#I’m not cut out for casual dating | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovebugism · 6 months

Note

ok reader x eddie having a casual conversation about sex, talking about what they're both into, leading to some smut??? just hearing what eddie's into sounds so hottttt (i imagine its filthy,, sorry)

ty for requesting! hope you like it!! — a failed date with eddie leads to a night in and several confessions (established relationship, mostly fluff, talks of sex but no actual smut 18+, 1.6k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie Munson is a hopeless romantic.

Not because he loves like it’s breathing (though some would argue otherwise), but because his attempts to be affectionate with you are complete and utter failures.

He had a whole romantic day planned. A late lunch, a quick walk, and then sunset at the park. Honestly, it probably would’ve been a pretty metal date if it was any day other than this one — the biggest flood of the whole goddamn year.

You got to the diner just fine but had to rush back to the trailer in the rain since he didn’t have his van. Thankfully, it waited to outright pour until he got you home. Now, his leather jacket — which you’d used as a makeshift umbrella — hangs beside the opened window to dry.

The orange autumn breeze rolls over your bare bodies like silk (because, of course, an innocent shower after getting drenched in the rain couldn’t not end in getting dirty again).

“Was all this just a ploy to get me into bed?” you tease, tracing the freckles on his back with the tip of your finger. “’Cause you coulda just asked, you know? I would’ve said yes.”

Lying flat on his stomach, Eddie laughs into his folded-up arms. His deep brown hair brushes his pale shoulders when he turns to look at you. His smile is swollen and rosy and crooked.

“You got me, princess. Making my girlfriend walk in disgusting weather was all a part of my evil plan.”

“I wouldn’t say it was evil.”

“No?”

“Sinful, maybe. Sexy, even,” you joke with a lopsided grin. “But no, not evil.”

“Is that so?” he lilts as he rises on his elbow to prop his cheek on his fist.

You shake your head and roll onto your back. Your eyes flit to the spotted ceiling. A smirk blossoms on your lips. “I feel like evil would imply that it was hurtful in some way. And that thing you did in the shower felt way too good to be evil.”

“What thing?” the boy wonders with pinched-together brows.

You shoot him a look. “You know…” you hum vaguely, expectantly.

“No. I don’t, actually,” Eddie laughs, mostly at himself. “I’m kinda dumb, in case you forgot.”

“You’re not dumb, Eds.”

“Stop being sweet. You’re deflecting.”

You concede with a small huff. “That… That thing. With your mouth. When you pressed me against the wall and— please, don’t make me describe it, Eddie,” you ramble, then cut yourself off to whine.

He meets your grimace with a boyish grin. “I don’t know. I kinda like hearing you talk about it.”

“I’ll die,” you deadpan.

“You’re so dramatic.”

His words are harsh, but his pink smile is kind. He kisses you with it after — a smacking peck to the corner of your mouth that migrates rather quickly. He sprinkles his lips along your jaw and chin and neck.

That’s where he lingers.

Eddie finds your pulse point and goes a half-inch higher, just like he did while he was fucking you against the shower wall. You nearly came the first time he kissed you there.

He sucks at the delicate skin until he leaves another faint mark. The feeling of his tongue and teeth on your newfound sweet spot makes your toes curl. It has you moaning out loud before you mean to.

His lips audibly smack when he pulls away.

“That thing?” he wonders, smiling down at you like he already knows the answer.

Your thighs clench together. Your bones are made of mush. “That thing,” you repeat in the affirmative.

“Well, if we’re sharing secrets…” Eddie singsongs, then leans in all close like he’s about to spill the latest gossip. His fingers spread out along your bare waist, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I really liked it when you got all mean.”

You hadn’t thought much of it, then — when Eddie edged you on the counter with his fingers and laughed when you writhed.

You didn’t even let him make it up to you after, just sucked him off and told him he wasn’t allowed to touch you. “Don’t cum ’til I tell you to, understand?” you’d said. “Or I’m gonna get myself off, and you’re gonna watch.”

He was a good boy for you, though, and you let him fuck you in the shower.

Your nose scrunches in muted embarrassment. “I wasn’t being that mean, was I?”

“No. I mean, you could certainly get meaner…” Eddie assures with a shake of his head, then grins as his fingers crawl up your ribcage. You fight back a shiver. “Which I think could be preferable from time to time.”

“So, you want me to be more… dominant?”

He shrugs a pale, freckled shoulder. “Yeah. Sometimes. I like watching you get all dumb for me, don’t get me wrong, but every time you get a little mean, I almost cum in my pants.”

The blatant confession makes you go slightly stupid. You just nod at him, lazy and unblinking. “Yeah. I can do that. You know, if that’s what you want.”

“I do want,” Eddie hums, matching your sloppy head shake. His nicotine-coated breath fans across your cheek. “Very, very much.”

“But not all the time, though, right?”

“No. Not all the time. Just… sometimes— when the moment’s right or whatever.”

“Sure…”

Eddie’s grin broadens when you trail off. A faraway look glazes over your eye. His brows raise expectantly. “What’s that look for?”

You blink rapidly as you descend from the clouds. Shaking your head, you dismiss him. “Nothing. Nothing— I just… I did kinda like not letting you come right away.”

“Yeah. Me too,” Eddie concurs, suddenly breathless.

Your gaze flits to his, mousy and twinkling. Your hands fidget above the covers. “And I kinda wanna try letting you cum and maybe… not stopping…”

Eddie’s eyes go wide. His mouth opens to respond, but he forgets how to speak. He barely remembers to breathe.

“Is that… Is that weird?” you ask, forcing a laugh at his unusual silence.

“No!” he blurts, sounding much louder in the honeyed quiet of his bedroom. “No, that’s… That’s really hot, actually. Like, really hot.”

He zones out just like you had. The imagery of it all makes his stomach whirl. He’s done it to you a number of times — brought you to the edge and kept on pushing you over until you pushed him away. But he’d never thought about ever doing it to himself till now.

Actually, there’s quite a lot of things he’s done to you that he might enjoy himself if he thinks about it.

The thought alone opens a world of possibility in his wild, wild head.

“Can I tell you about something I was thinking about the other day?” he wonders suddenly.

Though slightly startled by the blurted question, you nod. “Of course.”

His gaze flits away from yours. His hand fidgets at your waist, fingers softly scratching at your burning skin. “You know my handcuffs? The ones I clip on my jeans sometimes?”

Again, you nod.

“Well, I— I have the keys, you know? So it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if we— you know— if we used them…”

“On me?” you press, brows pinched in distant concern.

Eddie shakes his head immediately. “No. I know you don’t like that.”

“So… on you?”

“Yeah. Maybe. If you want,” the boy mumbles, suddenly shy in a way you’ve only seen a handful of times — including earlier, when he was begging to cum in your mouth. “I just think it could be cool, you know? Like, you could tie me up and just… use me. If you want,” he repeats.

“Use you?” you repeat with a soft laugh.

He shrugs. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t— I don’t really care about getting off as much as I care about you getting off, you know? I just… wanna take care of you. Want you to take what you want.”

You open your mouth to respond only to find that all words have lost meaning. Your brain is a jumbled mess of alphabet soup. So you just nod, dumb at the very thought.

Eddie’s hand rises from the covers. His palm settles warm at your jaw. His fingers smell faintly of sex as his calloused thumb smooths across your chapped lips. “You could, like, rub yourself on my cock. Get yourself off on top of me,” he murmurs lowly to you, a quiet and crooked grin pulling at his mouth. “Wouldn’t that be metal?”

“Yeah…” you answer with a sigh, getting lost in the daydream right along with him. “Wouldn’t put you inside me at first, either. Not until you’re begging for it.”

His smile widens. “Exactly.”

“Then I’ll ride you until you make me cum.”

Eddie nods, egging you on. He tucks his face into your neck, if only to conceal how ardently he’s blushing. He hides his pink cheeks between your jaw and shoulder and kisses you where he knows it’ll drive you crazy.

“Mhmm?” he urges, muffled.

You sigh a faint moan. Your fingers curl in his wild hair. You press your lips to his temple and continue. “And I’ll let you come, too. Eventually… But I won’t stop.”

“Fuck,” he groans into your pulse.

“Not until you’ve filled me up three times—”

“Oh, fuck…”

You tug at his hair with a soft, stern touch you think you could learn to master for him. His lips click faintly when he parts from you. He blinks down at you with glassy chocolate eyes.

“Something like that?” you wonder, feigning innocence with a sweet-sounding lilt.

Eddie nods, sloppy and stupid. He stammers. “Yeah… Yeah. Some—Something like that.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things smut #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: fictober!

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spenceobsessed · 2 months

Text

post prison!spencer reid x fem!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, smut with a plot

summary: spencer can't help but despise his "replacement", especially during an undercover mission in a nightclub.

MDNI 18+

“this is insane.” penelope garcia mutters on the other end of the phone call. “there’s no way jeffery was able to absolutely take himself off the internet.” she huffs, the keyboard clicking in the background. “i’m gonna keep working. i’ll be back in a jiffy, i swear!” she says sweetly before hanging up.

the unsub, jeffery hogan had abducted then murdered four young women in los angeles california. the team had been in la for three days now, and jeffery had already killed two more women before they could stop him. all of them were getting antsy and a little angry.

you sigh, leaning back in your chair as the rest of the team begins talking amongst themselves, minus spencer, who had been staring at a map for twenty minutes.

“reid.” you say, catching his attention. he doesn’t look up, but you can tell that your voice startled him slightly.

“hmm?” he says, annoyance lacing his tone. you roll your eyes. he had been an absolute dick to you since day one. the whole team had described him as a saint, yet, you couldn’t see it. yes, he was attractive, but that didn’t distract from how hateful he was towards you. plus, you had been nothing but nice to him when you first met him, doing nothing to get on his bad side.

“did you make a connection between the locations?” you ask curtly. he huffs. “i don’t see you doing anything helpful.” he snaps, finally looking up from his map to glare at you.

“spence,” jj begins, joining the conversation unknowingly. “any connections?” he smiles and turns to face her, like you hadn’t just asked the same question.

“the one common location that overlaps with all the crime scenes and significant places in jeffery’s life is the ‘night owl’, a local night club.” reid says, smirking at you when he finishes his sentence like a teenager. you scoff.

emily gives them a look that says “act professional please”.

“we have no idea what he looks like, we only know bits and pieces of his life that garcia could dig up, how are we going to catch him?” matt asks, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed, a coffee in hand.

“i could go undercover,” you begin with a shrug. “most of the girls he abducted have been around my age and have my same features.” emily nods in agreement.

“one issue.” rossi says. “the unsub has always abducted women on dates.” you nod. that’s true.

“i could go with you.” matt says, standing up straight and taking a sip of his coffee. you open your mouth to thank him but emily cuts you off.

“no offense simmons, but what if we sent in reid instead? he closer matches y/n’s age and resembles the victims boyfriends more closely.”

spencer opens his mouth to protest but tara cuts him off with a smile. “great idea, you guys should leave in an hour or so, you better start getting ready.”

you watch as reid fights the urge to say something rude, but is quickly whisked away by emily.

jj helps you get ready in another conference room of the precinct, dressing you like the average clubber.

your outfit is a small, tight, red mini dress, with matching heels and accessories. you had to admit, you looked good. you found yourself wondering what they had put reid in and whether he would find you attractive in this tight dress.

“you look amazing.” a voice breaks you out of your trance as you’re putting in an ear piece. you smile, turning to face emily.

“thank you.” you say softly, using your hands to smooth out your dress. “i think i’m ready.” you add, slightly nervous. emily reassures you that you will do great and asks you to follow her outside.

that’s where you’re met with spencer reid. he looks unfortunately handsome, hot even, wearing the most casual “spencer outfit” you have ever seen: corduroy pants, converse, and a white button down. the white button down was sheer linen (very beachy) and allowed you to barely see his chest. you quickly remind yourself that he is in fact a dick, hoping that will somehow make him less attractive.

you watch as his eyes wander your body. emily seems to notice and clears her throat.

“you guys gotta get going.” she breathes out a smirk on her face.

reid walks over to the side of the car. you smile slightly as he opens the door, your smile fading as he slides in alone slamming the door behind him.

“petty bitch.” you mutter. your heels angrily clicking against the asphalt as you walk to the other side of the suv, ripping open the door and sliding in with your arms crossed. you slam the door behind yourself, eyes glaring into the side of reid’s face.

“look,” you begin, your tone angry. “if this is going to work you need to at least try to pretend not to be a fucking asshole.” he scoffs, turning to face you.

“watch your tone.” he says lowly, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. your arms are still crossed and you watch as spencer’s eyes go from your face to your tits, then back up again.

you remind yourself that indeed, he's just a man. he may be a genius but behind that, he’s simply just a man with needs. you were going to make tonight hell for him.

you smirk, eyes glaring into his. “do your fucking job and i just might comply, doctor.”

he turns his head away from you, staring out the window, a new type of tension in the air.

“can you guys hear me?” jj says through you ear pieces. “yeah.” reid says, you can hear how angry he is, just through one word.

the team gives you both a rundown and reminds you both of your parts.

“…remember you’re a couple!” garcia reminds you. the team agrees loudly on the line. “yeah,” alvez says. “pretend to like each other for one night.”

“we’ll try, alvez.” you reply as the suv pulls up in front of the busy nightclub.

you look over at reid. “open my damn door and look like you fucking mean it.” you say through gritted teeth. he doesn’t respond as he steps out of the car, shutting his door quietly and makes his way over to your side of the car. he opens your door with a fake smile on his face, putting out his hand for you to grab. you get out of the car, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

“grab my waist.” you demand. he huffs under his breath, reaching his large hand to rest on your waist. he leans in to whisper back. “you will not dictate this night. i have over ten more years of experience than you, on this team. you do not get to boss me around, y/l/n.” he says through gritted teeth, pulling away from your ear with a fake smile on his face. you don’t have time to respond as he says; “let’s go, baby.”

the nickname hits you like a brick, especially the way it comes out of his mouth so effortlessly. in an attempt to control your composure, you smile and lean against him as he rubs his hand lovingly across your waist.

you both enter the night club, the mix of bright lights and darkness temporarily blinds you as you grip onto spencer for support.

“don’t respond, but we see you’ve made it inside. go grab a drink from the bar then hit the dance floor.” emily orders. spencer nods, leading you towards the busy bar.

as you approach the bar, the bartender asks what you both want. “i’ll have a club soda with lime.” spencer says, turning his head to look down at you. “what do you want, baby?” he asks, rubbing circles on your waist softly. you smile back up at him pretending like you don’t want to kill him and subtly dig your ass into his crotch. he sucks in a breath.

“i’ll have a vodka soda.” you say with a sweet smile on your face. the bartender nods going to make the drinks.

you look back at spencer, his jaw clenched and his breathing heavy. you set your phone down on the bar and “accidentally” knock it off of the counter.

“oops!” you say dryly, bending down to pick it up, your ass now rubbing against his crotch. you subtly feel something twitch in his pants.

“y/n.” he warns you. you nod innocently. “hmm?” you hum. he moves his hand from your waist. you look back at him to silently scold him, but he quickly uses both hands to push you away from his crotch. he slides his hands down your waist, to your ass, then pulls down your dress in one quick motion. a man standing to his left begins complaining loudly about how he can no longer see your "fattie". you almost thank him, then remember that its fucking spencer you're dealing with.

he doesn’t say anything and simply hands you your drink, leading you away from the bar and the creepy men, to a nearby table.

you bite your lip to hold back hateful words that dare to spill out. you stand in silence, spencer sipping his drink while you chug yours.

"you look miserable." emily says in your ears. "do something." she adds.

"wanna dance, pretty boy?" you ask him, the nickname falling from your mouth accidentally. you pretend like it was on purpose as spencer looks up from his drink, slightly stuttering over his response.

"y-yeah, yeah." he repeats, regaining his composure. he grabs your hand and leads you towards the crowd of sweaty people dancing, only looking back once to make sure you were still there

spencer scans the crowd as he pulls you into his chest harshly.

"i'm not just some doll you can throw around, reid." you yell over the music, sick of his bullshit. he looks you in the eyes and shrugs.

as the song changes, couples around you begin to make out.

"kiss me, reid." you say, realizing the awkward dancing in a crowd of horny couples would defer the unsub's attention. spencer doesn't seem to hear you. "reid." you repeat, his eyes still scanning the room. "spencer." you say, the first time you've ever said his first name to him. this catches his attention. his gaze finally falls to you, his frame towering over yours as you wrap your arms around his neck.

