Tumgik
#by zone out i mean feel not real :heart eyes:
anantaru · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
I HATE EVERYONE BUT YOU
Tumblr media Tumblr media
— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — scaramouche has always been yours, yet he needs you to know that you'll always be his no matter what— even when you get all flustered while he shows you.
— ꒰ a/n ꒱ — in scaramouche we what?
— ꒰ wordcount ꒱ — 1.7k
— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ns]fw, fem! reader, jealous! reader, dom scara, rough sex but very passionate, scara hates everyone but you, slightly possessive scara, spitting, cumming inside of you
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
"you have nothing to worry about,"
"stop thinking about it and look at me," fingers gracefully trace on your bare skin, "because i need you to realize," drawing all sorts of shapes into your searing flesh, like subtle curves into your ribs, "that you'll never get rid of me," and lines dragging across your stomach when scaramouche's hand ultimately settles on your hips.
your stomach does flips at his words, and a fresh tide of relief cuts through your initial doubts. he grins and clicks his tongue, eyes dancing with amusement when he catches your shyness, "hm? what's up with you? where's this pretty voice of yours now?" and that smile, ugh, he cannot help himself but irritate you abundantly, especially when he knows how you'd react to his words.
"shut up," you hiss, "don't do that,"
"do what?" he cocks a brow, "—that?" he breathes, boldly as his thumb rolls over your clit in slow circles. the fire in his eyes was hard to miss and when he feels your body react to his loving trace, he's more than happy to indulge in those waves of lust— most notably show you that he'll never go away.
"fuck—" you whine, "you're mean," and you find out that his thoroughly chosen words would end up adding fuel to the looming wildfire burning between you both, the two of you high on the tension and rush smoldering the air.
and scaramouche's confessions were driving you into a spiral.
"careful there," he coos, "take it slow," for him, there was no competition, and even if there was a competition, you're not in it. you're above everything. you're perfect, no one could ever set his heart ablaze like you did.
scaramouche hums, "you're stuck with me." he candidly bites down on your bottom lip, "okay?" when you nod vigorously at him, your hips leaving the bed as your back arches into his digits, your hands finding immediate comfort in his hair as you tug softly at his roots to press his lips on yours.
scaramouche was pretty when he looked at you like that, kissed you like he needed you to survive— dreamily while flushed, his cheeks seething with scarlet redness when he inhales deeply for a moment.
but he's not used to all of this, and he didn't like the fact that you could become jealous sometimes— after all, humans suffer more in imagination rather than in reality, and you have nothing to worry about, scaramouche certainly thought he made that very much clear.
but he's embarrassed, although not because of the fact that he might've gotten too close to someone who wasn't you and experienced regret, which, in fact, wasn't possible.
he simply cannot stand anybody besides you.
truth be told, he's a little annoyed that you forgot about the fact that he wasn't a big talker per se, he even actively chose his schedule so he wouldn't see a lot of people, or anyone for that matter. scaramouche never sought out to make any meaningful friendships with the people of the akademiya as well— despite the god of wisdom helplessly attempting to push him out of his comfort zone.
with that out of the way, the real reason as to why scaramouche was embarrassed was quite silly, because it's due to what your jealousy did to him— fuck, he finds it beyond attractive, yet he refuses to acknowledge that a special heat conquered his chest like that, reaching his groin until he couldn't think straight.
there's a delicate challenge in your ways of reacting when he tells you that you mustn't be jealous, and scaramouche drinks it like water— he knows you're everything he's ever wished for, like ice cream on a hot summer day, you're melting his heart.
he nuzzles into your skin to inhale your scent, leaves soft kisses on your cheekbones while holding your jaw, making you look directly at him.
does he need to show you that he's utterly addicted to you? so, do you require it like a challenge of sorts? because archons, he'll do it, easy work easy done.
to note, it's not scaramouche's fault that people want to talk to him and are curious about the new addition to the akademiya— yet he doesn't like them, it's pestering when they get too close to him as well, ask if he could talk a little more about where he was coming from because they wanted to be nice, civil but end up making him scoff with a roll of his eyes.
enjoying his own company was fine to scaramouche— and he always found himself fantasizing about you all the time, particularly about your soft laughs and candid smiles, your voice, your stories and your understanding was like a sweet melody to the wanderer, and he could indulge in it during his breaks, before he needed to finish a mission, or he could imagine it every single night before he'd fall asleep to the thought of you.
your body was rubbing against his now, sweat colliding as he removes his fingers from your cunt and wraps them around his erection, pretty dark lashes accentuating his flaring cheekbones while you loop your arms around him— parting your legs a little so he could easily slide himself in.
scaramouche gently adds pressure on your tight hole before moving his hips, but it's slow— gentle and delicate that you can feel every crevice of his length in you.
a soft moan rips from his throat as you mold around him easily, feeling him attentively as he traces the thick vein along the side of your walls as your hips twitch at the slight sting deep in your abdomen.
scaramouche was as desperate as ever to show you his love through physical attention— and the word shame didn't seem to find a place in his phraseology when he forces your gaze back under his. "open and stick your tongue out," he taps, once twice, against your lips with his thumb, "wanna taste me, right? so do it now," while keeping his throbbing dick buried inside as he purposefully moves his hips a little to make you squeal.
you cannot help the way your lips curve into a smile before you're parting your lips, applauding his efforts to claim you. it's merciless when he bundles the saliva budding in his mouth before spitting on your tongue, his crystalline eyes open to catch your tremble— how can he not indulge in this? you're nothing short of perfect, pleading for him to give you more.
"show me," he commands further, groaning deep into his chest when he looks at his saliva melting with your own and how it's dribbling from your chin, his length twitching rapidly as you try to steady your breathing at the sinful scenario you're living through.
scaramouche's hands clench at your waist as he fucks you as passionate as he can, his cock pressing against the overstimulated bud in your pussy before starting slow circles with his hips, your mouth huffing out candid i love you's amidst your moans.
inch by inch he slides into you, in and out in rapid movements, the more you take the better it felt having him rub your pleasure spots he so desperately desired to feel suck on his shaft and milk the cum out of his cock. he finds it cute when your face suddenly scrunches up if he moves faster than previous, your jaw parting in awe at how much better it felt the more he upped his tempo to batter your sore pussy.
it feels good— it always does, and if being a little jealous here and there would always result in this, than you'd gladly play your part as much as he needed it. it's almost like you don't hear yourself moaning and spell out honeyed praises, too occupied to indulge on the way scaramouche rolled along your walls and the noises of his balls colliding on your skin over and over.
"fuck— you're gonna make me cum fast," scaramouche gasps, dragging his sensitive cock through you like you're made for him, as if it just fits and he doesn't need to prep you, which he in fact, really enjoyed doing as well.
frankly, nothing tasted as good as your pussy rubbing across his mouth.
one hand leaves your hips before he gives your clit a little attention, pressing through the curtains that protected your sensitive pearl as he rubs your slick over the sensitivity, smirking devilishly when you arch your back off the mattress and begin to shake, your walls spasming while being so perfect when milking his cock, your pussy dripping with slick as he toys with your clit.
you cry out a sound between a broken sob and sharp moan of his name and that's when scaramouche knows you're close too— swift when he drags his hand from your clit to intertwine his digits with your own as he fucked you into the bed, your pussy pulsing around him as your eyes scrunch shut when you reach your high, falling slack against the bed and whining out shortly when he warms you with the weight of his body.
"fuck— shit!," his hips faster, his breath quicker, "you're fuckin mine, mine, mine," scaramouche falls apart,  panting against your ear and groaning lowly, his erection pulsing while constricted by your walls as he holds his cock deeply buried in you before thrusting back and forth once, twice, three more times as he spills his load into your pussy— his warm seed setting your belly on fire by how perfect it felt to be claimed in such lewd, passionate way.
"fuck," he breathes, "gonna stay like that for a bit,"
archons, it's so sticky— borderline filthy and shameless with every intention of it being like that. your tits were still bouncing up and down from the following, last thrusts of him pumping his precious cum into your hole and making sure not a single drop gets lost midway.
after a while of collecting your breathing and turning it evenly again, you giggle out, finding his darkened hair strands as you greet him with a wet, sloppy kiss, "wanna join me for a shower later?" you mumble, eyes half-lidded as he hums softly into your lips, "mhm, or i'll decline so you'll get mad at me, right?"
"i will bite you," you threaten, shaking slightly as he pulls himself out without warning to expose his drenched cock being weaved with your slick, the filthy mixture dripping along your inner thighs,
"please do, "i'm counting on it," scaramouche ends with a wink.
Tumblr media
©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own
2K notes · View notes
ddejavvu · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Love to Lie - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader (Part 4/FINAL PART) / Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3
Summary: Your worst fear is recognized when Bradley’s jet goes down with him in it. You’re not sure why you’re still his emergency contact, you’d broken up two weeks ago, but when you rush into the hospital room, you discover that you have a chance to fix the mistake you’d been cursing yourself for. The only problem is, you have to lie to Bradley, and you discover that you love doing it if it means you get to be with him again.
Contents/Warnings: fem!reader, Mitchell!reader, angst, angst with a fluffy/happy ending, amnesia trope, hospitals and their subsequent medical details, memory loss, goose and carole are still alive because i say so
WC: 4.1K / navigation / inbox
A/N: the real last part! i sincerely hope you enjoyed this series, it's very dear to my heart and so is all of the wonderful feedback you've given me on it. I love hearing what you think, it keeps me motivated to write more for you and I'm just so happy that I got to share this with you all. Thank you to anyone who's enjoyed this, I'm privileged to have shared your time and gotten your love in return. <333
feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!
Tumblr media
You feel like he’s gutted you. Like he’s plunged the hand holding the ring right into your stomach, twisted it so that the gem inside slits your insides into ribbons, and wrenched it back out dripping and glistening in crimson.
He looks so hopeful, eyes earnest and shining as he stares at you, that damn ring held between you like a life preserve. Like if you let him toss it over your finger, reel you in with his tender heartstrings, you wouldn’t drown. You’d escape the dreadful ocean of grief that’s been slowly filling your lungs since you’d left, you’d give your tired legs a break from treading water if you could just say yes. The word is on the tip of your tongue, and your achy heart begs you to say it, but you can’t.
Not when he doesn’t know.
“Bradley,” You whimper, reaching out to lay a gentle touch over his hand. You wrap your hand around both his own and the ring, squeezing tightly, “I have to tell you something.”
Bradley’s enthusiasm wanes. He hadn’t waited long enough. You’re not in love with him yet; he rushed into things just like he had before and he’d ruined it. How did he manage to ruin it two times? The best thing in his life, and he’s fucked it up twice in a row now. 
You’re looking at him with eyes full of sadness, and he catches a flash of pity in them; just like he’d feared. His stomach sours and he balks, spooking like a startled horse.
“No, no. No, it’s okay, you’re- you’re not ready yet, sweetheart, that’s okay. We can wait,” He babbles, wrenching his hand out from your own and jamming the ring back into the drawer, like if he can just get it into a safe zone, it’ll hit undo on the entire fiasco.
“No, baby,” Your face screws up, a barely-withheld sob behind your frown, “Baby that’s not- we really need to talk. Okay? I promised we would today.”
“I- I know, but-” He stammers, trying to evade your gentle touch as you pry his hand back from his dresser drawer, the ring still clutched inside and lining his palm with a layer of sweat.
“Let me talk,” You plead, “Brad, I need to come clean. Please?”
He’s sure you can see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows what little saliva there is in his mouth, “Okay.”
“Two weeks ago,” You start, and the words feel leaden on your tongue; impossibly heavy. “-before your crash. You- you remember Javy’s crash, yeah?”
“Yeah,” His breath catches in his throat, visions of his teammate's poor girlfriend swimming in his mind. Visions of the woman he never wanted you to have to be.
“That really-” You choke on a sob, “That really freaked me out, Bradley. I realized that you could go down like that. I- I’ve always known, y’know, ‘cause of your dad. But I just- I was so young when that happened, and it wasn’t fresh, so when Javy went down… I had this revelation. That I could-” Your voice tampers down into a weak whimper, “I could lose you, Brad. I could say goodbye to you one morning and not get to say hello again in the evening. I just- lost it,” You admit, brushing away stray hair from over your red-rimmed eyes, “I’m sure you noticed I wasn’t the most pleasant to say goodbye to in the mornings. But- but baby, I was always so happy when you came home, because it meant I had more time. It felt like some awful time bomb,” You recall, “Like every time I said goodbye to you would be the last, and I couldn’t rest until you were back home. I’ve never felt like that before, I’ve always had confidence in your abilities. Even on deployment, I know you’re working with people who have your back,” You sniffle, “I’ve always known you could die, but it’s never felt that much like you would before. But then- Javy wasn’t the one who crashed,” You explain, voice thick with blubbering tears, “I mean- that was just his jet malfunctioning. And then all of a sudden I- it was like I remembered that I could lose you in some freak accident. Like it wouldn’t have to be your fault, it could just happen, and you could die. Like your dad, Bradley, I- I didn't wanna lose you like we almost lost your dad."
“That is,” You collect yourself, swallowing a heavy sob that leaves your throat achy and gutted, “My nightmare, baby.” You tangle your fingers with his where you’re still clutching his hand, squeezing tight enough to probably bruise the guy, “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you. I would die if I lost you, Brad. Even if I was alive, I’d be dead inside. I need you, I need you in my life, Bradley.”
What you’re saying sounds good to him. Terrible, of course, if he didn’t come home one day. But he is home, and you’re telling him you need him, and he can’t figure out why in the world you’ve said no twice to putting on the ring. 
“You have me,” He vows, squeezing your hand right back, “Honey, you have me right here, right now. Why won’t you let me keep you?” He presses the ring into your palm, and you both feel the metal band burning your skin like it’s been superheated.
