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lalunalando · 1 month

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The Love You Want - LN4

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warnings: 18+! minors dni! smut, fluff (may make you cry a little), angst, swearing, slight degradation, thigh riding, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap)

songs referenced: The Love You Want - Sleep Token / Granite - Sleep Token

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2 years.

It’s been 2 whole years since the love of your life walked out your front door after telling you it was over, he couldn’t handle the relationship alongside his career anymore, and that he never actually loved you.

So imagine the surprise you felt when you stepped out of your apartment elevator after returning from a long day of work, only to find him sitting at your door, a basket of dog toys and a bunch of your favorite flowers in hand…

“Lan? Wha-When did you get here? What are you even doing here?” You asked, shock evident on you face as you stood frozen like you’d seen a ghost.

“Oh thank god you didn’t move! I was hoping I wasn’t waiting outside some random apartment and about to scare a stranger” he chuckled, the sound that once felt like home to you now leaving your stomach feeling instantly nauseous.

“Lando, don’t avoid the question. What are you doing here?” You huff as you brush past him, opening your apartment door finally and stepping inside to put your belongings down knowing this probably wasn’t going to be a quick conversation by any means.

“Do you mind if I come in? This really isn’t a talk I want to have out here in the hallway..” he asks awkwardly, gauging your reactions and movements, expecting you to even slam the door in his face after the last time you both spoke. He deserved that, he knows it, but he really hopes you’ll let him in because he has so much he wants to say to you.

You move out of the doorway to let him through with a sigh that doesn’t go unnoticed, twisting at his heart knowing he’s at fault for how this is making you feel.

After closing the door behind him, you turn around and nod towards the dog toy basket with a confused look.

“Oh, I was hoping the pups were still here to give them to, I miss our kids…” he says as he looks down at the floor, suddenly wondering if it was still okay to call them “ours” as if he didn’t walk out on you all.

“They do, they’re just having a play date with the neighbors while I was at work, they’ll be dropped off in an hour” you respond as you head to the fridge, suddenly the bottle of wine in the fridge is seeming very tempting to crack open… “so Lando, I’m going to ask one more time, what are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry.” It’s all he can get out in the moment, he knows there’s a million other things he wants to say, but he froze, and that was the basis of why he was here anyway.

You freeze, halting the glass of wine you were currently pouring, and just stare at him blankly.

“Right, yeah, I should probably explain a little more than that” he laughs nervously while scratching the back of his neck. “Alright, well, I fucked up. I should never have walked out back then, I should have never said you were too much of a distraction to my career to be with and more than anything I should never have lied and said I never loved you.”

“Lan, it’s been two years, why now? Where is this suddenly coming from after two fucking years of no contact whatsoever? And why do you think I want to even hear it? What if I’ve moved on.” It all comes out before you can even stop yourself, the hurt and anger you’ve been keeping in since that day making you see red.

“I never stopped thinking about it, about you. I thought I couldn’t handle being away from you all the time and that you wouldn’t want to wait around for me all the time, but after every race I still just want to come home to you. And I know you haven’t moved on because the love we shared was once in a lifetime, I’m still full of the love you want, please just let me prove it to you. You can tell me you don’t still love me and I’ll leave you alone for good, and maybe you believe that in the end you will be better off that way, but I’m begging you to give me one more chance and I’ll be full of the love you want, no matter what, forevermore.”

By the time he’s done speaking, you both have tears in your eyes.

It was never truly over, you knew you could never stop loving him, no matter how much it hurt you.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re rounding your kitchen bench and closing the space between you both.

Desperate to feel his lips on yours and make up for the two years lost, to show him the love you harbored for him never left.

And boy, did he feel it all.

You needed more of him, you knew it was pathetic of you to fold so quickly but you’d already lost two years and didn’t want to waste any more of it, and when he wore that god damn playboy hoodie you always said you loved seeing him wear, there was no point denying how much you wanted him still.

“I hate that you still have this affect on me, I hate that I never stopped loving you, but most of all, I hate that you’ve still got me in a chokehold”

That confession is all he needed from you before he’s picking you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you down the familiar hallway to your room that he’s traveled so many times before, but with a newly found appreciation for all the pictures along the walls that you could never find it in your heart to switch.

As he throws you down on the bed and climbs over you, eyes blown and full of lust and longing, you can’t help but to admire him.

The gorgeous everchanging eyes, his adorable freckles and moles, and a slight beard he was finally able to grow after years of being teased by the other guys on the grid.

His lips are instantly back on yours, taking all the air out of your lungs and replacing it with his own as if it was the only way you could both live from then on.

You tug at the hem of his hoodie as his hands slide up your thighs to the edge of your skirt, both not ashamed of how fast you need the others clothes off.

Only pulling back for a second to take his hoodie off, his lips are immediately back on you, only finding their way down your throat this time.

Biting just hard enough to make you yelp, he’s instantly soothing the pain as he laps his tongue over the spot, causing you to whimper like the desperate little slut you always were for him.

Hands continuing their mission up your skirt, an almost animalistic growl comes from his throat as his fingers find the lace of your thong, completely drenched for him already.

“Always so ready for me baby, god you couldn’t be more perfect, you were made for me just like I was for you.” His voice filled with lust and love, reminding you that you will always be his.

Flipping you both over and settling you on his lap, he can’t help but want to draw it out a little longer, tease you a little more, make you beg for him.

You grind down on his lap, desperate for even a little relief, because as much as you hate to admit it, no one in the past two years has made you feel even remotely the way he does without even trying.

You’d had your fair share of fixes throughout the two years, using many men to your advantage to try and get over him, but none of them even came close to making you forget. No one did it as good as him.

“Someone is still just as needy and desperate as always huh?” You can feel the smirk even though his lips are against your neck, making you whimper again, just proving his point. “Do you want to show me just how much you missed me too? How good you can be for me?”

“Please Lan, need you, will do anything but I need you”

He laughs, and you know he’s got something sadistic and borderline humiliating in mind, but you don’t care because he knows you’ll do anything for him, you always will.

“Such a good girl, can you straddle my thigh for a second baby?” He says with a smirk you know means trouble.

You do as he says, and shift over to his thigh, giving him a look of confusion as you wait for his next instructions.

“Now baby, I want you to ride it.”

You gasp, this was new for the two of you but you couldn’t deny that it excited you a lot to try.

“I want to see how desperate of a slut you can be for me, I want to watch you get yourself off with nothing but my thigh.” He breathes into your ear as his hand hold your hips, helping you find a stable rhythm.

You can’t stop the sounds coming out of your mouth, and he wouldn’t want you to even if you could.

If Lando could listen to one thing on repeat for the rest of his life, it would be your sweet moans that only he can get out of you time and time again.

As you get louder and start stuttering your rhythm on his thigh, he knows you’re getting close.

“That’s my girl, come on, cum on my thigh and I’ll reward you for behaving so well baby”

That was enough to send you over the edge for what would be the first of many times that evening, screaming his name loud enough that you were sure the whole of Monaco could have heard you.

Still coming down from your high, he doesn’t give you a second to recover before he flips you back down onto the bed as he rids himself of his now ruined pants before pulling your own ruined panties off and climbing straight back over you, claiming your lips once again.

He doesn’t want to wait anymore, watching your angelic face as you came around his thigh was almost enough to make him finish right then and there. He couldn’t lie, he’d obviously been with a few women as well over the last two years while he tried to forget you, but he could never forget you, no one could ever compare to his girl.

Leaning over to your side drawer to find a condom where he knows you both used to keep them, he comes up empty and a little confused.

“I got rid of them, I never brought anyone over anyway.”

And it was true, you always went to your flings places instead, you couldn’t stand the thought of them ruining the memories shared between you and Lando in that apartment, in that bed.

“Do you want me to go grab some, i can run down t-“

“You don’t need it, i trust you.”

He stared at you in shock, he could count on one hand the amount of times you’d allowed him to go in raw before, and he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

He didn’t have to think much longer, your hand reaching down to tease his already painfully hard cock was all the confirmation he needed that you were serious about it.

Swiping his tip through your wet folds to help lube him up, he lines his tip at your entrance and slowly pushes in.

Seeing you slightly wince as you readjust to his size, he’s quick to worry.

“If you need me to stop at any point please just tell me” he says in a hurry.

“Just need a sec Lan, i forgot how big you are…” you said with a whimper, not missing the smirk that flashes across his face.

After a few seconds to get comfortable again, you’re urging him to move and he doesn’t hesitate for a second.

Slowly fucking you with more and more of his cock with each thrust until he’s bottoming out, he can’t help but moan at how you feel around him.

“Baby I’m not going to last much longer if you keep squeezing me like that, feel so warm and tight around my cock, this pussy was made for me”

This has you clenching around him again, drawing out the most feral growl you have ever heard from the man.

In an instant, he’s pulling out of you much to your disappointment, only leaving you feeling empty for a moment while he flips you over onto your front and pulls your ass up, digging his fingers into your hips so roughly that you’re sure there are going to be bruises in the morning.

Good thing he knows you love being marked up by him.

As soon as your ass is up, he’s quick to shove his cock back in, not giving you a moment to adjust as he starts mercilessly pounding you from behind.

This new angle somehow hits deeper, feeling him hit your cervix wall over and over again, mixing pain with pleasure and making you scream for him.

“That’s it angel, scream my name, tell everyone who’s making you feel this fucking good”

As he continues his brutal punishment on your pussy, winding a hand around your front to use his always skilful fingers to rub tight circles on your clit and help you chase your high, he feels your walls start to tighten again as your legs start to shake and knows his won’t be far behind.

“Where do you want me to finish princess? I want you to cum on my cock like the good girl you are but i won’t be able to last much longer” he grunts as he continues his rough pace, getting sloppier with each thrust as you tighten more and more with each one.

“Fill me please, need to feel you inside of me, this pussy is yours and only yours” you pant out, only fueling him to get rougher and faster, pushing you over that edge.

“Scream for me baby, i want all of Monaco to know who you belong to” and with that, you’re seeing stars. His name being the only word on your lips over and over again while you clamp around his cock, feeling his release only seconds after your own as he bites your shoulder to muffle his own moans.

You lay there for a while in pure fucked-out bliss, Lando having moved to be beside you and move your head onto his chest while his arm is around you playing with your hair.

“So, what does this mean for us now?” You have to ask, as the doubt starts creeping in again.

“I know i have a lot to make up for but if you’ll have me, i want to be yours again. I want to stay over whenever you’ll have me here, i want to fly you out to races with me when you can, but mostly, i want to show the world how much i love you, show them what I’m doing this all for at the end of the day”

Tears start welling in your eyes, and all you can do is nod before kissing him again, showing him all the emotions you can’t verbally say right now.

Just as the kiss starts heating up for another round between you two, a loud knock on your front door interrupts the moment.

“Cunt” is all Lando can say in frustration, making you laugh before getting up and pulling your panties back on and chucking his playboy hoodie on to cover you so you can answer the door to the intrusion.

As he lays there and waits for you to return, he can’t stop smiling and thinking about all the ways he plans to make everything up to you.

Maybe a ring in the near future, to show how serious he is and always has been about his angel…

Before he can think much longer, your two puppies come bouncing into the room looking for him, having smelt his familiar scent the moment they got home.

He can’t stop the wide smile from forming on his face, this was it.

This was home, and he never planned on leaving again.

As you stepped back into the room, you couldn’t help the smile forming on your own face.

The boy you loved with every fiber of your being, squealing while being attacked with kisses and jumped on by your fur babies. Your joint fur babies. Your little family was whole again.