"i need you to kiss me, spencer."

the usually dick-ish man makes no cocky response. instead, he simply tips his head down capturing your lips in a kiss. the kiss is awkward at first, but quickly turns heated as you press your body against his. his hands, which were loosely on your waist move downward, rubbing circles on your ass and somehow moving you closer to him.

you run your hands through his hair, feeling him moan softly into your mouth. his sweet noises immediately go straight to your now-wet-core. you break the kiss for a second, to catch your breath, your faces still inches apart.

spencer's pupils are blown, his hair is messy, and his lips slightly swollen, tinted red from your lipstick. fuck, you want to devour him.

spencer quickly resumes the kiss, this time you don't have to ask. you easily feel how hard he is already, with his cock pressed against your leg.

you groan softly as you push your tongue into his mouth, eliciting more sweet noises from the handsome man.

"nice job guys, we have a suspect at 3 o'clock." emily says into our ears, reminding us that we aren't alone.

“let’s go somewhere more secluded.” spencer whispers, his breath hot on your cheek. he wants to lure the unsub out. you nod, waiting for him to move. instead his hands are still on your ass, his eyes on you, like he’s taking a mental picture.

“pretty boy.” you say almost inaudibly. “let’s go.” he spins you around so you’re in front now, able to maneuver your way out of the crowd. one of his hands rests on the small of your back protectively as you head towards the back corner of the club, a stark contrast to the way he was treating you less than 10 minutes ago.

“the hypothetical unsub’s eyes are still on you guys but he hasn’t moved, we can’t seem to see his face on camera. you need to get him to move closer.” jj announces in your ears.

“she’s telling us to kiss again.” you whisper. he nods, placing his large hand on your cheek and swiping his thumb across your lips. you wrap your arms around his neck, leaning into kiss him. he picks you up slightly, just enough to allow you to sit on him as he takes a seat on a random couch.

as he moves from kissing your lips to your jaw and neck, you instinctively begin rocking your hips against his, feeling how hard he is under you.

he groans softly against your neck, his kisses becoming sloppier.

“y/n.” his tone desperate, the use of your first name alarming. “if you keep going i might not be able to maintain professionalism.”

you bite your lip excitedly. “do you want me to stop then, spencer?” his eyes stare into yours, his hands on your hips.

“no.” he breathes out, pulling you closer to him and kissing you again. he moves his hands upwards as his lips move downwards, slowly leaving kisses and rubbing your now-visible nipples through the thin fabric for your dress. you suck in a breath at the new sensation, your head thrown back in ecstasy.

“the unsub moved into the light, it’s jeffery. sending alvez and rossi in now to apprehend him. you guys can stand down, nice work.” emily says, startling them slightly. you pull away from spencer, your underwear undeniably wet and your cunt begging for attention. you awkwardly remove yourself from his lap, sitting next to him on the sofa, noticing that in fact he was hard, an outline of his dick highlighted in the odd club lighting. he squirms in his seat slightly, obviously trying to readjust.

“y/n,” he says, noticing your eyes on him. you hum in response, your eyes moving from his cock to his face. “bathroom.” he says simply.

he doesn’t give you an opportunity to respond, simply getting up and leaving the room. you wait for a few seconds, processing his words and attempting to wrap your head around the fact that an hour ago you hated this man and now you were dying for him to fuck you.

a few minutes pass and you make your way to the bathroom where you don’t even knock, you simply walk in. spencer is there waiting. immediately as you enter the bathroom, he locks it, then attached his lips to yours. you moan softly into the kiss, jumping up to wrap your legs around his waist. he, however, seems to as other plans as he sets you down on the sink and lowers himself between your legs.

he leaves soft kisses up your thighs, your legs now thrown over his shoulders. “spencer,” you beg, his lips dangerously close to your cunt. “please.”

he smiles as you beg, hooking his finger on your underwear and pulling them down your legs roughly. he lowers his head farther in between your legs, licking a slow stripe down your cunt, causing you to squeeze your legs around his head and moan.

hearing your reaction, spencer moans softly against your pussy, the vibrations making you gasp.

unfortunately the club music had been turned off and if anyone were to walk by, they would probably hear you making sounds. you cover your mouth with your hand to make sure you guys don’t get caught.

he moves his tongue farther into you, the sound of his mouth on your soaking wet cunt making lewd sounds that fill the small bathroom.

you moan into your hand, bucking your hips against his face.

he pulls his mouth away from you and without skipping a beat he inserts one of his large fingers into you, grinding his crotch against the edge of the sink to get himself off.

you open your mouth to tease him but he interrupts you by adding another finger into your pussy. you can’t help but moan loudly, feeling your walls clench around his fingers.

“so good for me.” he says breathlessly, his fingers’ pace rough inside you and his hips fast against the sink counter.

“spencer,” you say in between ragged breaths. “i’m so close!” he smiles at your words, removing his fingers from your pussy with a pop.

you groan softly, hating the feeling of emptiness.

“spencer.” you warn, sitting up to get a good look at him. he has a look in his eye, a smirk on his face.

“what’s up?” he says nonchalantly, licking you off his lips and his fingers. you ask yourself how he can be so calm when he was literally just finger fucking you and eating you out. his cock is still dangerously hard, a spot of pre-cum on his cute little pants. you catch yourself imagining how big he is.

“fine.” you huff, seeing how he didn’t seem like he wanted you to finish. you insert your own fingers into your swollen cunt, pumping them inside yourself like spencer had been only a minute ago.

you over exaggerate your moans watching as spencer begins to rub himself through his now tight pants.

“i’m not going to beg you, pretty boy, but i need your cock inside of me right now.” he smirks at your words, making his way back over to you, hands moving to your face, kissing you passionately.

“i’m pretty sure that was begging, y/n.” he says as he pulls away from the kiss, beginning to unbutton his pants.

however, loud knocks interrupt him. "spencer?? are you in there??" emily's familiar voice, fills the room.

"uh, yeah! i'll be out in a second!" he says, beginning to re-button his pants, his cock still visibly hard. emily says something inaudible from the other side of the door then walks away. you lean forward on the sink counter, resting your head on spencer's shoulder, his arms wrapping around you.

after a second of peace, you hop of the counter in an attempt to fix your appearance, sliding back on your awkwardly soaked underwear.

"can we please finish this later?" spencer speaks up, catching you off guard. you smile, your brain still processing the fact that an hour ago you wanted to kill this man.

"yes, please."

part 2 :)

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader smut #bau #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fandom #part one #smut #enemies to lovers #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spenceobsessed

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killinfate · 6 months

Note

Dating Mike and Vanessa comes by the house but Mike never told her about reader and never told reader about Vanessa. Jealous reader and mine has to reassure her that there’s nothing between him and Vanessa.

AHHH YES!

JEALOUSY.

i’m gonna end up reusing gifs cuz im struggling sm to find high quality mike gifs

MIKE SCHMIDT X READER

— NATURALLY MIKE DIDN’T WANT YOU ANYWHERE NEAR THE PIZZERIA WHEN HE WENT TO SAVE ABBY. HE HADN’T EVEN TOLD YOU ABOUT ALL THAT WAS HAPPENING UNTIL HE GOT BACK WITH ABBY.

At first you didn’t believe him, but he seemed completely sincere. Who were you to doubt him?

“Vanessa’s out of hospital now, I’ve invited her over for dinner.” Mike says casually one night, crawling into bed beside you. He draped his arm lazily over your waist, ready to get some rest as his eyes close.

You opened your eyes and your brows immediately furrowed.

Who the fuck was Vanessa?

“You haven’t mentioned her before.” You mumble, your voice barely audible. Mike opened his eyes and looked over your shoulder slightly to see your face.

“Hm?” He asked, not having had heard you correctly.

“You haven’t mentioned Vanessa before.” You say clearly. There’s a moment of silence.

“Haven’t I?” His voice was tired.

No, you haven’t Mike.

“She saved Abby back at the pizzeria, she’s been in hospital for a while since it and I thought it’d be nice to invite her over.” Mike says and you grow silent.

“I just thought you’d be okay with it.” He replies simply. Despite your apparent confusion you look up. You were okay with it.

“I’m okay with it.” You reply and Mike smiles, kissing your forehead and holding you closer. However you did stay up a while that night, thinking upon what he’d said.

The next evening you finally meet Vanessa. She’s so beautiful that it’s threatening. Mike greets her warmly and you begin to realise you’re taking note of every gesture and word he says yet you don’t stop yourself. It’s bad; you’re aware.

You, Abby, Mike and Vanessa begin to eat dinner, discussing typical topics about how life was treating them.

At some point, you slowly began to hold Mike’s hand, your thumb tracing over t o back of his hand. Mike looks over to you, giving you a confused glance as his eyes flicker between your hands intertwined and you. You’d never done that before at dinner. This was new.

Vanessa was friendly, she was nice. Yet you were still defensive. You’d tried to follow the same attitude but whenever you laughed or smiled it all seemed…fake, not genuine.

She caught on, and there would usually be an awkward silence to follow any conversation you had with her.

When the evening was over you’d began to get ready for bed. You were in the bathroom, washing your face when you looked up in the mirror and saw Mike walking to the bathroom.

He got in and shut the door, leaning against it so Abby couldn’t listen in. Mike didn’t look particularly happy. “What was that?” He asked his eyes searching yours. You looked to him and laughed a little.

“What was what?” You asked, your voice holding confusion but you knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Why were you being like that at dinner?” Mike questioned. He had no clue what could’ve brought on your behaviour yet.

“Nothing was wrong with me at dinner.” You assured him. He scoffed a little, looking away for a moment.

“Vanessa saved mine and Abby’s life. The least you can do is be friendly.” Mike told you.

“I was being friendly, I was talking and I was—“ he cut you off.

“Don’t bullshit me I saw that, you never grab my hand like that at dinner, ever.” Mike told you, his voice holding a hint of anger at your obliviousness.

You noticed his change in tone and your face dropped a little, your facade falling. Mike’s eyes softened at your face and he sighed.

“Look c’mere. I’m sorry. ” He told you, pulling you into his arms. You wrapped your arms around him and closed your eyes, feeling his hand caressing the back of your head comfortingly.

It took him a moment to put the pieces together. The fake laughing, smiling, holding his hand, how you looked at Vanessa.

Mike kissed the top of your head before moving away slightly so he could see your face. “Were you jealous?” Mike says with a smile, his voice holding a teasing tone.

“I— no I wasn’t. I wasn’t.” You were quick to deny; you completely were.

“Oh okay, okay.” He said, his voice suggesting he didn’t believe you at all.

You run a hand over your face. “I wasn’t that’s..stupid I’m not like that.” You told him quickly but he could see right through you no, his hand moving to caress your cheeks.

“You were, I saw you. You were.” He told you, laughing slightly. You weren’t though and remained doubtful.

He was quick to notice this and pressed his lips to your forehead. “Hey, she’s a friend. That’s it. I promise.” Mike assures you, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks.

“Yeah?” You said quietly, looking up. “Yeah I promise.” Mike replies, pressing an affectionate kiss to your lips. You relaxed immediately from your tense state and kissed back before Mike pulled away, a smile on his face. “I love you.”

“I’ve never seen you like that before it was weird.” He says with a laugh and you roll your eyes.

“I was hardly jealous alright.” You mumbled, making Mike move so you could leave the bathroom. He stepped aside, a laugh still leaving his lips as you opened the door and walked out.

“Alright, tell yourself that.” You hear him say as you walked down the hallway.

#mike schmidt imagine #five nights at freddy’s movie #fnaf movie #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #80s

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luvring · 9 months

Text

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENTS

gn!reader | timeskip kenma, hinata, sakusa, suna

KENMA’s chat has never moved faster than now as you sit together and watch edits that fans have made of him, and the two of you. you jokingly coo and hug him when you find an edit about “how he looks at you.” “ken! oh my god, you’re so—” “shut up, scroll away already.” “no, i’m sending this to myself, stop—give me the phone!” kenma turns away, forcing you to wrap yourself around him in a desperate attempt to grab the phone while it’s still on the video. the both of you are laughing when you yell, “chat, chat, somebody send that edit to me!” “chat, don’t listen to them. we aren’t even dating. this relationship was fake the whole time.” “shut the fuck up, kenma.” you say in mock annoyance—a grin still on your face—and hit his arm. he snickers as you stop to rest your head on his shoulder and frown. "please?" a beat passes before he huffs. “fine. i’ll send it to you after.” it was an inevitable outcome, but you still cheer and turn back to the stream to see everyone’s reaction, not catching the loving gaze he has on his face watching you again.

HINATA, despite his usual energy, finds his eyes drooping as he watches the live chat scroll past him. it was late, and he decided to talk to fans before going to bed—about upcoming games, a new restaurant he visited that he thinks might become a favourite, how he’s been looking for new shoes. it’s been maybe an hour when his responses are filled with more hums than sentences, and he decides to rest his head. by the time you find him, he’s been asleep for 10 minutes. “hi guys, i’m gonna end the live and get this guy to bed now,” you whisper with an amused smile. shoyo shuffles at the sound of your voice, and his comes out muffled against the pillow. “babe?” “sorry, sho, did i wake you?” “mm, ‘s okay. are you coming t’bed soon?” “yeah, just ending your live.” “...oh. goodnight everybody,” he murmurs and raises his fingers in what’s supposed to be a wave. his fans watch as he reaches for you, eyes still closed, and make sure to take screenshots of the sleepy, lovesick smile on his face after you kiss his forehead before the live ends.

SAKUSA’s always been teased about how little he posts on his social media outside of things related to his career. it’s not a shock that your relationship isn’t something he posts casually. after an interviewer jokes about how fans might think he’s single, or that you’ve broken up by this point, kiyoomi decides to make a photo dump encompassing the last few months with you. it has a photo of you tucked in bed and sleeping the first night at the new apartment, a video of you singing where he can be heard softly laughing in the background, a photo of you smiling at the birthday gifts and dinner you enjoyed together, a blurry selfie with the two of you kissing, and one where kiyoomi, known for his stoic face and attitude, is a little tipsy and smiling as you wrap your arms around his neck from behind. fans pour out words of support and excitement below his caption of “i love you. happy anniversary, and thank you for letting me be yours.”

SUNA and you are chatting with some fans when one asks if you’ve been watching anything lately. you both say the name of the drama you’re watching together without hesitation, the most recent episode still on your mind. “the way he like, turned her to face him and they were so close before finally kissing—” you cut yourself off with a grin, flustered at the thought as everyone excitedly agrees. “has suna ever done something like that?” someone asks. rintarou turns to you the same time you look at him, cocking his head to the side with a teasing smile. “yeah, have i ever done anything like that?” “no,” you lie, staring right at him. his fans team up, “ooooh”’s thrown his way. you’re not sure what anyone was expecting, but it wasn’t for him to take it as a challenge and step closer. the crowd is suddenly quiet as he leans in, eyes flickering from looking into yours down to your lips. “are you sure?” he murmurs. your breath hitches as he moves in even closer, lips barely an inch from yours. before you realize it, your eyes are fluttering closed as his hand comes to cup your face and lips meet yours. it’s barely a few days later until a video of you kissing goes viral, and rintarou is saving it to his gallery.

@devilgirlcrybabiey @lordbugs @smiithys @xfangirl-trashx @passionateuchiha @scaramouchesfootstool @fifteenshadesofpinkk @lotus-sukimono @chloee0x0 @kenmaslov3r @bakugosgrenade @semifilms @sakusasdirtyragdoll @dai-tsukki-desu @Thathoneybee3 @momoewn @aintgeluh @dazaisfavgf @simpforerenn @crystal-lilac @vhenis @omiigad @kur0-kawa @semispilledcoffee @ksyhmm @idontlikeyourjob @sparrowb3nscloset @awkwardaardvarkforever @rory-cakes @prblmtic @kuroaka @sunaslay @the-midnightskies @h0n3ysgh0st @lackey-laufeyson @bontensbabygirl @dira333 @Kamukayakmonyet @danyisapingu @isentsworld @lilithlunas @anime-ships-gay @todorokiskitten @kellesvt @scill-a @curiouslilbeast @fiona782 @cvhenia @mitskiologist

#haikyuu x reader #kenma x reader #hinata x reader #sakusa x reader #suna x reader #haikyuu fluff #x reader

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perlelune · 5 months

Text

no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | iii.

Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.

Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

After a few weeks, you’re forced to acknowledge you were wrong about Coriolanus.