“You asked me to marry you before you crashed,” You blurt, and even though slamming a wrecking ball into your reverie of late feels like stabbing yourself in the chest, there’s something gratifying about telling the truth. About finally coming clean, about telling him exactly why you can’t say yes.
“You sat me down, and you gave me the sweetest speech in the world,” You recall with tears thick in your voice, “About how you loved me, and how you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me, and- and you proposed, and I said no.”
He chews on the inside of his cheek, analyzing the grief in your voice. You sound anguished, like you’re upset with yourself for saying no, but you didn’t say yes this time around, so he can’t believe what he hears.
He takes a deep breath, cutting off whatever you’re going to say next, “I know.”
It feels good for him to come clean, too. Even if he's dreading what'll happen, even if he thinks there's a good chance you'll march out the door, he's glad to be done with the lies. He'd loved them while they'd lasted, but they went down in flames just like his jet.
“-and-” You stop, blinking twice, “What?”
“I know,” He admits, “I- I remember, honey.”
“You- what?” Your eyes widen, and you lean forwards, gazing imploringly at Bradley, “Brad, you- you remember? You remember everything now?”
“Yeah,” He nods, watching as you process the information.
You feel sick. You’re not sure why, because you’ve already told him the truth. But memories are different than retellings, and you both know that. No explanation on your part would have conveyed the crushed, betrayed look in his eyes when you’d declined his proposal; there’s not words in the english language suitable to describe how desperately he’d pleaded for you to stay, even in just the simplest of touches to your waist, trying to pull you back to him that night.
Now he remembers that, now you’re on the same page, and when you turn it, you’re not sure what you’ll see. 
The end of a chapter? The beginning of a new one? Or the blank back cover of a book, perhaps, if your luck has run dry. 
“When did your memories come back?” You ask, your voice sounding faraway and dazed in the back of your mind. You’re not even sure you’ve really said it, you’re too wrapped up in worrying about what he’s thinking. If your confession had spurred on his memories, you’re not sure you’ll ever get a chance to put on that ring.
Bradley swallows what little saliva is in his mouth, “A while ago.”
“How long?” Your brows furrow impossibly deeper, your brain running circles trying to figure out what’s real and what isn’t, “Like- like since this morning?”
“Since I woke up,” He confesses with a heavy heart, because lying to you hurt even if he’d loved the outcome,  “In the hospital. I- I didn’t remember at first, but they came back, uh, in a few minutes.”
You feel like you’ve walked into a cloud of smoke. Everything around you is foggy, and your brain can’t process what he’s told you. It feels like he’s lying to you, like he’s tricking you and pretending that he’s known the entire time just so as not to feel foolish. But that’s not Bradley, he doesn’t need to be smarter than you, or faster than you, or better than you, so you know he’s telling the truth.
“But- why did you lie?” You stare at him with tears glimmering in your waterline, and he’s sure this is what he looked like when he’d asked you not to go that night. Betrayed, confused, heartbroken.
“Because you did,” Bradley whimpers, wanting nothing more than to swipe a thumb under your eye and gather the tears there on his skin, taking the burden away from you.
“You came in and you asked to kiss me, and- and I wanted you to. I didn’t want to talk about what had happened, because I didn’t want you to walk out again, so I just- I lied. And I let you lie to me, too.”
You think back, and you remember how you’d walked back into the hospital room, on the verge of tears with nerves rolling in your belly. And you’d asked to kiss him, you’d given him the perfect opportunity to lie, and he’d taken it. And you can’t be mad at him, because you’d lied, too. You’re slightly hurt. It doesn’t feel good knowing that your lover- or, ex-lover lied to you. It feels even worse to know that Bradley lied because he thought you’d leave him if he told the truth. Like you’d turn tail and run, whooping through the parking lot about being free at last. But you’re the one that put that thought in his head; you’re the one that ran away. So you can’t blame him for keeping you on a short leash.
You feel too many things at once. You feel like a monster, like a cruel heartbreaker that had shattered Bradley’s to pieces. You feel confused, because you’re still processing that the past few days were entirely fake on both ends. You feel slightly betrayed, like you wish Bradley would have just told you. But you didn’t tell him either, and that makes you feel like an asshole. Too many feelings are bottled up inside, and they gush forth in a messy round of tears, one worse than Bradley’s ever seen from you.
It sets him in a panic, and he’d already been misty-eyed before. Now his own tears roll in fat droplets down his cheeks as he muscles down his sobs for your sake, dropping your hand only to take up your waist. He drags you closer on the bed, but it’s uncoordinated and a struggle as your limbs don’t cooperate. You’re limp like a ragdoll, and once he finally has you positioned in his lap he buries his face in your shoulder to soak his tears into your shirt.
“I’m sorry,” He whispers, his chest heaving and shaking with sobs, “I’m sorry I lied. I shouldn’t have, I- I know it was wrong. I just- I wanted you to stay, honey. And I thought it would be okay if we were both lying, because then I could make you fall in love with me again, and- and it was a stupid plan, I’m sorry. I should have told you, I’m sorry, I- I never wanted to make you cry. I’m sorry, honey, please don’t- please don’t cry. I love you, please, don’t cry.”
He thinks he’s allergic to your tears. His chest hurts, his face burns, and the front of his shirt is slowly sticking to his chest where you’re crying against it. He’s not sure he can handle much more of this, he can barely breathe and if you don’t stop crying soon, his lungs might collapse. He doesn’t like that you’re crying; even though he knows its a messy situation, even though he knows it’s complicated beyond belief, he’s worried that lying to you fractured your trust in him, and that won’t look good on his permanent record, especially not when he’s waiting on a yes or no from you regarding marriage.
“Honey, please,” He knows he’s not the only one at fault, he knows you’re just as guilty for lying as he is, but you’d done it out of pity, and he’d done it out of greed. You’d played pretend with him so that he didn’t lay alone in a hospital bed, but he’d lied to you so that you wouldn’t leave. He’s kept you trapped, and he’s worried you’ll break free from the cage and run.
“I’m sorry,” He cries, clutching tighter at you when you try pulling away, scared you’re on your way out, “No, honey, please, I’m so sorry-”
“Stop apologizing!’ You beg, a raw quality to your throat that bleeds into your voice. You can’t take it anymore, you can’t let him blubber out sorry after sorry for something he’s not at fault for. You wish he’d been honest, sure, but you couldn’t possibly blame him for continuing the game that you started playing.
“Just- stop, please,” You breathe, quieter now this time. “I- You’re not the one that has to be sorry.”
“But I am,” Bradley gushes, clinging tight to you, still nervous you’re trying to leave. But you’re stationed to stay in his lap, smearing away tears with the skin of your wrists.
“Well don’t be.” You huff, frustration swirling in your chest, all self-directed, “Don’t- don’t apologize for my mistakes! Bradley,” You whimper, rubbing at your eyes hard enough to see swirls beyond your vision, “I left you. I rejected your proposal, and I left you, and then when you almost died, and forgot I left you, I lied to your face. You had amnesia, Bradley, and I lied to you, in what world should you be apologizing? You should hate me,” You decide, stomach churning at just the thought, “I’m so sorry, Bradley, I- I’m so sorry! You should be throwing me out, you should kick me to the curb, and-”
“I don’t hate you.” He says, his voice gruff. He says it plain and simple, like it’s easy. Like there’s no hard feelings, like he’s not perturbed at all by your dishonesty, your betrayal.
“I love you,” He continues, and oh, does that drive the nail into the coffin you’re trapped in, “I love you so much, honey, I just don’t understand you. Why did you leave?”
“I was so scared,” You’re getting tired of saying it, but you know you have to, “Javy crashed, and I realized you could, too. Brad, I’m so sorry, I was so selfish, I didn’t wanna go through that. I left you because I didn’t wanna get hurt. I- I left to save myself from mourning your loss. But it didn’t work, and- and you still crashed, and I still almost had to mourn your loss, and it still hurt, so- so bad, Bradley. It hurt so bad,” You blubber, and he pulls you back into his chest.
“I know,” He murmurs, and you can’t fathom why he’s still comforting you, why his large, calloused hand is rubbing sweet, soft, soothing circles over your back like you’re not a traitor, “I know, honey, I can’t imagine. I’m sorry you had to get that call.”
“Come on,” You plead, your fists clenched in Bradley’s shirt, nails digging into the fabric, “Bradley, this- this isn’t fair. You should be mad at me. Even if you-” You can barely say it, the thought sounding like a fantasy; too good to be true, “Even if you love me, you should be upset. That I left, that I- that I lied, you can’t do this. You can’t comfort me, and you can’t apologize.”
“I can, too.” He argues, his brows furrowed and his mustache turned down with his frown, “Sweetheart, I know you’re sorry about all those things, you told me yourself. I know you’re sorry you left, I know you’re sorry you lied, it’s okay. It hurt when you left, but I never hated you. I wanted you back,” He admits with a shaky voice, “I wanted to fix things. And when you asked to kiss me in the hospital, I chose to let you lie to me even though I knew the truth. I liked it, baby, I loved it, because I had you back. You’re sorry, and- and I’m sorry, and we’re both sorry, so let’s do something about it. Let’s fix it, baby, please.”
“I want to fix it,” You sob, “I really do, Bradley. I- I wanted to pretend forever,” You confess, “Because it felt like it did before I left, and- you have no idea how much I wanted that back, Brad.”
“Me too,” He agrees with a rough sniffle, “I- I wanted you to pretend forever, honey. I really did, I- that’s why I proposed again,” He cringes at the memory, at the second time he’d asked to no avail, “Because I just wanted you to keep pretending, and say yes, and I thought- I thought I might be able to make you love me again, so I went for it, but I shouldn’t have. I should- I should’ve talked to you first, I should have told you the truth, but I just- I was scared, and-”
“Oh, Bradley,” You gush, grabbing the back of his neck and tugging him down into a hug. You might be smothering him, you’re not sure if he can breathe where he’s buried in your shoulder, but he doesn’t care. He’s clutching you like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t, and you’re horrified that he might really think that, but you understand why he does.
“Marry me,” He begs, “Please, honey, marry me. I’m not mad at you, I love you, please, just- just marry me, please. I can’t lose you again.”
“You won’t lose me,” You promise, tears flowing steady down your cheeks, “Honey, I promise, I won’t walk out unless you want me to.”
“I don’t,” Bradley shakes his head, his arms encircling your waist even tighter now, “I don’t want that, honey, please- please don’t.”
“I won't,” You promise, “But Brad- do you want to marry me for love, or because you’re afraid I’ll leave if you don’t?”
“I love you,” He croaks into your shoulder, and you know he’s not lying to you now, “I mean- I mean of course I’m scared to lose you. But I’m scared because I love you, and I still wanted to marry you even before this happened, before I was scared. I’m not trying to tie you down so you can’t leave, I’m trying to love you forever. It’s love, honey, I love you.”
“I love you too,” You wail, unperturbed by your messy, tear-stained, snot-streaked faces as Bradley lifts his head out of your shoulder to kiss you. It’s desperate, sloppy, and uncoordinated, but it’s the first real kiss you’ve shared in a long time, and you wouldn’t change a thing about it if you could. It’s all desperate, grabby hands and quivering breaths as you familiarize yourselves with each other again, remember what it’s like to be honestly, truly in love with each other. You’ve thrown the lies away like a hardened cast, and the bones beneath it have mended, still tender but whole again. You can’t get enough of him, you can’t take your hands out of his hair and you can’t press your chest up against his enough. He feels the same, he can’t possibly tug your hips further against his own, and he can’t dig his nose any further into your cheek or he might poke a hole there. But he wants to, so he tries.
You’re ravenous, not with desire but with love, the purest and sweetest form of it. You’re so glad to have him back, to really have him back, that you can’t care about your leg falling asleep where it’s bent awkwardly against his lap, or the stickiness of his tears on your cheeks. All you care about is Bradley, all you know is Bradley, all you ever want to know is Bradley.
He reaches for your hand while still engaged in the kiss, and you swear you feel your heart crack when you pull yourself away to stop him in his tracks.
“Wait,” You pant, wondering why he’s doing the same when he’d practically stolen the air from your lungs, “You’re absolutely sure you want to marry me? Even though-”
“Jesus,” Bradley huffs, keeping the ring in one hand and reaching for your face in the other. He squishes your cheeks together, until your lips are puckered and he can brace his forehead against your own, eyes wide and grin exasperated, “Yes! Yes, I really want to marry you, even though you left, even though you lied. I lied, too, honey. You left because you were scared, and that’s why I lied. I get it, okay? I’m not gonna turn on you, I love you. I want to marry you.”
“But- but we should work through this,” You propose, pointedly not swatting him away when he poises the ring over your marriage finger.
“Okay. We can work through it in marriage counseling,” He promises with a breathless smile, the expression wholly genuine because for the first time in three weeks, he’s confident you’ll say yes, “Because I want to marry you. Do you want to marry me?”
You’re not fucking this up a third time.
“Yes!” You gush, and you squeal when he jams the ring onto your finger, moving in for a kiss far more eagerly than you’re prepared for. It’s like being greeted by an overexcited puppy, one that’s a bit too big to be ramming into you, but that you can’t tell no. He kisses you voraciously, joining your hands together so that the metal band on your ring finger rubs against his own skin.
“I love you,” You pant, in a rare moment of being able to drag oxygen into your lungs, “And- I’m sorry. I love you so much.”
“I love you, too.” Bradley swears, kissing you again before you can murmur any more apologies, “It’s okay. We’ll be okay, baby. We’ll work through it. You were scared, so I’ll help you however I can so that you’re not so scared. And I was scared, so I’ll probably be a bit of a clinger for a while. That’s it, baby, we don’t have to break up.” He promises, “That’s all it is, honey. We can work through it. We love each other, we can do this.”
“We do love each other,” Saying it feels like a blessing you’re casting over yourselves, an affirmation that you want to say in the mirror ten times before starting your day, “I love you, Bradley.”
