the city to face me. “You’re just kids”
I frown, glancing down at my hands. Kids. We weren’t even eighteen years old, it was something that defined so much about someone and id forgotten.
“Thank you” I whisper, movement from inside alerts me and I reach for my gun, what if Peeta took this distraction as an opportunity but then Katniss stepped out, my heart didn’t slow but my hands dropped.
“What’re you doing out here so early?” Katniss asked stepping closer but keeping a respectful distance, my hand clenched.
She’s with Peeta, they will kill us all. The desire to kill Katniss was easier to push down but when it came to Peeta is was a thirst for blood like no other.
I shake my head, not hearing what Boggs responded with.
“How are things?” Boggs doesn’t respond to this question so I glance up and see they both have their attentions on me.
How are things? I wanted to scoff, but I knew that I was an accident waiting to happen, they didn’t know what would set me off. Apparently just saying how are things is one example. I shake my head and I notice the flash of concern.
“I can only get better right?” I spit, I don’t mean for it come out like that but she flinches and Boggs places his hand on her shoulder.
I feel it, my hand moving on its own before my right slapped down on it, instantly both their eyes slammed to me and without further explanation i declare, “We need to put my restraint back on”
And with that Katniss went inside and woke the others and Boggs cuffed me again.
Finnick was the first to step out, alongside a girl with a vines blooming flowers across the left half of her shaved head “Jude, I wanted you to meet Cresta, she’d one of the directors for this whole thing”
I smiled lightly at her, hoping to be polite since she no doubt had to stay up for an hour and watch me last night. “Nice to meet you, are you from the Capitol?”
She nods, “Do I give off that capitol ignorance?” She asked as a joke but in her eyes I could tell she was pleading I said no which made me smile slightly wider. I liked her.
“No, no. I was just asking didn’t mean to hit right on the money” I shrugged, “Maybe after this I could read palms?” I raise an eyebrow at Finnick who seems to just be smiling at me. “What?”
“Nothing, just glad you’re finally started talking about an after this” And with that Cresta and him left me, sending my mind reeling.
After…
— —
The next few days were especially hard, we had to travel a few streets at a time due to these devices called pods, the game makers had created them, no death should be boring apparently.
One of the pods had contained thousands upon thousands of snakes, luckily they seemed to stop at a certain point. Just like in the games except we could activate them from a distance.
Some of the other pods though, made it harder to remember where I was and who my friends are. Boggs had set off the last pod, four explosions had destroyed the road before them and each explosive made unbidden thoughts enter my head.
Now we were slowly making our way through the Capital streets, it seemed bizarre to think that it was once luxury.
“How’re you feeling?” His voice breaks through everything, and my neck snaps to him as I take a step back, bumping into Finnick who seems to have noticed why and is already guiding me to walk again.
Peeta frowns, turning away for a moment before looking back at me “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you” Maybe he was trying to be nice, because we both knew it hadn’t been the reason.
“It’s- It’s okay. Really. Just a lot going on, and I think I’m feeling better. The questions that i’m asking help” I respond, trying to stay calm and push the voices away, though they’re not really there at the moment.
He seems to perk at my words before shooting over his shoulder “Ask one now, can’t hurt” I blow a breath, rattling through my brain for anything and then it clicked.
We’re back in the 75th Hunger Games, it’s a couple days in and we look utterly spent, I don’t even look like i’m making my next five steps.
I try to remember when this was, must’ve been right before the arena been destroyed, Peeta and I had run into the Careers and I’d paid with three strikes to my chest, Peeta not much better off.
The thought of the wounds made me reach for my chest, but they were gone. Magically healed by the Capital just to be tortured mentally.
I watch myself trip slightly but Peetas there in an instant, arm looping around my waist, holding me for dear life.
It looked so natural. Right. Together, his eyes never leaving me, concern dripping with every blink.
I hear him whisper like he’s next to me “We’re almost at the beach alright, just a little further” I can feel the desperation in his words, he needed me to make it.
I remember the exhaustion now, the utter fatigue I felt. The thought to close my eyes was over bearing but I couldn’t let Peeta down… win, I couldn’t let him win!
I snap out of the memory, luckily Finnick has my arms in his hands because i’ve stopped again and Peeta is looking at me with concern over his shoulder every few seconds. “Jude?” Finnick whispers and I take deep breath.
“In the last Hunger Games,” I began, trying to sort out the memory, he was saving me or was he the reason I ended up at the Capitol? “You saved me after the Careers attacked us, real or not real”
He frowned at the question, was it concern or hurt in his eyes, I didn’t know because when he blinked it was gone but then he stopped turning to face me. This time Finnick doesn’t push me forwards. He didn’t save you, and now he knows that he can’t get away with his lies anymore. Kill him!
Before I could act on the voices that abruptly awokened he speaks up, “I got you to that beach, then the arena went out and the Capital got you. So yeah, I saved you from the Careers but I couldn’t save you from the Capital and it’ll kill me everyday that you had to go through that and this and I couldn’t do anything”
His voice grew more anguished and devastated with each word and I found tears falling down my own face as he took deep breaths in front of me. The old me would’ve known how much this was eating at him, would’ve helped him but how could I?
I didn’t know me anymore. Or what I could do before I snapped.
I didn’t know what to say so I said “Haymitch told me that I- I told them if it came down to it, to save you” His eyes sharpened on me somehow, “I don’t blame you for what happened in the Capital, I never will. I’m sorry”
The air hung still as Boggs turned to them finally, breaking the moment “Keep up! We haven’t got all day” Peeta sighed, glancing at Boggs before solely landing on me again.
“Real. I saved you from the Careers” I smiled lightly, kill him, I shoved it down not paying any attention to it.
“Thank you” Finally, we began to follow the others down and around another corner. Soon we were arriving at our next pod, this one had a large arch with completely and utterly destroyed walls surrounding it left to right.
More destruction passed as they continued, how long before it’s too much, until the city isn’t even salvageable. Boggs told us to hide behind the walls while he set it off the next pod and then checked for anymore. We did as told, I took position between Finnick and Katniss and two other guys i didn’t know, Peeta and Cresta, Jackson and Pollux on the other side.
I felt anticipation, the voice had free roam when the pods went off. Too much going on at once, I couldn’t control it.
The pod detonation sent my mind spiraling, as I assumed, this one, four guns emerged from the wall and rained bullets into the archway destroying bits of the wall they were behind.
If you killed them their symbol would be gone, who would push that hope and if not for Katniss and Peeta, it would die with them. The voice stronger than it’d been in days.
No! I crouched further agaisnt the wall we’d taken cover behind, I’d been given my blank gun back for the promo but this was all too much, I felt the butt of the gun against my temple as I curled into my self.
I bring my head up and smack it against the gun, get out of my head. Get out. Get out! “My favourite colour is purple, I can’t wear red bows. Peeta saved me. My favourite-“ I repeat the words, whispered and keep bringing the butt of my gun to my temple.
A hand on my shouldern brings me back, at first my eyes catch the utterly devastated ones across from me. Peeta. He looks like he’d burn the world… For me. I break the eye contact quickly and the look in Finnicks eyes said it all. He didn’t have to go through what I had to understand, I didn’t know if I’d be able to do this without him, or Peeta… No matter how much I wanted to kill him sometimes.
Suddenly an explosion going off catches us off guard, did they set off another pod? “Boggs!” Katniss screams break the air, Finnicks hands move under my shoulders and lifts me to my feet, hauling me around the corner.
We both freeze at the sight, easily three of our squad members had been hit by the bomb. But it’s Boggs who lays in Katniss’s arms that makes my stomach drop and I’m almost sure I would have crumbled if not for Finnick. Bogg’s legs were gone, nothing but two stumps and onrushing blood.
Oh god, oh god. I slam my eyes shut and a ringing breaks out in my head. This is my fault, it’s all my fault, I never should have trusted them, Boggs should have never trusted them. The thoughts come harsher than they have in weeks and I can’t break away from them.
Kill them before they kill us all. This one isn’t my voice and I snap my eyes open sure I’d see his old and drawn face in front of me, but he’s not there. Relief fills me, but the twitch in my hand isn’t as my eyes dart to Peeta.
He must’ve been hit by the backlash of the bomb, Jackson was helping him to his feet as Cresta was helping one of the twins, who’d I forgotten were even there amongst all the chaos. His blue eyes darted around until they met mine and then they drifted to my hands.