His mere presence assuages your hurt, and none of his actions bear a hint of impropriety.

He’s simply being a friend, comforting you and supporting you in a time of need.

His visits grow more frequent.

You’re amazed he even finds time between the University and his apprenticeship with Dr. Gaul. Still, Coryo never misses tea time with you, sometimes even bringing books and sweets. You’re thankful for the time he spends doting on you, even if you hate keeping him from his studies. You know how eager to succeed he’s always been.

But you can’t deny you missed the feeling of having a brother, of having this person who cares for you, looks out for you and protects you unconditionally.

And while you’re aware Coriolanus isn’t your actual brother, having him besides you helps alleviate the weight of grief and loneliness. Being with him makes you feel closer to Janus. You’re also solaced by the knowledge it’s what your departed brother would have wanted.

There is one person however who isn’t too keen on the rekindled bond between you and Coriolanus Snow.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with him,” William notes, tracing the lines in your palm.

You’re both lying on the couch in the sunroom, your back against William’s chest, fingers interlaced with his. Sunlight spills from the stained glass in the ceiling, painting your fiancé’s brown curls in bronze hues.

This is a moment of tranquility you’ve longed for, a sliver of calm amidst the storm and chaos wedding planning has turned out to be. You reckoned it’d be easier than it has been. Instead, it seems nothing ever goes right. Between incidents with the cake, your wedding dress somehow being lost by the store, and the venue perpetually being booked…you’ve grown disheartened and exhausted by the entire process.

It’s almost like some higher force is trying to prevent you marrying William. It’s ludicrous, of course. But the ceaseless string of bad luck is beginning to drain your hope that your wedding will happen before the year ends.

You and William even had to push back the date. There was no choice as hurdles kept emerging.

So you bask in your fiancé’s presence, soaking his warmth and familiar smell, reminding yourself why you’re going through so much trouble. Marrying William is worth it.

“Yeah. He’s my friend,” you state casually.

“Your friend. Baby…” There’s a brief pause during which William appears deep in thought. When he speaks again, it’s with a softer tone. “At the risk of sounding jealous, the way he’s looking at you…are you sure that he knows that?”

His words make you sit up straight.

“William,” you admonish, taken aback by his preposterous insinuation.

Coriolanus’ a gentleman. He hasn’t made any moves towards you and he wouldn’t. Sejanus trusted him and you trust him too.

Scratching the back of his neck, he sighs.

“I’m just saying. We’re getting married soon, and everything’s been so…tumultuous. I just want to make sure that you won’t…”

You search his forest gaze. Shock fills you at the doubts you find lurking there.

“That I won’t what?” You give a light punch to his chest. “Get cold feet? William, are you mad?”

His shoulders slump. “I know your parents wish I was from a great house like him.”

William looks away and you put your hands on his face, drawing his focus back to you.

“It doesn’t matter what my parents think. I love you.”

He smiles, that beautiful sunny smile that blows a warm breeze through your chest every time.

He grabs your hands and kisses them.

“I love you too, sweet girl.”

“William, you’re good and kind and caring. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.” You hold his eyes. “He’s just a friend, I promise you. You…You’re my future.”

William studies you, love and devotion illuminating his features. His lips then collide with yours. He nudges you down on the plush beige upholstery, humming low in his throat.

When his hands find their way below your skirt, you push against his chest.

He immediately stops.

Your hot, rapid exhales mingle as you steady your breath.

“You know I’d rather we wait for our wedding night,” you mutter apologetically. It’s not the first time things got hot and heavy between you and William and you slowed them down. You know how frustrating it has to be for him and you commend his patience. “ I know it’s old-fashioned but I…”

He quiets you with a tender kiss on the forehead.

“No, it’s okay,” he says, holding hands with you. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I got carried away.” Pink dusts his cheeks as he adds, “You just smell so good and you’re so beautiful.”

A smile breaks across your face. “You’re not too bad yourself, pretty boy.”

He tilts his head and laughs.

“How am I supposed to keep my hands to myself when you talk to me like that?” He bites his lip, his lids dipping to half-mast. “Can I at least get another kiss?” he whispers suavely.

“Hm, we’ll see about that…” you mumble, closing your own eyes.

“Apologies, hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

Coriolanus’ sharp inflection shatters the spell, making you leap away from William.

Heat nestles in your cheeks as you rise to your feet, hastily smoothing the wrinkles in your dress. Your fiancé clears his throat and runs a hand through his tousled locks.

“No, we’re…William was leaving,” you stammer, struggling to meet Coriolanus’ stark blue gaze.

William’s brows squeeze together at that. But you shoot him a glare that pulls a deep sigh from him. He nods and pulls you to him one more time.

He kisses you but you note it lasts much longer than usual, his fingers curling around your waist possessively.

Embarrassment flares inside you that this is happening right in front of your friend.

When he releases you, you’re breathless.

“Coriolanus,” William greets stiffly as he brushes past the blond.

“William,”Coriolanus replies, his tone somehow icier.

Once your fiancé has left, a weary exhale floats from your mouth.

“I don’t understand why you two can’t just get along. You both matter to me.”

Coriolanus smirks. “Oh, princess. You wouldn’t understand.”

“What wouldn’t I understand?” you inquire, blinking up at him curiously.

His tight-lipped smile expands as he gauges you.

“Nothing.”

You scrunch your nose, displeased by his answer. He’s always so cryptic. A chuckle peels from his lips at your sour expression. His knuckles sweep over your cheek.

“There should never be a frown on such a pretty face.” He digs inside his satchel before retrieving a slim, leather-bound book. He places it in your hands as you gape at him, puzzled.

“Here, I brought you this. This will cheer you up.”

You examine the book. Surprise mingles with elation when you notice the words on the cover. The engraved letters spell out a familiar title. It’s one of your favorite books from when you were younger. It bewilders you that he even remembers. As if no time has passed.

“Oh my god! How did you…” An excited squeal leaves you. Then your voice lulls to a whisper. “It’s a first edition, Coryo.”

“It was printed and bound before the war,” he explains. “It wasn’t easy to dig up.”

Your brows rise. “An antique. You shouldn’t have.” You cradle the book against your chest. “You’re too good to me.”

His mouth quirks lopsidedly.

“Anything for you, princess.”

You both sit down for tea, cakes and macaroons. Time flies as you chat about everything and nothing with your friend. As always, you do most of the talking as he dutifully listens, only interjecting to ask you to elaborate on a particular point.

No matter what you jabber on about, his interest never appears to wane.

You eventually land on the matter of your wedding planning. You share all the troubles you and William have had and Coriolanus hums in response.

“I’m very sorry to hear that.” He sips from his cup of Earl Grey. “How…unfortunate.”

He then pauses, seeming to ponder something. “I have a proposition.”

Your brow arches in question.

“Clemmie is throwing a party tonight. Let me take you, get your mind off of all this.”

Your lips part. Clemensia? A party? None of it sounds enticing to you.

“I’m not sure…” you trail off, your eyes finding the floor.

“What better way to cheer you up than a party, princess?” Coriolanus’ voice mellows as he adds, “You can’t stay cooped up here forever.”

Words falter on your tongue as your eyes swell with unshed tears.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, concern oozing from his gentle tone.

You shake your head.

“You’re crying,” he insists, reaching over the table to lift your chin.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he says sternly. “Talk to me.”

His unwavering inflection nudges you to admit, “I’m just scared.”

“What are you scared of, princess?”

You suck in a shaky breath.

“Every part of this house, every nook and cranny carries a memory I have with Janus.” You glance about the sunroom. Here alone you can count so many hiding spots from games you and your brother played when you were kids. “It’s easy, keeping him close here. It’s just that…”

“You’re scared to move on,” Coriolanus finishes for you. His thumb glides over your cheek, collecting a tear you didn’t realize had spilled over. “But you have to.”

“Sejanus wouldn’t want you to wilt away in this house like one of your roses.”

You mull over his words. You suppose he’s right but you’re still not convinced. Parties like the kind Clemensia is fond of hosting aren’t exactly your scene.

A lame excuse flows from your lips.

“I don’t even know what to wear.”

“Then I’ll choose for you,” he replies without hesitation.

“What?”

“Let’s go to your room.”

Before you can protest, he seizes your hand and drags you upstairs.

“Wait, Coryo…”

He ignores you, making his way to your room with brisk strides you can barely maintain pace with. Once he’s there, he rummages through your closet. You let him do it, half-skeptical, half-jaded. Most of these garments weren’t picked by you anyway, but by your mother based on whatever fashion trend raged in the Capitol at the time. And those trends change every other season. You since long gave up on trying to keep abreast of them.

“Hm, this one is perfect,” he announces, drawing a red number from the closet.

You gape at the dress he chose. It’s a slip satin dress the color of blood. The waist is cinched with a thin belt and the lace sleeves, adorned with embroidered flowers, flow elegantly.

It’s beautiful, radiating a timeless elegance…but the neckline is low, displaying more cleavage than you’re used to.

Your cheeks warm. “Are you sure?”

“Just trust me. Try it.”

Your eyes bulge but you relent, something about his tone curbing your impulse to argue. “Okay,” you quaver.

Trying not to squirm beneath his intense stare, you grab the dress from him and slip behind the wooden divider screen.

Chewing on your lip, you peek above the folding screen.

“Maybe you could…get out while I change?” you suggest while fumbling with the lace strings of your day dress.

Coriolanus casually sits on your bed, his crimson coat pooling around him. He leans back and spreads his large hands over your bed sheets. A small smile dances along his pink lips.

“I won’t look, I promise. Don’t you trust me, princess?”

“I do but…”

“But what?” he challenges, cocking his head in question.

Stumped, you come up short of a decent answer. “Nothing,” you mumble.

You shed your clothes quickly to try on the red dress. The whole time, you can feel the weight of Coriolanus’ unnerving scrutiny on the other side of the wooden screen.

He gives you a sluggish onceover when you step out from behind the screen. Your skin prickles as you shake.

“Hm nice, twirl for me.”

His blue eyes sparkle when you do as he says. He gets to his feet. He slowly strolls towards you.

Once he’s in front of you, he also arranges a few wisps of your hair in a way that he likes.

“Gorgeous,” he lauds when he’s done.

He tilts your chin up, his gaze corralling yours.

“See? All you have to do is to trust me, princess.” His deep voice dips to dulcet tones. “Just trust me and, I promise you, everything will work out exactly the way it’s supposed to.”

“You came,” Coriolanus points out, that signature smirk of his adorning his lips.

“I promised I would,” you defend.

He snorts. “I’m glad. Saves me the trouble of having to drag you here myself, princess.”

Nervous laughter peals from your lips at his strange joke and the intent way his eyes rest on you. For a while, he doesn’t say anything, drinking in the sight of you in the crimson dress. The very same one he picked himself.

He then loops your arm around his, bending near your ear to whisper,

“Let's re-introduce you to everyone.”

You look around yourself, curious as you’ve never been to Clemensia’s house. The atmosphere is more intimate than you expected. The only source of dim light in the Dovecote’s sumptuous living room emanates from candelabras scattered all about, the wobbly candlelight casting twisting shadows over the damask walls. The crackle of the logs burning in the gigantic fireplace mingles with the soft piano tune filling the living room.

“Coriolanus, did you bring a ghost to my party?” Clemensia jests when she sees you. Her expression then turns serious as she studies you. To your utter surprise, she wraps her arms around you and hugs you. You freeze, too stunned to return the gesture. The two of you were never close, the opposite in fact. It all stemmed from the way she and her friends ostracized you and your brother in school. Maybe it’s all water under the bridge now that you’re older. “Oh, you poor thing,” she laments. “I’m here for whatever you need, okay?”

You nod stiffly. “O-Okay.”

Coriolanus hardly conceals his amusement at the interaction, mirth swaying in his cobalt orbs.

He and Clemensia keep introducing you to people. Some you recognize; some you don’t.

It makes you realize how much you missed.

After a while, faces blend into each other. You end up nodding and smiling to most of the small talk, your attention span dwindling by the minute.

Eventually, you decide to retreat to the bar to take a break. The barkeep nudges a drink your way and you thank him quietly. You swirl it in your hand, your thoughts drifting. Maybe this is what a return to normalcy must feel like. Slightly strange and overwhelming.

You gasp as Coriolanus appears at your side. “Are you alright, princess? Too much?”

Your startled reaction draws a chuckle from him.

A slow exhale drops from your chest.

“A little,” you confess. “But…I’m glad you took me. A change of scenery is nice.”

It occurs to you that you haven’t had time to wallow in your sadness, too caught in conversation with other people. However frivolous the topics, it did keep your mind off of things. No thoughts of dead brothers have crossed your mind tonight.

It might not be much but it’s a start, you suppose.

Coriolanus’ brow curves teasingly. “See? This is why you should trust me.”

“Don’t push it, Snow. You’re on thin ice.”

A laugh bursts from his chest but, as he peers down at your drink, all humor vanishes from his face. He swipes it from you and sniffs it.

“Hm, what’s wrong?”

A frown puckers his forehead.

“Who served you this drink?” he rumbles.

You shrug. “I don’t know. It was just…brought to me.”

“There’s something in it.”

“What?” Ice spills in your veins. “Oh my god.”

Your mind whirls as you peek at your surroundings, paranoia creeping in. You wonder who could have done this and why. Just to mess with you? Or maybe even worse…

Your gut sinks. Thank god Coryo put a stop to whatever awful thing could have happened to you.

He puts his hand on your arm reassuringly. “I’ll bring you a clean one.”

“T-Thanks,” you stutter. “Just nothing with alcohol in it, please.”

“Of course.”

He returns with a brand new drink in a jiffy.

“Thanks for looking out for me,” you beam before taking a sip. You were starting to get a little parched.

“Always, princess.” He grins at you while you take another sip.

A wave of queasiness suddenly hits you.

The room starts to spin around you, blurring into crooked shapes and colors. You try to stand but your knees buckle instantly.

If it weren’t for Coriolanus swiftly catching you you’d be a heap on the floor.

“Coryo…I’m not feeling so good,” you slur, struggling to speak. Cotton seems to fill your mouth, the mere act of forming words demanding great effort.

“It’s okay, lean on me,” he says, slipping his arm around your waist.

“Head…heavy.”

“You’re alright. Just hold on to me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good girl.”

In a daze, you stagger along as he escorts you through a series of hallways and up a flight of stairs. You grow so weak that you slump against him. With ease, Coriolanus hoists you in his arms, carrying you bridal style the rest of the way.

You fall onto something heavenly soft that sinks under your weight. Like fluffy clouds.

Your thoughts collapse, muddy and haphazard as you blink up at the ceiling. An antique chandelier hangs from it.

“You just need a little bit of rest.”

Coriolanus’s voice is warped, disembodied almost.

“Rest…” you echo.

But as soon as your eyes begin to close, the feeling of your dress hiking upwards tugs you back to consciousness.

Befuddled, you look down. You’re welcomed by the sight of Coriolanus wedged between your parted legs, hands clasped around your thighs. His waistcoat and white blouse are gone, exposing his pale, broad chest.

“Coryo, what is happening-”

His soft lips cover yours, stifling your protests. His tall frame pins yours to the bed. He purrs against your lips, framing your jaw when you feebly pivot your head to the side.

When his lips free yours, your mouth still tingles with the forcefulness of his bruising kiss.

He returns to the space between your thighs.

You lie back, your bones like jelly, as you feel the delicate material of your panties sliding down your legs.

Your brows twitch. “Coryo…”

His blue eyes glow strangely in the darkness. A chill slithers through your core.

“Shh, don’t worry about it, princess, just sleep.”

You want to move. You feel you have to. But you can’t.

“I…”

The syllable dies in a sharp gasp as Coriolanus’ cool tongue drags down your slit. Long fingers spreading you open, he traces wet circles around your bundle of nerves. He rasps against your center and the vibrations rock through your core. Your breath hitches. Your chest tightens. Heat builds in your stomach as he makes you dangle off the cliff of pleasure. He soon adds a finger and you cry out.

Coriolanus pumps in and out of you, gauging your expression as he grazes a particular spot that has your toes flexing. You writhe over the sheets, eyes blindly rising to the ceiling.

You clench around his finger, your cunt clinging to him reflexively.

He sinks a second digit inside you and you whine, back arching at the abrupt stretch.

Short, chaotic breaths rush through your lungs as he works you open. His slow, meticulous drags have your chest rising and falling rapidly.

Your legs quake as the coils in your belly grow unbearably tight and hot.

He stops as you’re on the cusp of your undoing. Your boneless frame sags onto the sheets.