Walking over to him you stop before him on the bed, him reaching out to pull you down onto his lap as you sigh happily.

You turn to look him in the eye and hold his face gently, you were glad he was back.

“What are you thinking now babe?” He asks, seeing the all too familiar look in your eyes

“I was more than just a body in your passenger seat, and you were more than just somebody i was destined to meet. I see you go half-blind when you’re looking at me. I love you Lan.” Kissing him again, sealing all your feelings and fate, giving yourself over to him for good.

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zorobraun · 10 months

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ex husband ghost at your kiddo’s football game part two

“dad, what does ‘sex’ means?” theo asks, looking at simon while they’re playing video games. his father freezes. “what did you just say?” simon stares at his son in disbelief, instantly crashing the car in the game. “sex.” theo says again, his bright soft eyes full of innocence. simon swallows hard, frowning his nose. “first of all, how did you discover the existence of this word?” simon raises an eyebrow at the kid, laughing quietly. “mommy’s friend.” theo replies in a worried tone, his cheeks getting red from both regret and embarrassment.

“is that so?” simon’s tone is a bit angry now. “i’ll have a word with your mom, then.” he adds with a sigh, looking at his son. “don’t, please. it’s not her fault… she was very uncomfortable.” theo’s eyes are desperate and worried. “don’t worry, buddy. i’ll just talk to her… nicely.” simon reassures him with a soft smile, caressing theo’s head. he nods with a half hearted smile. “her friend was saying something about… mom missing the sex she had with you. i wasn’t supposed to hear that, but she’s too loud.” theo swallows hard, looking away.

simon is in shock. he holds back a laugh. “and mom said that… she can’t help but miss having sex with you, that you’re the best she ever had.” theo completes with hesitation in his tone. “oh my god, really?” simon asks with a fake surprise, laughing out loud. he’s not cocky, but he obviously knew that already, you used to tell him all the time. “yes, dad…” theo mutters with a light chuckle, still confused about the meaning of his mom’s statement.

simon shakes his head, still laughing in disbelief. “your mom is crazy, huh?” he says in a playful tone, wrapping his big arms around theo. “sometimes.” the kid replies, laughing too. “so… what’s ‘sex’, anyway?” theo raises an eyebrow, curious and confused. simon takes a deep breath, staring at his son in a serious, calm way. “sex is… an intimate moment that you share with someone you trust.” he explains in a non explicit way, smiling softly. “really? so you and mom… you trusted each other.” theo smiles sadly. “actually, it was more than trust. we… we loved each other, which makes the experience even better.” simon adds in a calm tone.

“do you miss having… that… with mom?” theo raises an eyebrow, innocent and naive as always. simon suddenly sighs quietly, the memories eating him alive. “i can’t believe we’re talking about this, buddy.” he lets out an embarrassed chuckle. “but yeah, i miss it.” he pauses. “i miss everything.” a sad smile appears on simon’s lips. theo stares into his father’s eyes. he knows that simon is not okay, but he decides to ignore that and give him a tight hug. “let’s get you back to mommy’s house.” simon breaks the silence, kissing theo’s temple.

a few minutes later, simon and theo are standing in your doorstep. you quickly open the door with a smile, since you were already expecting them. you crouch when you see theo, hugging him while you kiss his soft cheeks. “i’ve missed you!” you chuckle quietly, kissing all over his face. “mom, stop, it tickles!” he chuckles, pulling away from you. simon smiles softly in silence. the loud thunder makes the three of you look at the sky. the rain is just getting worse.

you look at simon. his eyes look like coming home. like listening to an old good song after months without listening to it. “hi.” you greet him, smiling. “hey.” simon smiles back, his fingers interlocking with your strands, caressing your head gently. “he already had dinner. and he also showered.” simon tells you, just like always. most of your conversations with him are like this. you nod with a smile. “um, you should come in. it’s raining too much.” you look at simon with a an awkward smile, making him chuckle quietly as he shakes his head. “it’s fine, but thanks.” he says, looking at you. “seriously, don’t drive right now. don’t make me worried.” you reply, touching his arm in a friendly way. simon seems to be hesitant.

“please, dad. stay a little longer.” theo grabs simon’s hand, pulling him inside. simon could never deny his son, so he gives in, clearing his throat before looking around your cozy living room. the living room that was once his, too. it’s a bit awkward to realize that he let you stay without even thinking twice, while he had to buy another place to live. “make yourself at home.” you say the magic words and simon feels that pain in his heart. this is his home. or used to be…

“can i get you something to drink?” you ask with a weak smile. “i’m fine, thanks.” he smiles back and you nod. simon takes a seat on the couch, theo throws himself beside his father. before you could sit next to theo, he leaves the couch to give attention to the puzzle on the ground. you and simon look at each other with a soft smile. you sit next to simon on the couch, making sure to keep a certain distance. “so, did you guys have fun?” you ask with a playfulness in your tone. “of course, mom.” theo chuckles, focused on the puzzle. simon chuckles too, his gaze shifting from theo to you.

“hey, can i talk to you about something?” simon asks, laying his arm lazily on the couch, his body turned towards you. you swallow hard, nodding. “sure. what is it?” you smile nervously. “tell claire to stop talking about sex in front of my son, for fuck’s sake.” simon laughs quietly, touching your hand and squeezing it in a playful manner. your cheeks get instantly red. “w-what? i mean, how… how do you know it’s claire?” you seem embarrassed at first but you end up laughing, slapping simon’s thigh.

“i know all of your friends, idiot. only claire would talk about such things in front of theo.” simon laughs again, making you laugh even more. “i already told her, alright? she’s impossible, i swear…” you smile playfully as you shake your head. “oh, i can tell.” simon mutters in a joking tone. you raise an eyebrow at him, mockingly. “she’s so blunt, it’s funny.” he adds, chuckling.

“she really is. remember that time when you first saw her? it was right in the beginning of our relationship, we had just started dating…” you say with a nostalgic smile. simon’s attention is fixed on you, a laugh wanting to leave his throat because he knows exactly what you’re talking about. “fuck yeah… she said: oh, honey. this isn’t your boyfriend anymore, it’s ours. i couldn’t believe my ears when she said that.” simon completes, laughing out loud, just like you.

“oh my god… i was so embarrassed. i felt so bad for you.” you mumble between chuckles, grabbing simon’s arm in a playful manner. “i was willing to break up with you, she almost scared me off.” simon jokes in a teasing tone, chuckling. you roll your eyes with a laugh, pushing him away. he laughs, adjusting himself on the couch. you stare at his lap for some reason, maybe because you just had flashbacks of the two of you having some late night fun on this couch. simon raises an eyebrow at you, clearly judging your malicious stare. you shy away.

the tension is too heavy when simon sighs quietly, staring into your eyes with so much longing that it almost hurts. he misses you like crazy… but then his brain reminds him that your boyfriend is probably upstairs, waiting for you, as he lays down on the bed that you used to share with simon. suddenly, he gets mad. he gets mad because that stupid boyfriend of yours doesn’t deserve you. he can’t even handle being with a woman like you. simon clears his throat uncomfortably, trying his best to ignore his intrusive thoughts.

“mom, did you tell dad about your wedding?” theo breaks the silence while focused on his puzzle and the world stops. simon holds his breath for a while, staring into your eyes as if he’s pleading to hear that this wedding thing is a joke. he feels like theo’s words opened an unhealed wound. he sighs quietly, looking away. the realization hits him. so you weren’t bluffing when you said that you were actually willing to marry your boyfriend. your eyes are filled with despair as you notice simon’s reaction, you can almost hear his heart shattering. “i’m so happy for you.” he finally says something, but his words are meaningless, shallow. he leaves the couch so he doesn’t have to be near you.

“w-wait, where are you going?” you stand up too, grabbing his arm. “i’m going home.” simon replies with a fake soft smile. you can see in his eyes that he’s devastated. “simon, just… stay. let’s talk.” you swallow hard as your touch stays on him. “i think we’re both done talking.” he replies in an annoyed, upset tone, still faking a small smile. “no, simon. i know you…” you insist in a frustrated frown. “don’t leave me in the dark, alright? please. your opinion matters to me.” your voice breaks a little, already fighting the urge to cry. simon has that pain hidden in his face, that you only saw when he was right on the edge.

“what do you want me to say, y/n? do you need my approval, is that it? don’t you think i’ve had enough of your bullshit already?” simon asks with an extreme frustration in his tone, a hint of betrayal. you hold eye contact with him in silence. a silence that’s too loud. you lick your lips nervously, swallowing hard. “i need… i need you to be okay with this. i need to hear you say that i won’t hurt you if i marry him.” you say in a whisper, your eyes tearing up.

simon sighs heavily, looking away in disbelief. he takes a step back. “oh, you want me to be okay with this? you must be out of your goddamn mind.” simon says with a hint of sarcasm. “i can’t keep doing this, y/n. i can’t keep getting in the way of your new love life, just because you want me to. stop relying on me to make decisions that i don’t have the power to make. i’m so fucking tired of having to watch you give all of your love to another man, right in front of my eyes.” simon stares at you with a certain anger as he comes closer again, grabbing the back of your neck with both hands. he’s tearing up. “can’t you see that?” he whispers, almost begging.

“you ended me the night you asked for a divorce instead of trying to make things right again, because you know damn well that i was more than happy to fight for you. for our marriage.” simon’s tired eyes are still on yours, just like his hands on the back of your neck. “so yes, you will hurt me if you marry him. after all we’ve been through… you betrayed me. i spent years loving you, treating you right, taking care of you, helping you through tough times… just so you could change your mind about us and fall in love with someone new in less than a year.” his chest tightens with his own words, pure betrayal consuming his veins.

“all i ever wanted was you, with all of your qualities and flaws. i wanted my son to have both of his parents living under the same roof. but maybe i asked for too much.” he says, a hint of disappointment in his low voice. tears start running down your cheeks and he sighs tiredly, wiping your tears away, again. “you see? you break me in half but i’m always the one to put you back together somehow, when your boyfriend should be doing it. so look me in the eyes and say that he deserves to be with you. say it. you can’t. because it’s my hand you reach for when you’re falling apart.” simon adds, kissing your tears away. it catches you off guard.

you can’t seem to have the strength to answer, so you just stay silent, feeling the safe warm feeling of his touch on you. simon stares into your eyes, waiting for a response. “y-you don’t understand, simon…” you mutter in a shaky voice. his hands are shaky too. he closes his eyes for a second, feeling even more frustrated and desperate with your words. his pleading gaze fixed on you, his chest rising up and down.

“you don’t seem to understand how this breaks my heart, love. you haunt me. i search for you in anyone, anywhere. i search for you in my empty bed, in the passenger’s seat of my car. in the grocery store, by my side, reading our grocery list out loud. i search for you when i’m out with our friends, when i’m at my mom’s and she asks how have you been, when i’m watching our favorite movie with theo for the thousandth time.” he swallows the lump in his throat. you close your eyes, you can’t handle it anymore. “god knows i even miss your toothbrush next to mine.” he chuckles quietly and sadly, making your heart break.

theo stares at his parents with sad, guilty eyes. but he knows that this seems to be a conversation for adults, only. so he stays quiet, turning his attention back to the puzzle. “you said you wanted my opinion, so i’ll give you just that. i want you to be happy, with or without me. if you’re sure that he’s the one for you, marry him. don’t let me hold you back.” simon’s voice is trembling, he keeps holding back his tears, he needs to sound firm and reassuring. “i’ve got you, always.” he adds and you sob uncontrollably, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug.

you hide your face in the crook of his neck while he strokes your waist gently. “i… i can’t live without you.” you whisper against his skin, almost begging for him to keep getting in the way of your new love life. simon sighs heavily. “you don’t mean that, love. you were the one who decided to live without me in the first place.” he places a bitter kiss on the top of your head. simon hates the fact that you make him weak to the point where he doesn’t even mind being raw and vulnerable. you know all sides of him, anyway. just like he knows all of yours.