I was holding my gun… I didn’t remember grabbing it, and it was full of blanks but it could still be a weapon. Kill him, I shake my head taking a step back at the same time I hear a click from afar, my head shoot’s up and I look to see l the other twin had rushed to help the other and had set off another pod.
I flinched ready for another bomb but instead the walls to the archway we just entered and the three others all begin to close, Katniss now standing from Boggs and holding the device he had seems to catch sight before anyone of us and the look of horror on her face is enough “Run!”
An arm grabs me and yanks me forward but my hands tighten on my gun, it was his fault. I can’t shake away these thoughts anymore, not after Boggs.
“Jude, keep it together!” Finnick spoke from beside me but nothing could bring me back, not after everything, everything that he’d done.
I felt my mind unscrewing, going barbaric at the thought of Peeta being so close and safe, he would make it out of this courtyard. And I tried to fight every single part of me that wanted to change that.
I couldn’t… Not after Boggs. You’re just kids, Peeta was a kid that had been the reason of hundreds and thousands of people… He had to die.
The air thrums around us as we rush up the stairs and I take this moment to look over my shoulder, a wave of black liquid lurches towards us and with utmost certainty I don’t want to find out what happens if it reaches me but then my mind flicks.
No consequences, kill him and die knowing you saved innocents. I wanted to shake these thoughts away, Peeta rushing up behind me tells me that he’d probably only run when he realised I was safe but a larger part of me knew he had some hidden agenda to kill me and cause more harm than good.
I had time.
It was the last confirmation I needed, shoving Finnick off me and throwing myself at Peeta, I let one of hands release the gun as I grab for his shoulder but his foot catches something and I only manage to grab his shirt as we go rolling down a few of the steps as he tries to fight off my grip, I hoped I had timed it right.
“Jude! Don’t” He cried out, finally managing to grab my wrist so I raise the gun in the other, “You have to die” I whisper, unsure why I needed to say it before I bring down the gun and finally, finally-
I’m shoved, NO. Snow’s voice screams in my head and I let out a cry, the yell breaks my skull open and I feel every ounce of rage pouring from the word.
His anger becomes my own and fuels me as I jump up from the ground and grapple the man from our squad who had ruined ruined ruined everything.
I knew it was wrong, some part of me as my ears rang and my mind exploded, but I couldn’t stop stop stop. The liquid rushed behind the man in my arms now, we’d spun, had I done that? Before my foot lifted and connected with his middle and I sent him into the abyss of oil.
Then it was all gone, the ringing, the voices and my mind was clear. I just killed a man. Someone must have grabbed me because i’m moving but I don’t feel it and I don’t care I’d killed someone, killed killed killed.
I feel the tears now as a door slams shut behind me and I hauled up my stairs, these are wooden not stone. The voices come back but they are no longer on my side. And it’s my own voice.
You killed an innocent. You need to die, you’re a danger. And I agree, I scream and scream that I want nothing more than to be dead and I must’ve actually been screaming because soon all I see is the same abyss I had forsaken another to.
— —
An explosion wakes me up and proceeds to remind me of everything that had happened before I succumbed to the darkness, I took in my surrounding the only light coming from the curtained window that Katniss and Gale were peering out of.
Whatever had just happened outside had affected Katniss more than Gale, and as I shift my position to get a better look but it’s useless, Gale lets the blinds close.
I let my eyes dance around the room, there’s more people in our group than I had realised, two men sat together checking the other for injuries, another man I seen but still didn’t know the name of stood with Cresta while Finnick and Peeta sat watching the window that Katniss and Gale were at. Jackson was no where in sight, I didn’t want to see her anyways, the guilt would twist even further. The twins… gone.
I swallow the sickness I feel, I had been so crazed I hadn’t taken the time to even get to know them.
All of the squad was far from me, I realised I was placed on stairs and the rail along it is what my hands are cuffed to.
Now you can’t hurt anyone. That hadn’t changed, no longer would I fight the urge to kill Peeta, somehow my wish of not killing him had been granted. Now I had to try not to kill myself, though that statement was half hearted.
Suddenly the familiar ring of the Capitals announcement played and my veins grew cold until one of the squad members spoke up “All the tvs in Panem are connected to the announcements, if the powers on then the shows running”
I rolled my eyes, the power that they could flush into abandoned apartments was incredible when some districts could barely keep the lights on for an hour or half.
The anthem continued, causing me to close my eyes but that only let the voices free reign in the darkness.
You could’ve been helping them stop this instead you let the Capital control you. I grit my teeth together not being able to take in what was happening on screen from the inner battle I was having with my own thoughts. You nearly killed Peeta and you were proud of it.
I nearly threw up.
My skin was on fire, pure and unadultered disgust and shame with myself, how could I have not realised that killing Peeta was the worst possible thing I could do, I would be nothing. Nothing, there was no way to put into words what would happen if he died.
And by my own hand, I closed my eyes. No. Never again would I let them win, hurt him. Never. I’d kill myself before I ever did something like that again… If I was even given the chance of redemption after what I did.
I open my eyes as I hear my name mentioned and see that the Capital is replaying everything that’s been haunting me since i woke up.
I watch the black oil like substance hurtle it’s way towards us, and I see it clearly now, Peetas eyes are on me waiting until I’m safe and clear before he runs after me and in that split second decision i’ve made one aswell.
Watching it on the screen was horrifying, my arm reaching for his throat but finding his shirt instead, us rolling together and still the look of murder on my face, so twisted it doesn’t even look like me before Mitch yanked me off and I thanked him by kicking him into the pod trap.
His scream echoed through the screen and I flinched, I’d been so full of rage and out of it I hadn’t heard it or seen as a metal cage lined with spikes shot from the oil, encasing the now dead Mitch.
I close my eyes unable to watch the rest. Monster, monster, monster. My voice spits over and over again, these I can’t shut out. It’s simply my thoughts the more I push it triples.
“Well, what’s next?” Jackson asked out of sight, I glanced around the room yet none of them seemed to look at me. I understood why they wouldn’t, some of them knew Mitch.
I killed their friend. Yet no one responded.
Was it not obvious? “I- I killed him” I whispered, all of their heads snapped like my voice was the last they expected “You should either leave me here or put a bullet in my head so no one else dies”
In the corner of my eye I see a hint of blonde flinch at my words, but I’d nearly killed him if it wasn’t for Mitch… Now he was dead, I didn’t get to live. “It’s the only reasonable solution, you can’t tell me i’m wrong”
“You’re wrong” Peeta cut in before anyone else could agree or disagree, I couldn’t tell by their faces and yet none of them cut into Peeta “You are restrained and we have a watch on you, Mitch knew what he was signing up for, we all did”
I looked away from him. This wasn’t right, my thoughts were against me now but what happened when they turned on him again? Because they would.
“You saved me once, you’ll be saving me this time aswell if you just-“
“No”
My eyes met his and I knew I’d never seen the fire in his gaze that he’d held this moment, Peeta was not budging on this. I frowned, I was a liability why couldn’t he see that?
My mind flashed to solutions, none came to mind. “There has to be a way where if I know i’m going to snap that I can stop myself” My words break at the end as I gaze around the room, there’s only silence “Please… please”
Gale steps forward and I see Peeta take a step but Katniss stops him, and I’m grateful as the brunette boy crouches down and pulls something from a hidden pocket.
A small pill, it was hard to think it’d do what i asked, delicately Gale pushed the pill into my own hidden pocket and patted it “It’s Nightlock, no pain and instant. Only if you have to”
I nodded, hesitantly but promising “Only if I have to”
And with that they set out, planning a course of action. The pods were too often now, they would have to stop constantly.
It was time to go underground
—
- … sooo part three?!?
—
DONT SCREAM AT ME IK IM AN ASSHOLE IM SO SO SO SORRY FOR MAKING YALL WAIT MY GOODREADS GOAL WAS SLACKING HAD TO CATCH UP HOPE YALL LIKE THIS XXXX
taglist girlies💓: @yazminetrahan @solarbxby @abbersreads @antonietta18
#books#hunger games#peeta mellark#peeta supremacy#the hunger games#katniss everdeen#coriolanus snow#peetamellarkworks#peeta mellark works#peeta mellark x reader#peeta x reader#peeta mellark angst#peeta mellark imagine#romance#angst#angst imagine peeta
537 notes
·
View notes
Text
Leverage (Michael Gavey x fem Reader)
Chapter 5
Summary: When your ex threatens to release some very personal videos you are left with no choice but to do what he asks: seduce the biggest nerd on campus, Michael Gavey. Will you rock his world or will he fundamentally change yours?