He leans back and you hear the rustle of his pants coming undone. You get a faint sense of wrong trying to pierce through the haziness, but you can’t grasp at it.

Still, your fingers stretch towards the edge of the bed, your body rolling to the side. The meek attempt is interrupted as Coriolanus yanks you back onto the sheets, snatching your wrists and pinning them above your head. His frame drapes over yours. The scent of roses coats your senses.

“We’re not done, princess,” he murmurs, his warm breath caressing your face.

A painful pressure starts prodding your entrance. He grunts, hovering above you as he pushes past your tight ring of muscles.

You feel as if you’ll tear as more of him buries inside you. Every second is agony, your core burning at the blunt intrusion.

A sigh of pleasure floats from his mouth when he reaches the hilt of you. He stays there a while, seeming to bask in the feeling of you around him.

When he starts to move, your eyes flutter open. He sets a steady pace right away, thrusting inside you as if his life depended on it. Wordless screams rip from your throat. He releases your wrists, his long fingers latching onto your waist instead.

Each of his slow, deep thrusts sparks warm tingles through your body.

Sweat collects between his brows as he grunts in pleasure.

“I knew you’d feel just perfect around me,” he rasps, delighted.

His cadence quickens, his hand digging bruising grooves over your hip. Choked moans spill from your throat. His other hand crawls beneath the thin satin of your dress, fondling your breast and flicking your pebbled nipple. His hands feel everywhere at once and that sense of wrong rolls over you again.

“Ever since I saw you in this dress, I’ve been dying to fuck you in it,” he confesses, lust bleeding in his fevered tone.

The mattress squeaks as he relentlessly rams into you.

A uniquely sharp thrust has your slick walls tighten around him. His cock stirs, a throaty moan pouring from his chest.

The repeated friction against your soft spots has you seeing stars.

A feral glint bounces in his blue eyes as he admires your panting form, lost in the throes of pleasure. Strangled shouts escape you as another wave of pleasure crashes over your frame.

His pace slows, sloppier than before as his cock twitches between your walls. His eyes roll back as he sighs, tension draining from his muscular frame. Hot ropes spill inside you, overflowing until you feel the warmth dripping along your thighs.

Your mouth wobbles, silent tears streaming down your face.

Coriolanus cradles your face, kissing away each of your tears with tender brushes of his lips.

“Shh, don’t cry,’ he mumbles. “It’s okay, princess. I’ve got you.” His cock stiffens inside you once more. He lifts you and snaps his hips viciously into yours, drawing a broken whimper as he bottoms out. A lopsided smile blooms on his lips when he begins to move inside you. Helplessly, you lie back as he takes you again.

“I’ve got you, and I’m not letting you go.”

#dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow x reader #hunger games #tbosas #tbosas fanfiction #dark!coriolanus snow x reader

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 7 months

Text

Butter

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Main Masterlist }

Rating: None

Summary: What if Joel doesn't forget to buy himself a cake for his birthday? But by the time he remembers, all the bakeries in his neighbourhood are closed - except yours.

Warnings: No outbreak AU, pure fluff, mentions of baking and food, meet cute, some sexual tension but very mild stuff compared to my other fics, single dad!Joel being a sexy menace, reader has a nickname related to her job, reader has an accent similar to Joel, very lightly edited, not my best work, but I'm in my writing for fun era 💁🏻‍♀️

Word count: 3.6k

Notes: It's here! This was an exercise in speed writing, and just putting words to paper without overthinking anything. I really enjoyed writing this sweet little piece, this is dedicated to @psychedelic-ink who has been the biggest cheerleader for this idea since day one. Happy birthday to our favourite single dad who never lived through a cordyceps outbreak ❤️

September 26, 2003 was supposed to be a good day.

It’s Friday, after all. Not that the weekend is relevant to you anymore, with Saturdays and Sundays being the busiest days for business. But you have a date for once tonight, and you’re determined to enjoy it.

If you can get the goddamn security shutter to close, that is.

Standing on your tiptoes, you pull futilely at the bottom of the metal shutter with both hands, but it refuses to budge. You lament the sweat seeping through the fabric of the nice dress you changed into, the hem reaching almost indecent heights on the back of your thighs where it’s climbed up. And you don’t have to look at your reflection to know that stress has already smudged the edges of the eyeliner you hurriedly painted on as soon as you got the last customer out the door.

You can be forgiven for not noticing the wash of yellow headlights over the windows of the shop front and the sound of rolling tyres as a truck pulls up on the curb outside the bakery, until a gravelly voice pipes up behind you alongside hurried footsteps.

‘Ma’am, please tell me you’re still open.’

You tap on the ‘Closed’ sign through the window without turning around, determined to wrangle the shutter into submission. ‘Bad luck buddy, come back tomorrow. We open at nine sharp.’

‘No I can’t, I’m so sorry, but I need a cake now.’

Curiosity turns your head, and over your shoulder, you find a broad-shouldered man in a dark tshirt and casual jeans standing a respectful four paces away. Under eyebrows sloping downwards in a pleading angle that matches the slant of his moustache, his warm and imploring eyes are on you.

‘I’m sorry, sir, but I really need to go,’ you say. ‘Can you give me a hand?’

‘Look, I’ll do you one better. I’ll fix the shutter for you for free - if you sell me a cake.’

You purse your lips, the prospect of saving on what looks like an inevitable repair bill tempting. ‘You can fix it?’

‘I’m a contractor,’ he replies, reaching into his back pocket to pull out a battered looking wallet. ‘Here’s my card, if you think I’m bluffin’.’

Miller & Associates is printed in bold across the top, and underneath, is presumably his name and cell number. Glancing up at him, you say, ‘Look, Mr. Miller, I really want to help, but I’m late for a date, and I’m all sold out of cakes today -’

‘I’ll take anything you got. Cupcakes, cookies, whatever you have left,’ he cuts in, then apologises in quick succession, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. ‘I’m sorry to be so pushy - I’m not, usually - but I promised my daughter I’d bring something home, and by the time I remembered, this is the only place I could think of. Please.’

You feel the exact moment your resolve crack, and then fold like a goddamn lawn chair. What can you say, this contractor really knows how to work those puppy eyes, and you can never say no to a man who refuses to let their kid down.

Especially when the man looks like this.

Shooting off a text to your date to push back your dinner plans, you nod towards the door. ‘Alright. C’mon in, Mr. Miller.’

‘Nice place you got here,’ he remarks politely, hovering by the entrance as the fluorescent lights flicker on, his manners impeccably southern.

‘You don’t have to flatter me, I’ve already let you in,’ you joke, lips quirking at the way he flusters. ‘But I appreciate it. You been here before?’

When he smiles, you notice the corners of his eyes crinkle charmingly. ‘No, but I know I’ll be comin’ back.’

‘I wasn’t lying when I said I was out of ready-made cakes,’ you tell him, holding the door open to the kitchen so he can come in after you. ‘But I have some cake layers in the fridge so I can put together something fairly quickly.’

He ducks his head in a manner that tells you he’s not used to demanding things, and protests, ‘I don’t want to put you out. I meant it, if you just have some cupcakes or somethin’ -’

‘Listen, you promised your daughter a cake, didn’t you?’ you interrupt.

He shrugs. ‘Well, yeah I did -’

‘I’m guessin’ it’s for a birthday?’

He nods sheepishly. ‘It is.’

‘Well, as a baker, ‘mfraid I can’t let a cakeless birthday happen on my watch, Mr. Miller,’ you insist, opening the fridge door with a flourish. ‘Let’s see what we have here. Cake for three, I assume?’

‘Two, actually.’

Hopefully you’re as discreet as you think you are when your eyes drop to his left hand - his fourth finger is conspicuously ringless.

Interesting.

You hum, considering the mismatched options in your inventory. ‘It’s gonna be a bit of a Frankenstein’s monster of a cake, if you don’t mind. How does chocolate and vanilla layers with cookies and cream frosting sound?’

‘Sounds perfect,’ he answers without skipping a beat. ‘Thank you, ma’am.’

You shake your head, hands full of cake rounds wrapped in cling film as you nudge the fridge close. ‘Please, call me Bri, Mr. Miller.’

‘And you can call me Joel,’ he says in return. ‘Is Bri short for somethin’?’

Laying the cakes on the work surface, you reply, ‘Yeah, Bri for brioche, like the bread. It's a silly nickname.’

The single dad surprises you with a low whistle. ‘Can’t say I saw that comin’.’

You grin. ‘You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, Joel.’

You don’t often have an audience while baking, and you find yourself talking Joel through the steps while you prep everything for assembly.

Swirling a spatula through the tub of buttercream you made earlier that day, you explain, ‘I just need to whip up some of this frosting so that it’s nice and soft for putting the cake together. You wanna help me break up some Oreos so we can make it cookies and cream?’

‘I’m all yours, chef,’ he says, one corner of his mouth curling into a teasing smile that has no business warming the apples of your cheek as it does. ‘Just tell me what to do.’

While your Kitchenaid whirrs to life, whipping air into the buttercream, Joel wields a rolling pin, smashing a generous helping of Oreos into crumbs in a Ziplock bag. The almost exaggerated care with which he moves speaks to inexperience in the kitchen, and you muse that either his kid makes up for it in that department, or they live off takeout.

Eventually, he picks up the bag and looks at you in a question. ‘I think I’m done?’

You smile and tap the lip of the mixing bowl. ‘That’s perfect. Why don’t you tip in the crumbs straight in here?’

Before you can step back to allow him space, Joel’s taken two strides towards you, and his arm brushes your shoulder when he lifts the bag and tilts the contents into the frosting. He’s warm and solid, and damnit, he smells good - like sawdust and sweat.

The thought comes to you unbidden - what a man.

There’s a lull, and only when you feel the weight of eyes on you do you realise that you missed his question.

‘Did you say somethin'?’ you squeak, embarrassed.

‘I said, is this ok?’ he repeats, nodding at the mixing bowl.

You nearly stumble over your words. ‘Yes, yes it’s perfect.’

He watches you closely, a touch of concern in his brown eyes. ‘You ok there, honey?’

‘Yup,’ you chirp, far too cheerfully. ‘Just need to mix it all up now -’

If you had your wits about you, you would stir in the crumbs first and set the machine on low. But this man somehow stole said wits by sheer proximity to you, and you accidentally start the Kitchenaid on high, an indignant yelp escaping you when Oreo dust flies aggressively out of the bowl along with a splatter of white buttercream that lands squarely on the front of your dark knit dress.

‘Oh shit!’ you cry out, frantically turning off the mixer. ‘Shit shit shit!’

Over your panicked mantra, Joel is calmness itself. ‘Hang on, honey, I gotcha.’

He makes a beeline towards the sink, grabbing a tea towel and wets it under the tap with a bit of dishwashing liquid. It all screams competent single dad, and you find yourself staring at his unfairly large hand, mapped with thick veins, holding out the damp towel for you to take.

‘Thanks,’ you stutter self-consciously, the tips of your ears hot while swiping at the stain. ‘That was a rookie mistake. I promise I’m actually a good baker.’

He gives you a wink to put you at ease. ‘Don’t worry, I believe you.’

Starting over, the mixer hums as it gently incorporates the Oreos until the buttercream is a speckled grey and doubled in volume. ‘Looks like it’s ready. You wanna taste, Joel?’

‘Sure,’ he says. ‘D’ya have a spoon or somethin’ for me?’

‘You can use your fingers,’ you reply, and it's too late to take it back.

You feel the back of your neck heating up when he shoots you a meaningful look, just a touch of mischief in the tilt of his lips.

‘Can I, now?’ he teases.

You try a nonchalant shrug that probably comes off as painfully awkward. ‘This batch is just for you, I won’t tell the health inspector if you don’t.’

Joel chuckles, his strong shoulders quaking. And so you watch, shamelessly, as he raises his right hand, index and middle fingers at the ready, before diving into the metal bowl, scooping up a generous dollop of buttercream. There’s a peek of his pink tongue when his plush lips part, and then he sucks his fingers into his mouth with a gratuitously loud moan, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

When he turns to you with a pained expression on his face, maintaining eye contact all the while licking an errant streak of frosting off the side of his middle finger, you gape at him for a whole five seconds before you manage to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth.

‘Good?’ you barely manage to squeak.

‘You betcha, honey,’ he declares, then adds, ‘Mind if I double dip?’

He doesn’t mean anything by it, you know it, but a hot flush runs through your body and you swallow thickly. ‘You can do whatever you want, cowboy.’

You don’t think you’re imagining the wicked glint in his answering stare - you’re getting yourself into trouble, and don’t you know it.

Clearing your throat, you attempt to thwart your mind's dangerous descent into the gutter by changing the subject. ‘So, I can do somethin’ really snazzy that I think your daughter would like - do you know what a piñata cake is?’

He shakes his head. ‘Sounds dangerous.’

‘Hardly,’ you chuckle. ‘It’s a cake filled with sprinkles, so when you cut into it, it’s a sprinkles surprise!’

He lets out a playful sigh of relief. ‘As long as there’s no whackin’ involved, it’s good by me.’

You gesture at him to follow you across the room. ‘And here’s the fun part - you get to choose the sprinkles.’

Joel whistles at the reveal of your compulsively organised sprinkles cabinet, each shelf sorted by colour, shape and size. He quips, ‘Is this what the inside of your brain looks like, honey?’

You grin. ‘Pretty much. What’s your daughter’s name?’

‘Sarah.’

‘What colour does Sarah like?’

‘Any and all shades of pink.’

‘I can work with that.’

Now that everything is ready and waiting on the work surface, you pull out a lazy Susan and plonk a cake board on top of it, dusting your hands dramatically. ‘Alright, Joel. Ready for the magic to happen?’

Making himself comfortable next to you, he leans on his elbows, and your eyes are immediately drawn to the way his tshirt stretches and strains over his back. ‘Go ahead, I’m ready to be impressed, honey.’

Filling a piping bag full of the cookies and cream buttercream, you ask, ‘You wanna get your hands dirty?’

He raises his palms in surrender. ‘I’ll leave it to you, I don’t want to make you any more late for your date.’

You’re used to working with much bigger cakes, so this one doesn’t take you long. With a cookie cutter, you carve out a small circle from each cake round, then you stack and fill the layers with buttercream. After loading the shaft in the middle with all manner of pink sprinkles, you stopper the top with the cake cut-outs.

‘How old is Sarah turning today?’ you ask conversationally while you spin the cake around, smoothing on the crumb coat.

Joel looks up, surprised. ‘Oh, it’s my birthday today, not hers. ‘

‘Wait, what?’ you cry, throwing your hands up. ‘I made this cake with Sarah in mind - it will literally be vomiting pink sprinkles!’

‘I’m a girl dad. I like pink,’ shrugs Joel easily.

You huff, using an icing smoother to make sure the buttercream is even all over the cake. ‘I would pop the cake into the freezer to firm up before adding a final layer of frosting if I had the time, but this will have to do.’

‘It looks great,’ Joel assures you as you put the finishing touches to the cake, with buttercream swirls all around the top and a final baptism of sprinkles.

‘There, all done. Lemme box it up for you and this bad boy is ready to go.’

‘Amazin’, thank you so much,’ he grins. ‘Please, lemme do the washin’ up while you’re at it.’

‘Oh, Joel, you can’t,’ you protest, but he’s already grabbed the mixing bowl and all the bits and bobs stained with buttercream. ‘You’re the birthday boy!’

‘Least I can do,’ he shoots back over his shoulder, already halfway to the sink.

‘Well no, you promised to fix the security shutter for me, remember?’ you call after him.

‘Damn, I was hopin’ you’d forgotten about that.’

Joel cleans up with a practised air, humming under his breath as he waits for the water to heat up and the soap to lather. You watch him from the corner of your eye while you secure the cake inside the box, throwing in a birthday candle for good measure. You’ve just tied a nice ribbon around the cardboard box when he puts away everything in the drying rack and wipes his hands dry.

‘Didn’t expect you to be good at that,’ you tease, moving towards the door.

‘Sexist much?’ he jokes, no real bite in his retort. Then by way of explanation, he tells you, ‘I work late, so Sarah usually cooks and I wash up afterwards.’

‘Sounds like you guys make a good team.’

Joel helps with the lights and locks the door, and you stand to one side when he grabs the security shutter and forces it into submission by brute force. You can’t help but stare when the bottom of his tshirt rides up, revealing a soft sliver of belly underneath, his biceps bulging and back rippling as the shutter is finally forced shut in a metallic ripple.