“dad, please…” theo mutters, making the two of you stare at him with surprised eyes. “just tell her.” he turns his gaze towards his parents, holding back a cry. simon immediately walks towards him, crouching in front of the kid. he feels terrible for having that type of conversation with you in front of his son. theo starts crying quietly, making simon widen his eyes with a certain despair. “h-hey, kiddo, it’s okay…” simon picks him up, hugging him tightly. “i’m so, so sorry. i shouldn’t have said all of that in front of you, i’m sorry, buddy.” simon strokes theo’s back, kissing the top of his head.

you take a deep breath to calm yourself down, trying your best to stop crying. you have to be strong for your son. you walk towards them. “you always make her cry, dad…” theo mutters with a sob and simon’s heart and breathing stop for a moment. “theo, baby, no… it’s not like this at all.” you stand up for simon, caressing your son’s wet cheeks. “your dad is… the most caring, lovable person in this whole world, okay? don’t ever say that again.” you plead him, kissing his forehead. simon feels like shit.

“he’s a liar… he said that you’re still his love… that he misses everything.” theo says in a low tone, touching your face. simon sighs heavily with a defeated frown. you look at simon in silence, speechless. “enough, theo.” simon says in a more firm tone. he puts his son back on the ground, crouching in front of him. simon looks theo in the eyes, grabbing his shoulders gently. “sometimes love is not enough, but you’re too young to understand that.” simon completes, caressing his son’s cheeks.

theo stares at you with hopeful eyes, waiting for your response to his father’s statement. but you never open your mouth. “i already told you, mommy’s in love with someone else and that’s okay. that’s life. people come and go, right? just like waves. you know when we’re at the beach, swimming in the sea? the waves, they come and go.” simon smiles softly at him, kissing the top of his head before standing up. theo looks at you, disappointed.

“i-i do love you, simon.” you grab his arm, getting a little mad at his statement. “don’t say that in front of our son.” you scold him with red, puffy eyes. “you know exactly what i meant.” simon bites back, almost in an angry whisper, touching your arm briefly. “just be happy, alright? but don’t you dare be happier than you were with me. do this one thing for me, love.” he adds as a single sour tear runs down his cheek. he can’t hold back anymore. simon runs his fingers through your hair gently, while more tears start filling up his eyes. he breathes out, placing his hand on the back of your neck.

you’re staring at him as if you’re screaming i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry. i’m sorry for punishing you for things you never did. he pulls your face closer to his, leaning his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, so you can’t see how betrayed he feels in the corner of his eyes. “you broke me like your promises, but just between us… you’ll never be unloved by me. you’re too well tangled in my soul.” he whispers, being completely honest. you sob, speechless. then he kisses you. it’s not a passionate kiss. it’s a sad, tender, salty kiss. it’s the last kiss. it’s the closure kiss, for him.

this is the night in which simon finally sets himself free from the bitter embrace of your ghost. he officially gave up on you, for good. and you can feel it too — in the way he breaks the kiss without even looking at your face. he even seems a bit disgusted. simon pulls away from you, walking towards the door without looking back. now you feel cold without his body to make you warm. “i’ll pick you up at school tomorrow, kid.” simon mutters to theo in a defeated cold tone before leaving your house.

your love maimed him so excruciatingly well that suddenly he feels like a soldier who’s returning half his weight, waiting for his lover’s deadly kiss to put him in a never ending sleep.

#call of duty #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley #simon riley angst #simon riley fluff #simon riley smut #simon riley x y/n

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gentlyweeps-world · 3 months

Text

miles away

summary: not the ending you’d expect.

pairing: logan sarge x fem!reader

warnings: alcohol mentioned | suggestive tones

genre: rom-com | slow burn-ish | angst | fluff

notes: please tell me this made sense 😭

words: 1.1k

LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO

Logan hated parties- you knew that. You knew he was off in a corner, nursing either a coca cola and rum, or a shitty seltzer.

You didn’t know why your friends thought it was a good idea to throw a party for his birthday, you knew he’d be fine with a small group and definitely not a party.

“Hey…opted to go for the mysterious and brooding route?” You say with a chuckle and smirk, leaning on the wall next to him.

You didn’t get to see him a lot, since you stayed in Miami and he went all over the world, miles away from you.

“Yeah, wasn’t feeling the whole frat vibe tonight..” He says with a chuckle, raising his drink to his lips as his eyes twinkle, admiring you.

You let out a small laugh at that, “That’s shocking..” You say with a smile, “Shame I don’t have anyone to beat Kenny and Carley in cup pong…”

You knew that would get his interest, maybe get him out of his shell for the night.

“Ohh..okay, let’s go show 'em then..” Logan says with a grin, leaning off of the wall and throwing his arm over your shoulder.

Least to say that got him out of his shell, and coincidentally out of his clothes- and maybe out of his “no relationship at the moment” rule.

Well it wasn’t exactly a relationship, but it definitely wasn’t a friendship. Maybe friends with benefits who’d tell each other that they love each other every so often?

It seemed like a common thing anyway, what was the harm?

“I just- I don’t know if I can keep on doing it mentally..y’know?” Logan whispers out over facetime. It was late at night, at least for you.

“Logan..baby, you’re only four races in, you can’t just give up yet because it hasn’t gone your way..” You say with a soft sigh, looking at his tired face through the screen.

“Plus you’ll be back here in Miami soon, I’ll be there to watch” You add on with a smile.

“I know I’m only four races in…” Logan pauses for a moment. You know him well enough to know that he doesn’t really like to be so open. Even with you. You’re different.

“..but this is hard…I really thought it would be different, you know?” He tries his best to smile back. “I made it, but I’m not proving my worth”

His words broke you. You knew he felt left out, you knew he wanted to prove himself, show what he had to offer at Williams, but he needed time. “Just give it some more time Log, you can’t give up”, You say reassuringly.

“What if I don’t have anything to offer?” Logan chuckles with some nervousness to his tone. That was always an insecurity of his. That he wasn’t good enough. That he couldn’t keep up with the other drivers.

“What if this isn’t for me?”

Least to say it was a rough few days. You needed to see Logan- and he craved you.

“God I’ve missed you..” He says with a sigh, wrapping his arms around you as soon as he got into your hotel room.

He was upset, you were upset that he was upset. P20 wasn’t what he wanted for his home race- but he kind of expected it.

“Hey..I’ve missed you too..” You say softly, wrapping your arms around him, leaning into his body, letting yourself decompress into him.

Logan holds you in his arms almost desperately. With that weekend behind him, it was time to take a second to recharge. And what better person to recharge with than you?

“I love you so- so much.” He whispers, his breath still heavy from his drive. He presses his face into your neck, and your hair, breathing it all in. He felt a bit more alive now that he was in your presence.

As always, this was home. You were his home.

“I love you too but- uhm no offense but you smell just a bit…” You say with a chuckle, pulling away from him with a soft smile.

“Oh really, Y/n?” He says with a grin, pulling you right back into his arms and throwing you over his shoulder.

“No!” You screech out, “No! Logan! Put me down!” You say with a giggle, hitting his back lightly.

“Nope! Not gonna happen, sweetheart!” He says with a chuckle, dropping you onto the bed before he lays directly on top of you.

“You are such a dork Logan..” You say with a chuckle, trying to push him off of you.

Logan lets out a laugh, moving to pin your wrists together between you both, leaning closer and kissing your cheek, your neck, your jaw- all over your face.

You smile up at him for a moment, finding what to say. “You’ll prove yourself, don’t stress it Log..”

“I hope I do soon.” Logan leans in and kisses your lips once more.

After that he was gone again, miles away. You woke up the next morning next to an empty bed, with a note on the nightstand.

It hurt. Of course it did.

You wanted to know what you were, obviously you were something but you weren’t “official”, you don’t just say I love you to someone and not want to be with them.

You didn’t question it, you knew he was under a lot of pressure. You didn’t want to bother him.

So you didn’t.

Next thing you knew you had Logan’s arms wrapped around your waist, finally celebrating something. His first point.

It felt a tiny bit silly- but he deserved it. After all, a win is a win.

Logan was so proud of himself as he hugged you tight, lifting you up in his arms. He didn't care that it was just a single point, he had deserved it. You were by his side through all of it.

"Thank you for sticking by me through all of this Y/n." He whispered into your ear.

“Of course Log..” You whisper back, “I’m so happy for you, you don’t understand..”

An then he was gone again, miles away once more.

But it felt better for some reason, you knew he gained some confidence, something to help him.

You watched Mexico, Las Vegas- all of it. You kept up with him, and he kept up with you.

No you guys didn’t put anything official out, you were posted, he was posted, pictures were taken and obviously rumors were made.

But after miles away- literally and figuratively, he was yours and you his.

“Y/n, baby? Did you hear me?”

“Hm?” You mumble out, glancing up at him, tuning out all of the people and noise.

“Do you want to go dance now? Since you’re out of your heels?” He asks, holding out his hand for you to take.

“Sure..” You say with a smile, taking his hand and following him to the dance floor.

“Thank you for agreeing to be my wife after everything..” He says with a smile, placing a chaste kiss to your lips.

“And thank you for always being mine despite being miles away”

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚

notes 🪩: actually had so much fun with this, I hope it all made sense! send in any comments or requests!! don’t be shy to ask to be added to the taglist 🤍

permanent taglist: @cixrosie @amajixi @i-wish-this-was-me @nelly187 @hannahwsworld @sltwins @itsprashimusic

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doobea · 6 months

Text

✰⋆⁺★ I SURRENDER ALL OF ME ─ CHOSO KAMO

synopsis: choso takes a lot of things seriously - this includes childhood promises and vows.

contents: very fluffy, sfw, no curse AU, childhood friends to lovers, gn!reader, death jokes thrown around, umm just imagine the rest of the curses as humans LOL, sorry mahito - ur interesting word count: 1.4k a/n: bye this meant to be a small drabble but ended up being semi lengthy... sorry i havent been active as much ;;

Two fruit punches, a full bag of grapes, and four sandwich halves in a colorful lunch box sit between you and Choso. It isn't until it's down to one fruit punch, half of bag of grapes, and three sandwich halves left that you decide to build up the courage to blurt out a burning question.

"Do you want to get married?"

Your best friend doesn't bat an eye at your inquiry as he finishes the remainder of his drink and rips off a piece of crust from his meal, tossing bits of it into the pond in front of him. The moment a flock of ducks fight over the the pieces, he answers.

"Doesn't everyone?"

"Yeah, but—" Heat rushes to your cheeks as you force the next words. "Do you want to get married to me?"

This time, Choso turns his head and tilts it, eyebrows creasing and the birthmark on his nose scrunches just ever so slightly. The eight year old looks mildly offended that you even asked that.

"I only want to be with you," he proclaims with all the vigor that a child has. Then, with another chunk of crust thrown in the pond, Choso continues with all seriousness. "But you need a ring to propose, right?"

"I..." you trail off, fumbling with your empty juice box as you try and search for the right words.

To be honest, you didn't expect that response from Choso. If he isn't interested, he would've your question, and that would be that. It isn't like you two can actually get married anyway. And yet, watching Choso fiddling around with the patch of grass next to him, examining and ripping the longest blade he can find, you can't help but to anticipate a response from him.