This chapter: You and Michael spend more and more time together, making you forget all about the reason for your arrangement, until Ben reminds you...
Word count: +4300
Warning for the entire fic: 18+ for explicit content and language. Kissing, oral sex (male & fem receiving), dry humping, hand job, fingering, p in v sex. First kiss and loss of virginity. Experienced reader. Enemies to lovers vibes.
Fluff, smut and of course angst (my favorite combination! lol)
Read the first chapters Here
(I FINALLY watched Saltburn over the weekend and I finally get why people are going crazy over it, I loved it so much!)
***
All my fics are also on AO3
***
“Fuck,” you breathed heavily, biting your bottom lip to keep your moans quiet,”Please…right there…oh god, Michael, please.”
Your hands were gripping the sheets, back arching off the bed. Not yours but Michael’s bed. You were in his room, his small but immaculately clean room. And you weren’t here to study math.
The nerd you had never spoken a word two barely three weeks ago was now nestled comfortably in between your legs, half naked and with his tongue so far up your cunt you were close to your 4th orgasm of the afternoon.
“Fuck”, you whined again,”Michael, I…I can’t…it’s too much…please.”
He looked up at you through foggy glasses, his hair a mess, cheeks burning red and his mouth covered in your arousal. The sight alone was too much for you to take and you could feel your walls spasming around nothing.
“Come on, baby, you can give me one more, can’t you?” he asked, but before you could answer he was licking your clit again.
You moaned out loud, hands now tangled in his hair, torn between pushing him away or pulling him in even closer. You were completely overstimulated, yet desperate to come one last time. You were so close yet so far.
“Breathe, sweetheart. Focus on my mouth, nothing else matters, just feel me,” Michael pleaded, his large hand covering yours in a gentle squeeze while he started fucking you with his tongue again.
How was he the one in control all of a sudden? When did this happen?
He’d been nervous as hell when you came up to his room earlier that day, he was fidgety and more quiet than usual. He had asked to meet you for another tutoring session and you’d agreed to meet up in his room.
When you asked him if there was something specific he wanted to try he had blushed so deep and turned into a stuttering mess right before your eyes. The whole thing had made your heart melt for him again.
It had taken him about fifteen minutes to get the words out and ask you for what he wanted, his voice a trembling mix of nerves and hunger combined with curiosity.“I want to eat you out,,” he’d eventually confessed,” I want…to kiss you there, lick you until you can’t stand it no more and then…I want to feel you come on my tongue. Is that…can I, please?”
You had swallowed hard at his words, wetness pooling in your panties at his request.
“Can you teach me?” he begged, insecurity and eagerness in his pleading blue eyes.
He’d been too rough at first, too eager and too nervous to let himself enjoy it but once you guided him through it, told him to focus on your body and the way it reacted to him, he’d gotten the hang of it so fast.
That was two hours ago and apparently it had been enough to turn Michael into a pussy eating champion.
Right now he was kissing your clit, slowly, giving you some time to calm down and prepare you for your next climax. He knew your body couldn’t take much more but he was determined to make you fall apart for him one last time. The feeling of you surrendering to him, soaking his mouth in your arousal, made him feel all powerful. It was addictive as fuck, and it only made him want more and more.
His one hand was firmly placed on your inner thigh, keeping you open for him while the other explored every part of your body he could reach, caressing your skin and moving up to squeeze your tits every now and then.
He’d been hard the moment you had taken off your clothes but he was happy to ignore his own needs to focus on yours today.
You moaned when his mouth moved down and he pushed his tongue deep inside of you, nose pressing up deliciously against your clit, encouraging you to grind against him.
“Fuck,” you whimpered,”Oh god, please…please…”
Michael looked up at you with a smirk,”What are you begging for, sweetheart? Tell me.”
“Can I…grind against your face a little, please?” you begged, taken aback by the desperation in your own voice. He had you reduced to a whimpering, pleading mess and you didn’t even care.
“Of course you can, sweetheart,” he answered with a satisfied grin and he grabbed both your legs and pulled them over his shoulders, dragging you even closer.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” you whispered hesitantly.
“You won’t,” he reassured you and he gave one slow lick over your folds before sucking gently on your clit.
“Oh god,” you whimpered,”Don’t stop…please. Please, Michael, don’t stop…shit…”
He halted his movements to lock eyes with you for a moment,”I won’t stop until you come in my mouth, okay? I want you to…take what you need, ride my face, do whatever….okay?”
You had lost the ability to speak but you nodded quickly, biting your lip.
Just before he put his mouth back on you, you stopped him. “Wait!”
“What?” Michael asked.
“If I’m hurting you just…double tap on my thigh here, okay? And I’ll stop.”
“You’re not going to hurt me,” he smiled softly,”Relax for me, okay?”
You nodded again and then all your hesitations fell away when his tongue pushed deep inside your walls.
It didn’t take long for you to do what he asked of you and grind yourself against his face. His nose rubbing your clit in the most perfect way and then you were falling apart. Your entire body started shaking and Michael didn’t relent, licking you through every last wave of it until you thought you had ascended to a better place. Your body, and soul, were completely spent afterwards.
Michael’s hand found yours again, locking your fingers together and gently rubbing your skin with his thumb while he kept slowly kissing your folds and then your inner thighs and stomach, his kisses slowing down with the rhythm of your heart. Your hands found his hair and you caressed his scalp gently, his name a quiet whisper on your lips, putting a smile on his face.
He stayed in bed with you the rest of that afternoon, never pushing for anything more except to hold you and talk to you. Michael may have grown bolder in his pillow talk during these last two weeks you’d been seeing each other, but outside of that he was still a closed book and a mystery to you. You were still trying to get him to come out of his shell and get to know him better, page by page.
“Tell me about your parents,” you asked as you both lay against the head of the bed, his head on your stomach and your hands gently tracing patterns over his shoulders and back.
“Not much to tell,” he shrugged,”They both have mediocre jobs and a mediocre life, working for rich cunts that make all the money while my parents work their buts off and barely make enough to get by.”
The bitterness in his tone was harsh and unforgiving.
“My dad works overtime every week and they still can’t afford a nice holiday or a bigger house,” he continued,”And they never will, because the system fucks people like them.”
You caressed his hair and he sighed softly before looking up into your eyes.
“That’s not going to be my life,” he then said, determined.
You gave him a warm smile,”There’s nothing mediocre about you, Michael Gavey.”
His lips curled into a gentle smile when he met your eyes.”My mum noticed I was different very early on, I was always smarter than all the other kids, especially when it came to numbers and stuff. I could just do it, without even thinking. But…other kids didn’t understand, they thought I was a weirdo. It got worse in high school, got bullied a lot.”
His eyes left yours and he gently pressed his face into the crook of your neck while he closed his eyes, pushing away those memories. Your arms wrapped around him to hug him closer.
“Kids can be cruel,” you spoke softly,”Especially at the age where they should know better.”
“Yeah,” he sighed, coming back to you and looking at you again,”Anyway, I know I’m smarter than all those pricks and my future will be brighter than theirs, and better than mum and dad’s. That’s why I don’t believe in wasting time with stupid distractions like drinking and partying. Graduating is the only thing that matters.”
”So…what is this then? You and me? Is this not a distraction from your big studies?” you teased.
He smiled bashfully and moved to place himself on top of you, caging you between his arms,”This is not a distraction, this is…gaining some much needed experience and useful skills that will serve me well later on in life.” He softly kissed your jaw and you laughed.
“Is that so?”
“Hmm, you are an amazing tutor and you’ve been really good to me ,” he continued while moving his kisses down your neck and pressing himself up against you. He was hard again. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders while his hands moved to push up your top, to reveal yourself to him again. “So, so good to me,” he repeated in a whisper before his tongue circled around your nipple and he bucked his hips, letting you feel his full clothed erection against your bare center.
“Michael,” you moaned.
“Can I fuck you now? Please?” he breathed against your skin.
You nodded instantly, pushed his sweatpants over his ass and welcomed him in between your tight, wet heat.
***
During the next few weeks you kept meeting up with him as often as you both could, sneaking off to either his or your room to spend the night in bed together. He was still a little insecure at times but the awkward virgin from the beginning was slowly starting to transform into someone bolder and more confident, not just in his actions but his words as well.