“I love you too, Y/N,” He hums, dissuaded very little when you turn your head to look for your phone. He presses the same frequency of kisses to your cheek as he had your lips, and you let him smooch away at your face while you hunt for the device.
“Here!” You find it tangled in the bedsheets, “Brad, let’s tell everyone.”
“Hm?” He glances sideways at your phone, “Oh. Yeah, my parents are probably worried.”
“My dad, too.” You hum, “I told him at the store earlier.”
“I told my parents then, too.” He confesses, “But- but they’re not mad at you, or anything honey, they understand.”
You marvel at the revelation, that that's the reason Carole had been so confident bidding you goodbye.
“I.. told your mom already,” You realize you still haven’t put all of his puzzle pieces together for him, “Uh, she knew before you woke up, actually. She was the one to suggest that I pretend nothing happened. She didn’t want you to be too stressed in the hospital.”
His brow furrows where he’s in the middle of kissing your jaw, and he pulls back to evaluate the new information. But he’s not angry, more exhausted. He chuckles weakly, “I told her today, she pretended she had no idea. Damn, that woman is a good actor.”
“Very good,” You agree, snatching Bradley’s hand out of his lap to curl your own over the back of it. Your hands are stacked palm-to-back, with Bradley’s resting on the blanket and yours overtop. Your ring glistens in the afternoon sunlight and snapping a picture of it is one of the most gratifying things in the world, second only to the feeling of it laying permanently on your finger. You’ll have to put this one in the photo album, the beginning of a new chapter.
Bradley doesn’t let go of your hand after you snap the picture, only flips his own beneath it so that he can hold it more securely. He puts his chin over your shoulder to kiss your cheek as you use your only free hand to type out a group text message to your family members. Bradley’s squadron will be next on the list, but for now, your family receives the shot of your hands intertwined, a ring glistening on yours.
I said yes this time.💗
Tumblr media
feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!
1K notes · View notes
sturncrazy · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
SPLASH
Matt Sturniolo x y/n (fem)
warnings: SMUT nsfw 18+(um lang, y/n receiving, unprotected, cream pie —assume ur on bc—-semi public/sneaky, nothing too crazy)
authors note: AW ITS KINDA CUTE GUYS. here’s the other matty poo idea i had since y’all seem to eat him up always hehe.
summary: you join some of your friends on a trip to get over a breakup and end up having a heart to heart talk during a late night swim with matt….but talkings not all you end up doing…
word count: 3,431w
—————————————————————————
“hey y/n get your suit on! we’re gonna swim!” nick said, peering in through your half opened door.
“mkay” you nodded back, forcing a smile. it’d been a split second decision to force yourself to join your friends on this trip. Nick had suggested you come to try and get your mind off of things. you and your boyfriend had broken up only 2 weeks ago, after you found him cheating on you. it’d been a long time coming and had almost never been a good relationship, but a breakup is a breakup and you were still reeling from it. you pulled out a stringy bikini, then threw an oversized t shirt on top. the house you were staying at was large and out in the middle of nowhere. the pool was a significant distance behind the house which gave it a cool secluded feel during the day, but at night the walk alone was a little eerie. you fears washed away though as you got close enough to see your friends splashing around and their laughter became audible, only lit by the purple pools lights. it brought a smile to your face and you felt genuinely happy for the first time in a while. you and your friends hung around together for a couple hours, getting late into the night when chris decided he was hungry and needed a snack. the nearest convenience store was about 20 minutes away and would be closing soon so chris and the 3 of others decided to do a junk food run, leaving just you and matt. matt had been your friend since 7th grade, but the two of you hadn’t gotten to hang out as much in the last year cause he made your ex so nervous. he was always convinced you had feelings for matt. at one point he might’ve not been wrong, but you’d never tell a soul that.
“ok last chance guys! you want anything?” nick shouted as the others ran back towards the house.
“skittles!” said matt
“oo can you get me some twizzlers?”
“yup!” nick said running off
“think he listened?” matt said wading through the water to the edge where you were sitting, dangling your feet in.
“oh definitely not” you laughed
“you should come in the water! it’s really warm”
“but then when i get back out i’ll be cold” the outside air had dropped enough to feel the slightest of chill of fall.
“so? you can borrow my sweater if you want” said matt sweetly, always a gentleman
“come on! have some fun!” he teased splashing only enough to spray a few droplets on your thighs. you could never say no to him. you stood up and pulled your tshirt over your head. matt looked up at you, his mouth slightly ajar, before he quickly glanced away. you figured he’d zoned out. you cannonballed in, intentionally hitting matt with a wave of water.
“asshole” he laughed, splashing you as you came back up for air. you grinned at him and shook the wet hair out of your eyes and paddled to sit on the pools steps. matt joined and sat next to you. he leaned his arms against the the pools edge, the water only coming up to his mid stomach. you stole a glance at his toned torso and arms, tattoos glistening from the water. his eyes darted back to yours and he gave you a half smile.
“hey, you been okay? i didn’t wanna pry, but i head about the breakup” he said with concern
“oh…yeah. i’m okay i guess” you sighed
“he’s a real dick, y/n. i mean really. such an asshole. i wanted to kill him” you snorted
“you and me both” matt was on a roll in his rant and barely seemed to notice your comment
“i mean he has some fucking nerve treating you like that. you deserve like the best of the best and the fact that he didn’t didn’t see that—“
“aww matt” a warm fuzzy feeling spread over your skin at his words. he snapped back into remembering your presence and gave you a bashful look.
“i just think you deserve someone who treats you right. so good riddance to him” he said, splashing at an invisible presence off in the distance, trying to play cool. it was an adorably dorky move.
“thank you, matty” you said softly. he paused, and looked you intensely in the eyes.
“yeah always” he breathed out. the tension hung thickly in the night air. you turned your face away from his, hoping it would dissipate.
“and not that it matters, but i remember back in middle school when everyone was playing truth or dare, all the girls made fun of him for being a bad kisser” matt said, attempting to lighten the mood. it worked and you let out a laugh.
“yeah trust me, kissing wasn’t the only thing he was bad at”
“oooooo really” matt said grimacing. you nodded and dramatically shivered at the thought.
“yeah, honestly, don’t think there was a single time i wasn’t on top doing all the work. he’d sorta just lie there…like a corpse. and y’know…second he was done that was that. maybe 2 minutes each time.” matt’s jaw dropped
“whaaaat” you laughed as you glanced at your hands under the water, feeling nervous about talking about this with matt.
“that’s crazy. half the fun of sex watching the other person enjoy it” you felt your face flush as you raised your eyebrows at him
“what?” he chuckled back at your surprise
“nothing, i’ve just never heard you talk like that before” matt rolled his eyes playfully
“yeah well much to your surprise i have had sex before, y/n”
“well i know that…”
“just didn’t think i’d be good at it” he cut you off, teasingly. your face turned from flush to beat red, making you thankful for the dim lighting.
“hey, i wouldn’t be one to judge” you shrugged out, suddenly feeling painfully aware of your lack in experience.
“what do you mean?” matt questioned
“just…he was the only person i ever…y’know” you sheepishly avoided the words.
“had sex with?” matt filled in for you. you nodded and scrunched your face. he studied you for a minute.
“so you’ve never had good sex?” he asked, quietly. you felt so exposed you might as well have been naked.
“‘guess not” you mumbled avoiding is unwavering gaze.
“have to wait around for the next boy” you snickered to yourself
“isn’t that a bit of a gamble?”
“well what are my other options i mean youre the only guy i know who probably any good at sex—“ matt’s eyes widened. you slapped your hand over your mouth, panic beginning to settle in.
“oh my god—sorry—i—that came out wrong—i didn’t mean like you and me—like you need to show me—shit” matt just continued to look at you, his eyes burning holes into your skull. you buried your face in your pruning hands.
“well, why not” matt rasped out. you peaked through your fingers at him, his expression looked blank, but his chest rose rapidly, nervously. you dropped you hands.
“what” you almost whispered. he took a steadying breath.
“i said why not.” you tried to breath, but no air seemed to be available.
“what do you mean” matt gnawed at his lip before speaking again.
“i mean that you deserve to only feel amazing and i don’t want you to go around experimenting with more assholes and—“
“matt, i’m not gonna let you have pity sex with me” you scoffed out, embarrassment itching your whole body.
“that’s not what i meant y/n” he said in a hushed voice. you continued to babble over him.
“i mean i know you’re the nicest guy ever, but come on even you have to know you don’t have to fuck me to protect me from other bad guys—“
“i dont want you to fuck other guys at all” he sounded exasperated. you gave him a lost look. he exhaled, looking up at the sky for invisible answers.
“you don’t?” he looked back into your eyes, you felt like your heart could melt.
“of course not, y/n” your heart raced.
“okay” he furrowed his brow
“okay what?”
“okay yeah— i mean let’s—“ you inhaled, pulling yourself together and met his gazed
“i want you to show me” his chest rattled again.
“yeah?” he breathed out. you nodded, rapidly. he moved closer to you, your faces now inches apart. his eyes darted down to your lips. he smiled, and looked back up into yours, as one hand gently wrapped around your waist.
“okay” he rasped out as he brushed his nose against yours. he seemed to revel in the tension between you, before bringing his soft warm lips against yours. the kiss was passionate, but still delicate. it sent electricity through your chest and down to your fingertips. he brought his other hand up to your check and jaw, molding your faces together even more. matt pulledl his lips away from yours momentarily to whisper out
“you can touch me, y/n” you only then realized your arms had been cluelessly frozen by your sides. you eagerly brought them up around matt’s neck, immediately changing the tone of the kissing to something much more heated. he let out a sharp breath into your mouth before moving to come between your legs, both hands now grasping your waist. he pulled you closer and you wrapped your legs around his body, gripping into his hair. he let out a small groan against your lips and squeezed at your flesh in his hands. you sighed out at the feeling, opening your mouth against his which he took as an opportunity to slip his tongue against yours. your mouths locked together perfectly, as your hands begin to move from his hair to explore his chest, your fingertips roaming the skin of his body you’d only ever dreamed of getting to touch. you lowered your nails to just beneath his bellybutton, which elicited a genuine moan from him. you smiled against his mouth
“where did you learn that” he grumbled
“i have have a couple tricks” you said coly
“oh yeah?” he said between soft quick kisses
“so do i” he bit down lightly on your bottom lip, pulling with his teeth as he brought your hips up against his. you whined feeling him press against your bikini bottoms. he chuckled at your pathetic reaction and pushed your hair back from your neck. he lowered his lips down to the sensitive newly exposed skin and began to sloppily kiss a trail from your jaw to your collarbone, then began sucking and biting at your flesh.
“fuck” you moaned out, your eyes rolling back. you grasped at his taught upper arms.
“you like that?” he groaned against your skin, setting it ablaze with vibrations.
“yes” you sighed out, bucking your hips slightly against his, desperate for more than just the grazing pressure of him standing against you. he seemed to understand your every need and hooked his fingers through the flimsy ties of your bikini and pulled you harshly against him. you felt a hardness in his shorts pressing against your core and your mouth practically watered. his hands trailed back up your body and to your back where your top tied together.
“this okay” you nodded and pulled him back in against your mouth, not wanting to waste a moment for words away from his lips. he expertly untied the knots and slipped the clinging wet fabric of your chest, leaving your boobs exposed to the outside air. he tossed the fabric on the ground behind you as he looked down at your heaving chest.
“god” he groaned out, his eyes widening as he brought his hands to your boobs and pawed at the the soft flesh. he ran his thumbs delicately across your nipples watching you, as you tossed your head back in a moan. he slipped his hands behind your back again, bringing your bare skin flush against his
“you’re so beautiful” he huffed against your lips. you began to rock yourself back and forth against his blatantly obvious hard on, desperate to build some friction. he wrapped one arm around your thigh and lifted you up to the top dry step of the pool, completely taking you out of the water except for your calves. matt lowered himself down to his knees a few steps bellow you, and began to kiss your knees and inner thighs. your legs quivered, as your core ached for attention. his wide blue eyes looked up at you, his mouth only inches away from where you needed him most, as his fingers hooked to the sides of your swimsuit.
“can i?” he mumbled against your skin.
“please” you whined out. he pulled at the loose bows, undoing the flimsy cover easily. you lifted your hips for him to slide the fabric from between your legs. he parted your legs with his hands, his pupils dilating to blackness as he took in the sight of you entirely exposed.
“so perfect” he sighed almost in a trance
“matt—“ you whined desperate and impatient. he looked back up at you with a half smile
“don’t worry baby, i’m gonna make you feel so good” his words alone could’ve made you come undone. he wrapped his arms around your thighs, holding you in place as he brought his warm wet mouth against your aching clit. he gently kissed at the bundle of nerves, making you thrust your hips up against his face hungry for more. he responded by beginning to drag his tongue in painfully slow circles around your clit.
“oh god—matt-“ you cried out, your fingers latching into his hair for support. he groaned against your sensitive bud.
“y’taste so good” your thighs squeezed his face as he began to move his tongue faster, flicking it it circles around your clit.
“oh fuck— that feels so good—“ you exhaled. one of his arms loosed it’s grip
as he brought his fingertips down to meet your folds. he broke his tongue away from your clit and rested his scruffy cheek against your inner thigh as his watched his own fingers drag up and down your dripping folds. you whined in torture and he brought his pointer and middle finger to your entrance pressing small torturous pulses against it, but not entering or giving you the fullness you needed. you were a mess at his touch, whining, moaning, and thrashing around, but he seemed to savor every minute of watching you. finally, he slipped his finger into your core and you cried out at the feeling.
“so pretty” he whispered again before starting to pump his digits in and out of you over and over, his fingers curving up expertly. the tension in your stomach began to form almost immediately. matt needed no clues in knowing what you needed and lowered his tongue back to your clit. your walls began to pulse around his fingers. you knew you were close.