Choso looks satisfied with himself when he raises the makeshift ring in your face. You only had a split second to inspect the 'jewelry' before his voice rings in your ears. "Will you marry me?"

You find yourself answering without much second thought. "Yes."

Both of you hold onto your breaths as he slides it on. It's not the perfect size, a bit too big for your finger, but there's a little bow at the top that's tied with a small yellow dandelion. Your chest swells with happiness and did the next thing that an eight year old would do - you lean in and press your lips to Choso's cheek, the way you've seen your parents do to each other hundreds of times. When you pull back, Choso is staring, cheeks inflamed.

You smile brightly at him.

You're going to kill Satoru and Suguru.

They just had to decide that a maid and butler themed cafe wasn’t going to raise enough money for the college fundraiser this year. They both just had to decide to set up another booth, and not just any booth — a kissing booth.

And Satoru, for some reason, thought it would be funny to put you in charge.

You're not entirely sure how the rest of the elective board approved of this idea. And you're still not entirely sure why you have to wear a stuffy uniform along with it.

You're going to kill Suguru first, and then give Satoru a slow painful death.

"Pfft, oh my god!"

No, scratch that. You're going to kill every student that comes up to this dumb booth. The first victim starting with Mahito.

Your stomach churns as you watch him and his little group of friends trail behind him, edging closer to the booth with a wide grin plastered across his face.

It takes every fiber in your body to not physically lunge forward and punch him. Getting this booth shut down not even ten minutes in would have you running around the track field as part of Suguru's punishment. You're ignoring the sweat trailing down the back of your neck and pray that Mahito isn't serious about putting his lips anywhere near you.

"Fuck off," As long as it's not physical, you plan to verbally assault him as much as you can.

You force yourself to look pass Mahito and sneer at the rest of his friends. It doesn't surprise you to see all of their lips quivering, trying their best to not just burst out laughing in the middle of the campus courtyard, which they're all failing miserably at. All of them are giggling to themselves like middle schoolers but one man.

His eyes catches yours, looking mildly unfazed before tired eyes suddenly widening at recognition. You have to do a double take and, upon closer inspection, you let out a small noise at the sight of the distinguishable birthmark on his face.

"Choso?" You haven't seen him since he moved away several years ago. Who knew he would've ended up at the same university as you, let alone hang out with an annoying guy like Mahito.

Before he could even respond back, Mahito begins fishing for something in his bag. Then, your worst nightmare comes to life as he pulls out a fucking wallet. You're mentally preparing yourself to throw up on the spot, then calling your club presidents announcing your leave as treasurer, then killing yourself. That is, until Choso slams down a couple of bills of his own.

You take a moment to process what just happened before staring bewilderedly at your childhood friend, who just kept a straight look.

"What the fuck?" The voice comes from Mahito.

"That's cheating," Choso begins and now you're really confused.

"You guys are dating?" Another voice chimes in, you think it belongs to Jogo.

With a firm head shake, Choso responds, "Married, actually."

You can't tell if this is his way of protecting you from Mahito but you go along with the act anyway.

"Married." Mahito repeats slowly.

"Married." Choso confirms.

Then, the other male points a finger at your direction. "Since when?"

You smile. "Since we were kids."

You awkwardly clear your throat, stuffing your uniform in your bag as you stride out of the bathroom back in your regular clothes. Choso greets you right outside with a subtle smile, signs of his friends from earlier gone and the small shoebox in his hands, the one specially for today's event, has a total of twenty dollars. Twenty of his dollars and zero kisses were made.

According to Suguru math, that's, like, ten miles around the track field.

"Thank you, I don't know what I would've done if you weren't there," you finally speak after he offers to walk you back to your dorm.

"Technically it would've been cheating," Choso jokes nonchantlanly.

You snort, shoving the male just slightly along the empty gravel path. "Well, you're a terrible husband because I haven't heard from you in over a decade."

Choso winces, rubbing his neck and mumbling a soft, "Sorry, I forgot to ask for your house number before my family moved."

Choso has always been relatively quiet as a kid, and even now you can still see that he keeps to himself by some of his habits, but your days spent throughout middle school to high school were relatively much quieter without him by yourself. Thankfully, he saved your ass today, so you suppose you can spare Choso's life for now.

"Social media is free, you know?" You tease back.

He laughs. "Didn't get my first phone until second year of high school, and that year I found out I had a half-sibling."

You stretch your eyes wide, almost tripping over your feet, and then your gapping mouth evolves into a smile. "Okay, wow—that's huge news, I guess I can forgive you for that."

"He's a senior in high school, might be thinking about coming here next year."

"He similar to you?"

Choso shakes his head and looks fondly ahead. "Livelier. Kinda like jock but one of the nice ones."

After rounding a corner, you speak again, eyes now glued to his messy pigtail buns. "Your hair is cute, you've always kept it down as a kid."

Choso self-consciously runs a hand over his scalp, tints of pink paint over his face. "Thanks."

You decide to be bold and interlock your arm with his. You watch closely as his body flinches at the contact but he doesn't pull away, doesn't say a word.

Your stomach does a few threatening somersaults. "I thought about you almost everyday, you know?"

For a moment, Choso says nothing and you're starting to wonder if you're going to be left in suspense but, after he reaches to the steps of your dorm building, he says, "Me too."

You elicit a sigh of relief and tug his arm closer. "So, you planning to start walking me to classes and getting lunch every day now?"

Choso brushes the hair out of your eyes before resting his forehead against yours. "If that's what will make me a good husband, then yes."

#doobea writing #choso x reader #choso fluff #choso kamo fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #choso kamo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #MY BOYFRIEND <3

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theteasetwrites · 1 year

Text

Daddy's Home | Part 1

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 5 (Alexandria) ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: SMUT (18+)—oral sex (male receiving), dominant-ish Daryl, doggystyle, so much dirty talk, like one tiny spank (just a little one), mutual masturbation, vaginal fingering, oh yeah and DADDY KINK, language ❧ Word Count: 4.3k

❧ Summary: When Daryl comes back home from a week away, he doesn't want to sleep. He just wants you.

❧ A/N: Ok so yes I know the title is ridiculous, but like... what else was I gonna call this oneshot ok? Anyway, here's some major daddy kink. Like a lot of daddy kink. Daryl is just daddy. Sorry but he is. I can't explain it. Actually, yes I can. He's a protector, a provider, a big softie. He's a daddy, and I don't even have daddy issues but just let me have this. Goodbye I am never showing my face here again. <;3 Also I simply cannot get over how hot he is in this gif holy mother of god.

The quiet was nice, late nights in Alexandria, gentle summer breeze prickling at your skin. It was nice to leave your bedroom window open through the night. Daryl hated it, always going on about how someone could climb the trellis outside your window and sneak in while you slept, but when he was gone, you’d indulge yourself in that one simple luxury.

When he told you that he was Alexandria’s newest recruiter, you knew you’d be in for some lonely nights ahead. Still, you also knew Daryl was the best man for the job—you’d seen him bring dozens of people to the prison, providing them shelter while expecting nothing in return, and then going out the next morning to do it all over again. That was when he wasn’t going out on his hunts to find food for everyone, often bringing home the biggest deer you’d ever seen, until he’d do it again next week, and bring home an even bigger one.

Yes, there was no doubt about it—Daryl knew what he was doing out there, but it didn’t stop you from worrying about him. Missing him. So while the quiet was, indeed, nice, you still could not get used to being alone, in this perfect little suburban townhouse, waiting.

Your waiting became so monotonous, sitting up in your bed and reading another old Agatha Christie novel, that you decided, at length, to migrate downstairs, the living room. When Daryl would come home, you thought, you’d greet him right away. That was how much you were anticipating his arrival.

One week was nothing, really, but it was the longest you’d been apart since knowing each other, and with the world the way it was, a lot could happen in seven days. A lot of bad, bad things.

So you flicked on the lamp, snuggled yourself into a knitted blanket, and curled up on the sofa, book in hand as you let out a quiet huff. “Daryl…” you said to yourself, scanning your book to relocate the exact sentence where you left off. “Where are you, you big meatball.”

Your nervous jitters only worsened with the passing hour, your legs shaking involuntarily, your finger tapping on the edge of the book, your toes wiggling nonstop. All you needed was the sound of that bike, that big, stupid bike. That would ease your fretful heart. Well, what would really make you happy was seeing that man of yours, no doubt in need of a shower, but still, your man nonetheless.

Speak of the Devil, as they say, and he doth appear.

It started out as just a distant hum, perking your ears and making your spine straighten in anticipation. Still frozen, you listened intently. A rumble, now, mechanical and getting louder with each second your heart began to beat faster. At one fateful moment, the roar of the makeshift machine was at its highest volume, and before you could even stand, a bright beam of white light shone through the blinds of the front window.

All at once, the light and the rumble ceased, punctuated by a low huff, followed by an exasperated grunt. Heavy footsteps plodded along in a familiar pattern—you even recognized the sound of his no doubt mud-caked boots scraping against the edge of the steps leading to the front porch. You could only hope that this time, he’d take the extra precaution of removing his boots before he stepped over the threshold.

There was a spring in your step, you wrapping the terry cloth fabric of your robe over your chest as you flitted towards the front door. Finally, you stood just a few feet back, your eyes transfixed on the shiny bronze doorknob. Inevitably, a wide grin made your cheeks swell until they almost ached, but the wait was worth it.

When he came through the door, his head was hanging low, until he felt your presence. Lifting his gaze, he met your great big smile with a smaller one, though the movement of his body betrayed him. The door shut with a strong thud, just before he stepped forward to let his crossbow fall from his shoulder. With a soft grunt under his breath, he buried his nose in the warmth of your shoulder, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips.

For a good while, he stayed like that, only taking in the sensory relief you provided him—your faint scent of rose, your softness, your tender chuckle as your hands rubbed in vertical motions up and down his aching back. Despite the rigidity of his tired muscles, he melted into you, letting himself bask in the comfort you provided him. To hold him like this was nothing short of a ritual between you two, whenever you were apart for long enough to begin missing each other to the point of near grief.

A man like Daryl—who’d been through so much as he had, who’d seen so much and had still so much room in his heart to give of himself to others—deserved to be held the way you held him. Few people in this world had a heart as big as him, though he did not show it in ways most people would recognize. He showed it in acts of service, in providing for people who could not provide for themselves, in the ones he loved safe. It was what you always adored about him: how he gave of himself, and expected nothing in return.

“Hey, there, tough guy.” Daryl buried his face deeper into you, now snug in the crook of your neck, where he caught the scent of your perfume, applied much earlier in the day, yet still lingering sweetly. Though you adored how much he clung to you, you longed so much to see his face. Your hands grabbed a hold of either side of his head to lift his gaze to yours.

As usual, his disheveled hair hung low over his forehead, obscuring one of your favorite features of his—his eyes. Between strips of tattered brown curtains, you could make out the blue-grey hue of his irises. Pushing them back, you smiled again at those deep-set pools of silvery cobalt blue. You always found their mystery to be intriguing.

“How are you?” you asked, though you knew from the state of him that he must’ve been exhausted. He hadn’t even muttered a word, and yet the more prominent than usual bags under his eyes spoke for him. “You must be tired, hon. Let’s get you in bed.”

But as you turned towards the staircase, a firm grip pulled you back by the wrist, until you were in his arms now, laughing at his sudden burst of energy. Despite your amusement, he did not smile, only looked at you with a heavy, dark gaze, and a lick of his lips.