You had gotten to know him better than anyone in this short period of time. Sometimes you still wanted to kick him in the head for how blunt he could be, but he always made up for it with his sweet, adorable side. And with sex, of course.
You were starting to forget what started this whole thing between you and him.
But of course Ben was there to remind you.
You had just picked up some books from the library and were on your way out when he intercepted you in one of the corridors. He blocked your way out, arms crossed over his chest and a smug grin on his face.
“What?” you sighed annoyed.
“I underestimated you, I didn’t think you could actually do it,” he simply stated.
“Do what?”
“Fuck him stupid.”
“That’s not…that’s not what happened,” you sighed impatiently. You just wanted to get to your room and get some studying done before meeting up with Michael later and most of all you wanted to get away from Ben but he wasn’t budging.
“Are you sure?” he teased,”Because he messed up so bad in class today, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing with my own two eyes, Michael Gavey lost for words and unable to answer a question, I never thought I’d see the fucking day. It was so awesome, you should have been there.”
He laughed and your stomach turned.
“What happened?” you asked, worried.
“I don’t know, you tell me, it was a basic question even I could have answered but he totally fucking short circuited or something. What did your pussy do to him, darling?”
It took everything in you not to hit him for real this time but you took a deep breath and looked into his eyes,”First of all, I’m not your darling, don’t call me that, ever again. And secondly, you’ve lost all rights to talk or even think about my pussy so shut the fuck up.”
He just shrugged,”Fine, whatever, it wasn’t that great anyway.”
Now it was your turn to laugh,”Your dick obviously disagreed with that, if I recall correctly he couldn’t get enough of it.”
He rolled his eyes but you could see a little crack in his armor,”I can’t talk about your cunt but you talking about my dick is fine? Double standards much?”
“You are the dick, Ben,” you pointed out, earning you another laugh from him before his eyes rested on yours.
“He fucks you as good as I did then?” he asked.
“Better,” you answered with a smug smile on your face,”So much better.”
Finally he had no come back and stayed quiet.
“Now, if you please get out of my way so I can go see him,” you asked but you didn’t wait for him to move, one hand pushing his shoulder so you could step past him.
“The test for that job is next week,” Ben pointed out, making you stop in your tracks.
“And?”
“And? You know what our deal was, don’t you? You distract Michael so he fails the test and I can take his spot.”
“Look, I’m not responsible for what happens with that test. I’ve fucked him, like you asked.”
Ben just shook his head,”And it all means nothing unless I win that position.”
You turned back to look at him, your newly found confidence fading quickly when you met the determination in his eyes and realized you were completely fucked in this scenario.
”But…there’s nothing I can do about that,” you pointed out hesitantly,”I’ve done what you asked of me, what else can I do?”
That smug annoying ass grin was back on his face,”That’s not my problem, darling, I’m sure you’ll think of something. Don’t sweat it, there’s still time.”
And with that he was gone.
***
Michael noticed your teary eyes as soon as he walked into your room that night. You were sitting on your side of the bed, trying very hard not to show him how upset you were.
“Oh, hi,” you tried to give him your best smile but he saw right through it.
Having spent more and more time together he could read you better than anyone by now.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing,” you tried to brush it off, shrugging your shoulders and looking up at him, fake smile plastered on your face,”How was your day? Did you do anything fun?”
Michael snorted.”Fun? No, not really,” he stepped to your side of the bed and sat down, a little grin spreading on his lips,”But I’m about to do something fun now.”
The tone in his voice made you laugh and you could not be more grateful for it, because for a moment you forgot your tears.”Oh, you are?” you teased.
Michael crawled onto the bed until he was lying on your pillow, his hand reaching out to grab yours and pull you with him. You followed eagerly, straddling his lap.
“But first,” he interrupted you,”You’re going to talk to me. What happened today? What got you so upset?”
“I’m not upset,” you lied, annoyed,“And I don’t want to talk, I want to fuck.”
“We’re not fucking until you tell me what’s wrong.”
“Oh really?” you teased him and you rolled your hips against his crotch, feeling him instantly harden beneath you.
Michael pulled his bottom lip between his teeth to bite back a moan, his hands grabbing your waist to try and hold you still,”Stop that, that’s not…fair..shit.”
You continued your efforts, dragging your clothed pussy over his cock while your hand sank underneath his shirt to caress his stomach. His cock was so hard already you barely had to do anything else. The power you held over him was intoxicating but then Michael grabbed your hands, a bit more forcefully this time while he stared into your eyes.
“I said fucking stop that and talk to me,” he insisted, raising his voice a little but that only spurred you on and when you bucked your hips against him harder his protest died in a needy moan.
“You were saying?” you teased him again, biting your own lip now.
You were only wearing panties underneath your long t-shirt and you could feel him press up against your clit too perfectly. You could probably come just from doing this, he wouldn’t even have to take his pants off.
Michael’s fingers sank into your hips and you could see the dilemma playing in his head. Does he give in or does he keep pushing for you to open up to him? You could tell he was close to losing the battle.
“You’re the student,” you reminded him, placing your hands on his chest,”I’m the tutor. I decide what happens next.”
Before you could make your next move Michael grabbed your ass and moved you off of him, then pushed you down onto the bed and switched positions with you. He was pinning you down to the bed now, a look of victory in his beautiful blue eyes.
“You were saying?” he teased with a smirk.
You were too stunned to speak for a moment. You tried to move your hips again, trying to regain control but he was the one in the position of power now, his weight strong enough to hold you down on the bed without even trying.
“And thus the student becomes the master,” Michael teased with a dorky grin.
“Master?” you scoffed,”Please, you are so full of yourself.”
“No, I’m not,” he denied and he leaned closer to press his lips to your ear, ”But you’d like to be, wouldn’t you? Full of me.”
He pressed his dick up against your clothed pussy to accentuate his words and you knew you were leaving a wet stain on his cargo pants when he started dry humping you.
“Michael,” you whined.
“Are you sure you’re in charge here, sweetheart?” he continued his teasing, biting your earlobe,”Rubbing that wet little cunt all over my dick like a pathetic needy whore that can’t wait to be filled.”
“Fuck,” you whimpered,”Hey, that’s not…that’s not fair! We haven’t covered dirty talk yet, you can’t…fuck…you can’t run ahead of the lessons like that. How did you…?”
Michael just laughed into your neck,”I’m a fucking genius, did you forget? Self study. Now stay still.”
He tried to hold you down with one hand while the other unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants down to free his cock.
Now it was your turn to feel victorious and you smirked up at him.“I thought we weren’t fucking before I talked?” you reminded him.
“Change of plans,” he simply stated while spreading your legs and pressing his leaking cock against your folds,”I’ll fuck you first and then we’ll talk.”
Without any further warning he sank his cock deep inside your tight heat, shutting you both up.
Michael pressed his forehead to yours and let out a shaky breath, his gaze locking with yours, taking a few moments before he started fucking you slowly.
Your legs locked around him, forcing him in deeper and he whimpered against your neck.“God, fuck.”
“Go on then, master,” you teased,”Show me what you’ve learned.”
His one hand came to rest on your hip, caressing you softly while his mouth hovered over the curve of your neck. His breath was like fire on your skin, his thrusts slow and patient. Too slow, too shallow, you needed so much more of him and he was holding it just beyond your reach. He was purposely teasing you. And by god was it working.
“Please,” you begged.
“Please what, baby?” Michael breathed.
“More,” you whispered,”I need more of you, please.”
You sighed in relief when he finally started kissing your neck. His hand travelled up and under your shirt to caress your tits, thumb brushing over your nipples when he squeezed softly. You couldn’t hold back your moans any longer.
Your hips were moving along with his, urging him on to speed things up.
“Shhh,” Michael shushed you with more kisses and pushed your shirt up higher,”Take this off.”
You obliged so eagerly it put a satisfied smile on his face. Then his kisses moved down lower until his mouth wrapped around your nipple.
“Michael,” you whined, arching into him and running your fingers through his hair.
He continued giving your breasts his full attention until he felt your walls starting to squeeze around him.
“Oh, you like that a lot, huh?” he grinned proudly, continuing his slow torture with his tongue, all the while keeping eye contact.
You nodded and bit your lip,”God, yes…don’t stop.”
“Am I a good student, miss?” he asked with a teasing smile.