You give him a smile. ‘Well, happy birthday, Joel.’

‘Thanks again for the cake.’ He looks around, as if looking for your car, but the sidewalk is empty except for his truck. ‘How are you gettin’ to your date?’

‘I was just gonna call a taxi.’

‘No, you ain’t,’ he nods towards his ride. ‘C’mon, I’ll give you a lift.’

‘Oh, no, it’s late, and you should be getting back to Sarah -’

‘I spoiled your date, so please, let me,’ he insists, holding the door open on the passenger side. Hop in.’

Joel takes the cake off your hands and puts it in the backseat carefully, putting the seat belt over it while you climb in. Glancing over your shoulder, you see toolboxes and newspapers on the floor, and it smells like paint and wood dust.

‘Sorry it’s a bit messy, occupational hazard,’ he apologises as he straps himself in. ‘So, where are we goin’?’

‘Do you know the steakhouse on Third Street?’

‘Vaguely,’ he replies, pulling smoothly away from the curb. ‘It sounds fancy.’

‘You been?’

‘Nope, I barely have time to go anywhere nowadays. It seems like I’m only ever in bed, or at work, or in my truck.’

You turn to smile at him, admiring the way his his thick fingers around the top of the steering wheel, making it look so small. ‘I feel you. Small business owner, am I right?’

‘I hear ya,’ he shoots you a smile. ‘So - what’s the deal with tonight? First date?’

‘Fourth, actually.’

He wriggles his eyebrows suggestively. ‘Fourth date? You know what happens on a fourth date, honey.’

‘I don’t, actually. Tell me, what happens on a fourth date?’

He blows out his cheeks, and admits, ‘Honestly, I can’t tell ya. I haven’t been on a fourth date since 1991.’

You burst into laughter at his unexpected answer. ‘You’re such a dork, Joel Miller.’

When the truck rumbles to a stop outside the steakhouse ten minutes later, he looks at his watch and announces, ‘Here we are, only fifteen minutes late.’ Squinting through the windshield, he points at a man smoking outside, an impatient frown on his face. ‘That him?’

‘Yeah, that’s him,’ you nod, but you stay put in your seat, in no hurry to make a move.

Joel nods, tapping his tidily trimmed nails on the steering wheel. ‘So I’ll swing ‘round tomorrow after work with my toolbelt? ‘Round six thirty?’

‘A toolbelt? What a sight to look forward to,’ you rib, slowly reaching for the seatbelt and unbuckling it.

‘Hell yeah, it’s got a special clip for my Nokia and all,’ he adds mischievously.

'You must fend off the ladies by the dozen,' you tease.

'Daily,' he answers without skipping a beat.

You probably shouldn’t have, especially not with the guy who you’re supposed to be on a date with glaring daggers at you through the windshield. But there’s something cackling in the air between you and this man you just met not an hour ago, and the way the streetlight filters through the window, backlighting his messy curls and scraggly beard, that has you throwing caution to the proverbial wind.

Impulsively, you lean across the gear shift, your left hand finding purchase on his knee before pressing your lips to the side of his whiskered jaw, your kiss fitting right into that little heart-shaped patch on his beard.

You’re not sure who’s more taken aback, but you don’t have time to find out.

‘Happy birthday, Joel Miller.’

He smiles after you as you hop out of his truck.

You’ve just sold your last cupcake of the day when the bell over the bakery door rings. And sure enough, it’s Joel Miller crossing the threshold, right on the dot at six thirty.

‘Hey, Bri,’ he waves, hovering half-in and half-out of the shop, a slight awkwardness having set in overnight.

But it's ok, you're happy to pick up where you left off. Putting your hands on your waist and a cheeky grin, you quip, ‘Wow, you weren’t kidding about that toolbelt, huh?’

Your chest swells as you watch him thaw with an easy smile, and he banters back, ‘I’m a man of my word, honey. You ok with me gettin’ to work now?’

‘Yes, thank you. I’ll be cleanin’ up back in the kitchen, I’ll join you when I’m done.’

Joel shoots you a thumbs up. ‘Great. I’ll grab the ladder and get right to it.’

When you emerge fifteen minutes later, he’s on the fourth rung of the ladder, tinkering the rolling mechanism with a screwdriver and a studious frown on his brow. He looks like he’s wearing the same thing as yesterday - you can believe that he’s a man who buys the same tshirt in bulk - and he smiles at you when you duck out of the shop.

‘Did Sarah like the cake?’ you ask in casual conversation.

‘She went nuts over the piñata surprise,’ he replies. ‘And the cake was delicious, there were hardly any crumbs left when we were done with it. She says we’re definitely ordering a cake from you for her birthday.’

‘I like the sound of that.’

‘How was your evening?’ he asks, glancing down at you from his perch. ‘Did you find out what happens on a fourth date?’

You let out a dry laugh. ‘Yeah, I did, actually. He dumped me.’

Joel freezes, a scowl darkening his countenance. ‘Oh shit, what? Why?’

You shrug, leaning your weight on the ladder as you look at the ground. ‘I mean, I did show up an hour late in some other guy’s truck. And I guess probably shouldn’t have kissed you on the cheek right in front of him.’

You startle when Joel’s fingers slip under your chin, tilting your head up towards him. ‘It’s all my fault. I’m so sorry.’

‘Honestly, you don’t look that sorry, Joel Miller,’ you joke.

He cocks his head to one side. ‘Well, I can't lie, I think you deserve better than him.’

‘Do you now?’ you prompt. ‘Who do you have in mind?’

Joel peers at you from under long lashes with a half-smile that's almost shy. He dodges your question, and says instead, ‘I didn't mean to ruin your night, let me make it up to you, honey.’

‘How?’

Deftly, he climbs down the ladder, landing squarely on two booted feet, his presence comforting as he looms over you, his eyes warm. ‘Can I buy you dinner?’

‘Like - a date kind of dinner?’

‘Yeah, like a date,’ he nods.

You can’t help the dig. ‘And you were just sayin' you haven’t been on a date since...?’

He flashes you a smirk, and you shiver when his hand brushes your waist. ‘Since 1991. Tough sell, I know - but I thought I’d give it a shot.’

Running a finger along his sharp jawline, softened by the endearingly untidy beard, you have to bite your bottom lip to keep yourself from giving away too wide a grin. ‘Why, I think I have a good feelin’ about you, Joel Miller.’

Catching your wrist in his fingers, he presses a sweet kiss to your knuckles, the rough graze of his stubble chasing goosebumps across your skin as his eyes smile at you. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow then, honey.’

More notes: I hope you enjoyed this sweet little oneshot 🥰 I really leaned into the fluff and I have no regrets. Comments/reblogs/asks are much appreciated as always! I don't have plans for a second part right now, but a smutty follow-up is always a possibility...

The adorable dividers are by @firefly-graphics 👩🏻‍🍳

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller imagine #no outbreak au #joel miller oneshot #the last of us oneshot #fuckyeahshorts

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satoruxx · 6 months

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pairing: gojo satoru x reader summary: best friend!satoru is everything to me, fluff, teeny tiny bit angsty, but only bc of pining (my favorite), here to add to my simp satoru agenda, he’s trying his best but reader is oblivious (same), pls notice him rheya’s note: i cant stop thinking about best friend!satoru so i’m here to share this silly little blurb LMAO that’s it enjoy !! part 2

if satoru had known that being your best friend would be this difficult, he would have turned away from you when you said hi to him on your first day at jujutsu high.

it's not that he doesn't care about you. no, quite the opposite actually. he's always cared about you more than he'd like to admit. he can remember the way he used track the eyes of fellow students trailing you when you walked by. he can remember the sting of his nails as they dug into his clenched palms, and how suguru would pat his shoulder sympathetically when he noticed. he was sixteen at the time.

back then it seemed like he would grow out of his teenage crush, after being dismissed as your good friend for so long. but no, just his luck that these stupid feelings would grow and grow until they were tangled up around his very soul. a vice-like grip.

and now almost seven years later, nothing has changed.

"and he told me that if i wanted to be more interesting i should learn to fence, like he does!" you rant, throwing your hands up as you pace the length of his kitchen. satoru leans against the counter, arms crossed as he watches you vent your anger over yet another failed first date.

"uh huh." he acknowledges, trying to stay focused as you continue your annoyed speech. his fingers flex against his biceps, a thinly veiled attempt at controlling his frustration. whether he's frustrated with you or the man you were with, he has no clue.

"then he asked me where i was from, and then said i didn't look like it!" you rage, face hot as you finally unload the frustration you've been carrying all evening.

satoru huffs in mild irritation, trying hard not to roll his eyes. but you hear it and turn to him, half ticked off and half curious. "what was that?"

he clicks his tongue.

"you do this all the time. you always pick guys who treat you like shit. i'm not even surprised anymore." he snaps, a bit more forceful than he intended to be.

there's a silence that follows, and satoru’s unlucky enough to catch the mildly surprised look on your face. he tongues his cheek, brows pinched as he watches your expression fall. an ugly feeling that reminds him suspiciously of guilt rolls around in his stomach.

"you’re right…" you sigh, shoulders slumping as you cross your arms with a defeated shake of your head. "it's just tiring, you know?"

he turns his back to you, reaching across the counter to start slicing up an apple, trying to keep his hands occupied because they're itching to touch you. but he can't keep the bitterness out of his tone when he answers with a clipped, "yeah i know."

he can practically feel your confused stare on his back. but then you chuckle in amusement, mirth clear in your tone. "what do you mean you know? you literally get attention from random people on the street. you can have anyone you want." you laugh.

"are you serious?" he asks, eyes wide with disbelief as he spins around to face you again. you only blink at him, expression so annoyingly clueless it makes him sigh. he turns away from you once again, going back to cutting the apple.

"what?" you cock your head, not understanding why he's so forlorn about it. "most people would jump at the chance to date you. everyone wants you, you know?"

"not everyone. not the one who matters." he mutters bitterly as he places the apple slices onto a plate. you said all of it so casually, like it's supposed to be obvious, but all satoru feels is an overwhelming wave of disappointment wash over him.

"you…never mind." he relents, biting his tongue. "it's not important."

he hears your sharp intake of breath as you gasp, curiosity no doubt brimming in your barely concealed grin.

"ooh interesting! are you telling me you have a thing for someone, toru?" the teasing in your tone is palpable, and satoru feels his stomach flip pleasantly when you say his name. he turns around to face you, letting his shoulders drop as a helpless smile stretches across his face.

he walks up to you, pushing an apple slice past your lips and chuckling quietly. you're still giving him those curious little eyes as you chew, and he tries to swallow down the overwhelming wave of pure affection that threatens to burst from within. clearly today wasn't the day you were going to realize what kind of feelings he's been keeping a secret for so many years.

that's okay. he'll wait as long as you need him to.

he flicks your forehead gently, before reaching down to tug on your cheek. "don't worry your pretty little head about that, sweet thing. you'll figure it out soon enough."

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thebearer · 2 days

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nothing in the world belongs to me |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: still new in your relationship, you show up to the bear for dinner unexpectedly, surprising carmen and the others.

based off this prompt from the other day :)

contains: fluff lol. really, it's just fluff. established-ish relationship (the others don't know). carmen being a little nervous and possessive but mainly cute <3 language.

“Alright, listen up,” Richie stood next to Sydney, flicking through the piles of tickets that were ringing through by the second. It was normal now, an expected task in their routine. “We need to walk the focaccia to table seven, please.”

“Yes, Chef!” A chorus of nearly robotic voices rose from the sizzling hiss of the lamb searing in Carmen’s pan, lifting the spatula to tip the meat over, before giving it back to the chef on the line.

“And for table nine, we’ve got a shellfish allergy, alright? So let’s triple check the cross contamination on that. T, can you handle that one?” Richie moved from his leather bound book of notes back to the ticket.

“Yes, Chef!” Tina chimed, pulling a freshly washed pan, filling it with the veal stock.

“Table nine, is that- that’s the senator?” Carmen turned to Richie, tasting the roux bubbling on Victoria’s station, giving her a curt nod of approval.

“No, that’s table eleven.” Richie hummed, looking back at his notebook. “Nine, is… a birthday. Booked online.” Carmen had already begun to drone him out, mind racing with a million other things as Richie listed the guests name. Until he got to one.

The name Carmen was sure he was hallucinating. The name no one knew- How would they know? How could they possibly know your name?

You and Carmen had been seeing each other for a little while. A few weeks that were slowly turning into months. A casual thing that was slowly turning more serious. Dates and meetups are becoming more frequent. You’d even invited him over to your place a few times, he’d spent the night last week.

Still, Carmen hadn’t managed to tell anyone. Selfishly, he liked that you were all his for now. Privacy was not guaranteed in the Berzatto house, in Carmen’s life still. He knew they meant well, they always did- he knew it wasn’t purposeful, the intrusion that almost always led to a demise. Carmen wasn’t ready for it, not yet, he still wanted you all to himself.

“Carmen?” Sydney’s voice pulled him out of his panicked trance. “Chef, are you- are you good?” Her voice lilted with that familiar suspicious quip, the one always accompanied with her lifted brows.

“What?” Carmen blinked, hands buzzing, heart thumping. He could see the window, Richie’s frame blocking most of it. “Sorry, yeah- yeah, I’m good, Chef.”

Sydney watched him carefully, a slow nod before she continued calling out orders. Carmen could feel Richie’s eyes on him, narrowed with curiosity. Carmen tried to be nonchalant, crossing the kitchen back towards Tina, his eyes cutting carefully, looking out the window.

There you were.

Sitting pretty at the middle table, surrounded by friends, some Carmen recognized from your Instagram. He’d actually logged in to the app, looked you up after the first date, consumed every photo of yours in the dark of his room. Cheeks burning with excited heat, stomach fluttering in a way he hadn’t felt since junior high.

“Alright, walk five salads to nine.” Sydney called out. “Where’s our runners? God, Richie, can you run-”

“-I got it.” Carmen called, the urgency in his tone making Tina jump behind him. Carmen took the tray before Gary could, his hands shaking as he lifted it.

“Cousin, I can get it.” Richie frowned.

“No, I-I got it.” Carmen nodded, swallowing down his fluttering nerves. His eyes cut to your table through the window, heart skipping when he saw you. “I got it. I’ll be- I’ll just be a second.”

“I don’t- I can’t even handle that one right now.” Sydney sighed in exasperation. “Alright, Chefs. Let’s get back on track.” She announced, shaking her head. Richie frowned, pulling out his phone.

Sugar’s cell buzzed against the hostess stand, excusing herself to check it.

From: Richie

‘Look at table nine.’

Sugar huffed.

To: Richie

‘Why? Is there something wrong?’

She stepped back, casually turning to scan the room, eyes landing on the table. A small group of girls, younger, and amongst them- Carmen?

To: Richie

‘Is something wrong with the food? Do I need to comp it?’

From: Richie

‘No. Cousin wanted to go out there.’

Sugar frowned, angling her body behind the large plant near the front as casually as she could. She watched through the leaves as Carmen passed out the salads, each girl grinning widely, but their eyes always cut to one on the end.

Carmen saved your salad for last, hoping the lowlights of the restaurant would hide his boyish blush, setting the bowl in front of you carefully. “Hey,”

“Hi,” You smiled sheepishly, looking to meet his gaze. “Everything looks so good.”

“Yeah? Thanks.” Carmen nodded. “I-I didn’t know you were comin’ tonight.”

“I’m sorry.” You cringed softly, embarrassed heat flooding through your veins. You knew better, knew you shouldn’t have done this- showed up at his restaurant unannounced.

“I, uh, it’s my friend’s birthday.” You nodded towards Alicia at the end of the table. “And I was telling them about that pasta you made me, and they really wanted to come try it.” Your nerves bubbled, rambling in nervous peals that seemed to pour out before you could stop them.

“Yeah, no, that’s really nice. Thank you.” Carmen nodded, giving a half smile to your friends, hoping they didn’t see the way he wiped his clammy hands on his apron. “Why didn’t- Why didn’t you just call me? Tell me you were comin’ in.”

“I didn’t want to bother you.” You muttered softly. “I honestly didn’t think you’d even see us here, I swear. I didn’t mean to bother you or anything-”

“-You’re not bothering me.” Carmen’s voice dropped to a coo, accompanied with a soft smile that had your head spinning. “Never a bother, but, uh, next time? Bother me, ok? Wanna make sure you get the best seat in the house.”