In your surprise, you hadn’t even noticed that both of his hands were now wrapped around each wrist, so tight that you nearly feared he’d cut off your circulation.

Something was wrong, had to have been. You’d never seen him so… intense. Of course, Daryl could often be intense, when he was angry especially, but this wasn’t that. Anger was something you could recognize in Daryl. He’d never directed it towards you, but you knew it, and this was something different.

“Are… are you feeling okay, sweetie?”

Silence, just that gaze holding you hostage, and a heat rising from his body that you could’ve sworn caused a bead of sweat to form on your brow.

Now he was scaring you.

“Daryl?”

Your voice tempted him further. If only you knew just how much he missed you, how much he needed you. A week was too long. A week without you, a week without your touch, a week without your sweet, dulcet voice. And oh, how that voice awoke in him a terrible burning, a conflagration of deadly proportions, a fire that could only be extinguished by the one he loved.

Entranced by his stare, you hadn’t noticed that he had you pinned against the wall, his strong, heaving chest keeping you there.

And when he pressed himself against you, you knew. It was obvious, the way he nearly thrusted into you.

When you realized what he wanted, you felt a wave of relief wash over you: he needed you just as much as you had needed him the past week. From the night he left, you’d not stopped thinking of him, and when you’d turn in your bed to feel for him, and he wasn’t there, the ache for him only worsened.

There was no way in Hell, though, you were going to initiate sex when he got home. You knew he’d be tired, and a good night’s rest was what he needed before you even thought of asking him to make love to you, but now, with that wild look in his eyes, that hungry snarl in his lip, that flare in his nostrils, that beating of his heart…

“Oh,” you sighed, your teeth biting back your lower lip as your eyes trailed up and down his body. With your hands finally free, you ran them up his arms, letting them settle on the broad, firm shoulders you loved so much.

For just a moment, he leaned forward, forehead and tip of his nose meeting yours. With his hardening cock beginning to dig between your thighs, and his vaguely tobacco tinged musk tickling your senses, you could only utter one word.

A soft, nearly whimpering mewl: “Daddy.”

By the time he got you to the sofa, each of you were already panting, hands moving relentlessly as you both clawed for any part of each other’s body you could get your hands on. Your mouths worked tirelessly, tongues spinning sloppily around the other’s in your haste to finally have each other again.

When you successfully removed his leather angel-winged vest, you worked on unbuttoning his black shirt, but his hands stopped you.

“Need your mouth,” he said.

Leaning back on the sofa with a low grunt, he began unbuckling his belt, while you slotted yourself between his legs, hands massaging his clothed thighs, thick and flexing against your palm.

When his cock sprang out of its confines, you’d already stripped yourself of your underwear and your robe. In only a transparent silk nightgown, your hips swayed instinctively as you watched his hand begin to stroke himself, up and down the long, thick shaft you’d come to know and love so much.

“Come ‘ere.” His hands reached out to grab either side of your head, bringing you down to his cock. Panting lips began to drool a bead of saliva down the side of his growing erection. Knowing what he wanted, of course, you took the reddened, swelling tip into your mouth, much to his immediate relief.

“Fuck.” As your mouth slid a little lower, your hand wrapped around the base of his cock. His grip on your hair tightened as his head fell back on the arm of the sofa, a soft breath of your name on his lips.

Returning to watch you, he lifted your hair into a makeshift ponytail, tilting his head to get a better look at you, your eyes fluttering up to meet his gaze.

“Pretty angel.” Even just the utterance of that affectionate pet name made you feel an overwhelming need to touch yourself. With your free hand, you lifted your nightgown to slot your fingers between warm, velvety folds of aching flesh. “Ya look so good like this… Suckin’ on Daddy’s cock.”

It was somewhat of a tradition now, using that phrase, though only in the context of sex, in your most private, intimate moments. It was silly, you knew it, and he knew it, too, but you both found it excruciatingly sexy all the same. It was sacred in that you’d probably die of embarrassment if anyone else besides Daryl knew of your little… kink.

But neither of you could quite help it, you adoring his strong, protective nature, and him just finding it so alluringly sinful. Guilty pleasure type of thing, with emphasis on pleasure.

And besides, his dirty talk was sex all on its own.

As your mouth took him in progressively deeper, your fingers moved faster, increasing the friction against your sensitive spot, then slowly dipping down into the embrace of your entrance.

Not only could he admire your mouth, and your sweet soft moans, but he could watch your fingers enter you, your hand shaking as you penetrated yourself to match the rhythm you knew he liked when he had his cock in you.

“Love when you fuck yourself like that.” He only wished he was the one doing it. “You thinkin’ of me?”

Well, it was hard not to think of him, with his cock in your mouth.

Taking the opportunity to catch your breath, you answered him. “Yes, Daddy.”

His hands pulled you back down onto his cock, your lips forced open by his tip. “Just don’t make yourself come,” he said. “That’s for me.”

Yes, Daddy.

Sliding over your tongue, his cock dug deeper, towards the back of your mouth. Going down on him was always a bit of a challenge, given just how big he was, but the weight of him inside you, wherever that may be, was far more rewarding. And when you got to feel that little twitch, his cock moving all on its own as it begged for release… It only made you suck harder, sliding your mouth up and down, taking him in deeper until you were nearly gagging.

But he liked that, the sound of you struggling just a little to take all of him. Daryl was a sensitive man, yes, but he was still a man—proud of his big cock, even if he was insecure in most other areas. At least he was big, and at least he knew how to use it.

With his hand on the back of your head, firm, but still gentle enough to let you up if you needed it, he pushed you down just a bit more, hearing your gag become more guttural, more strangled. It did not hurt, though. It only turned you on, your fingers curling inside you to tickle that special spot, and your other hand fondling his balls, tightly drawn to the underside of the base of his cock.

For several moments, the only sounds coming from either of you were your strained groans, his slipping from between his agape lips, yours muffled by his length filling your entire mouth. Between those sounds of pleasure were the sloppy squelches of your lips soaking him with your saliva. You were always so messy when you went down on him, but how could you not be? His cock provided you no room to lick up your drool, stuffing you until your spit had nowhere else to go but down his veiny, hard length.

Of course, he’d have to tease you about it, how sloppy you were. “Messy girl,” he said, his hand gripping your hair to pull back your bangs. You fluttered your eyes open to meet his, and you were greeted by his crooked smile, with just a sliver of those shiny teeth showing. “Gettin’ Daddy all wet, huh? Nice and wet so I can fuck you good.”

Yes, Daddy.

Eyes rolling back slightly, he bucked his hips up with a jolt, your sucking beginning to tip him over the edge. Just in time, too, for your hand was getting tired of rubbing, and you needed him to finish you off.

“F-fuck, angel. Imma need ya to get that pussy ready for me.”

Whatever he wanted, you’d give him. After all, you were his good girl. Always his good girl. You couldn’t think of a time you’d ever been a bad girl for him. Daddy deserved his good girl.

Yes, you were a good girl, but you could still be… needy.

“Oh, Daddy.” Now straddling his waist, your fingers went straight for the first button on his shirt. “Want you.” He loved when you whined, just a little, and when you were so needy for him that you couldn’t quite make out a completely proper sentence. “Want your shirt off.”

He let you undo just a few buttons, exposing the hairs on his chest that drove you crazy, made you want to feel those wiry hairs between your pursed lips as you trailed your kisses all over his broad chest, made so strong and big by all the manual labor he did, and that heavy crossbow he always used.

That very same strength pulled at your wrists, then raised you up only to lay you down, sprawled out on the other side of the couch. Now he hovered over you, the tip of his cock hanging down to be tickled by the fabric of your blush pink nightie. He always liked pink on you, matched the color of your cheeks when he talked so dirty to you, made you feel like a whore, but not in a disrespectful way. Never in a disrespectful way.

Besides, you knew you were more than that to him. You knew he loved you. Two years together, through some of the most abject pain and suffering imaginable, would do that. But in moments like this, it felt good to be just his personal whore, whom he happened to love very, very much.

Tenderness blossomed between your lips and his, where he kissed you so deeply, so sweetly. And yet, you still clawed at his shirt, your fingers begging for him to let you see his gorgeous body, after so long away from him.

“Shit,” he laughed into your mouth. Sitting up, he began to undo the rest of the buttons, then peeled off his shirt with his chest puffed up, clearly a bit cocky. When your hands shot up to grasp at his pecs, the faded ink of the tattoo above his left nipple having taunted you, he chuckled again.

“Daddy,” you laughed back, your voice a drawn out, dramaticized whine. “Come on.”

Now you were testing him, and he held back the rest of his laughter to put on a stern, domineering face. “Hey, now. Be a good girl.”

He felt your thighs squeeze together underneath him, and your hips jolting upwards. He knew what you wanted, and he’d give it to you, but this position wasn’t quite right.

With a breathy grunt, he grabbed you by your waist, flipping you over, then lifting your bottom until it was sticking out at just the right angle. Lifting your nightie, he licked his lips to watch you move your hips from side to side, as if to taunt him.

“Cute little ass,” he practically cooed. Leaning over you, his chest pressed firmly to your back, he nuzzled his nose against your pillowy cheek. All the while, you felt his hand slide between your now nearly dripping wet folds. Eyes closed softly, you hummed a soft whimper at the feeling. His hands were always different from yours, so much bigger, stronger, rougher. You’d never felt a touch quite like his, and part of it was because he touched you with such tenderness, even if he tried to manhandle you a little. He was still always gentle, somehow.

In the most honeyed, silky, yet scratchy, voice, he rasped in a whisper, “Did ya miss me, angel?”

“Yes… Daddy, I missed you so, so much.”

“Mm, I missed you, too. So much.”

Finally, you felt his tip just barely graze your hole. Not only was he torturing you, he was torturing himself, but he loved it. He needed it, otherwise he was sure his peak of pleasure would go away just as fast as it would come. With you, in this moment, he needed to prolong the desire as much as he could. He could feel it coming soon, though, that tensing in his muscles, that tingling in the pit of his stomach, that twitching that made his cock seem to bounce against your folds on its own accord.

As he slid further into you, you felt his lips find the back of your neck, where he left little kisses the more he sank into you. It felt so good to feel him again, that fullness. It was a feeling only he could give you, his unique way of moving, his cock fitting so perfectly inside you.

Underneath your nightgown, his hands found your breasts. Tense, strong fingers curled like claws at the soft tissue. Even in his dreams, of which he had many while he was away, he could not recreate that texture—that pillowy soft flesh swelling against his fingers. And the inside of you, the warmth and tightness that hugged his cock and accepted him with each pass, in and out.

Soon, he leaned back to watch your body envelope his, the shiny, milky coating of your arousal making it easier to slip in and out of you, his hips thrusting in ever increasing speed.

“Daddy…”

God, he loved being called that. Much more than he should’ve. But, then again, he’d probably find you sexy even if you were calling him “dickhead.” He really didn’t mind, as long as you were calling him something.

“Mm, angel… Daddy’s here now, sweetheart.” He delivered a harder, stronger thrust, pulling a loud, strangled moan out from deep inside of you. “That feel good?”

“Fuck, yes!”

As if to praise you, he delivered just a small, weak slap to your bum. That was about as hard as he was willing to spank you, given how much he hated the idea of hurting you, but he knew you liked it, and he liked it, too, the clench of your body from the slap making him jolt forward.

“Takin’ it good… Real good.”

With one hand still squeezing your breast, the other now drawing tight circles over your clit, he made your lips tremble and your muscles tighten as you began to approach the height of pleasure. You could feel it, just on the brink of release. And he felt it, too, which was why he pulled himself out of you, flipping you over again like a ragdoll.