You no longer had to answer him with words, your pussy was doing it for you, clenching hard as your first orgasm started. Michael’s hand moved down to your clit, circling it fast and helping you to fall over the edge with a desperate moan, face buried into his neck.
It didn’t take long for Michael to pick up the pace after that, there were no more teasing words, only desperate little moans as he fucked you into the mattress until you both came again.
“Fuck, you’re becoming way too good at this,” you breathed as you were both lying on the bed afterwards, coming down from the high.”Soon you won’t need my tutoring anymore, huh?” you teased.
Michael looked at you with a sudden serious expression on his face,”No, but…I…I still need so much practice, I was just kidding around when I said that master thing, you know, I didn’t mean…”
“Chill out, I’m just messing with you,” you reassured him.
He gave you a hesitant, hopeful smile,”So we can keep fucking?”
You laughed and nodded your head,”Yeah, we can keep fucking, if you’d like.”
“Cool,” he smiled, more confident now and he turned on his side to look at you,”Yeah, I would like that.”
He was wearing nothing but his boxers, you were only wearing his t-shirt and it surprised you how comfortable you felt around him like this. There was no need to pretend with Michael, he accepted you exactly as you were. He wanted you exactly as you were.
Michael noticed your thoughts drifting off.
“Hey, talk to me,” he urged you.
You looked into his eyes with a sigh, knowing you couldn’t keep avoiding it forever.
“It’s Ben, I ran into him earlier,” you confessed.
“What did he do now?”
“The test for that job is next week.”
“Yeah, and?”
“He felt the need to remind me that…if you get the job, me and him don’t have a deal and he’s going to spread that video,” you told him.
Michael looked at you for a moment before he gently took your hand in his, locking his fingers with yours while his thumb brushed your skin. “Then I won’t take the job,” he simply stated, making you look up at him in shock.
You shook your head,”No, what? Are you mad? You want that job.”
He shrugged his shoulders,”Not if it’s going to ruin your life.”
“No,” you insisted,”I can’t let you do that for me, this is your future, everything you’ve worked for.”
“It’s my decision, okay?” Michael reminded you with a little smile but you just hit him on the shoulder.
“You’re not thinking straight right now, you’re thinking with your dick, Michael! The Michael I knew a few weeks ago would have never…”
“The Michael you knew?” he laughed,”You never even looked at me twice before then, babe, you sure as hell didn’t know shit about me a few weeks ago, don’t act like you knew me,” he interrupted you, his gaze meeting yours in a serious look. You stayed quiet.
“He said something else as well,” you then spoke softly,”He told me you messed up in class.”
Michael rolled his eyes,”That was nothing, it happens to anyone.”
“But not to you though, does it?”
Your eyes locked with his and he nodded his head with a sigh.”Not usually, no,” he confessed.
“What happened?” you asked.
“Nothing,” he lied.
“It’s me, isn’t it? I’m a distraction.”
“No, you’re not,” he tried to reassure you,”I was just tired.”
“Because I kept you up all night!” you pointed out but Michael kept shaking his head, not allowing you to take any blame.
“Sweetheart,” he sighed.
”I don’t want this, okay?” you spoke firmly,”You being distracted in class, passing up on the biggest opportunity in your life? For me? I don’t want that responsibility, Michael. You told me just last week how important this all is for you, how it’s everything that matters and you’re going to make a better life for yourself. How can I stand in the way of that?”
He sighed and nodded his head, finally letting your words sink in.
“Promise me you’ll take the test and get that job,” you asked him,”Promise me, Gavey.”
“Okay, fine,” he nodded, finally caving and letting his eyes meet yours,”I promise, I’ll take the job and we’ll just…we’ll find another way to deal with Ben.”
You laughed bitterly,“What other way?”
“I know someone who might be able to help us, it’s a bit of a long shot but…”
“I don’t know, Michael, maybe I should just accept my fate," you sighed defeated.
“No, come on, don’t give up,” he grabbed your hand again and placed a quick kiss on your knuckles,”We can think of something, we can still find a scenario in which we both win.”
You gave him a smile but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. You wanted to believe him, wanted to believe there was a way out of this.
But you just couldn’t see a scenario in which you could both win.
There was one in which you both lose, and it was closing in on you sooner than you’d like.
#michael gavey x reader#michael gavey smut#michael gavey x you#michael gavey#ewan mitchell fanfic#michael gavey x fem reader
349 notes
·
View notes
Text
Us (Alexia Putellas x reader)
A/N: I have no idea where this came from but it has been stuck in my head for a few weeks. I hope you guys like it!
You had been in the most important meeting of your career when you received a message. You never turned your phone off in case there was an emergency but you did put it on do not disturb. The small vibration in your pocket told you 1 of 2 people were trying to get in touch with you. Your manager was in the meeting with you so it only left one person.
I need you, please can you come over.
As far as Alexia was aware you were in England. Your mind went to the worse case scenario because it had to be something bad if she was asking you to get on a plane and fly to Barcelona with no explanation.
In the politest way possible you excuse yourself from the meeting and leave your future in the safe hands of your manager, who upon seeing your face backs your decision to leave without asking any questions.
A quick text is sent to your girlfriend saying that you are on your way but there’s no response. You try calling only there is no answer. By the time you get to her apartment building you are filled with worry and you waste no time in running up the stairs having no patience to wait for the elevator.
When you knock on the door you are not met by your girlfriend.
“You’re the lion?” The resemblance was even more striking up close. You had met Alba once or you had at least been in the same room as her.
“Technically I’m a lioness”
It makes a little more sense now. No one was aware of your relationship and in order to keep the questions at bay you didn’t save each others phone number under a name, instead it was an emoji. Yours was a lion due your national team’s nickname and your on pitch persona. Hers was a crown because she was your queen and known by the fans as La Reina.
“Alba let her in” another woman, Alexia’s mother, guides you through the apartment even though you have been here enough times to know your way around.
“You’re the girl my daughter has been seeing”
“I am and I will happily introduce myself and answer any questions you may have after I have seen her”
“She’s in the living room. When we came she was crying and she won’t talk to any of us” one of Alexia’s best friends says.
It didn’t look good. Her mother, sister and best friend all at your girlfriends apartment yet she is refusing to talk to any of them
The three woman give you some space as you enter the living room. All of them hoped that you would have more luck at finding out what was wrong.
“Hello you” you crouch down so that you are at her level and without saying a word Alexia wraps her arms around you tightly. The speed of it almost sends you both to the ground but you steady yourself just in time.
Once on the sofa Alexia buries her face in the crook of your neck.
“How are you here?”
“That doesn’t matter. Alexia, what is wrong?”
“They won’t leave me alone. It’s like they are obsessed with my personal life. I’m happy, why isn’t that enough for them? Why do they need to get involved and keep bringing up the past?”
You were at a loss. Yes you were aware of the spotlight that was constantly on Alexia, one was on you as well but you had been dating for almost 2 years now and nobody was the wiser.
“Who cariño?” Eli asks from the other side of the room.
“The girls. They think that because Jenni signed for Atleti that we are going to get back together. We finally got back to a good place during the World Cup and no one seems to understand that we are just friends. We are Y/N, I promise nothing is going on” Alexia turns to look at you.
During the World Cup you saw the rumours and they spread quickly given that everyone assumes Alexia is single. At first it bothered you but the two of you talked about it and you realised that you were jealous for no reason. Alexia was your girl and only yours.
“I know” deep down you hated that she was still getting linked to another woman but it wasn’t a threat to your relationship so you let it go.
“They are going to ruin everything. They don’t even know and they are ruining—“
“Alexia, nobody is ruining anything. Let your friends talk. At the end of the day it is me and you”
The three other women in the room watched and listened as you talked Alexia through her panic. You were able to calm her and bring her peace in a moment that was very overwhelming for her.
“But Jenni is—“
“Jenni is your past and that cannot be changed. What have I told you?” You ask your girlfriend.
The woman who is still cuddled into your side mumbles something incoherent and you know she is mumbling because she doesn’t want the other women to know the words you told her during the summer.
“She’s your first love Alexia, I intend to be your last” you kiss the corner of her mouth.
The sound of awes burst the little bubble that you had formed around you and Alexia. Clearly embarrassed, Alexia once again hides herself.
Knowing that the two of you can’t ignore the introduction that the women are waiting for, Alexia officially introduces you to Eli, Alba and Miri as her girlfriend.