“oh god—matt-i—“ you began to stutter out
“good girl. cum for me” he cooed. you fell apart with his permission and came undone. your legs stuttered as your high began to end and matt slipped his fingers out of you. he lifted himself back up to your level, leaning against the ledge behind you and kissing you again.
“see how good you taste” he said against your lips
“matt” you giggled slightly shocked against him, starting to close your legs. his grip latched back down on your thighs, stopping you.
“oh i’m not done with you yet” he growled through a slight smile, as he hoisted you up into the air. your wrapped your legs around him, as he carried you away from the pool to a nearby lounge chair. he laid you down on your back and climbed on top of you, between your legs. he pressed his still covered crotch against your exposed vulnerable entrance. you hissed, still sensitive from your recent orgasm. he stopped and pulled back from you
“you okay?”
“yes just sensitive” you let out a breathy laugh
“do you want to stop” the overwhelming look of concern in his eyes was adorable
“are you kidding me?” you said, wrapping your legs around him tightly, bringing him back down on top of you.
“thank god” he exhaled. you laughed as you began to kiss him again, rolling your hips up against him. he whimpered. you dragged your fingernails up his back and dug in slightly at his shoulders. he groaned again. the sound of him wanting you was enough to make you desperate all over. you continued to run your fingernails down his chest and to his waistband, snapping the elastic against his skin slightly. his stomach tensing at the feeling.
“take these off, matty” you whined.
“whatever you want” he pulled off from you and stood to the side, sliding off the shorts.
his rock hard dick sprung out free from the fabric and slapped against his stomach. your jaw opened slightly as your eyes took in the impressive size of him in front of you.
“what?” he chuckled
“youre so big” you said in genuine awe
“fuck you don’t know what you’re doing to me” he said, climbing back on top of you and needily yanking your legs up around him. the tip of his hard member rubbed against your clit as he continued to grind his hips against yours through your makeout.
“matt—“ you whined again, needing more.
“you sure you want to do this?” he asked looking into your eyes.
“yes matt—i want you so bad” you moaned to him
“fuck i’m all yours, baby” he said kissing you again, as he began to align himself with your entrance. he pushed himself inside you slowly and shuddered against you once he was all the way deep into your core. he paused for a moment, letting you adjust to the extreme stretch before beginning to slowly thrust in and out and in and out of your pussy. the stretch and fullness of him made you cry out sounds like you’d never made before.
“fuck you feel so good. such a perfect tight little pussy” he huffed out between his calculated thrusts.
“oh god matt”
“taking me so well baby” he cooed
“shitt-feel so good inside me, matty”
“yeah? you like when i fuck you like this, huh baby?” he breathed against your ear, burying his head into your neck.
“so fucking much—oh god yes—faster”
“okay beautiful” he began to pick up the pace of his steady thrusts and you thought you’d see stars. each thrust of his dick equally hard and timed out as he slammed against your g spot. you clawed at his back desperately, which only seemed to encourage him to pick up his pace to an impossibly faster speed. you slurred out curses in between pornographic moans as your mind became a total blur. you could feel your second orgasm approaching.
“OHHH FUCK MATT YES”
“fuck you sound so good moaning my name like that y/n”
“MATT OH GOD IM GONNA”
“you gonna cum for me again, baby?”
“YES OH MY FUCK”
“be a good girl and cum all over my dick” your eyes blurred with tears of pleasure as your ears buzzed and your second orgasm took control of your body. matt let out an uneven moan as your walls rapidly pulsed around his cock.
“fuck—squeezing me so good—shit—i’m close—“
“mmmm” was all you managed to moan in response as he began to trust into you wildly and unsteadyily
“oh my fuck baby i’m gonna cum”
“cum matt—i wanna feel you cum” you panted
“OHH MY OH FUCK FUCK IM GONNA CUM NGHH IM CUMMING” the groaned out as he halted his thrusts deep inside you, shooting hot white ropes of his release into your throbbing core. he collapsed breathless on top of you. after a moment matt pulled himself off your chest and propped himself up by his forearms.
“have any fun?” he asked sheepishly
“are you KIDDING ME? holy SHIT” you said in total honestly
“not half bad right?” he laughed, reaching for his shorts.
“unreal” he handed you his sweater and leaned back down to kiss you again, but pulled away abruptly
“sorry—was that weird? i don’t wanna make you feel pressured—“ you wrapped your arms around his neck shutting him up with another kiss
“good luck if you think your getting away from me now”
“i wouldn’t dream of it”
—————————————————————————live for sweet matt smut always 🫶
1K notes · View notes
ilyhaitanii · 4 months
Text
chocolate cake fr. ran haitani
sfw. sickly-sweet fluff, loverboy ran, kind of pillow talk/aftercare, he teases you a ton, he calls you a good girl once
Tumblr media
ran raises an eyebrow as you dig into the cake. you’re wearing his shirt and boxers, sitting criss cross on his bed. your fork pokes into the chocolate cake, munching as you speak to him.
“what about it?” you look up at hum. you still have that afterglow flush on your cheeks and ran thinks you’re never looked prettier. he loves you like this, in his clothes, in his bed. he loves you when you’re with him. he’s disgustingly possessive of you. he controls himself, but the need to keep your attention on him constantly fills his being.
“so what? you have a praise kink?” he laughs as you feed him a piece of the cake. his thumb brushes against your lip, cleaning the cake off of it. the rain patters outside, adding a more comfortable ambiance to the warmly lit bedroom.
“and what if i do?” you send him a mean glare, aggressively taking a chomp of your cake.
“answer the question, doll.” ran moves a little closer. he cups your cheek, moving you face to look at him. he moves his lips closer to yours. “be a good girl and answer my question, yeah?” he chuckles as he watches your face heat up and your brows furrow.
“shut up!” you hit him on the chest and he erupts unto laughter. he falls onto the pillow, a large smile on his face. he smiled so hard you could see the small dimple on his cheek. you hover on top of him and poke the small dimple. ran runs the tears from his eyes, looking at you confused.
“what’re you doing, baby” he’s still laughing, slightly self conscious with you being so close to him.
“you have a dimple.” you poke the area of his cheek where it was. ran finds himself lost in your eyes. your hand on his chest props you up and he can feel the warmth of it on his bare chest. you pointer finger subconsciously traces the area of his tattoo, making him shiver. you’re so…lovely, so homey…
“i do?” he asks, very softly. the glow in his eyes is so boyish and innocent, it makes your heart ache. sometimes you forget he never grew up with someone to guide him. besides kakucho, ran never really had someone to look up to.
“yeah,” you smile gently at him, wanting to hold this childlike expression in your arms. it was so sweet, so pure. ran takes care of you, that’s a known fact. sometimes you feel like you dont do enough to reciprocate how much he does for you, but moments like these you remember ran’s words.
“you do a lot, you know? you keep me grounded, keep my heart safe. you make the idea of love real to me. you make me believe it’s real, baby.” and those words have always stuck with you. they make your heart skip a beat, remembering the soft smile on his face, the feeling of his fingertips playing with your hair, the beating of his heart against your ear. you zone out, thinking of him. ran smiles, his hand cupping your cheek,
“am i that handsome you have to stare, doll?” that cheeky smile is back on his face. you decide to stroke his ego,
“yeah. you’re the most handsome man i’ve ever seen.” ran never forgets why he put on a ring on your finger. and moments like these solidify his love for you. no matter what happens, ran will never regret loving you.
Tumblr media
© ilyhaitanii - please do not repost, translate, or plagarize any of my content, and do not repost it to any other platforms
457 notes · View notes
plussizeficchick · 4 months
Text
Agora Hills | Eren x Chubby!Reader
Ahhh! It’s part 2 to The Weekend! I didn’t expect y’all to like the first part as much so I’m hoping this lives up to y’all’s expectations😂
Warnings: Mean!Eren (but really only to Mikasa and Historia) Pick Me!Mikasa and Historia (they will be dealt with) smut(cunnilingus, P in V, mentions of fingering, panty sniffing) not proofread (sorry y’all)
Tumblr media
She felt like she was going to be sick.
How could he?
How could you?
She cried in your arms, she poured her heart out to both of you and this is what you do?
No.
It had to be you.
You must have tempted him, this was just some elaborate revenge for her talking to that one guy at Connie’s party a while back. 
Because no way her Eren would be caught dead with you.
— —
Mikasa’s knees were ready to give way.
All throughout the day, you and Eren had been carefully avoiding her but it was time for your daily meetup at lunch with the rest of the group, so she’ll give you an opportunity to explain yourselves and if she’s willing, she’s open to forgiveness.
Oh how she wishes she’d have just skipped lunch.
She was seated next to Historia in the cafe, along with Armin, Jean and Connie awaiting the arrival of you both. She needed Historia for moral support, having told her of your treachery. Historia wasn’t nearly as upset as Mikasa had expected, but she chalked it up to shock because honestly, she was shocked too.
As soon as the doors to the cafeteria open, everyone’s head turns, the sight of Eren holding the door open for you coming into view.
He walks in after you, eyes raking over your figure as if he didn’t help you pick out your outfit for the day.
It was a simple halter top and mini skirt combo paired with some short, heeled sandals, but that wasn’t what brought the smirk to his lips.
No, it was the pretty gold anklet with his initials and the gorgeous emerald necklace that he’d paired with it that brought the smile to his face.
You looked so pretty with his claim on you.
You both saunter up to your friends, hand in hand, before Eren pulls out your seat for you, taking the one beside you for himself before you both engage in conversation with the guys.
“So, does no one see a problem?” Historia asks incredulously. Has she entered the fucking twilight zone?
Armin shrugs, doing a onceover of the table, “I don’t think so. Everyone’s here right?” He asks, getting a brief nod from everyone.
Not that you and Eren were paying attention. You both were too busy giggling amongst yourselves.
“Eren?” Mikasa squeaks out. She couldn’t believe that after all this time, he’d just throw her away. And for you of all people?
Oh no.
She’s worked too hard, put up with too much to just let him go.
He begrudgingly looks away from you, his mood immediately dampening as he addresses her. “Yeah?” He sighs. 
She ignores his disposition, wanting to know just what the fuck you two had going on. “Can I talk to you? Privately?” She grits out through clenched teeth. Eren rolls his eyes before turning his attention back to you, playing with the emerald pendant, “Nah, why? What happened?” 
Mikasa blushes as everyone turns their gazes towards her, the tension palpable. “What happened? What happened, Eren, is you parading her around like she’s your girlfriend when we-” “When we what, exactly? Look Mikasa, you’re a nice girl but (Y/N)’s different. She makes me feel some type of way whenever I’m with her. We just click in a way that you and I never could.” He cuts her off.
Her heart breaks, tears threatening to fall when she casts a glance at her friends, but the way they avert their eyes has her stomach dropping further. “You guys knew?” She barely manages to get out. 
Connie and Jean mumble affirmations, but Armin stutters out a reply, “But not for that long, Mikasa!” He squeaks out, however, Historia’s had enough, “That’s enough! Eren, you’re being cruel. You can’t possibly want her over me-Mikasa!” She exclaims. Eren snarls, his temper spiking. “I’m getting real tired of you guys talking about my girl like that, so I’m only going to say this once,” He grits out. “Being cruel is pretending to be Mikasa’s friend when you’ve been begging me to fuck you behind her back. Being cruel is telling me that Mikasa’s a pathetic bitch and that I can do better than her. And you know what? You’re right! And you’re fucking looking at her, so the both of you can fuck off out of my face.” He practically spits at her. Historia’s jaw drops and Mikasa just wants the earth to swallow her whole. 
She rushes out of the cafeteria, Historia hot on her heels, spewing apologies. Eren turns to you, thumb brushing over your cheek softly. “You okay, baby?” He asks, pressing a brief peck to your lips. “Yeah, just not very hungry anymore.” You sigh. Eren frowns, but you’re sure to reassure him. “It’s not because of them, babe. Just wanna be alone with you right now.” You murmur, running your manicured hand along his arm. 
He smirks, now eager to get you both out of there. “Hey, we’re gonna rain check on the lunch.” Eren announces to your friends. He helps you out of your seat, guiding you out of the cafeteria.
“He’s fucking whipped.” Connie jokes, gaining laughs from the two men.
— —
You both barely made it past the threshold of his dorm before you were on each other, tongues darting into each other’s mouths eager to gain dominance.
Eren presses you against the door, hiking you up to press his clothed cock against your cunt. “You don’t think anybody noticed, right?” He mumbles into your mouth, the taste of you too good to pull away from. “You fingering me under the table?” You ask. He nods, pulling back slightly to move his attention to your neck, the previous love bites fading to make room for new ones. You shrug, moaning as he sucks on a particularly sensitive spot, your panties dampening further as a result, “Who cares?”
Eren chuckles at your neediness, moving to press a searing kiss to your lips as he walks you both to his bedroom. He carefully placed you down, pulling back fully to look at you.
He doesn’t think you fully grasp the hold you have on him, but there’s plenty of time to convince you.
He moves to peel away the tight mini skirt and top you have on, your lacy thong being the only thing keeping him from your warm center. You whine for him to get undressed, the sight of his hard abs and tattoos causing your pussy to clench around nothing. He obliges you, removing his hoodie and jeans along with his boxers before he rejoins you on the bed.
He runs a finger over your soaking panties before pulling them down, strings of your arousal sticking to the small piece of cloth.
The next moment is hazy to the both of you, all Eren knows is that he’s not going to be able to go one day without your pussy on his face.
He dives in, his tongue immediately lapping up the juices that escaped from your slick hole before trailing up to your clit, sucking on the bundle of nerves. You whine, clit throbbing under his ministrations. He takes long, languid licks up and down the slit before flicking his tongue over the bud. You gasp as you cum with a shout, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.