You were startled when he pulled you down by your ankles, until you were closer to him. He gave his fingers a good, long lick, then let them sink into you, where his cock had left you stretched wide open and dripping wet.

Three fingers. Three thick, strong fingers, curling up inside you, making you writhe and groan as your hands shot up to grasp at his shoulders. Through half-lidded eyes, you watched his neck bulge with the strain of trying to keep himself from coming, and it only aroused you more—those muscles flexing and throbbing and burning underneath hot, sweat-dripping skin, tanned by days on end out in the sun.

What he needed so badly was his own release, after so long of working so hard out there, risking his life for the good of Alexandria. As his forearm and biceps flexed with every push of his fingers inside of you, his chest heaved harder and harder, while you reached between your legs to find his cock. With your hand pulling on his length, and your walls clenching around his fingers as your release reached a tipping point, you both would soon be giving each other much needed relief.

“Daddy,” you sighed, tugging harder on his cock as frustration overtook you. The closer you got to orgasm, the more you couldn’t wait any longer. “Make me come… I wanna come.”

“Ah, angel… I’m gonna come, too.”

Just moments later, you tensed and gasped and writhed and moaned, rocking your hips upward as his fingers stayed inside you, squeezed by your contracting walls. “Oh, Daddy!”

He leaned forward to lay on top of you, his sturdy weight keeping you in place as you rode out your high, soaking his fingers with your arousal. The heat of your cheek seemed to burn his lips as he kissed you there, then rubbed his button nose in delicate circles to soothe you. “Yeah… Daddy’s got ya, sweetheart.”

With your hand still tugging on him, he gasped a heavy breath, spilling out over you right then and there, his hips thrusting into your hand in desperate, sloppy motions. The orgasm was so strong that he lost his composure for a moment, his head falling into your chest as he groaned your name, over and over and over again.

And now he freed his hand, using it to rub up and down the sides of your torso, your skin like fine silk under his worn, calloused fingers. In his hair were your hands, massaging his scalp the way you knew he liked, until he lifted his head to offer you a gentle smile.

“Mm, I’ll never get tired of that.”

You tilted your head with a wide grin. “I didn’t think you’d want to do it tonight. I thought you’d be exhausted.”

He breathed a low huff before rolling over onto his side. You did the same, letting him hold you with his chest pressed firmly to your back. There wasn’t much room on that tiny couch, but you made it work. After all, even if you were in bed upstairs, you’d probably still be this close to each other, clinging for dear life, never wanting to be separated again, though you knew someday you’d have to.

“I am,” he said. “Just… I dunno, needed you, s’all.” Observant as he was, he took notice of your shivering, and reached back to grab the knitted blanket that had been draped over the back of the couch. He covered the both of you, then tucked his chin into your shoulder, where it seemed to fit perfectly. “Missed ya so much, could hardly stand bein’ without you.”

Even now, after you thought you’d be used to his sweet words, he still had a way of sending those butterflies aflutter. “Well, now you’re back home.”

That sounded so good to him—back home.

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated!

Masterlist

Part 2 (coming soon)

#daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfic #twd #twd fanfiction #norman reedus fanfic #norman reedus #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus x reader #daryl dixon smut #the walking dead smut #twd smut

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the-maw-consumes · 1 year

Text

“Have you…ever been in love?”

Steve blinked. That…wasn’t what he was expecting. Still, there’s only one definitive answer.

“Yep,” he answers, popping the ‘p’. “Nancy Wheeler. First semester, senior year.” His mimicked gunshot doesn’t even cover how that felt, but he does it anyway.

“Oh my god,” he hears from the other side, “She’s such a priss.”

Nancy Wheeler is a lot of things; priss, she is not. And maybe she doesn’t need him to defend her, but, still, he hums, “Turns out, not really.”

Robin scoffs as if that’s unbelievable, and maybe it could be. Then, she asks, “Are you still in love with Nancy?”

No, is the first thought in his mind. And, well, it’s strange to think his answer would’ve been different at the beginning of the year, as much as he’d told himself he’d moved on back then. But, the months in between have just made him realize that how he feels for her has changed a lot since October. He loves her, of course he does, and he’ll never really get over her. But, he doesn’t think he’ll ever love her like he did again.

So, after a moment, he says, “No.”

Then, of course, she asks the question he’s been avoiding thinking about: “Why not?”

There’s a lot of answers to that question, but Steve…well, he knows the one that’s most responsible, even if it’s been thrown to the back of his mind. He’s never really brought it to the light of day before—if bathroom lights could be called that. But there’s just something about this moment, sitting with Robin on a probably disgusting bathroom floor with his mind still kinda floating, that makes him feel like it’s safe here. They just went through hell—there wasn’t a better time, right?

“I think,” he starts, “it’s because I found someone who’s a little better for me.” He huffs a laugh, “It’s funny, you know? Ever since Dustin got home, he’s been saying, like, you gotta find your Suzie, you gotta find your Suzie.”

“Wait, who’s Suzie?”

“It’s some girl from camp, I guess his girlfriend. To be honest with you, I'm not 100% sure she's even real.” Steve shakes his head and kinda wishes he’d thought up a better analogy. “But that’s not really the point. Uh, the point is…I think I already found my Suzie. You know—this person is someone I didn’t even talk to in school, and I don’t know why. Maybe Tommy H. would’ve made fun of me, or I wouldn’t be…prom king. It’s stupid.” He sighs. “I mean, Dustin’s right, it’s all a bunch of bullshit anyways. I should’ve been hanging out with this person the whole time. I wish I did. I mean, they’re so cool and hilarious—I feel like, the past few months, I’ve laughed harder than I have in a long time. And they’re smart, and a dork, but so passionate—you know, they can talk on and on about so many things, it’s amazing.” Captivating, really, but the second it takes to reminisce about those moments are enough to make him realize he’s been rambling for like, minutes, and he’s gotta stop at some point. So, “They’re honestly unlike anyone I’ve ever even met before.”

Steve smiles to himself for a second, his head still feeling a little flighty—but the silence keeps dragging on beyond that. The smile falls a bit, and Steve really hopes he was careful enough with his words. He really hopes he can trust Robin if he wasn’t.

“Robin?” Steve taps on the stall wall between them, the sound echoing through the bathroom. When the silence just gets heavier, it’s with genuine concern that he asks, “Robin, did just OD in there?”

“No.” He breathes a sigh of relief, then hears it echoed, though weighted, from the other side. “I…am still alive.”

Still, there’s something so heavy in her tone, and a visual confirmation that she is alive becomes essential for him. So, shuffling over to grip the wall between them, Steve slides underneath the stall and lands a little to the left of where she sits, alive and breathing. She smiles a bit.

“The floor’s disgusting.” He huffs and glances down at the sailor uniform that has (probably) seen better. “Yeah, well. I already got a bunch of blood and puke on my shirt, so…”

She breathes a bit of a laugh, and, at the very least, some of the heaviness is gone. Alive and breathing.

“What do you think?” he asks her, almost intentionally vague.

“About?”

“Am I in love with Nancy Wheeler?”

“No,” she grants. Then, very decidedly, “But, I think you’re on drugs and not thinking clearly.”

And the look she gives him feels too significant, too weighted, and he really, really hopes he was careful because the possibility he wasn’t is starting to loom over him. He can’t argue that his mind was in stellar shape a few minutes ago, and everything she’s done since then is just working to form a pit of dread in his stomach. It feels like wishful thinking to consider that nothing she’s said has been outwardly accusing, but it’s still there.

Why did he have to say so much?

No, no, right. The drugs. Robin may be right, he probably wasn’t thinking clearly. And, damn it, this may not be entirely his fault but he does not want the repercussions for it.

“Well, I think I’m thinking pretty clearly now.” Wishful thinking, it is.

“You’re not.” Somehow, her expression feels like an echo of his own worries. “Steve,” she starts, and the dread gets worse, “you’re not thinking clearly about this. Look, you don’t even know this person—” Wait, what? “and if you did know them, like, really know them—I don’t think you’d even want to be their friend.”

Steve blinks. That—That’s what she was talking about? How did she even know who he was talking about? He shakes his head, honestly baffled. “Wait, what? That’s not true.”

She speaks again before he could ask what about everything he said was so revealing, “Listen to me, Steve. It’s shocked me to my core, but I like you—” Harsh. “I really like you. But I’m not like your other friends. And I’m not like Nancy Wheeler.”

Well, Steve thought he was thinking clearly, but he is lost. Somehow, this conversation has escaped him within the span of two seconds, and the moment feels wrong to ask how they got here. But, if he’s going to take any guess at her meaning, he much prefers thinking she’s…supportive, maybe. Indifferent, even. So, he doesn’t think of the ball of dread winding through his chest, and he tries to follow what Robin may be saying. “Robin, that’s exactly why I like you.”

And that is the truth, really. He’s never had a friend like her, if they could be considered friends. This summer has carved a small space for her in Steve’s heart, and the past few days have done numbers on expanding that space. She’s funny and smart and definitely not like Nancy Wheeler, wherever that came from. And he really doesn’t want to lose her, not right now. If they get out of this, he wants to be her friend. He wants to know her better than ice cream shifts can tell him.

Robin scoffs lightly as if that’s not what she needed to believe him. “Do you remember what I said about Click’s class? About me being jealous and, like, obsessed?”

“Yeah?” He nods slightly.

“It isn’t because I had a crush on you,” she says, slowly, as if a plea to make him understand. He doesn’t. “It’s because…” she continues, hesitant in her words, and he desperately wants to know how to make this better because his heart breaks for the expression she has. Then, quickly, like ripping off a bandaid, “...she wouldn’t stop staring at you.”

He blinks. “Mrs. Click?”

A breath of a laugh at that, but her eyes plant themselves on the wall. She clarifies, almost resigned, “Tammy Thompson. I wanted her to look at me. But…she couldn’t pull her eyes away from you and your stupid hair.” She looks back at him, with watery eyes. “And I didn’t understand because you would get bagel crumbs all over the floor and you would ask dumb questions and you were a douchebag!” She shakes her head lightly and he really is trying to understand. “And…And you didn’t even like her, and I would go home and just…scream into my pillow.”

Steve stares for a second, trying to will his brain back into place, his thoughts to something clear, because something is being said here, something important and—

The puzzle pieces click together.

Oh.

Oh!

“Holy shit.”

“Holy shit,” she echoes.

Unwillingly, Steve laughs. A bark of laughter just bursting out of him because, jesus-–this entire situation is so botched. But her face falls and he immediately stops in a wave of guilt and throws himself at reassuring her. “No, no, that’s not what I meant! I didn’t mean to do that.”

Robin looks away again, shrugs. “It’s fine.”

No, that won’t do. Steve shakes his head, vehemently, and taps her hand. “No, Robin, seriously—there’s been a huge misunderstanding here. I don’t have a crush on you.”

That makes her look back at him, eyebrows furrowed “What?”

“I think you’re awesome, Robin, and super cool and smart. I really want to be friends with you, seriously. But I wasn’t talking about you.” And Steve could stop there, but she just revealed…herself to him and he owes it to her to do the same. He knows how terrifying that is. “I was— Jesus.” He laughs again, brushes a hand down his face. And, still, knowing about her doesn’t make it any less terrifying to say it out loud. “I was talking about, um,” Like a bandaid, right? “...Eddie Munson.”

Her eyebrows seem to go to her hairline, but he celebrates the light that’s back in her eyes. “What.”