“What happens now?” Alexia asks you “Do we tell people? I don’t want our bubble to break, everything is normal with you. We are Y/N and Alexia but when people find out we will be captains, players and rivals”
“Hey, calm down. They will change but we won’t. Do you want to be us normal or what everyone else expects us to be?”
“Us normal”
“Well then I am going to drive you back to your training facility, open the door for you like I always do, I’ll kiss you goodbye and then you’re going to go to work”
Your confidence was reassuring to all in the room.
Alexia tells you that she is going to freshen up in the bathroom which leaves you alone with three of the most important people in her life. Your media training comes in very handy as you are able to answer all of Alba’s and Miri’s questions without hesitation or breaking a sweat. However, Eli’s question catches you off guard.
“You’re the reason why Alexia didn’t come back to the room after the awards show in Dubai aren’t you?”
“Guilty but nothing happened” technically it was the truth, nothing did happen that night “We spent the night in the hotel bar talking then went to the beach to watch the sunrise”
“Can I ask you a question?” Alba says “If you were in England when you received the text would have come?”
“I would have been on the first flight out, yes”
It seemed to enough to please the younger Putellas because she simply nodded her head.
Once Alexia was ready you did as you said. The two of you drove to Joan Camper, Alexia quizzed you the entire car journey because you still hadn’t told her why you were in Barcelona. You open the door for her as expected but what Alexia didn’t expect was you to walk with her into the facility.
“I love that you care but you don’t have to do this for me, I can handle it”
“Who says I’m doing it for you”
The two of you stop in front of the canteen. It was surrounded by glass windows and you can see the majority of the team eating their lunch.
“Us normal?” You ask Alexia and she nods her head. As you normally would whenever you visited her or she visited you, you kissed her once on the lips and then once on her hairline as she hugged you goodbye.
“Wait! Where are you going?” Alexia asks as you don’t go in the direction of the exit.
“You asked how I’m here. Well, I have a job interview with your boss”
#alexia putellas x reader#alexia Putellas one shot#alexia Putellas imagine#woso x reader#woso one shot#woso imagine#barcelona femeni x reader#barcelona femeni imagine#barcelona femeni one shot#espwnt x reader#espwnt one shot#espwnt imagine
950 notes
·
View notes
Text
you belong with me
satoru gojo x f!reader
**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series
content: high school!au, gojo is a robotics nerd, reader is class president, emo nanami (my beloved), toji is ur shitass football playing boyfriend, typical cheesy highschool drama
an: tell me why posting this is giving me a tummy ache like I haven't posted for gojo in forever and now i think I suck at it :OOO anyways, please be nice to me about this and close your eyes if you hate it. also, totally reliving my high school days when I was senior class vice president (worst experience of my life) FDLJFKDSJFLS
--
You’re a hater. A self proclaimed, real-life, deep in your soul hater.
What do you hate today? Being class president.
You hate that you willingly ran, somehow won, had people up your ass all day about stuff that wasn’t in your control, and got stuck in the current situation you were in. Which was arguing with your boyfriend Toji, as you pace around your room and do your own fair share of screaming back.
“You just did that shit because you were pissed at me.”
“I did not, Toji. You know, not everything is about you. Other people needed the money and I put it where it was needed.”
“To the color guard team? Babe, no one gives a fuck about the color guard team. Everyone is at the homecoming game to watch the football team. Not a bunch of idiots waving flags in the air.”
“They’re also part of the game and all their equipment is broken. They need it more than you when you guys literally get donors and funding from the district and-”
“You’re just pissed about the sweetheart thing. That’s why you’re doing this shit and taking it out on everyone else.”
“Toji, I’m not even mad about-”
You’re met with the sound of ringing over the phone, signaling that Toji had enough and finally hung up on you. You flop straight onto your bed, pushing your face so hard into your pillow that sits uncomfortably against your nose and the smell of your laundry detergent makes its way to the crevices of your brain.
You hear a banging behind you and twist around to see Gojo pointing at his walkie-talkie, switching it on as you reach for yours. It’s still covered in glittery pink stickers from when you were seven, the silver coming off on your hand every time you grab it.
“Come in, bunny.”
“Loud and clear, Toru.”
He smiles, setting his hardware down - probably for another weird ass robot he was making - as he holds it up to his face, talking again.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Just arguing with Toji, again. I’ll start allocating some of our funds to get you some sound proof windows.”
“Much appreciated, Madam President. That’s very generous of you.”
You laugh, dropping the walkie talkie to lift your fingertips to your temples, lightly massaging the pulsating under your skin.
“For what it’s worth, the color guard team is really grateful you did that for them. I know Utahime was so excited when the new flags came in, she was flipping them around on the field for hours.”
“That’s why it’s even more annoying. I know what I did was right, but he just doesn’t see it that way. Uta dragged me down to the field to watch them and their choreography looks so much better with the multicolored flags. They were really happy about it.”
“Heavy is the head that wears the crown?”
“Heavy is the head that’s dating Toji Fushiguro.”
He laughs as you switch your channel off, taking the last few seconds to study you before you draw your curtains. He can see the tension sitting in your shoulders and how clearly it hurts you to argue with Toji like this. And it infuriates him. That you even have to go to sleep angry and that the cause is the headass idiot you’re dating.
Toji Fushiguro is lucky, far more lucky than he realizes. Not for obvious reasons. Yeah, he’s a great football player and yeah, he’ll probably get scouted for some really good university at the end of the year. He doesn’t have a shortage of friends or intelligence and for all intents and purposes, he’s loved (which Gojo doesn’t understand at all).
He’ll probably be that scumbag that people see a few years down the line and then get infuriated at. Because if an absolute asshat like Toji Fushiguro can be successful, then truly all things have gone to shit. That the patriarchy is real, that society is broken, living proof that the asshole always wins and everyone else always loses.
But no, those are common reasons to hate Toji Fushiguro - ones he’s heard echoed by Suguru and Shoko every time he does something that pisses the two of them off. Like scream obscenities in the hallways, block their parking spots when they’re going to class, call them names when they walk by.
No. Toji Fushiguro is lucky because he gets to date you. Because out of the long list of girls he had to pick one, Toji just had to pick the one that was his. The girl he’s been in love with since he moved in right across the street and had a smiley neighbor excitedly waving at him through her bay window.
To him, love has always been the pigtail braids you used to wear everyday in the fourth grade, the matching walkie-talkies you bought him in sixth grade when he got grounded, and that sweet smile you’ve had since the first day he’s met you.
And when he sees those green curtains pulled against the bay window he’s stared at for years, where he’s loved you from for years, he lifts the walkie and says what he forgot to mention.
I love you.
--
Thanks to your gracious ride, you make it to school thirty minutes early. Your intuition - that Toji was ditching you as your ride to school this morning - was correct. Luckily, you made it in time just before class started.
Nanami’s already seated on the green bench outside the classroom, headphones plugged into his ears. As you walk up, you silently wonder how much hair gel it takes to keep his Gerard Way hairstyle in place.
“Hi Kento! How is my best friend doing on this fine morning?”
“We’re not best friends.”
“Sure we are!”
You reach forward and pinch his cheek in your hand, which he only swats off and rolls his eyes at. That’s how you know your best friends. Because if it was anyone else, Nanami would probably break their hand and walk away. But he always lets you tease him, because he know he loves you.
“Are you still fighting with that dog?”
“That dog has a name. And it’s Toji. And I’m not sure, he didn’t pick me up for school this morning.”
“Did he at least tell you he wouldn’t?”
“No. I was lucky enough that Satoru had walked Megs to the bus stop a little late and I was able to get a ride with him.”
Nanami looks over, narrowing his eyes at you, as the hallway starts getting crowded with people. And you know what he’s saying, what he’s been saying for the past few months.
“You know, it’s very normal to give your neighbor a ride when they need one. Not everything has ulterior motives, Kento.”
“That’s true. Everything doesn’t have ulterior motives. But he does. I’ve seen how he looks at you.”
“How does he look at me, Kento?”
“Like he’d kiss the ground you’d walk on.”
You roll your eyes, reaching up to mess up his perfectly styled hair. It doesn’t budge and you get a handful of minty smelling hair gel.
“As if.”
Like you’ve summoned him by bringing him up, Satoru’s sidestepping to where you and Nanami are sitting, Shoko and Getou in tow with him.
“Nanami~~ How’s my best friend doing?” Satoru says, bending over to totally obscure Nanami’s line of vision.