He’s faring no better, the way your thick thighs clamped over his head, squeezing him further into your cunt has him rutting against the sheets, the tip dripping pre. He pulls away when the need for air becomes necessary, taking in gulps of air while nuzzling into your fupa.
“You’re so pretty, baby. So fucking sexy.” He mumbles into the soft skin. You run your fingers through his unruly hair, the soft locks falling from your fingers. “Want you to fuck me, ‘Ren.” You whine out, aching to feel the length of him stretch you out. He complies, pressing kisses along your body before he presses a sweet kiss to your lips, the taste of you still dancing on his tongue.
He uses the kiss to distract you from the slight sting of his cock stretching your cunt. He hisses at the feel of your warm cunt wrapping around his cock, the slickness of your juices making the glide into you that much easier.
He sits up slightly, fucking into you as he reaches over you to grab something, groaning and cock twitching as he grabs his prize. You barely manage to look up to see your panties pressed against his nose, tongue laving over the damp patch.
You cry out at the sight, your pussy quivering as you pull him into a messy kiss, sucking his tongue into your mouth. You both whine into each other's mouths, declarations of love spilling from each other's lips as you both reach your high. You clamp down around Eren, your cunt gushing and clenching as you coat his cock in your essence and he fills you up, warm cum painting your walls white.
You’re panting, the exertion catching up to you both as you snuggle into each other, your fingers tracing over the tattoo with your name on it. You’re tired, but you know it’s only a matter of time before you’re at it again.
It’s a good thing neither of them could keep him satisfied.
— —
Taglist:@xogabbiexo @kinq-sleazee @dabilovesme @sintiva @blkchxrryblyss @tenyaiidasslut @luna-indigoduh @bookwormsenpai @bl--ankhaeji @thicksimpx @namjoonswifeyy @nasty-quillz @haikyutiehoe @musicisme333 @unsatisfiedanddisappointed @celi-xxmoon @jesus-son-of-god @you-need-namjesus
901 notes · View notes
astroboots · 6 months
Text
PUNCH-OUT LOVE 2
Tumblr media
Artwork by @guruan
LOST AND FOUND
Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader
Word count: 3.2k
Summary: You're sent on a wild goose chase for your missing handbag in the Lost and Found section and find something else instead: Miguel O'Hara.
Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist
[Previous Chapter]
Tumblr media
The stage is empty. 
The gargantuan defeated Knock Out King, all 340 pounds of him was loaded on a stretcher minutes ago. He was lying face up as if he was taking a restful nap on a hammock while he was carried out into the crowded noise of fascinated and hushed whispers. 
The ring lights are dimmed down now and most of the crowd have gotten to their feet and are pouring out of the stadium.
You're still glued to your seat, the hard plastic of the chair, bruising against your tailbone. But despite the discomfort you make no moves to get up. You're too busy staring up at the evacuated stage, reliving the scene that had unfolded before your very eyes minutes ago.
The swift motion of punches flying through the air, evaded with precise dodges. The refraction of ring light bouncing off brown glistening curls. The sheen of sweat pooling in the hollow of his throat as he closed in and landed the final blow that had his opponent reeling back and crashing to the ground.
"You alright?"
You snap out of your thoughts at the familiar voice, and find yourself blinking up at a pair of inquisitive eyes.
"You look completely zoned out, like you're on a different planet.” 
“Sorry, Jess,” you say, “I’m– I was distracted.” 
Standing on her feet, Jess gestures towards the exit in the back of the arena. "Should we start heading out? Gonna be a real pain in the ass grabbing a taxi in this crowd, we better hurry"
With a brief nod, you rise in your seat, feet wobbly and a bit out of balance as you file out of the arena in the crowd.
Maybe it's the heat in the arena, overcrowded as it had been mere minutes ago, but you feel like you're sleepwalking. Even as you're physically leaving the stadium, your mind is still left behind, sat in the front row seat, staring up at Miguel O'Hara.
The flash of knuckles as O'Hara's fist connected to his opponent's jaw. Watching the other man's bottom lip wobble as spit flew out of his mouth seconds before he landed in defeat.
Your veins still thrum with adrenaline. Your heart thumping in excitement. You can't contain the rush of emotions that swells in your chest.
That was amazing... He was amazing.
Still in a daze, you’re acting on muscle memory as you follow Jess out into the lobby, until you reach the outside and are standing in the back of a long and seemingly unending line for a cab.
"Shit, Uber prices have surged like mad," Jess is muttering next to you, frantically swiping at her phone.
She's cursing away, trying for every alternative taxi app: Lyft, Via, Gett, with little success.
You're only paying her half-attention.
Standing under a canopy of the parking zone, you're staring up at the evening above, but you’re not really seeing the light-polluted starless city sky. All you see is the sharp focus of mahogany eyes as they turned in your direction and settled on you. You can feel it still. The intensity that resided in them, burrowing into your skin and has made a home in you. An itch that you cannot scratch that is consuming you from within.
"Hey!"
The sharp sound breaks your concentration. "Did you hear me at all?" Jess asks.
There's a terse impatience in her voice that means she's probably been calling for your attention a handful of times by now while you were zoned out.
"No. I--sorry," you say sheepishly. "What were you saying?"
"Can you try getting on Uber? I have a shit rating there and no one will accept my requests."
Nodding absentmindedly, you reach for your handbag slung across your shoulder. Your shoulder feels awfully light, and you swipe at empty air before you realize, there's nothing there. You're not wearing your handbag.
Crap.
"Did you leave your handbag inside?" she asks. 
You revisit your steps. You last remember having it on when you sat down and hung it on the back of your seat. You were so out of it when you left the arena, you don't think you ever picked it up.
"I think I left it inside, I'm gonna head back in, I'll be right back."
“Alright, but hurry!” she shouts after you as you run back inside. 
Without the tight squeeze of having to manoeuvre your way through the impatient crowd, your journey back into the stadium is a much quicker one than when you entered before the game. 
Everywhere you go is empty this time around. The glitz and glamor has completely faded.
There is a strange atmosphere in the arena in the aftermath when it's devoid of people. Your footfalls echoes and bounces of the walls, and you become aware of your every movement.
You rush through the rows hurriedly, eyes scanning the plastic seats even before you have reached your own previous seat. 
When you finally do, there's nothing there.
Shit.
On stage, there is a member of the cleaning staff, mopping up the grimy sweat and grubby soap from the squeaky vinyl floor.
"Excuse me," you ask, and the man ducks up to stare at you. "You wouldn't have happened to see a handbag that was hanging here would you?"
"Check lost and found," the man says brusquely as he continues to sweep the stage unbothered by your presence.
That’s seemingly the only thing you are going to get from him. He doesn’t pay you anymore attention, even as you shift your feet to try to catch eye contact and regain his attention to ask where the lost and found section is. It doesn't work.
After two awkward shuffles, you decide to take your luck elsewhere. You make your way back down the row of seats in the hopes you might find an usher who can point you in the right direction. 
But the corridors are even emptier now. The only people wandering down the aisles are not paying you any notice and actively avoiding any eye contact you try to establish in order to initiate a conversation. In other words, they’re behaving like New Yorkers do in New York. 
You sigh, trudging along another dimly lit hall when you spot a tall lanky man munching on a half eaten donut. He’s clad in slippers and a pink bathrobe with the most angelic looking cherub baby, bouncy curls and all, strapped in a BabyBjörn to his chest. 
You’re not entirely sure that he works here, or that he would have any better idea than you at finding the Lost and Found section. 
The only reason you decide to approach him anyway is the bright security badge in big bold capital letters reading “VIP ACCESS” hung around his neck. 
Gently you tap him across the shoulder, and the man turns around.
His eyes go big and rounded, pupils dilated with shock at the sight of you as he stares down at you. “Oh holy shit!” 
The man seems high. 
Shaggy hair and unkempt scruff on his jaw, wearing sweatpants over a stained t-shirt. He certainly looks the part of a stoner, save for the part where he has a literal child strapped to his chest. 
“Sorry," you try politely. "I lost my bag and the custodian said I should go to–”
The man in front of you nods enthusiastically, but you get the sense that he’s not really taking in the words you are saying. 
“Yeah, yeah! Of course,” he interrupts. “Right down the hall. You won’t miss it, it’s the only room there” 
You peek down the hallway he’s pointing you towards. Except you can't see down the passage he’s suggesting you take because there is an obstruction. Two in fact. Two mountainous security guards standing shoulder to shoulder to block anyone from going down that route. 
That doesn’t seem right. 
Why would a Lost and Found section be so heavily guarded? 
“Are you sure that’s correct?” you eye the bodyguards cautiously, trying be polite about the obstacle the two large men blocking the said hallway presents. Especially when they are only three feet away and definitely within hearing range. 
Luckily, stoned as the overly friendly man in front of you may be, he seems to catch the drift without any further hints from you. 
“Oh right!” He grabs the security badge hanging around his neck. “Take this,” he says and drapes it over your head with dramatic flair as if he’s rewarding you with the honorary city keys. 
The two men part as you approach. You feel like you are Moses, the chosen one, and the red sea is parting before you. 
You look back one more time, and in the sliver of space between the two security guards you see your friendly stoner flash you an amicable salute in your direction as the angelic looking baby waves at you with a squeal. 
“Good luck,” he shouts over to you. 
Strange man. 
You continue down the hall, to the flickering of the glaring fluorescent light that is entirely too bright as you reach the only room at the dead end of this hall. 
It’s odd. Why would a communal space such as a lost and found section be so damn hard to find and this heavily guarded. Why on earth would anyone need a security pass just to reach it? Is this some elaborate scam run by the boxing organization? Do they make massive winnings from reselling spectators' left behind belongings on Ebay? Because otherwise this seems like exceptional poor planning on the architect’s part. Either that, or the friendly stoner pointed you in the wrong direction… which seems like the most probable option. 
For a second, you contemplate turning around to find the man again and ask him if this really is the right place. But Jess is waiting. She must be either pissed or incredibly worried at how long you’ve taken already. A twinge of guilt pass over you, you're hoping it's the former rather than the latter.
Shaking your head, you open the door and the first sight that greets you are rows after rows of oldfashioned lockers standing like sentinels. 
There are no boxes here. No junk items of lost wallets, or jackets. Instead all you see is the vision of the man standing several feet away from you. His wide impressive back filling up the space of the empty room as he looms over an open locker. 
“Parker, I told you I’m not in the mood.” 
You freeze, shoes stuck to the floor as if the soles have set in with industrial cement to the tile. 
It doesn’t matter that you can’t see his face, or that you’ve never heard him speak before. You’d recognize that perfect silhouette in a heartbeat after tonight. A man of proportions so exceptional, you’re not entirely sure he’s a real flesh and blood human. 
It's a presence so large that even in this changing room he looms so tall, you swear he must have to duck to not hit his head against the ceiling. 
He seems like he’s sprung out of the imagination of a 13 year old boy’s idea of what a Superhero from the Golden Age of comic books should be.
Miguel O’Hara. 
In front of you, he slowly rises, straightening his posture. Somehow, and you don’t understand how that’s physically even possible, he grows even taller with the movement. 
It’s like the scene out of Jurassic park when the Velociraptor is inches away and approaching. Even as you watch him slowly turn to face you, you’re too frozen to flee out of the room. The only thing you find yourself doing is breathing harder and harsher. Until it’s too late and he’s turned fully around, facing you. 
O’Hara stands unmoving, towering with the presence of a monolith. 
Even though you’re clearly not the person he was expecting. Even though you’re clearly not this Parker person he thought he was speaking to, he’s not saying anything. His face is stoic, not betraying a hint of emotion. The sole clue that he’s even registering your presence is the way his perfect arched brow arches. 
He doesn’t say a word. Just stands there, just as still as you are, eyes locked on you. 
He is assessing you, you realize. Stern, sharp and penetrating eyes, starting from the tip of your toes, up the length of your legs to your shoulders until his assessing stare lands at the crown of your head. 
It’s the same focused and unwavering attention you felt on you from across the stage not even half an hour ago when you were sat in the rickety plastic chair and he was standing in the boxing ring. 
Electricity sparks, bright and sharp, along the surface of your skin until every hair stands at alert at his attention. 
“I’m so sorry. I think there’s been a mistake”, you try to explain. “I lost my bag, and I asked where the Lost and Found section was and for some reason some random pothead told me to come down here.” 
You flash the badge at him. “They gave me this and nobody stopped me, I didn’t mean to interrupt you in your… uhm….” 
Your eyes land on the trickle of water that’s pooled on his neck. The wet sheen of his brown curls fresh out of the shower, then drift lower. 
More bare skin. Your sentence trails off mid-word. Words slurring at the tip of your tongue. It feels heavy in your mouth and syrupy, like you’ve been given the good stuff at the dentist and you lose track of what it was you were trying to say. 
His skin is tanned and marred with black-brown bruises, a testament to what his body has been put through. Somehow every inch still manages to look impossibly soft and you are itching to skim your fingertips all over him. 
Your eyes linger on his bare chest and hard stomach. He’s only clad in a towel. It modestly wraps around his narrow hips, and you catch the sparse trail of hair that graze down below his navel and every single one of your brain cells is erased of any coherent thought. 
Then he finally breaks the silence.
"What did you think of the fight?"
You blink up at him at his question. Did you miss a sentence while you blacked out? You must’ve. How did you go from walking into the wrong room-- interrupting and invading someone’s private space as he’s come right out of a shower-- to him asking you a casual question as if this is nothing out of the ordinary and you’re just sat across him at a cafe to catch up? How is he not calling security to throw you out of here? 
And what does he mean, 'what do you think?'
What are you supposed to think about it? You know nothing about boxing.
Wracking your head, you try to think of something clever to say that doesn't make you sound like a complete novice. You're replaying videotapes of boxing matches from your childhood, grasping at phrases used by announcers during the fight.