“Yeah, we uh—” There’s warmth in his cheeks. This is the first time he’s saying any of this out loud. “I don’t know how it happened, but we ran into each other one day and just started talking and…like, hit it off, super surprisingly. It’s crazy, he wasn’t even on my radar back then and now he’s—” Steve cuts himself off before he can start rambling again, rubs the back of his neck. “I really like him. I was talking about him.”

Robin grins. “Holy shit.” She shakes her head, repeats, “Holy. Shit,” enunciating, as if for good measure. He matches her grin.

“I had no idea what you were talking about.” He explains, “I mean, maybe I don’t really know Eddie, but how do you know that? And then you started talking about Mrs. Click’s…” he mimics an explosion in his head. “I thought the drugs completely fried my brain.”

She laughs, finally, her head falling back onto the wall, and he can’t help but follow her lead. It’s a good few moments before they stop, Robin suddenly sobering to hold a hand, saying “Wait, wait, Eddie Munson? You’re hanging out with drug dealer, total nerd, band dweeb Eddie Munson?”

“Hey, hey, I didn’t say you could criticize my taste, Miss Tammy Thompson.”

She scoffs, sounding just a bit offended, “What’s wrong with Tammy?”

“I mean, she’s cute and all but she’s a total dud.”

“She is not!”

. . .

#steddie #platonic stobin #steve harrington #robin buckley #steve harrington x eddie munson #there's plenty of these already i'm sure #but i love changing the bathroom scene around to encompass steddie #and i was incredibly bored so #here this is

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totaly-obsessed · 7 months

Text

Mess of a Mind

Alexia Putellas x reader

-> Alexia's life is much more chaotic with you and your ADHD - but she wouldn't change it for a thing

-> Based on my daily struggles in life

-> reader has ADHD

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

The moment Alexia received a text from you that read ‘I’m gonna clean’ – she already knew that she was coming home to a bigger mess than before.

Your ADHD makes cleaning things much more complicated than they need to be. But you were sick of being useless in the house. Because with Ale being at training most days and you still in university you were definitely the one in the relationship with more time on their hands. And while your girlfriend definitely didn’t expect you to do everything in the house, helping out with some chores would be nice.

But there it is.

The dreaded word ‘chores’. As soon as something fell under the category, you were all of a sudden unable to do that.

Alexia had asked you to put the trash outside one morning before leaving for training – which you were going to do anyway. But now, that it was your chore? No chance. The blonde came home to no trash outside, but a mess on the inside.

But you didn’t do nothing. In fact – you were quite productive. All of the possible trashcans that were placed around your house were now labeled their respective contents in hand-placed crafting diamonds. Nala lying by your side, nose stuck into the front pocket of your (Alexia’s) Hoodie.

The moment you saw fuzzy socks standing in front of you, was when you realized that you were supposed to take the trash outside. You hadn’t even heard her come in. Ale however wasn’t mad at you, she could see that you had vacuumed the entire house, as well as unloaded the dishwasher. As always you had left the last item on top of the kitchen aisle when your brain was already finished with the task, when in actuality there was still something left.

“Hola bebe. What are you doing?”

It was moments like these that you realized how much of a saint your girlfriend really was. Mapi, like the curious cat she was, peeked at her friend’s phone – wondering what she had seen that had her face all scrunched up. “What did your Roomba text you now – huh?”

Yeah. Roomba.

That’s what your girlfriend’s teammates called you after Lucy had compared you to one. Not because you were Ale’s live-in maid, but because her captain had once come home after a meeting, to a mess of a living room. Loads of different craft projects everywhere. And after following the trail of abandoned projects and broken dreams, she saw you. Stuck in the corner – panicking like a Roomba who can’t get back to its loading station. Lucy and Keira had both been there when Ale found you. That is how your nickname was born.

“She said that she was going to clean up.” Alexia tried to ignore her best friend laughing at your plans – knowing what happened the last time. But upon arriving at your shared house – you were nowhere to be found.

As expected there was chaos everywhere.

The vacuum was lying on the ground, directly next to the coffee table – at least it wasn’t running. Or rather what was left of the said table – two legs were missing, both on the same side, so now it was lopsided, and a once-filled coffee cup was lying on the rug, its filling now spilled on the carpet. The mug must have slid down the table, once it missed its legs.

Approximately every bowl that your kitchen holds placed on the counters, is filled with various things. The footballer recognized the ingredients to your favorite cake. The bathroom mirror was still covered in cleaning spray – apparently, you forgot to wipe it off.

She had already changed at taken a seat on the couch when she heard the front door open and your muttering once you entered. “Hola Ale!”

“Hola mi amor.”

“Oh god! What happened here?” The blonde throned on her usual corner of the couch in the midst of the chaos, Nala in her lap – both of them looking at you with curious eyes, wondering what you would do. “I don’t know what happened – it looked like this when I came home.”

Both of you knew that it could not have been Nala, the tiny dog did not have thumbs to turn on the vacuum.

Once the stain caught your eye – you remembered everything. “Oh right! I was vacuuming and then I hit the coffee table, but it wobbled so it was broken, so I had to fix it! Then the mug slid down the table, it spilled all over the carpet! So I went to the kitchen to grab paper Towles!”

This was better than any TV show Alexia could have watched – she was not mad. “And the cake in the kitchen?”

“Oh! You are right!” You were now following your own mess as if you were a detective discovering a crime scene. “I went to grab the paper towels to blot the stain – then I remembered that I wanted to make a cake – but I spilled milk. So, I went to grab toilet paper to clean up.”

Alexia, Nala and you were now standing in the bathroom, a foamy mirror laughing at you. “Right, and then I sprayed the mirrors, but I had no towels to wipe it off, so I went to the store!”

Now you had solved the crime – your main suspect? Yourself.

Alexia could not help but laugh at your satisfied facial expression once you came to your conclusion. After packing away your shopping you realize that you had gotten everything aside from why you had gone in the first place. “Why did I want paper towels again?”

Your girlfriend did not answer you. She was leaning against the fridge, muscular arms crossed in front of her and she just stared at you. A soft smile on her lips. “Ale?”

After planting a soft kiss on your forehead, she led you to the living room. “The stain, bebita.”

“Oh! You are right!” Without hesitating you dropped to your knees in front of the still-wet stain. No wonder there, but before Alexia could react, you had pulled your shirt off and thrown it on the coffee – blotting the stain.

The blonde pulled you up by your elbows “Oh baby. Could’ve used a towel.” You looked like a bratty kid, being held up by your girlfriend while you tried to get the stain away. “Oh right! We do not have paper towels; I will go and get some!”

The Barcelona player set you down on the couch as gently as she could “No mi Corazón. You already went out.” She was gentle and sweet and ever so patient as she helped you tidy your mess.

It was late when you finished, your brain now tired from running at 180km/h the entire day – so Alexia decided to order takeout. It took her twenty minutes to figure out what you wanted to choose from her suggestions because your very low attention span sprang from the TV to Nala, to your book, and then to the still very-much-there stain.

Ale had to take you to your shared bedroom, sit you on the bed, and kneel in front of you – one hand holding both of yours in front of your chest, the other holding your face so that you could not avoid her eyes.

But finally, you had settled on Pasta. She even figured out which one you wanted.

Once it arrived both of you carried the things you needed from the now clean kitchen to the couch, sitting down ready to eat.

Or at least that was the plan.

While Ale already started eating, you realized, that you missed something. “Oh, I need a freakin’ fork.” And with that you had stood up again, wandering to the kitchen and while you came back with a fork, you just stood in front of the couch.

Ale watched closely as your eyes drifted off. “I need to get my sauce.” And *poof* you were gone again.

You returned with said sauce and sat down again. Ale already saw what was coming, holding onto your plate that wobbled when you stood up with force, throwing your hands up in the sky. “Freaking fork!”

Fork in one hand, water in the other, you came back. Before setting both items down on the table, you looked at your girlfriend – “Would you like some water as well baby?” The older woman nodded, she appreciated that you thought of her while your brain was driving you insane. “That would be nice, thank you corazón.”

She felt bad seeing you walk away with both water and your fork in hand, but she didn’t want to stop you, in fear that you would think that you were stupid, not being able to get everything you needed. So, she let you be.

Alexia even waited patiently as you sang in the kitchen for five minutes, before coming back with two water glasses, handing her the one you had already taken a sip out of. “Did you take my fork?”

“No baby. I think you left it in the kitchen.”

“No, I didn’t, I put my fork here.” Instead of showing her a specific place, you just plainly pointed to the entire table. But there was no second fork – so you went back again returning victoriously with a fork.

A deep sigh left your body after finally sitting down next to your girlfriend again. “What happened to your water?”

After bringing it up, Alexia felt bad. Your eyes squeezed shut, your fingers massaging your temple where an annoying headache would surely be forming.

“I left it.”

Now you had everything. Food, fork, water, your girlfriend, Nala, and your favorite TV show.

You were incredibly hungry by now but after taking a bite, you let your fork fall into your pasta. “My food is cold now.” Without saying anything, Ale stood up and heated it back up for you.

Later that night you were finally lying in bed, Alexia’s hand rubbing your back, cooing in your ear. “Today was hard for you huh, bebita?” Soft kisses were littered all over your face and neck, the blonde smiling after being able to get a smile out of you.

“Tomorrow will be better.” While your ADHD could be frustrating, Alexia would never be angry at you for doing certain things or not doing them – she was just so happy to have you.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso #woso imagines #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #barca femeni #barca femeni x reader

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strawberryforks · 4 months

Text

drunk fools to lovers // jj maybank x reader

summary: a drunken hookup has a bettering ending than anyone expected (terrible summary but i’m exhausted)

warnings: swearing, allusions to sex (nothing too crazy i still have no clue how to write smut), underaged drinking

word count: 1098

the first thing that registered in your mind was that the light was too bright and someone needed to shut it off. the hand you draped over your eyes was reflex just like what you shouted, when hands started pounding against your door, trying to knock it down or at the very least get your attention—which they had. “shut the fuck up!” you screamed in response. your head was throbbing, mind lagging behind, and thoughts still suspended in whatever liquid you’d drank way too much of the night before. fuck, you felt like you were the door. “jesus! alright, alright, i’m coming,” you groaned and shoved at the comforter. it wouldn’t budge. you kicked a bit, winding your legs up, because they were trapped. trapped under a blanket, trapped—someone groaned.

awareness returned, your hand stopped covering your eyes. fingers kneaded into the mattress as you pushed yourself up, bending at the stomach. you looked down at yourself first—missing your bra and no doubt panties, and with a boy in your bed, quite literally on top of you. it wasn’t the forst time this had happened and probably wouldn’t be the last, but the embarrassment slammed into you like a wave anyways. the kind that would knock you from your board and bully you underwater for awhile… fuck, you weren’t proud, but this was… it was manageable. the knocking never ceased but you were getting used to the pounding. if the door didn’t break becore you figured out what mistake you’d taken home with you, you’d be fine. john b was a protective bastard but he wouldn’t have to know. push the nameless one-night-stand out your window and be done with it. yeah, that would work.

looking down at the mess of blonde hair, you prod the boy. your eyes are still blurry, your head still hurts but unfortunately, the light you need turned off is the fucking sun, and you’ll have to deal with it for another 12 hours. “hey,” you whisper. “hey. wake up. you gotta go.”

the figure who’s figure you take the time to admire groans again. ringed fingers swipe through their hair, messing it further, as you shove harder. “my brother’s going to kill you if you don’t get out of here. kill, as in… murder.” there’s not many other ways you can explain this but the boy seems to finally understand. he startled, and when he lifted his head up, your eyes met and fuck. woah, okay. it was jj. jj maybank.

your jj. your brother’s bestfriend jj. that jj.

your brother really was going to kill him.

now you’re panicking.