Your cheeks flushed with heat, your friends excited giggles only intensifying the rushing heat blanketing over your body. Carmen’s own cheeks heated, tongue rolling on the inside of his cheek to hide his grin.

“Alright?” Carmen added, and in a complete act of shocking boldness, his hand squeezed your shoulder affectionately. A small gesture on the outside, but for Carmen, it was huge.

“Alright.” You grinned, leaning into his touch, your hands sliding over his.

“How’s everything so far?” Carmen turned to the table, nodding at the excited gushes of compliments, not missing the way your friends cut their eyes to you with animated glee.

“Just let me know if you need anything, ok?” Carmen turned to you.

“I will.” You nodded, starry eyed with love sick affection.

“Good. I’ll see you before you leave, alright?” Carmen muttered, ducking down towards you. His lips brushed over your cheek, your perfume clouding his senses. “You’re not botherin’ me. ‘M glad you’re here.”

Your cheek pressed to his, a gentle, affectionate rub before Carmen parted. Both of your features painted with shy delight.

Carmen could feel everyone’s eyes, through flickering gazes and lifted brows. Sydney’s gaze lingering over him skeptically, still counting tickets. Fak’s wide grin from the corner, loading trays to take out.

“Hey, uh, Marcus.” Carmen ignored Richie’s raised brows, a teasing, questioning remark on the tip of his tongue.

“Yes, Chef?” Marcus muttered, looking up from the cannolis he was garnishing.

“Table nine has a birthday. I was thinkin’ maybe the chocolate ganache, punch it with the little circle to make it look like a cake. Add a candle?” Carmen muttered, hand rubbing across his face.

“Yeah, Chef, I can do that.” Marcus nodded.

“Thank you.” Carmen nodded. “And Chef? Let me know when it’s ready before you walk it.”

Marcus frowned. “No, it’s not- I just wanna walk it, ok?” Carmen shook his head.

“Alright.” Marcus nodded slowly. “Heard, Chef.”

Richie smirked, leaning against the stainless steel table. “So,” Richie hummed. “There a complaint or somethin’? Need me to go talk to ‘em-”

“-No,” Carmen snapped, the possessiveness in his tone startling the both of them. “Sorry, it’s- No, I-I don’t need you to do that, Chef. Everything’s good.”

Richie nodded slowly, passing the dishes to Gary with a nod. “You gonna tell me what that was about?”

“No, Chef.” Carmen clipped, an edge to his tone that was teetering on annoyed. “But, uh, there’s not gonna be a check on table nine.”

“What?” Richie frowned. “Did you mess somethin’ up? Seriously, Cousin, if something's wrong it’s my job to know-”

“-No, it’s not-.” Carmen huffed, eyes pinching closed, running a hand over his face in frustration. “Look, that’s… The girl on the end? I-I’ve been kinda seein’ her, ya know?” He muttered.

Richie gawked, blinking in disbelief. “No shit.” He grinned. “No shit? You-You’re serious?” He turned to look out the window.

“Don’t fuckin’ look.” Carmen hissed. “Look, it-it’s not a big deal, alright? Just don’t-don’t say anything o-or do anything.”

Richie swallowed back a teasing remark, a reactive reaction from years of being with Mikey. How the two of them used to tease Carmen endlessly, until they were fighting on the front lawn, Mikey howling with laughter while Carmen was red faced with mortified anger.

This time, Richie held back. He wasn’t sure why, call it divine intervention, a gut feeling maybe, but it felt different this time.

“Alright.” Richie nodded slowly. “No ticket for nine. Heard.”

Carmen’s foot tapped anxiously. “I mean, right? Th-That’s what I should do right?” Carmen looked over his shoulder out the window. “That would be shitty to give her a check? Be a complete jagoff move to charge her?”

“Yeah,” Richie scoffed lightly. “Jagoff of the fuckin’ year. Makin’ your girl pay to come to your place.”

Carmen’s heart swelled at the term- your girl. His girl. You were his girl.

“Walk four Pappardelle to nine. Walk one Pappardelle vegetarian style to nine.” Sydney called.

Carmen dipped the spoon in the glaze, garnishing the plate before sliding it towards Sydney. “So, you gonna take these out?” He muttered.

“No,” Carmen huffed. “Gonna wait until the cake.”

“Yeah, good idea, Cousin.” Richie nodded with a proud smile. “That when you’re gonna tell them no check tonight?”

“No,” Carmen shook his head. “I don’t- It would feel weird comin’ from me.” He looked up at Richie. “I was gonna let you do it.”

“Yeah, I can handle that.” Richie smirked. “And I won’t say anything, Cousin.” He stopped Carmen before he could say it. “I got you, Cousin. I won’t fuck it up, alright?”

Carmen nodded slowly, a strangled thank you on the tip of his tongue. The door swung open behind Richie, and for a second, Carmen caught a glimpse of you. Smiling and laughing, leaned in over the table, no doubt giggling with your friends about him. Carmen’s heart squeezed, but this time, without fear. No, there was no dooming fear that you were mocking him, making fun of him. This time, he felt the content rush of adrenaline filled love. A change in his routine, yes. Unexpected, sure, but he was glad for it. Glad that you were there- here, with him.

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sweetestdesire · 10 days

Text

STUBBORN PRIDE

WARNINGS: absolutely none. Just some pure, sweet content.

PAIRING(S): Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: in which Jack Hughes is too stubborn to let Fem!Reader peacefully sleep on the couch.

Jack Hughes was difficult to have arguments with. He was stubborn and never seemed to take things seriously and he never really listened to a word anyone said. Everything always went in one ear and out the other. Like when Y/N told him she’d be on the couch for the night so she could have space, for example. It seemed space was not a word in Jack’s dictionary, because he strolled into the living room with his hands in his pockets and his lips whistling a soft tune.

Y/N glared at him from her spot on the couch, watching as he stopped a few feet before her. There was a smooth grin on his face, almost like he had plastered it on for appearance’s sake, like it masked the true nature of his feelings as he hid them with that usual unbothered smile of his.

“Is there room for one more?”

“No.” Y/N said bluntly, promptly turning away to face her back to him. She didn’t have to look back to know his face was curled into that pout of his, the dangerous one that did too good of a job of convincing her to give him his way.

“Okay, fine.” Jack huffed, and then she heard the soft thud of his body settling on the floor, making her itch to turn and peek over the edge of the couch.

Y/N succeeded at ignoring for him for approximately thirty seconds before the curiosity got the better of her and she swallowed her pride and took a quick look. sure enough, he laid curled on the hardwood floor, limbs awkwardly sprawled as he stared up at her with innocent eyes.

"What are you doing?" Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, and he stared at her like she’d asked a silly question, and maybe she had. Being hard to get rid of had always been Jack’s specialty, and she should’ve known better by now that retiring to the couch was never enough to retire from him.

"I’m going to sleep. What does it look like I’m doing?" Jack said like it was obvious. She almost smacked him with her pillow for his tone, but she had half a mind not to. It was the perfect opportunity for him to steal it, and it wasn’t her problem he forgot the single most important thing when it came to sleeping.

"Well, why here?" Y/N scowled, making him shrug as he settled his hands behind his head and looked up to the ceiling.

"Seems like a good spot to sleep if you ask me.” He said casually. “Nice hard floor to cushion my back, cool breeze of the air conditioning to keep me cold, and the clock ticking in my ear to keep me up. Sounds like the perfect place, eh? And if I get bored, we even have a TV.”

"I let you have the bed, you idiot.” She pursed her lips.

"Who needs a bed when I can sleep on the hardwood floor next to my sweet, pretty girl?”

Y/N cut him off before he could finish, feeling the last possible vein she could preserve while dating a man like Jack Hughes pop. "Well, then I’m going to use the bed if you won’t.” She sat up, grabbing her pillow and blanket.

And because he’s Jack Hughes, the bane of her existence and the sole cause of all her headaches, he sat up, too. "Good idea, baby. Let’s go.”

"No. You stay here, and I’ll take the bed."

"Okay.” Jack hummed, still not making any moves to lay back down.

Y/N quickly realized this wasn’t a battle she could easily win with him and she rolled her eyes, shoulders slumping in defeat as she glared down at him. Jack looked up at her with that same innocent look, those same wide eyes that blinked up at her like they couldn't possibly do any wrong.

"You do realize I’m not sharing the bed with you just because you're stubborn, right?" Y/N asked dryly.

Jack grinned, that familiar glint in his eyes that always meant trouble. “Well, I never said anything about taking the bed, now did I?”

"Jack, you can't possibly mean sleeping on the floor next to the bed.”

"It’s technically not the bed.” He insisted. “All you said is you're not sleeping with me. You never said anything about near me."

"Okay, I don't want to sleep near you.” She scowled.

"Nuh-uh, no way.” He shook his head. “You can't add rules now. It’s far too late."

"Jack, I swear to fucking God.”

"So, what'll it be? Bed or couch?"

"I hate you.” Y/N grumbled, settling back down on the cushions of their living room couch, back once more facing him. She could hear his body softly settle back onto the floor again, and after a few beats of silence, he spoke up again.

"Can I use your blanket? I’m cold."

"No."

"C’mon, just toss half of it over the edge, I’ll scoot over. We can make it work somehow.”

"Are you intentionally trying to piss me off?" Y/N snapped as she sat up, glaring down at him once more.

Jack Hughes was difficult to have arguments with. He was stubborn and annoying and so stupidly handsome. He made her eyes soften before she could help it as they grazed over his messy hair and the soft glow of his lip balm. He made her anger ebb away slowly no matter how hard she tried to latch onto it just from that toothy grin of his. He made her forget they were arguing and that she should be mad when she noticed the soft, gentle traces of love in his eyes.

So, Y/N blinked as she watched him, letting out a quiet sigh as he shook his head and offered her a small, innocent smile, one that told her he loved her, that he wasn’t mad, and that he'd wait on the cold, hard floor with no pillow and blanket for her as long as he needed to.

"No.” Jack chuckled. “No, I’d never want to make you mad. You’re scary when you get mad.”

"That’s rich, coming from someone who’s supposed to be a big, strong hockey player.” Y/N muttered, making him laugh softly. And she wasn’t mad anymore, not as much as she was just a bit ago. Maybe it was because she loved him too, even despite the way he made her veins pop, and her patience thin, and her head ache with that aggravating personality of his. Maybe that's what love was, when even the bad and the ugly were part of the good.

"Behind every strong man is an even stronger woman.” He cheekily remarked, his grin never fading.

"Just come here.” Y/N groaned, scooting over to make room for him on the couch.

Jack didn’t need to be told twice. He didn’t even waste a single moment as if he'd been expecting it all this time as he climbed in beside her and pulled her into his chest. It was cramped and slightly uncomfortable as her legs dangled over the edge and her pillow barely fit under both of their heads, but his body was warm and his arms held her tight and she could faintly make out the thrum of his heart against her body. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, not if it was with Jack.

"Did you miss me too much?" Jack wriggled his eyebrows, pouting when she shoved his face away as he leaned in for a kiss.

"You still haven't earned kisses back yet.” Y/N grinned. “Goodnight, Jack."

"But I can't sleep without a goodnight kiss.” Jack pouted, softly nudging her with his shoulder.

"I love you.” Y/N cut him off with a giggle. Jack Hughes was difficult to have arguments with, but she thought that she won this time.

#jack hughes #jack hughes one shot #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes fic #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x female reader #jack hughes x fem!reader #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x you #jh86 #new jersey devils #jack hughes drabble #jack hughes thoughts #jack hughes angst

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helen-with-an-a · 1 month

Text

I am an Adult pt 3

Hi. So I wasn't planning to do a part 3 of the series but I got a request and it was really cute/funny so I thought why not ahaha.

Barca Femeni x Reader ; Lena Oberdorf x Reader

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 3.5 : Part 4

Word Count: 3.3k

Description: R gets a girlfriend

It took a lot of work to find the right balance. The give and take, knowing where to push and where to pull. That fine line between knowing when to go to the team for help and doing it yourself.

After the events of last Spring, you had been better at relying on the girls for essential things, and they had been better at asking you about them without nagging. You sent a picture of critical legal dates to Alexia, who would set a reminder to ask you about them a week or so before the actual deadline. Lucy helped you figure out meals if you asked for them. Irene helped you stock and restock your pantry and cupboards throughout your house when you were stuck on what to keep multiple or spares of. Marta helped out with your schedule if you felt a little overwhelmed. They felt like they were checking up on you and helping you without you feeling smothered. It was fantastic.

And then you got a girlfriend.

Initially, Your crush was slight, something you could repress and squash down. But then you played her in the Champions League group stages. Wolfsburg and Barcelona were drawn in the same group by some bizarre coincidence or the universe interfering in your love life.

Lena was so sweet and kind; it was crazy. You first interacted when you had to do some media together. UEFA media decided to do ‘head-to-head’ videos where some players from each team had to do videos, interviews, and challenges together. And with another stroke of luck – or divine intervention once again – you and Lena were paired together. You were caught off guard by how gentle she was. On the pitch, she was a force to be reckoned with solid tackles and her fearlessness of a yellow card. That was the only impression you had of her. Of course, you had stalked her social media for months, so you knew she seemed like a fantastic friend. But off the pitch, it was like a switch had flipped. She was so soft, it was unreal – always asking if you were ok with the questions she was asking and checking in with you after challenges. It was making your head spin in the most fantastic way.

“What do I do?” You asked Ona over coffee. She was the one person you trusted with this secret.

“Well, well, well. Where has the confident, cocky, ‘I’m so good with girls’ Y/N gone?” She joked. You had never experienced these feelings before, and you were panicking slightly.

“Ugh, never mind. If you’re just going to make fun of me-” you shook your head, starting to gather your things.

“No, wait, hey, c’mon. Do you seriously like her?” Ona grabbed your wrist, stopping you from leaving.

“I … I don’t know. I think so, but I don’t do relationships. I never have. It’s just been one-night stands and friends-with-benefit type things. Casual sex. Never anything more. I don’t do more.”

“Well, neither do I,” Ona cut in. You raised an eyebrow at her.

“Want me to tell that to Lucy?” You said sarcastically, chuckling at her deep blush. “Ona, c’mon, I’m serious. I really like her,” you all but begged.

“Ok, ok. No hay necesidad de preocuparse. If you really like her, just ask her out for coffee, or dinner, or to the movies, or something. Just be your normal self. You know you have game. I’ve seen the number of girls you’ve brought back after nights out. So just be your charming self, flirt a little, and ask her on a date.” You nodded at her words. Flirting, you could do. Charming, you could do. Asking her out on a date … you hoped you could do.

You asked her out after the first leg. It was in Barcelona, so you messaged her to see if she wanted to see the sights. You knew she wasn’t going home until 2 days after the match, so on her off-day. You knew it was slightly unconventional to ask someone out via text, but you think you might never do it if you asked in person.

[Initial]💙❤️: Do u want to go to see some stuff in Barcelona with me on ur day off?? x

L💚: By rselves? Like a date???

[Initial]💙❤️: Yes x

[Initial]💙❤️: Would u like to go on a date with me on ur day off??

L💚: Yes

L💚: I’ll send you the hotel details. I could meet u at like 10? 11?

[Initial]💙❤️: I’ll pick u up at 10 outside the hotel – wear comfy shoes!!! <3

L💚: Can’t wait 😁

The day was beautiful; you took her to a little bakery for breakfast – laughing a few hours away over good coffee and excellent food. You then spent the morning doing the touristy things before having lunch at a tapas place, again not noticing the time passing as you giggled and sent longing stares at each other. The afternoon was filled with more happiness as you showed her the quieter spots and your favourite places to relax. Dinner was a classic paella, finally drawing up the courage to hold her hand on your way back to drop her off.

You were just around the corner from her hotel when you pulled her to stop.

“Um … I had a perfect day today.” You said as you shuffled closer,

“Me too,” she replied, softly pushing some hair away from your face. You licked your lips, staring at hers. She slowly leant in, her eyes flicking between your lips and eyes. You leant in, too; you were so close to kissing her – one slight adjustment at you would be.

A car horn sounded right next to you, making you both spring apart. Fuck!

“I … um … I better get going,” Lena said, gesturing towards the hotel. You could tell she was a little disappointed

“Yeh, no, I get it. Just … text me, yeh? Maybe you could show me around Wolfsburg when we travel to you guys?” you said nervously, not meeting her warm brown eyes.

“Hey,” she called softly, using her free hand to grasp your chin and make you look into her eyes. “I will absolutely be showing you around my home. We will definitely be doing this again,” she said with certainty. You felt your heart jump at the idea of a second date with Lena. She squeezed your hand before she left, looking back with a soft smile as she went.