Words like footwork, technical knockout and roundhouse punch flit through your mind, but you don't know how to string them together into sentence that sounds remotely half intelligible.
In front of you, O'Hara tilts his head to the side as he observes you. Your fingers tingle from the attention of his focused gaze on you. In all of your life, you can't ever recall being this affected by a man just looking at you.
Shit, he's still waiting for an answer isn't he? He's still looking up at you with those expectant narrowed eyes, waiting for you to answer. You open your mouth, blurting out the first thing that comes to your mind.
"I liked it. It was like a dance."
The moment the words leave your mouth you regret it. Your cheeks burn with heat.
Oh god. You sound like a brainless moron.
What an incredibly ditzy thing to say. Why not just compare him to a fucking mime or a tap-dancer while you're at it?
You're better than this. But you blame your lack of cognitive functions at how the sight of this half-naked man has incinerated every last one of your brain cells.
You brace yourself for him to laugh you out of the locker room. But he doesn't. Instead that stern expression on his face breaks. His full lips curve into a small, disarmingly sweet smile.
The smile softens his features. His brown eyes go warm when he looks up at you, brows rounding and no longer tense. It's nothing at all like the angry sharp lines etched into every line of his face when he was on stage, fists braced for a fight. 
"Yeah?" he asks, so much more soft spoken than you had expected a guy of his size to be.
Still out of sorts, you nod your head dumbly at him. "Yeah."
The smile on his lips grows. You don't know if it's a trick of the light, but as dim as this gray and dingy locker room is, it seems to go a little bit brighter with it. He looks at you with a nostalgic familiarity that is reserved for a longtime friend. 
Oh god help you. He's not just scary, and alarmingly handsome in a way that makes him belong on the glossy covers of GQ. It's so much worse than that... he's cute.
You physically shake your head to snap yourself out of it.
Get a fucking grip. You’re meant to be on a seemingly futile journey to find your handbag, not a prowl to get your rock offs. 
Oh shit. 
… Except that's what this is, isn't it?
That’s why he hasn’t chased you out of his room. 
That’s why he’s trying to make small talk. 
Why he’s asking you what you thought of the match. 
He thinks you're a groupie. Some starstruck boxing fan, that's wormed their way past his manager to get a backstage pass and a chance to ride the boxing champion. You should probably say something to correct his misunderstanding...
You look back up at him. That warm and unassuming smile that's still there on his face.
Yes. You should do that. Speak up and explain the situation. But for some reason you don't. You stand there in place. Mouth parting and closing like a dumb goldfish, unable to find the words to explain the situation.
Until a terrible whisper of a thought enters your brain. What if you don't...
It lasts entirely too long. Two whole seconds before you remind yourself that it would be wrong for one. Because that would be operating under false pretenses.
...
Except would it though?
There is no membership to join the council of groupies that you need to apply for beforehand. There's no harm and no foul here.
After all, whether you're a groupie or not, if you're both willing adults, then what's the problem here?
...
The problem is that it would still be a lie, and you'd know.
Your mind is playing ping pong in the thought process.
It's like there is a tiny angel sitting on your right shoulder and a miniature devil on the left.
You look peer up at him again, biting down on your lip at the sight before you. All dark eyes and tanned skin and pouty lips. Shit.
The devil and angel may be in disagreement about the ethics of this situation, but here's the thing, they are in complete and total agreement over one thing.
Both of them want to fuck him.
To be continued.
Tumblr media
A/N: Guys guys so sorry it took forever. Life has been wiiiiild as of late. I have quite a few WIPs going on at the moment and having a bit of a think about which ones to continue/prioritise so if you do want to see more of this one please let me know! Let me know if you enjoyed this, if you want to see more and what you would like to see.
Big thank you to my bestie Guruan who made the beautiful art banner for me. This is my treat to her because I'm unable to send her icecream in person.
And of course as always all my love and gratitude. If I could I would give her my heart on a platter: @thirstworldproblemss I got a bit stuck on how to get these two in the same room together and she helped me plot this chapter. Thank you for always letting me rubberduck things with you.
575 notes · View notes
webslingingslasher · 2 months
Note
you did reader having a bad day and going to see frat!peter but can we get him having a bad day and going to see trouble?
*cleaning out my inbox.*
three loud knocks at your door had you jump from your seat, you were so in the zone that the sharp sound had you frozen for a second.
making the short walk and pulling it open, peter forced his way in and ripped his backpack off before slamming it down. there was no reason to ask if he was mad because he was pissed.
'hi.' you try being gentle, even softly closing the door before peter points at you. 'i was sick, wasn't i?' you blink fast, 'wha-'
'i was sick! last week, i was sick!'
you have no idea where he's taking this, but you're in for the ride. it's not you he's mad at and that's very clear, he's just trying to share his frustration. 'you were sick. you were throwing up.'
'thank you! i was! it was awful!'
you nod with him. 'yeah, throwing up sucks.'
'it does! and guess the fuck what, i missed a quiz and this stupid fucking prick of a professor won't let me retake it. he tried blaming me and said i needed to be more serious, trying to insinuate i was hungover when he knows for a fact i've shown up on my fucking deathbed before!'
you feel anger build for him, peter takes his academics very seriously. so if saying he doesn't take it seriously feels like a slap in the face to you, you can't imagine how it feels for him.
'oh, that's fucked, petey. if you want i'll draft a letter to the dean and we can-'
peter laughs and shakes a finger in the air. 'already did it. and guess what, i got to retake it. but he couldn't handle the fact i went over his head and he called me immature and unequipped to handle the real world.'
you gasp, peter nods with exaggeration. 'yup! so fuck that class, fuck that prick, fuck the guy that got cheese on my shoes-' your eyes look at his nikes, true to his words there's splatters of orange on the tops. "- fuck ethan for getting me sick, fuck everything and everyone!'
a gulp of air, he calms himself down. 'except you. i still like you.' the room goes quiet when he sits on the edge of your bed. it's just one of those days where nothing you say will fix it and he just needs to feel sorry for himself and have someone do it with him.
you stand in front of him and hold his head to your torso. peter buries his face in your shirt and breathes deep, you're worried he might be suffocating himself. you take his snapback off and lightly scratch his scalp.
'i'm sorry everything and everyone sucks, petey.' you can feel a rumble when peter talks but you can't hear him at all. 'what's that, mumbles?' he has a slight blush when he pulls back, 'except you.' he hides his face again, holding you even closer.
'wanna look at me?' a thrash into your stomach, he's anchored around your waist. 'please?' another silent no. 'i wanna tell you something.'
a squeeze, he's listening. 'no, c'mon, look at me.' peter shouts into your shirt, it still comes out muffled. 'no. you just wanna see me all blushy and shy.'
you tickle behind the collar of his shirt, he jolts into your touch. 'just look at me, please?' a few deep breaths, he's not so pink cheeked anymore. you try to mimic peter when you're upset and cup his face, you get why he does it, he's so delicate under your touch.
'you are insanely smart, peter. i've seen the effort you've put into your work. remember one time i tried to see if i could help you finish but your math questions are like three miles long?' a small smile, your heart picks up. you're helping!
'and you're way more equipped than anyone i know, and you have the cleanest room in the house. oh, and you're a really good nephew.' there it is, that's what you were searching for. peter warmed under your touch, watching him transform into bashful had you soaring.
'not to mention how handsome you are. i mean, i totally get it, petey. cause you're my baby.' red, red, red. he turned red. peter dove for your chest, he can feel his heartbeat in his throat.
'you're being mean when i'm sad.' you pat his head before tangling your fingers in, 'i just wanted you to know that your professor sucks and is the dumbest person to ever talk to you. he's wrong and today sucked and that's all it should be.'
you bend to press a kiss to the crown of his head. 'wanna lay down for cuddles,' you wait until he shuffles away, 'my beautiful, handsome baby boy?'
another flush, you never noticed how good peter looked in red. 
282 notes · View notes
enviedear · 6 months
Text
is it real ⟶ anakin skywalker
description ⌙ it's easier to hate him than it is to be honest in how much you care for him, but anakin makes a mission of making hating him near impossible. pairing ⌙ anakin x fem!reader warnings ⌙ saber graze, tending to a wound, a petty argument, a little angst. word count ⌙ 2.8k
— request | masterlist
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
totally inspired by this masterpiece of a song that i can't get out of my head. it's so ani coded i had to indulge.
"there's a med-pack by the table." anakin's voice is soft, enough so to distract slightly from the searing pain emitting from the saber graze at your ribs.
"can you, fuck, help?" you barely make it to his bed before your knees give.
at your falter he rushes to you, eyes wide, "c'mere, let me see."
you don't fight him when he rips your tunics off, exposing the large gash at your ribcage. you take in a breath at the sight of it. far larger and worse than you had previously thought.
"obi-wan was right," he grabs for the med-pack before kneeling down to you, "you have to stop trying to fight all on your own."
you want to roll your eyes, you want to smack him upside the head. for as long as you've known the boy, he's had an annoying tendency of fretting over you, acting as though you were delicate.
when you were younger, it was easier for you to accept such behavior. but as the two of you grew, it became far harder to ignore the way his kindness caused your mind to drift toward something utterly wrong. friendship had since turned into acquaintanceship.
it was so much easier this way.
"says you, skywalker." your voice is gritty, watching his mechanic hand begin to clean the wound.
he ignores your irritation, "maybe if you'd let me help you—"
you interrupt him, eyes narrowed, "i'm letting you help right now, aren't i?"
his hand stills for a second before continuing its work, "you know what i mean."
you're not sure you do. in truth, there could be a million things he could mean. you rarely lean on your fellow jedi, especially not anakin. not when being around him makes your heart race faster than a speeder.
you try to avoid him as much as possible. you'd rather eat at a crowded table than with him at his empty one, rather fight a group of enemies alone than beside him, rather keep your thoughts locked away in your own head than divulge them to him.
for as great and divinely chosen as he was in others' eyes, he was a lingering distraction for you. his gaze is etched into your mind, and you find it frightening how much you draw up the vision.
if you're the means, he will always be your end.
"it's not that bad, i've seen you take worse." you try to steady your voice as you speak.
his non-dominant hand finds its way to your bent knee, sending a shock throughout your body, "doesn't mean you have to." you waver slightly at his words, zoning in on the way his lips quirk up at the sentiment.
rolling your eyes, you grab for the bandages and gauze, "i can do the rest myself."
he draws away from you but you can feel him watching you. you can tell he wants to say more— wants to press you further.
you try to ignore the way his presence affects you as you wrap your wound. it's easier that way, to brush him off. maker forbid you ever gave him the notion that you feel the way you do.
if he knew— he'd be on you like ants to honey, all-consuming. anakin was devotional, it was a flaw you enjoyed pointing out to him. you'd mock him for it, calling it the opposite of the jedi way. because it's easier to pick fun at the attribute than to imagine the way it would feel to be at the receiving end of such a trait.
it'd be sacred, surely.
you finish dressing the saber graze and hold tight to the fresh application before grabbing your tunics. it's a painful struggle to put them back on, and you wince at the stretch you have to do to pull them back over your head.
anakin, now leaning against his door, watches you in condemnation, "it wouldn't hurt so much if you just let me help you, y/n."
you make your way toward him, "i'm fine. now, can you let me leave."
he glowers at you, "no."
"what do you mean, no?" your eyes slim.
"i want you to be honest for once," he clenches his jaw before continuing, "i mean, i’m trying to help you, and you act like a brat. what's your problem?"
you stare at him, feeling frustration bubbling up inside you. he is so adept at getting under your skin and making you feel things that are far better left unexplored.
"my problem?" you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. "my problem is that i'm sick and tired of being treated like a child by everyone around here. including you."
anakin's eyes widen in surprise for just a moment before they darken with anger, "i treat you like an equal, you know that." he spits out through gritted teeth.
"you don't!" you exclaim, the dam finally breaking inside of you. "you act like i can't handle anything on my own."
"that's because half the time it seems like-"
"like what?" you interrupt him, taking a step closer despite yourself.
"like…like maybe sometimes," his voice softens as he speaks now—almost pleadingly, "you could use some help."
you take one hand and shove him against the door, fingers digging into his robes, "i don't need your help. i don't need anything from you," you watch him sneer down at you, "and if you want honesty, then the truth is that i'd be far better off without you trailing around me all the time."
he gives an unamused laugh, "you know what i think?"
you don't dignify him with an answer prompting him to go on, "i think you shut down because you're scared," he grabs hold of your wrist, pulling you even closer to him, "i can sense it, you know. every time i see you all that radiates is fear. you're not even strong enough to hide it. what are you so damn afraid of, y/n?”
you pull away from him and shoot daggers before shoving him out of your path and exiting his room.
you rush to your own room, heart thudding in your chest. you attempt to stop yourself from thinking any further on what had just happened. sitting on the edge of your bed, you take deep breaths before burying you face in your hands. he was right—you were scared; scared of opening up and admitting how deeply you've grown to care for him.
he was beautiful, tragically so. and off limits in ways that made your chest feel heavy. you've tried to forget the way he makes you feel for years now. you've tried to tell yourself that what you feel isn't real. it can't be, not when you've sworn an oath against such notions.
yet, he remains a pertinent figure living in the back of your mind. a fantasy you indulge solely in the safety of seclusion.
the evening drags along slowly, and you take note his absence at dinner. his usual seat left empty, causing you to worry for him. it's futile to try and stop the obvious impact he has over you, especially after the fight.
he has a way of sowing himself indelibly to you.
though he remains so obvious in his fruitless kinship for you— you do the contrary. you keep your worries to yourself, and in the times you've been anything other than unemotional to him, you've reacted before thinking more than you care to admit.
you were mean, and even if he'd never know, it did hurt you to act in such a way. especially when all you really want is to see those blue eyes looking down on you with a loving gaze.
you push your food around on your plate, lost in thought, only to have a warm hand on your shoulder.
looking up, you find obi-wan, eyebrows drawn together is deliberation.
you try and push your thoughts away, masking your fears, "yes, master?"
he removes his previous look, replacing it with a soft smile, "y/n, i wanted to make sure you were okay. you took quite a blow today."
you have trouble meeting his eyes, "i'm fine master, just a small cut."
he lets his hand drop, "of course. i hope to see you for meditation tomorrow morning. it just may be of service."
he's gone before you can reply, leaving you alone with your unwanted dinner and thoughts.
hours pass by without you noticing them go. you attempt to train but your practice moves fall short. until, finally, it's late enough that even one of yoda's animated lessons couldn't keep someone from seeking sleep.
you make your way back to your room as fatigue sets in. your senses full of the one thing that refuses to ease its grip over you— anakin.
the exchange with him earlier continues to replay on a loop inside your mind, making it nearly impossible to drift off peacefully. you toss and turn for what feels like hours, restlessly upset.
abruptly, loud knocks echo through your room, interrupting your silent brooding whilst stirring the half slumber you’d found yourself in.
you can sense the familiar force signature, and you know it's anakin pounding away at your door. his energy seems off, less guarded and more haphazard. the feeling of it has you tensing.
nervous, you get out of bed and make your way to the door, still feeling hints of your previous anger and anxiety. you swing it open to find him standing on the other side, breathing heavily as if he had been running.