“y/n i swear! let me in or i will kick down this door!” your brother threatens.

“i’m fine john, shit! give me a minute to get dressed!” you’re staring at your brother’s bestfriend with wide eyes but at least you’re not lying. you get up, scramble to put on an oversized t-shirt, and make crazy gestures with your hands.

jj, like you, is freaking out. he’s slipping on his shirt, putting on his boxers and then jumping into a pair of sweats. he looks good, really good, and your tongue darts out to wet your lip. you can see how this happened—what you can’t see is where to go from here. “oh my god oh my god.”

you’re nodding, agreeing, because this is crazy and unexpected and you’re not sure that either of you remember what went down last night. goddamn keggers.

“the window!” you’re whisper-hissing, helping him hoist it open and holding it that way as he crawls out. “we’ll talk about this,” he tells you while you all but chant “go, go, go.”

then you’ve got to open the door. to face the music. “hey john… couldn’t have been a bit quieter?”

“its lunch time, y/n/n.” he peers around you, into your room, as if not truly believing your alone and okay. “and you were wasted last night. i had to make sure you weren’t lying dead in a puddle of vomit”

“yeah, yeah. you’re not one to shirk your brotherly duties. did you happen to make breakfast?”

“eggs and bacon, plus, i made you some of that vitamin c drink you swear by.”

“you’re the best,”

“i know.”

john b leaves, he and jj hangout, as always, and then, a few hours later all of the pogues are meeting up to go surfing. john b, kie, and pope are in the water while you’re hanging back on the beach. jj jogs over to you—he’s been trying to find an opening to talk to you and now is as good as any. unfortunately for him, you’ve had hours to overthink. hours and hours to myll over the fact that you finally slept with your crush and didn’t even remember it aside from some day-after-aching. you’ve had hours to agonize over the fact that he doesn’t want you, doesn’t remember you, and probably can’t stand to be around you anymore. after all, you had to have embarrassed yourself. drunkenly professed your love or something crazy.

“jay i’m so so sorry.” you rush out, “that was a mistake, a drunk mistake, and we can pretend that nothing happened—no one has to know and i swear i won’t tell my brother.” your words spill everywhere, fast and full of panic. you can’t lose a friend and you can’t make things awkward withing the group. no-pogue-on-pogue-macking was like, the one rule, and you went and broke it.

jj isn’t wearing a shirt and that isn’t good because having this conversation, you need to focus on his face, how he’s reacting, and responding. his arms are crossed over his chest and he doesn’t look mad—he looks confused, maybe? worried? “is that what you want?”

“is that what i want?” you echo

“because it’s not what i want, but i can respect it, if you’re sure. i’ll have made an ass out of myself because i spent the afternoon begging john b to let me take you out on a date—“

“we’re going on a date? you asked john? for permission?”

jj smiles, almost shyly, and palms the back of his neck. “it felt like the right thing to do.”

you laugh, smile lightning up the sky, and brightening his entire day. “jesus jj, we’re going on a date, not getting married.”

he wraps you in his arms, hugs you tight. his hands are on your lower back, yours are wrapped around his neck, one threaded through his hair, “but we will someday.”

“yeah?”

“yeah. the most sure about anything i’ve ever been.”

#outer banks x reader #outer banks #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #john b routledge #routledge!reader #the pogues #obx fanfiction #outerbanks imagine

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synthetickitsune · 1 month

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omg i woke up and saw your post about requests and came running!! you alr know i need all the angst in my life so can i please req dk + come back to me if he hurts you” 🥺🫶🏻

thx for helping me realize i write mostly angst for sunshine boy and continuing the tradition 🫶🏻 akjddsk

DK (SVT) | “Come back to me if he hurts you.” angst | 0.7k | gn!reader

He stares at you, processing. It feels - well, there’s no way to put how it feels. His chest is hollow. He has no parallel to draw, so he just… stares.

The information shouldn’t come as a surprise. He’s heard through the grapevine that you began dating again. Honestly, should he even care? He does. But should he? Does he have any right to care? The split was amicable, mutual. Friendly even. You’re friends still. You seem happy. He’s genuinely happy that you are happy, so why…

“Seok? Are you alright?” your panicked voice and slowly approaching hand make him wake up and flinch away. He feels his face soften from whatever grimace he was making upon seeing your hurt expression.

“Sorry, yeah,” he clears his throat, “I’m alright. Uh, so things are good, yeah?”

He tries hard to ignore your face morphing into a mask of indifference.

“Yeah, things are good,” you repeat.

The silence that follows is awkward and stretches on. He wants to break it but he has no idea how.

“This was a mistake, wasn’t it?” you laugh, but it sounds empty as you hide your face in your hands, “I don’t know why I told you.”

“Hey,” he protests way too quickly and his hand immediately shoots to your shoulder, and he pulls it back just as quickly. You turn towards him and frown. It’s unusual to see him so serious. “I want you to tell me. You’re my friend.”

Your smile is sad. He hates it.

“We’re more than that, Min,” you sigh. It’s quiet again and he’s just as helpless.

“I guess I want to tell you everything - would that be cruel?” you meet his eyes again, but all he sees is the anxious way you fidget with a loose thread on your pants, “I guess I just want to know if you think we’ll work out. You’re the one who’d be the best judge of that.”

“I’m the worst one to be the judge of that,” he corrects you, his voice slipping into his comedic persona easily, “Seeing how things turned out.”

You do laugh and some of the unpleasant feelings lift off his shoulders. He doesn’t know what would be the best or most appropriate thing to say next. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to feel. All he knows is he has to start talking or this will be very pathetic very soon.

“I’m really happy for you, sorry,” he smiles, blinking away some of the moisture in his eyes, “I don’t know why this-” he motions vaguely to his face, “Happened.”

You chuckle, but looking at you, your eyes are wet too.

“I get it,” you nod, “I’m so scared it’ll end wrong again.”

He sighs. As if he didn’t know the feeling intimately well.

“Did-” he stops himself before he can finish, thinking better of it, but you push for it anyway. “Did I do something? Something so bad it makes you afraid now?”

“Oh god, Min, no,” you rush to reassure him and end up grabbing his hand in both of yours. You bite your lit. This isn’t exactly how you expected the talk to go. “If anything you loved me too well. So I’m afraid I won’t feel love like that again. Or that I’ll fuck up and lose it.”

“You couldn’t ever fuck up like that,” he laughs - the idea alone is so ridiculous, “Because you’re the kind of person nobody would want to lose.”

You shake your head, leaning into him with a laugh. He’s warm against your side. It feels comfortable. Comfortable like it used to feel even before you dated, like it did when you were together too. You missed being this comfortable with Seokmin after the breakup.

Things change, but maybe they don’t need to be all that different. You have too much history to let go. And all of it is good - as much as humanly possible.

“Come back to me if he hurts you,” he outstretches his pinky to you. You huff, but there’s a wobbly grin on your face anyway when you promise with your own.

“You got it, Min.”

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen reactions #seventeen imagines #seventeen angst #svthub #seventeen x reader #dk scenarios #dk angst #dk x reader #seokmin x reader #svt reactions #svt scenarios #svt angst #drabble #angst #requested

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seravphs · 11 months

Text

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — MICHAEL KAISER x FEM READER

Kaiser’s always there for you after a failed date. Maybe this time he has something better than advice.

wc — 800

tags — friends to lovers, confession

“It can’t be that bad.”

“The man I’m dating is a flat earther.”

Kaiser wordlessly pushes his drink towards you in a show of support. You down the glass, relishing the burn as it goes down. It’s wet and cold with condensation, and not an altogether terrible cure to alleviate your headache.

“Any other conspiracy theories he believes in? Maybe tinfoil hats?”

“Kaiser - this is not helping.”

This is a weekly ritual that’s the only constant in your life. You switch jobs often. Shitty boyfriends come and go. But Kaiser and Lunar Love, your favorite local bar, are always the way you end your Friday nights.

You don’t know when the tradition started, but it probably happened sometime between meeting Kaiser when you were working a low-level job for the JPN Football Association and crying into his rock hard shoulder after your sixth failed first date in a row.

Bad things happen during the week. You dump them on Kaiser on Fridays. That’s just how it goes.

You would feel bad, but Kaiser’s really, really terrible at comforting people anyway. Not only is he too muscular to be a good pillow - you still wince recalling how sore your neck had been the morning after you slept on his shoulder - but even his attempts at making you feel better with words sucks.

Guy talked about his ex the whole time?

“Ditch him and leave with the breadsticks.”

It doesn’t matter if you tell him that’s bad advice. Kaiser doesn’t care about normal benchmarks for propriety and manners and social standards. He just does whatever he wants whenever he wants, and he expects you to follow suit.

When your boyfriend of two months had ditched you to watch Kaiser’s football match with his friends, Kaiser had laughed himself silly while you complained to him on the phone later.

“Quit football,” you tell him.

“What, so your lame boyfriend will pay more attention to you? No way!”

“I just don’t get what I’m doing wrong,” you groan.

“It’s not your fault the men you date are assholes - well no, it kind of is. Stop dating assholes, I guess.”

“Don’t blame the victim!”

But then there was the time the man you were meeting for a first date had tried to get you to join his cult.

You had texted Kaiser an SOS under the table as the man and the two other cult recruiters he brought with him (who brings plus ones, much less plus twos to a date?) tried to convince you to give up the life of ‘sin’ you were leading.

You should’ve known he was too hot to be true. That’s how they get you, you think ruefully. Now you’re stuck at this table trying to make excuses for living a life of debauchery when-

“Excuse me,” Kaiser says. “What are you doing with my girlfriend?”

Your head snaps up.

“What are you doing?” You mouth at him.

You look at the cultists. He’s making it worse. Oh, he’s definitely making it worse. One girl has her hand raised to her mouth in shock and horror. Another is actively praying for god to deliver you from evil.

“Come on, honey,” he says, tugging you up from your seat. “It’s time to go home.”

“Miss,” says the original cultist who asked you on the date. He really is cute, with a sweet and earnest face that makes you want to coo over him if he wasn’t actively trying to indoctrinate you. “If you leave now, your soul will never be saved.”

Kaiser makes a face like he’s thinking about doing something very inappropriate for fun, and that’s when you rush out of there. Once you’re on the sidewalk, you slow down, walking hand in hand as you head towards his car. He swings your arm a little.

“One day,” he sighs, “I’m not going to be around to rescue you.”

“No you won’t,” you tell him with a grin. “You love me too much for that.”

“Yeah,” he says with a rueful smile as he opens the passenger door for you. “I do.”

That’s how you know Kaiser really does care about you. He cared enough to show up and rescue you. Maybe not the best way he could’ve done it, but still.

That and the fact that he wouldn’t be paying for twenty dollar cocktails just to hear you whine about your love life if he didn’t care about you, but he’s just not great at showing that love.

Case in point: “Just give up on your shitty dating life,” Kaiser says, rolling his eyes.

“Excuse me?” You say, outraged. “It’s not like people are lining up to date me, mister!”

“Why do you need a line?” He looks annoyed. “I’m right here. I’ve been here all along.”

Bonus: Kaiser’s name in his contacts for you is “miss unlucky-in-love”. When you start dating, he changes it to “lucky” and forces you to change his to “good luck charm.”

#sera writes #michael kaiser x reader #kaiser x reader #blue lock x reader #michael kaiser fluff #bllk x reader #bllk fluff #blue lock fluff

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