“Shut the fuck up, Gojo.” Nanami responds.
Nanami stands up, giving you a look, before he stalks away to his next class. Leaving you, Satoru, Shoko, and Getou standing in front of your classroom.
“So. I hear you have a robotics competition?” you ask.
“Yeah. Next Saturday. We always practice our hardware out the night before, throw a little party in the lab. You should come.” Getou says, smiling at you.
Satoru smacks Getou in the stomach right after he invites you, clearly trying to tell him something with his eyes. And then when he catches you staring, he gives you a nervous laugh.
You get it. He doesn’t want you there.
“Don’t act too excited to see me now, Satoru. Anything more and I might think you like me.” you bite sarcastically.
“What? No, it’s not like that. I just-” Satoru stutters,
“So you don’t like me?” you say, smirking at him. Shoko and Getou are laughing, the tips of Satoru’s turning pink as he very adamantly tells you that he does indeed like you.
“I have stuff to set up for the homecoming game that day, so I won’t be able to. But I’ll try my best, yeah?”
“Okay. Next time?” Getou asks.
“Sure, Sugar-u. I’ll see you guys around, yeah?”
You give the three of them a polite smile as you trudge away, leaving to meet Toji at his locker and give him a piece of your mind for this morning. Which leaves Shoko and Getou to give Satoru the scolding of his life.
“Are you fucking stupid, Satoru? You made it seem like you didn’t want her there.” Shoko says, smacking him on the back of the head.
“I panicked! Plus, Haibara always likes to play Just Dance and I’d rather not embarrass myself in front of her.” Satoru responds, rubbing the now sore spot on the back of his head.
“You’re hopeless, Satoru. She’s never going to like you if you keep rejecting her the way you do.” Suguru says, dragging him along to the robotics lab.
“She has a boyfriend. Who isn’t me. As if she would even consider dating me in the first place.”
And when the three of them pass you by the lockers, clearly getting yelled at by Toji, it only furthers their argument more.
“Yeah, I’m sure she really loves him, Satoru.”
--
Your argument with Toji hours prior simmers in your head, as you wait for the bus to arrive and for this godforsaken day to finally be over. You watch him pile into his car with Salma and the other boys from the football team, which only makes your anger fester more.
He’s doing this to piss you off. Of course, he’s doing this to-
“Need a ride?”
You look up and unclench your fists to find Satoru, sparkly blue eyes shining at you and a hand held out to you.
“Thanks.”
He leads you to his car, an almost demolished Honda Civic from his maniacal driving, and you climb in, immediately putting your head in your hands. You can feel him moving around you, the engine purring on and him backing out of the spot.
“About earlier. I don’t not want you to come to the robotics thing. I just thought it was awkward the way he asked you and I-I didn’t want you to feel obligated to come, you know? And I-I’d like it if you came too and so would the rest of us.” he rambles, a hand in his hair.
You look up, his ears tinted pink from the confession.
“I was just teasing you, Satoru. I’ll try to make it by, okay?”
He sighs, a clear breath of relief, and looks over to smile.
“Okay, cool cool cool. Now tell me why you and Toji are fighting.”
“When aren’t we fighting?” you murmur, pressing your head against the glass.
“But why?”
And when you look over, his blue eyes staring into yours, in earnest while the light is red, you unload it all.
“Do you know about the sweethearts thing they do at the homecoming game?”
“Uh. That’s when the cheerleaders wear the jerseys right. And then decorate the locker room or some shit for the players.”
“Yeah. Well, it’s not limited to cheerleaders. It usually is, but if you’re dating someone, that person can do it for you.”
“So I’m guessing Toji doesn’t want you to do it for him.”
“Not exactly. He was just saying that it’s more traditional for a cheerleader to do it since they’re also on the side of the track and he wants to see his name out there instead of running around, trying to make sure the game is running and all that.”
You slump into the chair as Satoru frowns, a pitying look in his eyes, as he keeps driving. You can’t help but watch him, his silhouette against the window - defined jaw, the slope of his nose.
He’s not the guy who ran away from kissing you in the eighth grade. He’s just ten times hotter.
You shake your head, letting the thought spill from your mind, as Satoru looks over.
“Jamoca?” he says, giving you a wide grin.
You can’t help but laugh, nodding as Satoru makes a sharp left turn, making his way to the ice cream shop.
Jamoca is your favorite ice cream flavor. Coffee, layered with fudge and almonds, became a proclaimed favorite when Satoru dragged you once in the sixth grade. After very sorely losing the class president battle, you moped in your room for five days - even going as far as borrowing one of Nanami’s My Chemical Romance vinyls to truly and properly mope.
On day three of blasting the vinyl, Satoru called enough and dragged you to the closest ice cream store, claiming it was the closest thing to therapy that you normies could afford. Since then, any bad day was easily solved with two things.
Jamoca and Satoru.
When you make it to the store, Satoru’s excitedly dragging you out of the car, his hand pressed in yours as you both run into the store, giggling while you order your single scoops. And when he drags you out to the curb and you sit there, you silently think to yourself why you ever stopped doing this in the first place.
Satoru leans over, digging his chocolate fudge covered spoon into your cup, before talking.
“So. If you guys fight so much, why are you still dating?”
“Dunno. Feels weird to initiate a breakup, I guess. I can’t see myself doing it.”
“Even when he wants other girls to be his sweetheart?”
“Even when he wants other girls to be his sweetheart.”
You kick the pebbles into the broken parts of the pavement, leaning your elbows on your knees.
“I don’t know, Toru. I guess he was just the first guy who ever liked me back and then I….spent so much time in the relationship and trying to make it work that it feels weird to let it go now.”
Satoru swallows hard, eyeing his melting ice cream, as he ponders the best response. Because in earnest, he has two options. Support you or be selfish. Support you to stay with Toji, to do what you’ve been doing because he knows it’s what you want. Or be selfish. Tell you that he you deserve better, that he could be that for you if you just let him.
He reaches over, flicking you in the forehead.
“Ouch, asshole.”
“You’ve got a really big brain in there. And you always have. You’ll figure out the right thing to do, just give it time.”
And when you give him a halfhearted smile, reaching over into his cup for a bite of his ice cream, he lets it go.
He can’t be selfish. Not when it comes to you anyways.
--
After running around all day, you give yourself thirty minutes to go to Satoru’s robotics thing. After triple checking the microphones work, the yearbook team has access to the field, the glitter has been set out for everyone trickling in, and that everyone who could possibly need your phone number has it, you speed run to the other side of campus, to the robotics lab.
And when you make it, the five of them - Haibara, Nanami, Shoko, Getou, and Satoru - are in the room playing Just Dance. Shoko’s sitting on top of the desk, flippantly moving her remote in the air, while Satoru quite literally is trying to give it all he’s got - and losing apparently.
You lightly push the door open, which stops the two of them in their tracks, and you’re met with some very excited cheers as they all drag you into the room. You take a seat next to Nanami, giving his cheek a pinch, which he hates.
“You’re Haibara, right?”
“You know who I am?”
“Why wouldn’t I? You’re friends with Nanami and Nanami and I are best friends.”
“No we aren’t.” responds Nanami, now sulking two seats away from you.
“Are too.”
You throw the nearest object, a pencil at Nanami, as you turn back to Haibara and laugh.
“I like your shirt. Flight of the Navigator is a really good movie.”
You see Satoru, Shoko, and Suguru’s eyes widen in the back at your words and hear a considerable amount of groaning from Nanami behind you. And after twenty minutes, you find out why.
Haibara really, really loves Flight of the Navigator. Almost too much. In earnest, you barely remember the movie - at most, maybe the weird little alien companion he has. But here Haibara is, reciting the cast, the directors, acting out the scenes and it’s clear to you that you’ve tapped into some monster they all keep hidden.
Luckily for you, Satoru comes to your rescue.
“Okay, Haibara. I’m going to steal her for you for some Just Dance.”
“I don’t Just Dance Satoru.”
“Oh yeah? You’re just saying that because you know you’re going to lose.”
You scoff, knowing exactly what he’s doing.
“As if, sweetheart. I distinctly remember you banning us from ever playing that game together after I beat you in the fifth grade.”
“You’re rusty. Maybe we’ll start with something easy. Like Rasputin.”
“I could do Rasputin in my sleep, bitch.”
“Prove it.”