"what do you want?" you ask, trying your best to keep your voice level.
"i'm sorry," he says simply, not meeting your eyes.
you're taken aback by his apology, not expecting it, "for what?" you ask, confused.
"for the way i've been treating you," he says with a sigh. "i've been so focused on keeping you safe that i haven't been treating you like the equal that you are. and for what i said earlier… i didn't mean it. i just wanted to get a rise out of you."
you stare at him for a moment, trying to process his words. anakin has never been one to apologize easily, and you can sense that this is challenging for him.
slowly, you start to soften towards him, "come in." you say finally, and step aside to let him into your room.
he steps in and closes the door behind him, turning to face you. "i know we fight more often than we get along," he says tentatively. "but i don't want to lose you completely. i miss you. we used to be so... different."
you feel a lump in your throat at his words. despite everything that had happened with him, you know deep down that you don’t want to lose him either. but something is still stopping you from stating your full truth.
"well things are different now," you admit quietly. "we're different."
anakin looks at you, his eyes searching your face for meaning while his mouth forms a thin line. "why?" he asks finally.
you try to find the words but all that comes out is an half-baked excuse, "because that's just what happens, anakin."
"it doesn’t have to…" anakin presses gently and takes a step closer towards you. the heat from him fills up the room making it difficult to think straight let alone answer him honestly. you look away trying to avoid eye contact. with each second that passes by, your denial seems more insufferable.
he seems to notice this and steps even closer so now only inches are between the two of you before asking, "is it because…" his voice catches as he leans in “is it because you can tell how much i care for you. how easily you've become more to me. i tried so hard to hide, y/n, but i can’t anymore.”
you're taken aback by how easily the words leave anakin's lips despite not being able to ever even think of being as honest as him.
but at his admission, something cracks inside of you, allowing you to gain confidence, “no, i never knew you felt—” you falter at the way he's looking you down, face full of anticipation, "i never knew you felt that way. i thought it was only me."
anakin steps even closer, his breath hot against your skin. "never, i've always felt like this," he confesses, his voice low and gravelly. "from the moment i met you. maker, you've had me around your finger for years, i couldn't help but fall for you."
you feel your heart race as his words wash over you, mingled with the warmth of his body so close to yours. you can't deny the attraction that you've always felt— the electricity that seemed to spark whenever your eyes met, the way your skin tingled whenever he brushed past you.
"don't say that, ani," you whisper, feeling a rush, "this isn’t right, it could mean the worst for us, you know that."
anakin takes another step towards you, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek gently. "don't be scared, i’m not," he whispers, his eyes locked on yours. "i'm here for you. whatever happens, you know that."
time seems to still as you lean into his touch, getting lost in the heat of the moment despite yourself. you can feel his words through the softness of his touch.
and then suddenly his lips are on your own— fiercely and passionately. all of your warning thoughts fly out of your head as you surrender into him.
in that moment, there is nothing else but the two of you - lost in each other's embrace and finally free to show all the attachment that's been simmering beneath the surface for so long.
but then as quickly as it came, anakin pulls away and apologizes for the sudden kiss, visibly embarrassed by his impulsivity.
he takes a step back from you in an attempt to put some distance between you while he runs a hand through his hair nervously.
"sorry," he says softly, looking anywhere but your eyes, filled with surprise and confusion.
"i shouldn't have done that." he pauses before continuing in something barely more than a whisper this time, “i just… i'm sorry."
you stand there, still in shock from the sudden kiss but unable to deny the fluttering feeling in your heart. you want to tell him that it's okay, that you feel the same way, but you can't find the words.
anakin seems to read your thoughts, his eyes locking onto yours as he steps back once again. "i know this is a lot to take in," he says, his voice gentle and reassuring. "but i just needed you to know how i feel."
you nod, finally finding your voice. "i…i don't know what to say," you admit, feeling vulnerable and exposed.
for so long you’ve dreaded the idea of anakin knowing how you felt. you’ve been so afraid of rejection, that you’ve never considered the possibility of the inverse happening.
anakin reaches out, taking your hand, sending shivers down your spine with his touch, “you don't have to say anything," he says softly. "just know that i care about you…more than anything."
the two of you stand there for a second longer, lost in each other's eyes and the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.
finally, anakin breaks the silence. "i should go," he says reluctantly. "we can talk more about this later if you want…but only if you're ready."
you nod once more, still unsure of what to say or do. as anakin turns to leave, you find yourself calling out to him.
"ani…wait."
he turns back towards you, a hopeful look in his eyes.
"i care about you too, i'm not afraid of it anymore. i just want you." you whisper, feeling a weight lifted off of your shoulders.
anakin looks at you, a mix of shock and pure elation written on his face. he doesn't say anything, he just walks back towards you, taking your face in his hands before pressing his lips onto yours once again.
this time the kiss is even more intense than before, all of the the passion and desire that you've both kept buried for all these years flaring out. your hands make their way to his chest to you pull him closer to you.
anakin deepens the kiss as he wraps his arms around you, tugging you into an embrace that will no doubt carve itself into your very soul. you can feel the beat of his heart against you, matching the pace of your own rapid heartbeats.
when he finally pulls away, gasping for air, you can't stop the smile spreading on your face.
"i've always wanted this," anakin whispers softly, his forehead resting against yours. "i just didn't know how to tell you."
"i'm glad you did," you reply softly, running your fingers through his hair. "i didn't know how to say either."
the two of you stand there for a few moments longer before anakin finally pulls away. "i should go," he says reluctantly. "i'll see you tomorrow?"
you nod, feeling content and happy for the first time in a long time. as anakin leaves your room, you lay down on your bed with a smile on your face— grateful to be the aspect of his devotion.
407 notes · View notes
babychoso · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media
Pretty - Shota Aizawa
word count - 3K synopsis - shota aizawa would do anything for you, even if it meant going past his comfort zone. warnings - she/her reader, drunk! reader, aizawa is the king of consent lets be real, coercion, reader is a horny mess but so is aizawa, aizawa is S-O-F-T for reader lemme tell you, some kissing, grinding, heavy petting (maybe?), dub-con if you squint, idk this was entirely self indulgent im not gonna lie to you minors do not interact
It's not like this was the first time he'd seen you utterly shit-faced. No, not in the slightest. He's known you for years, since high school when he was just a floppy haired emo boy and you were a goddess that decided three dorks were her best friends. He's seen you drunk countless times over the years, thanks to Mic and his ability to make you forget you are a grown up. A Pro-Hero at that. But you were too persuaded by your friends' efforts to have a good time. Shot after shot after shot- Aizawa lost count after the fifth double shot that you pounded back, giggling with Mic as Aizawa watched you wipe the liquor that was trailing down your chin.  He should have known right then he was in for a hell of a night.
"Okay, just..shit.. okay.." He's struggling, he really is, between your limp body held to his chest by his strong arm that's wrapped around your waist and the effort it took to get you here, in his apartment, he's more than happy to tuck you to sleep in his bed and call it a night on the couch. Expect you're not only drunk, you're high. High off some dank smelling stuff Midnight pulled out of her purse while you were all waiting for the cab. Aizawa loves his friends but sometimes he loathes them so completely it drives him mad. Face pinched tight, the tips of his ears blushed a deep crimson. That's how he looked standing beside you outside the bar as you swayed and laughed as you hit the thick blunt Mic passed you. 
He drops you as carefully as he can onto his large couch, winded and tired as he tosses his keys on the coffee table and loosens his tie. You lay there giggling to yourself as you stare up at him, your eyes redder than his at this point. His hair is tucked back in a loose attempt at a half up bun, the strands that normally lay over his eyes tucked neatly behind his ears, and his face is clean shaven and flushed from lugging your nearly limp body up the stairs.
"You're so pretty." You coo and fuck if it doesn't make his stomach flip- but you're drunk. Completely wasted in fact and he knew it when you had told Mic before the two of you had left that you thought he was an amazing singer. Aizawa knows for a fact that's a lie. 
"Yeah, yeah. You're so fucking gone. How does your body even handle that much alcohol?" His voice is gruff but there's a fondness in it. Because of course there is. He loves you. Has loved you since said emo days. It's never stopped, never ceased in the slightest. Why else would he deal with your excessively drunk ass? 
You stretch, either completely ignoring or just not hearing his words, stretch nice and big with your arms thrown over you head and your back arched sharply. A hollow moan rumbles out of your mouth and through his apartment and his eyes flicker to the velvet skirt of your dress that has fallen so dangerously close to exposing you. Aizawa looks at the ceiling, jaw clenching, fist balled up in the pockets of his black slacks. 
"So pretty.." Your voice is far off, a gentle murmur to yourself as you keep staring at him like he put the stars in the night sky. 
"Don't be ridiculous." He says about your comment because.. yeah, you're definitely beyond drunk right now. "You need to sleep this off, gonna feel like shit tomorrow."
It's like you dont even fucking hear him. 
"Mm, but I mean it. Think about you so much." You smooth your bare foot down his slack covered thigh, your mouth parted and pretty as you say, "So pretty and kind and strong, drive me crazy, Sho." 
Aizawa can't fucking breathe. Heart pounding in his chest as he looks down at the sight of you, looking so fucked out but he hasn't even touched you. No, this was all your own doing. 
No. This was the alcohol. The weed. You didn't mean it, you were just fucked up. 
"Angel." His voice is a warning and fuck if he can't see the way it makes your whole body shiver. Oh, this isn't good. "You are way too drunk and I am way too sober to have this conversation right now."
"I'm not that drunk!" Expect it's all slurred words and mashed teeth and if you weren't looking at him like you might consume his soul he might have laughed at that. "Don't you want me, Shota?" 
God, his face is burning, dick twitching in his slacks and it washes deep shame through his body. He feels like he's fucking short circuiting, his resolve wobbling like your bottom lip as you look up at him with your most appealing doe eyes. 
"How about, uh, I.. I make you something to eat and then you can sleep this off?" His voice is held together by a wavering thread, words filling his dry mouth as fast as he can form them. He can't do this right now. He needs you to carry your ass to sleep so he can go take care of the massive problem you've brought to life in his pants. 
You sit up, teetering only slightly as you lean you head against the back of the couch and groan, rubbing your thighs together and fuck, Aizawa is doing everything he can to not think about that. You're so….needy. 
"I don't wanna eat, I want you." You peer up at him, and he knows what you're about to do before you even do it. What's worse? He knows he's gonna fucking fall for it. Like he always does. "I guess you don't want me though.." 
Your voice is pathetic, breathy and wounded, and your face is so downtrodden, that frown so deep it sends a pain through Aizawa's heart like a dagger. 
He sits on the couch quickly, locking his gaze on your watery eyes. Fuck, you were actually crying about this. Aizawa wants to die when his dick twitches at the sight of a lone tear tracking down the pretty apple of your cheek. You do things to him, things that no one else is able to do and the worst part is you don't even have to try.
"I didn't say I didn't want you." He says cautiously, thumb wiping the tears away as you turn to him with that fucking pout that never fails to work on him. 
You lean into the warmth of his hand, your own fingers coming to wrap tight around his wrist to keep him there. 
"But.. you keep saying no." You pout and he wants to kiss it off your face. 
"No. I'm saying you're drunk and I'm not gonna take advantage of my best friend because she's drunk. That's not me." His voice is stern. Resolute. But then your mouth parts and the tip of your pretty pink tongue swipes over the tip of his thumb and he almost loses his shit right then and there. 
"You're not taking advantage of me if I want it." You say so coyly and Aizawa snatches his hand back, points an accusing finger at your wicked smiling face. 
"You can't want it if you're drunk, Angel. Stop fighting me on it. The answer is no." He's steady and authoritative on the outside but on the inside his heart is pounding, cock aching within its confines. All Aizawa can really think is "What the fuck is going on?" He'd never seen you act like this before. 
"Okay." You sigh sadly, voice small. You seem to curl in on yourself as you sit next to him but then your head pops up and the hair on the back of his neck stands on end when you press him with the most innocent look. If he didn't know you, he might have fallen for it, but he does know you. Knows that you're a manipulative little shit when you wanted to be, especially when it's to get him to do something he doesn't wanna do. 
"What about.." You start and he's about to cut you off before you can even say whatever ridiculous shit you've managed to think of in the messy state you're in, but he's not quick enough. "Just one little kiss, please Shota?" 
"No, absolutely not." But his stomach does this stupid little flip just at the thought and he can't not look down at your lips. You catch him, eyes glinting as you scoot a little closer. You may be a Pro-Hero but you are a fucking evil women. Sinful in a way that Aizawa isn't sure he can stay away from, no matter his moral compass. 