[Initial]💙❤️: SPOTIFY LINK – One Direction, ‘I Should Have Kissed You’: https://www.spotify......

L💚: SPOTIFY LINK – Odeal, ‘Next Time’: https://www.spotify.......

After the second leg, Lena took you to a Christmas Market, saying that even though it was only November, you had to experience one. It was lovely. You laughed, ate too much food, and drank too much hot chocolate and mulled wine. As she took you back to your hotel, you came to a stop, much like you had in Barcelona.

“Can I actually kiss you this time?” You asked her.

“Bitte Küsse mich.” You didn’t speak German, but she clarified her intentions as she put a hand on your hip, shuffling closer until your breaths mingled. Her lips were soft and rough and warm and cold all at once. It was perfect. The world stopped spinning momentarily as you slowly let your tongue explore.

“Mein Gott” she said as you parted.

“Guess I’m going to need German lessons.” You laughed, pressing your lips back on hers.

“Don’t worry, I know a willing teacher,” she said as you separated again.

Your relationship was semi-secret; text exchanges left you giddy, hushed phone calls left you too-smiley, and facetimes were taken as you hurried from the rooms. Everyone could tell something was different, and most people could guess that it was probably down to a person; they just couldn’t figure out who.

“Alright, out with it. Who’s got you so smiley?” Patri asked as she sat on your sofa. You were having a younger girls' night—like you do most evenings. Patri, Pina, Esmee, Ona, Jana, Martina, Vicky, Bruna, Cata … it was a bit of a squeeze in your one-bedroom flat, but you made it work.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said as you smiled into your glass.

“Oh, please. You’ve been smiling away, laughing, and being disgustingly cute. Who is it?” Jana swatted your thigh at your non-answer.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” you stuck your tongue out at her.

“Don’t make us do detective work!” Martina threatened, pulling up her phone and going onto your social media.

“It’s recent, so check who she’s recently started following,” Vicky suggested. You were so grateful that you had been following Lena for years since you had played against her at club and national levels.

“It happened after the group stages,” Ona chimed in. You threw her an offended glare. You knew she wouldn’t actively spill your secret, but you had hoped she wouldn’t join in on the hunt for the identity of your girlfriend.

“You know something, Ona!” Pina accused, a finger coming to point at her. “You know who it is, don’t you?” They soon switched from interrogating you to Ona. Logically, it was the smartest move; Ona could crack very easily. It’s how you found out about Lucy – you had just narrowed your eyes at her for slightly too long, and she broke, spilling everything to you when she stayed the night a few months ago. You watched, somewhat amused, as Ona squirmed, avoiding eye contact, ducking her head, biting her lip. She was close to spilling everything. You knew she was terrified of telling secrets that weren’t hers, but she couldn’t help it.

“Alright, guys. Enough. Stop interrogating her.” You broke up the onslaught of questions, moving from your sofa seat to the chair she was curling up in. You could tell she was close to tears, and you didn’t want to do that to her – you knew she already felt guilty enough. You shuffled her around a bit before pulling her onto your lap.

“Right, you get 5 hints. If you can’t guess it from them, then I can’t help you. And no more asking Ona!” You glared at them all, ensuring they understood how serious you were. “Right, she’s German. She plays in Germany. She’s a midfielder. We’re similar ages. She’s made her senior international debut in 2019.” You watched as the group dissolved into loud discussion.

“Lo siento mucho. No querías que nadie lo supiera y ahora...” Ona hurried out, close to tears again.

“Hey, no, no, no. It’s ok, Oni,” you reassured her as you kissed her forehead. “No es tu culpa. I promise you. I do not blame you.” She nodded and buried her head back against your collarbone, watching the carnage in front of you. You quietly laughed to each other at the scene – Wikipedia was pulled up on everyone’s phones, the German national team website as well as they speculated on who you were seeing. You slowly pulled your phone out, quickly texting Lena.

[Initial]💙❤️: Like ½ my team are tryna guess my girlfriend rn x

[Initial]💙❤️: Do u mind if I say yes if they guess it right? x

L💚: ahahahahaha

L💚: No, I don’t mind. R u gonna tell them who I am if they get it wrong tho?

[Initial]💙❤️: Whichever u want x

[Initial]💙❤️: I don’t mind telling them x

[Initial]💙❤️: Would make it easier when I disappear to Germany for a few days and u suddenly turn up in my Barca jersey

[Initial]💙❤️: I want to tell them about u x

L💚: Tell em

L💚: Can I tell my team?

[Initial]💙❤️: Omg yesssss xxxxxxxxxxxx

L💚: also – I will never wear a barca jersey!!

L💚: Even if it does have ur name on the back 🤢

[Initial]💙❤️: ugh RUDE.

[Initial]💙❤️: But ud still be my WAG tho right? x

L💚: I’ll always be ur wag hehe

[Initial]💙❤️: so kind of u x

[Initial]💙❤️: I’ll always be ur wag too btw x

“Alright, alright. We have 2 possible answers.” Bruna turned around with a notebook in her hand. Where did they get that from? “Our first guess, we think, is less likely. Klara Bühl. She’s German, plays for Bayern, is a midfielder, and debuted in 2019. You’re similar in age. But we haven’t played Bayern in a while. So, how would you have met? So, we don’t think it’s her.” She paused, staring at your carefully crafted neutral expression. You met Klara once; she was lovely. She handed the notebook over to Cata. “Our final guess is one we think is pretty true,” Cata explained, adjusting herself to sit cross-legged before you. “We played Wolfsburg at the Champions League group stages, and you disappeared for the whole day the day after and came back all smiley. So, we have reason to believe it’s a Wolfsburg player.” You didn’t realise how seriously they were taking this. “But … most of the Wolfsburg team are German, but not all of them are German midfielders that debuted for the national team in 2019.” She paused dramatically. You knew she had figured it out. “That’s why our final guess is …” another final pause.

“Oberdorf,” Patri shouted out, clearly over Cata’s dramatics. “You’re dating Oberdorf.”

“Oi. Aquesta havia de ser la meva revelació” Cata lunged at Patri, loud shouts of Catalan descending on the house.

“D'acord, d'acord,” you shouted over the noise as you saw a wine bottle wobble precariously as someone knocked into the table. “Sí, Lena is my girlfriend.” You admitted. If you thought the noise was loud before, you were deafened by the cacophony that descended on you. You buried your head in Ona’s hair, laughing as your friends melted into chaos.

You knew that once the younger ones found out who your girlfriend was, it was only a matter of time before the older ones did. You hadn’t expected it to be the next day, however. You were in the changing rooms, chatting to Patri and Pina as you prepared for the session ahead of you. The door banged open, and you were met with an outraged Lucy. As she stalked towards you, you glanced at a very guilty-looking Ona.

“She looked at me.” Ona defended herself.

“Grow a backbone, Oni.” You shouted as Lucy dragged you from the room, remembering to add a nickname in so she knew you weren’t that mad at her.

You were dragged to an empty conference room. Alexia, Paños, Marta, Mariona, Caro, and Irene were already sitting on one side of the table. Lucy pushed you into the single seat opposite them and took her place next to Irene. You sat in silence for a full 3 minutes before anyone spoke.

“Is there something you want to tell us, cariño?” Alexia asked smoothly, folding her hands in front of her like she was conducting a business meeting.

“Ona needs to learn how to toughen up.” You weren’t too angry with Ona, but it slightly annoyed you that she had cracked so easily. You wanted to tell the older girls yourself to avoid this situation.

“Leave her out of it.” Lucy jumped in. You clicked your teeth at her, flicking your hand in her direction, dismissing her protest.

“You have a girlfriend,” Irene stated, bringing the conversation back on track.

“Ja, das tue ich,” you said, chuckling at their reaction to your German. They didn’t fully understand you but knew ‘yes’ in most languages. You could see Caro laughing slightly – she had played for Wolfsburg; she knew you were using your newfound language to irritate them.

“And you didn’t tell us?” Marta asked

“Ja, das ist richtig,” you smiled.

“Cut the crap, pequeña.” Paños hit the table, making you jump slightly.

“Bien. Si tanto quieres saber,” you snapped. “Yes, I have a girlfriend. I’m sure you already know who, but it’s Lena. I asked her out after our home Wolfsburg game. She asked me out after her home leg. We’ve been dating for a couple of months now. I really like her. Anything else you want to know?” You asked Alexia directly. You could see the internal battle – the desire to know everything about your new relationship with her promise to treat you more grown up.

“Everyone, out,” Alexia instructed after a minute, using her captain’s voice to show she was serious. “Cariño, please stay?” She asked. You nodded as the others left. Caro seemed to find this whole thing funny, but everyone else was grumbling and muttering about how they found it rude that you didn’t tell them and that you were too young for a girlfriend. “I thought we promised to tell each other things like adults?” She asked you.

“I know. The others only found out yesterday if it makes you feel any better. Ona’s known for a while, but only because I asked her for help.” You sat back in your chair, careful to leave your posture open.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” She seemed a little upset by your actions.

“I didn’t want this to happen. We’ve finally found a balance. And I knew that this would disrupt that balance. And it’s so new; I didn’t want to tell you guys until I knew what we were, and it’s only really been a few months. She asked me to be her girlfriend at New Year’s, so …” you trailed off, hoping that she understood where you were coming from.”

“Entenc. But cariño, why didn’t you tell me?” She asked again.

“I … I don’t know.” You did know. You knew exactly why you didn’t tell her. And she knew it, too. “Ok … well … I didn’t … I didn’t want you to treat me like a child again. Relationships are new to me. I can do the … physical …” you both cringed slightly, not entirely comfortable with those topics just yet, “side of relationships fine. But emotions. They’re new to me. And I wanted to figure it out for myself first. I went to Ona ‘cos she’s my best friend. One that needs to learn how to resist interrogation better, but she’s still my best friend.”

“Don't be too hard on her, pequeña. She meant well. And I get why you didn’t come to me first. But can I ask a few questions?” She watched as you left your seat, coming around to her side of the table, and sitting on her lap.

You sighed, “ask away.” She laughed as she squeezed your waist.

“Does she treat you well?”

“Sí,” you answered honestly.

“Do you treat her well?”

“I think so. I hope so.” You smiled at her concern for Lena

“Can we meet her?”

“As long as you guys don’t give her the talk, then yes.” She leant back to look at your face.

“Can I give her the talk?” You sighed.

“Sí,” you relented, not missing the flicker of excitement that passed over her face.

“When is she coming to Barcelona?”

“Our way game Èl Clasíco matches with a free weekend for her. She’s meeting me in Madrid.” You laughed as she pushed you off her lap, standing up and rushing to the door. “Where are you going?”

“To prepare my speech. Alba never let me do a charla de hermana mayor to her partners, so this might be my only chance.” You laughed at her enthusiasm. She indeed was like your big sister – annoying most of the time, infuriating some of the time, but just a big, goofy kid at heart looking out for everyone around her.

[Initial]💙❤️: U might wanna prepare urself now x

L💚: WHY???

L💚: WHAT DID U DO????

[Initial]💙❤️: Alexia knows

[Initial]💙❤️: She’s very excited to meet my girlfriend x

[Initial]💙❤️: She’s planning a speech x

L💚: I am dead

L💚: I am going to die

L💚: Will u still love me if I’m dead????

[Initial]💙❤️: She wont kill u

[Initial]💙❤️: I wont let her xxx

[Initial]💙❤️: Yes, I will still love u if ur dead xx

I hope you liked it <3<3<3

#barca femeni #woso community #woso #barca femeni x reader #fc barcelona #woso blurbs #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #barca femini x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle #lena oberdorf x reader #lena oberdorf

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paigebueckersmommy · 9 days

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attitude - p.b

paige bueckers x reader

warnings : situationship , strap, jealousy

you knew you and paige weren’t dating, but knew you weren’t strangers. you weren’t afraid to text her when u we’re horny, vice versa.

paige had been telling her team little things that happened between you too, but what they didn’t know was how good our sex was and how casual we made it.

you and your friends were celebrating the end of finals week by going out. as you walked into the crowded bar, you immediately spot uconn’s star, paige.

you acknowledged her by a slight smirk, paige looked at you then around at your friends, all girls and back at you and back to her drink at the bar.

you were dancing with some girlfriends, your eyes made their way to the bar and caught paige’s eyes on you, a straight face. your smile slowly fades as you realized there were two reasons she could be staring you that intensely. 1. your tits. the black top you were wearing was extremely low cut. or 2. she was jealous.

paige would never admit how clingy she is, but it was extremely. as your friend noticed you stopped dancing, she grabbed your arm. you look back at her once before confusing ti dance.

as a couple minutes pass, you feel a cold hand on your arm, pulling you. looking behind you, it was paige. “paige- what were are we going,” you say as she drags you out of the crowded bar. “i’m taking you back to my place.” paige says with a serious face, looking back at you quickly.

she opens your car door on your side of her suv, knowing she couldn’t not do that, you smiled. paige got in the car, and immediately started driving. “paige why are you in such a hurry.” you say with a confused undertone, “why do you have such an attitude, and going out wearing a top like that?”

when you two arrived at her dorm, she pushed you against her bed, paige kissing you deeply as she pushed her bare knee in between your legs. you gasp into her mouth. she undresses you in rush, a couple moans slipping out as you see the way paige looks at your body. she quickly undresses herself and puts her pink strap on. she grabs a bottle of lube as she squeezes it onto your already soaking cunt.

she throws the bottle across her room, spreading your legs open laying on your back, she pushes it into you.

“fuck paige,” you say as she almost immediately hits your g spot, she speeds up. “who fucks you this good?” paige says through deep breathes, “fuck P, you only you.” you say almost reaching your breaking point. “shit your so long,” you say. you knew paige loved when you praised her, especially in bed.

as your legs start to shake, paige starts rubbing your clit adding to the knot in your stomach. when you finally release over the strap, paige pulls out. “did i fuck the attitude out of ya?” paige says, leaning down to your level. you nod your head, still trying to catch your breath, paige smirks.

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #paige buckets #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers smut #uconn women’s basketball #uconn huskies #kk arnold #nika muhl

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boorines · 7 months

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caresses from my camera roll | choi seungcheol (M)

warnings/tags: fem reader, established relationship, softdom!cheol, he’s a sweetie, he’s also mean though, fingering, pussy slapping, use of the word slut, multiple times, profanity. smut. MDNI

—

seungcheol is the sweetest boyfriend you could have asked for. he brings you plates of carefully cut up fruit while you work, leaves a light kiss on your cheek or a pat on your head whenever he walks by, and makes the best breakfast in bed.

so, it might come as a surprise that he isn’t half as soft during the night, before you both fall asleep to warm touches.

like tonight.

you lay on your shared bed, scrolling through your camera roll and admiring the photos you took earlier today. it was a beach date, spontaneous and relaxed, and you think those are the best kind. as you scroll, you come across a candid you took of seungcheol. he was laying beside you on a beach towel with his face turned towards you, sunglasses on and hand shielding his face from the sun. he was smiling. cute.

but you couldn’t say the same about his swim shorts hanging dangerously low on his hips or his exposed abs still wet from his swim earlier. and his hands... one in front of his face and the other just off screen, but you know very well it was resting on your bare thigh, a touch too high to be casual. the memory of what he said right before the photo was taken makes heat flood between your legs.

“you look so good, i could take you right here”.

you squirm at the thought. he would have if you’d let him and it drives you crazy. you inch your hand lower, slowly circling your clit. these could be his fingers, you think as you stare at his photographed hand. his longer, thicker ones would feel so much better inside you than yours. you whimper at the image and press harder, wet spot on your panties growing steadily. pushing your underwear to the side, you drag a finger through your wet folds and gasp. you’re about to push it all the way in when the door to the bedroom swings open.

“hey, love, there’s a new episode of—”

he freezes in the doorway and his eyes darken. your pussy floods at the way he looks at your finger halfway inside you. he shuts the door slowly behind him and his voice is low, much lower than usual, when he asks, “and what are we doing here?”. walking over to the edge of the bed, he takes a seat, eyes roaming painfully slowly over your body.

you whimper and reach a hand out for his, silently asking for help.

“no. i’m going to watch you. i’ll help when i think you need it”.

“cheol, please”, you whisper.

“what did i say?”, his tone is one of warning and you don’t push further. you whine softly as you start drawing circles on your wet cunt over your panties, adding pressure when you make eye contact with seungcheol.