You roll your eyes as you march over to the front, where they’re projecting the game onto the screen. And just for posterity’s sake, you take Satoru’s sunglasses from where they were flipped over on the desk and put them on, effectively blinding yourself from the screen.
And when the songs start, you can hear them all laughing behind you, Satoru and you hurling insults at each other as you dance on. And somewhere around the middle, you’re sure Satoru must be losing because he grabs your hands and suddenly he’s swinging you around in the air, his hands on your waist as you laugh.
And when you take your blindfold off and the song dies down, Satoru wins by five points.
“You asshole. You literally cheated, Satoru.”
“Did not. You’re just a sore loser, bitch.”
“You kiss your mom with that mouth?”
“Every night, sweetheart.”
You put the palm of your hand in his face as you push him away, moving to sit on the desk. He joins you, the two of you now watching Haibara and Nanami have a very one sided dance battle.
After forty-five minutes, Satoru’s phone buzzes three times and the smile on his face drops when he checks. You place your hand on his, squeezing twice before asking.
“You okay?”
“Huh. Oh, yeah. I-I think you should go to the field. Right now.”
“Wait, what? But you hate that kind of-”
He grabs your hand, dragging you out, as you both start running to the field. You keep asking as he pulls you on, getting almost no response and only a faster pace.
And when you reach the field, you catch just the end of it and the only thing grounding you to that moment is Satoru and Utahime, who was surely the one who had texted Satoru, holding onto your shoulders.
Salma, the cheerleader Toji picked to be his sweetheart, just asked him to homecoming during halftime. And he said yes.
Utahime squeezes your hand three times, a soft look in her eyes when she talks.
“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I just thought you would want to know and I wanted to tell you because you’ve been nothing but nice to me.”
You smile, moving into her open arms as you whisper a small thank you into her shoulder. She leaves, having to return to the color guard team waiting for her on the side, leaving you and Satoru standing on the pavement right by the field.
“Take you home?”
“Thanks, Toru.”
“You want Jamoca?”
“Not today.”
He nods, a hand on the small of your back, as he leads you to his car, even going as far as opening the door for you and letting you crack the windows while you drive back - which you know he hates.
At the first red light, he taps on the top of your head to get your attention.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
“Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”
“What? Of course, not. Toji is just an asshat who doesn’t see you for what you’re worth and-”
“No. No, no. Not like that. Do you think there’s something wrong with me because I’m not even the tiniest bit sad right now? I’m…relieved.”
Satoru looks over, the red front the traffic light flashing on your face, and a blank expression staring back at him.
“Of course, not. He’s a grade one idiot. Anyone in your position would feel that way, bunny.”
“I know. That’s true.”
“But?”
“Does this make me defective, Satoru? Like, maybe I just can’t like people that much or something and I was the problem.”
Satoru twiddles his thumbs on the steering wheel, pondering the same question he has been asking for the past few days. Encourage her or be selfish.
He can’t be selfish with you.
“Okay, Y/N. Close your eyes.”
“Huh?”
“Just do it.”
“Okay.”
He looks over, to find you eyelids fluttering shut, your face lit up by the streetlights outside.
“Now. Tell me about your dream guy, bunny.”
“What are you going on ab-”
“Just do it.”
You sigh, before thinking hard about his question.
“Someone I can be comfortable with. That’s my type. Like we can have fun together and play games but also being around them is comforting to me. Things might suck, but at least they are there to kind of pick me up at the end of the day. They’re nice to people and are surrounded by good company, because you are who you love and they try to be better each day.”
After finishing, you open your eyes to find Satoru staring at you, an all-knowing look on his face.
“Bunny?”
“Toru?”
“Does that sound anything like Toji to you?”
You slump back into your chair, sinking down.
“No.” you murmur.
“You aren’t defective. Well, maybe in the higher level cognitive thinking part because you clearly have some impaired decision making but-”
“Hey. Don’t be rude, asshole.”
“Get out of the car.”
You crane your head out the window to see you’re in fact not at your house, but at the ice cream store. And when he comes around to your side of the car, opening your door, he drags you out, the two of you eating you ice cream in the light of the dingy lamp outside the store.
--
You knock hard on your window, only stopping when Satoru looks up from his desk, dropping the pencil he was just scribbling with. You point to your walkie talkie, switching on the channel as he grabs his.
“Hi bunny. You look nice.”
“Thank you. Are you coming tonight?”
To homecoming. Because despite all odds and last night, you still have to go. And crown the homecoming king and queen since you’re the class president, which you’re sure will be Salma and Toji since the universe is very, very kind to you.
“I’m sorry. Haibara needed help designing something for next week.”
“Oh. Okay. I wish you were.”
“I wish I was too. His hardware is Flight of the Navigator themed so wish me luck.”
You laugh, giving him one last smile as he pulls the curtains to his window. And when you see his navy windows against the pane you’ve stared at him through for years, it only now occurs to you.
When he asked you to describe that last night, he unlocked something. Bringing it to your attention, to the forefront of your mind.
The person you were describing is him. You lift your walkie talkie to your mouth, press the button, and mention the words you forgot to say.
I love you.
And then you turn on your heel and drive yourself to the dance.
--
Satoru ponders it for thirty minutes.
Support her or be selfish. Support her or be selfish. Support her or be selfish.
Be fucking selfish.
Satoru gets up, dropping the hardware he was making for Haibara, and pulls out the first suit he can find. He grabs his walkie talkie off his desk, convinces Megumi to go beg your mom (who loves Megumi) for your walkie talkie, and then goes ninety on the freeway to get to the school on time.
He finds Nanami first, the glob of gel on his head somehow even worse than normal and sets his plan in motion.
“Nanami.”
“Please, for the love of god, not tod-”
“Go hand this to Y/N.”
Nanami and now Shoko are taking the walkie in their hands, flipping it over and inspecting it like they’re the fucking FBI. And more importantly, wasting time.
Three feet away, you’re standing by the punch table, counting how many balloons are on the ceiling. You reach three hundred and fifteen when you’re approached for the first time that night, by Nanami and Shoko.
“Nanami. What is going on with your hair? You can’t possibly need that much hair gel.”
“You would be shocked, Y/N.”
“That's what I said to him too. But this is for you.” Shoko says.
She hands you your walkie talkie, the silver glitter coming off on your hand, as you flip it over.
“Did you break into my house, Shoko?”
“No. But I’m guessing Satoru did. He ran in here five minutes ago and basically yelled at us to give it to you.”
They both shrug as they walk away and you look around, clutching the walkie talkie so hard in your hand you think you might break it. Satoru’s here.
And when you scan your eyes around the room, you see him at the front door, his eyes already fixed on yours. He’s smiling so big that it makes your heart squelch and suddenly you’re moving towards him. And as you both start walking (running) to each other, you can’t help but feel the anticipation of what’s coming.
Except that’s right when Toji stands in the middle of the two of you, his characteristic slimy, sneer on his face. He reaches for your hand first.
“Can we talk, Y/N?”
"No."
You shrug your hand off, pushing right past him, as you walk closer to Satoru. You can hear Toji shouting something at you, but you’re too tunnel visioned on Satoru to pay attention. And when you reach him, you’re both smiling so big at each other, that it makes your face hurt.
He lifts his walkie talkie to his mouth, talking first.
“Come in, bunny?”
“Loud and clear, Toru.”
“I love you.”
You can feel yourself smiling so big, so excited that you’re basically jumping on your toes, your walkie shaking in your hand.
“I love you.”
“Oh thank god. I was scared I was going to get a breaking and entering charge.”
You laugh, pulling him down by his tie and kissing him square on his face. And when he pulls away, ears pink and face red, you whisper against his lips.
“It was always going to be you. I belong with you.”
He smiles, that stupid smile you’ve stared at, loved for years and you can’t help but cheese, leaning forward to kiss him again.
--
the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist
taglist: @porridgesblog @platrom @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @squirrelspoetry
#ok guys#no one be mean#im just a girl#satoru gojo#satoru x you#satoru x reader#satoru x y/n#gojo x you#gojo x reader#gojo x y/n#gojo#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo x y/n#satoru gojo x you#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo fluff#satoru fluff#jjk#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#jjk satoru#jjk gojo#gojou satoru x you#gojo satorou#satoru gojou#jujutsu gojo
835 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
zbabysisxxx
HyubabysisX
evorma
Just a gay dumbass
endlessnotions
EndlessNotions
missgryffin
writing by candlelight
obsidiangx
echo GX