“good girl”, he mutters under his breath.

your stomach tightens and you hastily kick your underwear off and push your thighs apart. his sinful gaze on you is enough to make you cum, you think. you sink your middle finger into your entrance with a drawn out mewl, clenching around yourself when you hear your boyfriend hum in approval. you start pumping into yourself only for seungcheol to still you with a firm hand on your thigh. you look up at him in confusion but his eyes are on your unlocked phone laying forgotten beside you. he smirks. oh.

“so, is this what got you like this, pretty?”, he whispers, moving closer to you until he’s positioned beside your legs. “got this wet just looking at pictures of me, hm?”.

you shudder when you feel his hand squeeze your thigh. once, soft. again, harder. you whimper and paw at his hand in request.

“words, baby”.

“y-yes, cheol. was thinking about y-you”.

“yeah? baby got this needy thinking of me? my hands, my cock?”, you mewl softly at his words, “god, you’re such a dirty slut for me, fuck”.

“i am, cheol, please. please, i need you”.

he groans and pulls your hand away from your pussy, swearing under his breath when he sees your dewy entrance. he grazes a finger across your dripping cunt and you push your hips into his hand. he whips his hand away and you let out a desperate whine, hoping he can see how much you need to feel him inside you.

“don’t move”, he warns, “maybe i’ll fuck you on my fingers. or maybe i’ll just watch you try to cum without any help. for playing with yourself without my permission”.

you shake your head in desperation, silently begging him to touch you.

“cheol, please, i need to feel you”.

“my slut needs me that bad?”, he traces a finger around your clit and you make a noise so sinful it goes straight to his hardening cock. “beg for me”.

you can’t think straight as you babble a string of ‘please’s, ‘cheol’s and ‘i need you’s. you hear him chuckle deeply and it only makes you clench around nothing, continuing your pleas for his cock, his fingers, his tongue. anything.

without warning, seungcheol plunges a finger into your entrance, sinking in knuckle-deep. you gasp loudly, followed by a moan the neighbours can probably hear. he begins pumping at an unrelenting pace, drawing whimpers and moans from your throat.

“good girl, you’re doing so good for me, baby”, he adds a second finger and your noises grow louder. the slick squelch of his fingers thrusting into you joins your needy moans and whines, the room sounding like lust and sin.

you feel his other hand come up to your breast, kneading and squeezing the skin torturously. he takes his time with your hard nipple, moving to the other only when he feels satisfied. he leans down and leaves open mouthed kisses on your shoulder, moving up your neck and along your jaw. he places a soft kiss on your lips, a sharp contrast from the filthy moans he’s swallowing from your throat. his lips move back to your neck, roughly sucking at the skin and you mewl in pleasure. he pulls back to admire the red mark blooming where his lips just were, all while his fingers pump sinfully between your folds. you buck your hips, forcing his fingers in deeper. he curls his fingers inside your cunt, hitting the spongy wetness of your walls with purpose.

“you hear those noises, baby? fuck, your pretty little cunt is dripping for me”.

you moan loudly, desperately trying to fuck yourself harder on his fingers.

“hips down, slut, i decide when you cum”, he whispers in your ear and you lose yourself.

“please, cheol, please, please, i’ll be so good for you, i promise. please let me cum, i need it so bad, cheol”.

he laughs and abruptly slides his fingers out of you. you whine at the empty feeling and open your mouth in protest before you feel a sharp slap land on your cunt. “ah, cheol!”

another. the slight sting makes your pussy gush around him and you become a babbling mess.

“you like that? my filthy girl likes that, yeah?”, he mutters.

“s-so much, cheol”.

“you’re my little slut, aren’t you, pretty?”, he delivers another slap to your leaking cunt.

“yes! yes, cheol! your slut, all yours. fuck, i’ll do anything”, you scream.

“slut has such a dirty mouth”, he chuckles as he rubs your pussy soothingly, “let me make my baby cum, yeah?”.

you nod, eyes tearing up and clawing at his forearm when you feel him sink three fingers into your sopping hole. he hisses when he feels you flutter and clench around him, his eyes turning impossibly darker. he sets a torturous pace, splitting you open on his fingers until your back arches off the bed.

you feel your stomach tighten and you scream in pleasure. “i’m close, i’m so close, please cheol”. he doesn’t need to be told twice before he’s curling his fingers and hitting the same spongy spot again. leaning down, he messily sucks on your nipples, licking around the hard mounds and leaving your tits covered in spit. the sound he draws from you makes his dick twitch and he responds by flicking your clit with his thumb.

“good girl, you’re doing so good, my love”.

you clench around his fingers with a wanton moan, holding onto the arm he’s using to prop himself up beside you. you feel his lips on yours and kiss him back sloppily, all tongue and high-pitched mewls. his fingers don’t stop fucking into you even when your legs begin to shake violently.

“fuck, baby. you look so beautiful getting fucked open on my fingers like this”, seungcheol whispers against your mouth. “cum for me, soak my fingers, slut. i want to feel your cum drip down my hand, yeah?”

you scream into his mouth as his fingers hit your sensitive walls over and over. you feel the coil in your stomach snap and your vision goes white as you clench around his fingers, your release leaking out of your cunt as he strokes your walls through your climax. he helps ride out your high with a few more thrusts and a groan that you feel deep in your heat.

“that’s a good girl”, he whispers and slowly pulls his fingers out of you. he watches your cum gush out and soak your folds and swears under his breath. you look at him in bliss as he puts his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean with a pop, subconsciously making you clench your empty hole around nothing.

“you were so amazing, my love. always so perfect”, seungcheol presses a kiss to your lips, smiling softly when he sees your eyelids get heavy. he strokes your hair with care reserved for no one but you and your chest warms. “relax, gorgeous, i’ll get you cleaned up”.

as seungcheol delicately cleans you up, soft touches and gentle ‘i love you’s, you drift off. the last thing you feel is a feather-light kiss on your temple and a stroke of his hand against your arm.

and you can’t help but think once again, seungcheol is the sweetest boyfriend you could have ever asked for.

—

well… this was interesting to write! i have more trouble with smut than fluff and took way longer writing this than i should have. but i hope u enjoy it!! bf!cheol is everyone’s weakness hehe. please let me know what u think!! thank u so much for reading and enjoying my previous work!

hopefully my next drabble/fic should be kwan centred because i can’t ignore my bias for much longer! as always, requests open!!

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hyuckswoman · 26 days

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mark and you arguing pt1

pt2

genre: angst (doesn’t have good ending but i can make a pt2)

summary: you don’t like how touchy one of your boyfriend’s friend is, when you try to tell him, he doesn’t listen

pairing: mark x y/n

“no mark you don’t understand and that’s fine, i never asked you to understand either way” you say putting your things down and closing your front door behind you

earlier that night, you and mark were on a double date with his childhood friend and her situationship? you thought it was her boyfriend but seeing the dynamic up close you understood how wrong you were

the date was going okay at first. since her situationship was so entertaining, it completed shifted your focus away from the fact that you had barely taked to your boyfriend ever since stepping foot inside of the restaurant, not only that but you had also failed to see how her hand was on mark’s forearm and didn’t look like it was going to move in any second.

you’re not normally the jealous type but seeing how there’s been a few instances where she had stepped over the boundaries you put with your bf and when you told him about it he just shrugged claiming that “she’s an old friend, she’s bound to be…comfortable” you were apprehensive of the evening.

and you were right to be! the whole evening was basically her flirting and eye fucking mark, cutting you off when you were speaking, barely paying any attention to her date i mean hell even YOU talked more to him than she did.

the more the evening progressed the more you dread coming home, yea it meant she wouldn’t be here anymore but it also meant you having to be vocal about your feelings and a possible argument with mark because of course his friend could never be in the wrong

“why are you being like this? each time we hang out with her you’re always mean and tense about it, i don’t get why you have a vendetta against her” you boyfriend says taking off his coat following you into the living room

“it’s not like i don’t have a reason to have a vendetta against her mark, she was flirting with you all evening! and i don’t even understand why you’re picking a fight with me, i bit my tongue on purpose and didn’t tell you shit and wasn’t planning to just to avoid this so i’m having trouble understanding why we’re even having an argument right now” you say sitting on the sofa hoping he’ll let it go

but of course he doesn’t

“oh so now i’m so scary and intimidating that you can’t communicate? and we’re having an argument because tonight, just like every night we’ve ever spend with her you were in a pissy mood. do you know how embarrassing it is to have to apologize for your behavior each time” mark says

“no one asked you to apologize, i kinda think it’s crazy how you’ve never even taken the time to maybe wonder why i dislike her so much mark” you answer anger rising

“i know why you’re like this, it’s because you’re jealous” your boyfriend answers

“i’m sorry? yea you’re gonna have to elaborate on this one” you say

“i don’t know maybe it’s because her and i get along or the fact that we were a thing for a short while maybe that makes you insecure or something” you boyfriend says ever so casually

“what the fuck?? she doesn’t make me insecure i’m just tired of having to explain to you why it bothers me to see one of your friends eye fucking you while you let it happen. i can’t even have a man be in the same vicinity as me before you start to lose your shit mark. Like i really don’t care that you and her were a thing because you’re with me now so unless it’s an issue i need to worry about I don’t see why I’d be jealous? But if you’re gonna be mad at me for being in a ‘pissy’ mood i never want to hear you complain about any men apparently flirting with me ” you say getting up, if you see his face you might start to hit it at this point

“I still don’t understand why you’re being so bitchy, if her and i were still dating, she would’ve never done this to me” mark says instantly regretting his words

“So it is something i need to worry about then.. you know what? go date her or something i don’t care mark, maybe she’ll appreciate you acting like a dick” you say sighing. this argument honestly tired you, repeating the same things over and over again tired you but what could be done?

you were starting to head upstairs to brush your teeth and head to bed when mark gripped your arm preventing you from leaving

“let go mark” you ask tiredly

“i’m sorry” he says apologizing

“okay, now let go” you ask and he shakes his head no

“please i’m tired i want to sleep let me go” you say as you forcefully remove your arm from his grip, if he wasn’t going to let you go, you’ll leave

“we don’t go to sleep mad at each other” mark says still blocking your way

“maybe sometimes we do, plus i’m not even mad at you now please move i want to brush my teeth and you’re blocking the path” you say

“i’m sorry” mark says

“i heard you the first time” you answer giving up on brushing your teeth settling to find a place to sit in your shared house

“talk to me, please” your boyfriend pleads

“i have been talking to you mark! ever since the first hang out i told you how she would make backhanded comments about me, then told you how it made me uncomfortable how touchy she was with you, then told you i didn’t want to hang out with her anymore so you could go see her alone and i also told you how her eye fucking you and making me feel like i’m bothering you guys annoyed me. mark you just never listen, and since you don’t listen i sit back, bite my tongue and try my best to act nice but it’s not because she’s your friend that i’m going to let myself get walked over” you say as mark finally lets you in your bedroom where you just lay down to sleep

“you’re right i’m sorry” mark says hugging your figure thankful that you still communicated despite his actions

“no you’re not, you say this every time the proceed to do it all over again, anyway good night mark” you say turning so your back faces him just wanting to be done with the conversation because you were starting to feel bad for acting this way when you have every right to be upset. Mark on the other hand is biting his lip realizing that he seriously messed up and needs to make it right somehow.

because he’d 100% rather never talk to that one friend than have you feel the way you’re feeling right now, at the end of the day, nobody compared to you and he now realized how little he’s been showing it to you

#nct dream #nct imagines #mark lee #nct #mark x y/n #mark x you #mark x reader #mark angst #nct angst #nct x you #nct drabbles #nct x reader #mark lee drabbles

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chastiefoul · 3 days

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mischievous streak | neuvilette

just another day of you pining over neuvilette and poor wriothesley has to hear all about it. (dw neuvilette makes an appearance!!) fluff. crack. this one is so unserious. 0.7k words

“and when he said ‘oratrice oratrice mecanique d'analyse’ did you hear it, wrio?” you swooned, another day of fanning over the iudex of fountaine to your best friend, wriothesley.

“did you?” the duke replied increduosly, as if not really getting the reason why that was the part you’re fawning over. “oh and when he declared ‘guilty’ verdict with such conviction and charisma to that person, i wished that was me.” you went on, the conversation was most definitely one-sided.

“...you wished that you’re in a court and getting a ‘guilty’ verdict?” he blinked, not knowing how to react when the things you’re saying gets more insane as each day passed. “well not really, but i am certainly guilty. guilty for wanting to climb him like a-“

wriothesley cut you off with an exaggerated cough.

“you finish that sentence and i’m sending you to the authorities.” you crossed your arm, “you’re the authorities.” he sighed, “yes and i’m not above putting cuffs on you and throw you to one of the cell.”

you gasped, “you wouldn’t. you’d put me in jail because of love?”

“insanity is what you are, (y/n). seriously, just talk to him.” he picked up his cup of tea wanting to take another sip. “and what do i say, that i’ve been in love with him since forever and that i’d give him a limb in exchange for a date?”

“sure. or, you could say you want to get to know him a little better, and ask him out for some lunch?” he said, his pen not stopping on checking the piling documents on his table. “but that’s like super obvious!” you retorted.

“and saying you’d give him one of your limb isn’t...?” he gave you a side-eye before getting back to his paper. “hmm, fair point.” you tapped your chin with your finger. “but he doesn’t seem like the type who’d just go out with anyone, no? i don’t think i’ve ever seen him with someone,” you claimed, thinking back to all the times you passed him accidentally by remembering his schedules.

“you’re right, but i don’t think that’s by his choice though. i think some people just got really intimidated by the idea of casually hanging out with the iudex of fountaine.” he shrugged. “what?! that’s not fair, even though he’s really kind hearted?”

the man in front of you gave you a mocking smile. “yeah, and you’d know hm? since you hang out with him so much,” he teased. “i don’t like you, you’re attacking me for no reason.” you grumbled. wriothesley just chuckled good naturedly before you continued.

“gosh but seriously, he should have someone by his side, don’t you think? someone’s who’s supportive, who will stand by him no matter what. you know, someone like me? i would treat him so good. i would make him food all day, draw him a bubble bath-“

a cough cut you off, you’d think it’s wriothesley and his unwillingness to hear your sincerity about your feelings towards neuvilette, but when you see that his expression was just as startled, you shut your lips.

both of you turned your heads to the end of the stairs and there he is.

neuvilette.

yes, the very one you’ve been crushing on since forever, oh and did i mention you just said you’d draw him a bubble bath?

the tip of his ears was visibly rosy, as he looked like he tried so hard not to look embarrassed or even phased. “i was let in by the guard, i didn’t realize there is another guest.”

you closed your eyes, counting slowly to three because perhaps it would be able to turn back time, even just a little. wriothesley was just covering his mouth, and you’d bet the other limb you have that he’s currently trying his harderst to hold back a laugh.

this is a situation. a situation you need to diffuse fast with your quick thinking.

you turned to wriothesley. “that’s why i said duke, not only you don’t need to reduce my sentence, please don’t let me out from this jail forever. i would endanger the civilians. thank you for your time duke wriothesley, i am now going to go back to my cell.”

hearing that was just the last straw for your best friend, he laughed out loud. doubling over and all that as he clutched his stomach. after a solid two minutes of him just laughing and you facepalmed yourself, wriothesley gained his composure.

“neuvilette, meet (y/n), the all-over supervisor of the fortress of meropide.”

you glared at him before giving the long-haired man your sweetest smile.

“hello, it’s nice to finally see you down here in the flesh, monsieur neuvilette.” you nodded at him in which he replied with a slight smile. “likewise and please, just call me neuvilette.”

neuvilette gave wriothesley a document as he immediately skimmed through it. “i see, well there’s nothing here that i can give an input on better than (y/n), this is more of their expertise.” your head turned so quick as if you heard a blaring alarm. “then, i would appreciate your insight on this matter if you have the time,” neuvilette said as looked at you and there’s no way you could say no.

“of course! perhaps over lunch? it’s the right time, no?” you bounced back, now feeling excited than nervous. he chuckled at the enthusiasm as he agreed. “yes, you’re right. but perhaps you should know i’m not ready yet for someone to draw me a bubble bath after just one lunch.” he put his fist over his mouth, covering his smile. so turned out the iudex of fountaine has a mischievous streak in his personality after all.

that’s nice. not for your already beyond embarrassed state, though.

“wriothesley, just arrest me right now please.”

#genshin x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin fanfic #genshin fluff #neuvilette x reader #neuvilette x you #neuvilette fluff #wriothesley fluff

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