"Just one itty bitty kiss and I'll go to bed like a good girl, I promise, Sho." You look so good saying it, and sound even better. But Shota Aizawa is not a fool and Shota Aizawa has known you far too long to let something so hormonal ruin one of his most treasured friendships, even if he did want you so badly it was tearing him up inside. 
You shuffle closer, right hand coming down softly on his thigh and his whole body freezes. His eyes slant as he looks over to you. 
"I said-" 
"You won't be doing anything wrong, Shota. I know you'd never take advantage of me." You lean in, ghost you breath across his neck and Aizawa seriously can't fucking breathe. "You're the best friend a girl could ask for, Sho, I know you'd never hurt me " 
Your voice is honey dipped venom and Aizawa's chest seizes when your thumb starts stroking a soft line up and down his thigh. 
No, no, no, no, no. Fuccckk.
Your lips look so soft, bitten and shiny with your spit and so close. He imagines you taste like whiskey and cherries and the spearmint chapstick you made him put in his pocket so you didn't lose it. 
"I…I.." 
"I promise I'll be so good, just for you." 
"Only one." He says and….wait what the fuck did he say? His brain has betrayed him, or maybe it was his dick, doesn't matter when there isn't anytime to process what the fuck he's just agreed to. 
You're pressing your lips to his as his mind flounders, your nails digging into the meat of his thigh as you taste him for the first time after all these years. 
You moan so loud and lewdly, it ricochets around his living room, and his head, and his heart. The sound sends a shiver down both of your spines. You taste just like he thought you would, plush lips pushed against his own. The kiss wasn't anything special but because it was you it was the hottest kiss Aizawa has ever had. 
Only one. Only one. Only one. 
No, he can't, he has to stop this. You taste too sweet, the little moans and whines escaping your throat are doing too much for him. He wants to hear more. Needs to hear more; but not like this. Not when you're drunk. He'd be a horrible friend, a horrible person, if he let this continue. So he pulls away, leaning back, eyes fluttering open, mouth beginning to speak.
He can't get a single fucking thing out when your pushing back towards him, your hands grabbing his face to hold him still. It's him that moans this time, a shocked gaspy moan that you swallow without a second thought. You toss your leg over his lap, grind yourself down against the hard line of his cock beneath his pants. 
This kiss was miles away from the other. Teeth biting against his bottom lip, your tongue licking into his mouth, your hands ruining the bun he had his hair in as you yank the black tie out. And your hips, they won't stop grinding against him, it's so hot but so wrong and that stomach bubbling shame makes its appearance again. He braces his hands on your hips trying, in vain, to stall you but you only work faster. Rutting and whining and whispering his name. 
Oh fuck, oh fuck.
He separates your mouths, bites at his lip when you settle for licking a fat stripe up his neck, sucking just below his ear.
"We can't, we gotta stop." He doesn't know how he manages to get the words out and somehow he's unsure if they even came from him. He's never sounded like this before. What the hell are you doing to him? 
You pin his hands against the back of the couch, something that felt so strange considering he could have you wrapped up in his scarf in barely a second. Except, he doesn't have the scarf at this moment and you've driven his willpower straight into the mud. 
"I'm so sorry, Shota." You whisper into his ear, licking at his ear lobe. "I'm sorry, I just need you so bad."
In that second, with your mouth and hips dizzying his brain, he finally realizes something. 
He wasn't taking advantage of you, you were taking advantage of him. 
The realization hits him so hard he gasps; or maybe that was because you picked that moment to swivel your hips just so that he could feel the way your lips parted under your lace panties and slotted over him. Even through the layers he could feel that wet hot heat. 
"Gotta stop." Was he even trying? "Angel, we have to stop. We g-gotta go to sleep before this gets out of hand." He tries once again to push you away but you only shake your head and clinge tighter, fingers lost in his hair as you chase the release that's been slowly building in your stomach. 
"No." You grit out between this little gasp that has his hands clenching in the skirt of your dress. He doesn't move them, they just sit there gripping the fabric as he thinks about how much of a pathetic weak man he is for letting you trick him like this. "Don't wanna sleep, want you to fill me up. Wanna feel you deep inside me, Shota." You punctate his name with a high pitched whine and that's it, that's all it takes. 
That wavering thread, his moral compass? Gone just from the way you say his name. 
He lunges at you, wraps his hand around the column of your throat and for the first time since you jumped him your hips finally still. 
"You are such a fucking brat." Aizawa growls, squeezing your throat just tight enough to make your head fuzzy. You wanted to play dirty? Fine. He could be dirty too.
He reaches his hand behind you to blindly drag the zipper on the back of your dress down, snatching the front off your shoulders and down your arms. He pulls it down until your bare chest is exposed to him, nipples pebbled in the cool air of his apartment, let's the dress settle around you waist before he's balling his fist in the material and using it to drag your hips against his. 
"Fuckk." He groans, letting his head fall back against the couch. You whimper as you watch him use you now, all that confidence and control gone as you tremble with every grind and rut. He's pushing his hips up into you now, no longer holding back, and the feeling is mind-blowing.
"Shota.." You begin to whisper but he's quickly silencing you with his lips, hungry and searching, as they attack your own. 
"Fucking evil women." He smacks the supple skin of your ass, hard. So hard it has you falling into his chest, burying your nose into his neck. Aizawa grabs the back of your neck with his big hand, presses hard enough that you know that's your place now. You were no longer running the show. 
"Drunk off your fucking ass," he bites out before actually biting into the skin of you shoulder. You whine pathetically, suddenly embarrassed of the sound of your wet soppy cunt humping against his nice trousers. "Can't take no for a fucking answer. Thought you were gonna be a good girl, Angel? What happened to that?" 
You can't speak, your body quivering as you orgasm approaches, a hot white heat that tingles from your head to your toes. You manage to grit out a weak "I'm sorry, Sho.", but it's just about as pathetic as you feel right now. 
"So fuckin' impatient. Why couldn't you have waited till tomorrow?" He grits out, his head spinning. He wouldn't fuck you tonight, that's too far. He knows despite this little performance you've put on that you are in fact still inebriated and he'd never forgive himself if he did something that sober you wouldn't have wanted. But this? If you want to get off so badly, he'll make it happen. 
Because you should know by now- Shota Aizawa would do anything for you. 
"Please." You whimper out even though you're not really sure what you're asking for. But that doesn't matter, because Aizawa knows.
He slips his hand down between the two of you, thumb finding your clit pressed roughly against the wet lace of your panties. He rubs tight, teasing circles over your sensitive nub, kissing and sucking at the soft skin of your chest as he peers up at your pleasure stricken face. You look so beautiful like this, it's addicting, something he's dreamed about for years. To finally experience it though? It was unlike anything he'd imagined, especially when your eyes clamp shut, nails digging into his shoulder as you cum- hard.
"Fuck, Shota!" You gasp around a steady chant of yes yes yes's. "I love you, oh my god, I love you so much, Sho." 
You collapse into his chest, body trembling and jerking every now and then from the small aftershocks that rush through you. He rubs your back as you catch your breath, his lips pressing the sweetest most adoring kisses to your forehead.
"I mean it." You say, breathing heavily through your nose and Shota hums in response as he looks down at where you're cradled to his chest.
"Mean what?" He asks and his breath is ragged, rough sounding. You huff a bit as you adjust your weight in his lap. 
"I'm not that drunk…and that you're pretty…and that..I love you." Your voice is so shy now, so unsure, such a stark comparison from the girl that jumped him only fifteen minutes ago. 
Aizawa feels the heat that rushes to his cheeks, the heavy thud of his heart. He loves you more than you can ever know and hearing you finally say it back, especially while you were grinding against him, was enough to make him cum in his pants.
Which he did. Like a fucking high school kid. It was honestly kinda ridiculous the way you molded him however you wanted to, how he let you do it. He couldn't imagine letting anyone see him the way he allows you to. Only you.
Always you.
"Can we go to sleep now, Angel?" He asks into your temple and you answer with a yawn and a nod, sleepy eyes fluttering shut. 
647 notes · View notes
the-offside-rule · 1 month
Text
Jude Bellingham (Real Madrid) - Stop Thinking
Requested: yes
Prompt: 5) Overthinking being parents
Warning: none
Tumblr media
Jude sat painting the wall of what is set to be his Baby's nursery, his mind consumed with thoughts of impending parenthood. He simply stared at the blank wall. He must have been painting the same corner for a good hour now. Y/b had walked upstairs with two cups of tea, before she turned into the nursery and looked at Jude confused. He wasn't smiling, he wasn't even frowning, he was just zoned out of it. She walked over to the nursing chair and set the cups down on the small side table before she decided she would ask him about anything. "Hey, babe." He zoned back into reality, giving Y/n a small smile. "You've been paitning that same square the last couple minutes, you okay?" She asked. Jude nodded. "Course." She arched a brow. "Are you sure?" He thought for a moment, before he shook his head. She patted the bean bag beside her, signalling for him to join her. Jude sighed, joining Y/n on the bean bag, his expression troubled. "What's up?" She asked quietly.
"I dont think I'm not cut out for this." He admitted. Jude looked up to his girlfriend, his brown eyes clouded with worry. "I mean, I'm still trying to figure out my own life, let alone take care of another one." She smiled softly, holding his hand in hers. "Jude, we're in this together. Age doesn't determine love or commitment. We'll figure it out, step by step."
"I just worry about being a good parent, you know? Balancing my career and family." Y/n placed a reassuring kiss on the back of his hand. "Love, nobody's ever really ready for parenthood. But we'll learn. Sure, we'll make mistakes, and we'll figure things out as we go along. That's what parents do." Jude sighed, feeling the weight of his insecurities lifting ever so slightly in Y/n's embrace. "But what if I mess up? What if I can't be the dad our child deserves?" Y/n pulled back slightly, her gaze unwavering as she met his. "Jude Bellingham, listen to me. You are going to be an amazing father. I've seen the way you care for others, the way you light up when you talk about our baby. You have so much love to give, and that's the most important thing."
Jude managed a small smile, his anxiety beginning to ease. I just want to be the best dad I can be." Y/n placed a gentle hand on his cheek, her eyes softening with affection. "And you will be, Jude. Because you have a heart of gold, and that's all our child needs." He leaned up and kissed his girlfriend lovingly. "You always know how to make things better." He whispered. "Mmh, now how about a cup of tea before we get back to painting?" She suggested before Jude agreed, taking the cup from the table and sipping, now feeling a little more relieved about the fact that he has a baby on the way. It will always be better when he had Y/n by his side.
236 notes · View notes
thesakuragarnet · 2 months
Text
Left Behind (Dabi X Fem!Reader Fluff)
Tumblr media
Summary: When Spinner gets sick, you're the designated getaway driver for the LOV's new heist, but your new boyfriend doesn't want you waiting by yourself.
Tags: Dabi X Fem!Reader, flirting, fluff, soft Dabi but he's still Dabi, second person POV, Fem!Reader, villain reader, established relationship, kissing but not making out, swearing, slight suggestive content, drinking and dancing, slight angst at the end but just an itty bitty (I swear it's happy)
Word Count: 1,116 words
Tumblr Original <3
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You tried so vehemently to insist that you were fine waiting in the van by yourself, but Dabi proved to be particularly stubborn.
"Look. It's not that I don't think you can take care of yourself. I just-" Dabi sighs as the both of you watch Toga, Twice, and Compress slip inside the abandoned yakuza hideout. "If I came back and anything had happened to you, I'm pretty sure I'd burn the whole goddamn city down."
You roll your eyes and put your head on the steering wheel. If Dabi keeps acting like you need protection, the others might start to think you're weak...though, it'd be funny to see them try to pick you off or accuse you of being so. They'd be reduced to ash within mere seconds.
"While those morons are getting the goods. How do you think we should kill time, hm?" Dabi huffs to himself as he leans back in the passenger seat, putting his arms behind his head. You look up and turn your attention to him, and a Cheshire Cat smirk crawls across his face as he looks you up and down. Your eyes narrow as you feel your cheeks heating up, and Dabi starts chuckling to himself. He clicks his tongue.
"Nuh-uh. Not what you're thinking. Don't think we'll have time for that," Dabi snickers with a cheeky wink, "Once we get back though-"
"You're making it awfully hard to keep watch," You snap, and his playful demeanor washes away in an instant.
"Compress will radio me before shit goes sideways. Take that stick out of your ass," Dabi snaps right back, and an awkward silence hangs between the two of you. Dabi grits his teeth and groans.
"Sorry," He mutters, barely loud enough for you to hear. You nod, silently forgiving the apology, as half-assed as it was. You zone out, staring at the darkened alleyway outside the cargo van before you feel pressure on your shoulder. You look over to see Dabi leaning over to rest his head on your shoulder, looking up at you with his ocean blue eyes.
"You're the most beautiful girl in the world. You know that right?" He murmurs sweetly, reaching up to gently caress your cheek. The cold staples brush against your skin, the softness of the pads of his fingers sharply contrasting with the calloused scars on his palm. Your heart skips in your chest as you meet his soft gaze. He only looks at you this way. He only acts like this when it's just the two of you alone. He lets his walls fall down...and he becomes Touya Todoroki. After all, he trusted you with the name...he'd deemed you worthy of knowing it. He pulls you down toward him gently, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck, and tenderly connects your lips. Dabi's kiss is ethereal, and it throws your head into the clouds. He softly pulls back, breaking the kiss and staring into your eyes, though you swear you could count the stars in his. He sits up straight, still turning to face you as he runs a hand through his hair.
"Once we get back to base...do you...do you wanna go on...like a real date?" He stammers awkwardly, as if he's practiced it over and over in his head but still fails to get the words out.
"We're villains, babe. Can't exactly go out to the movies and a fancy restaurant," You point out dejectedly, fantasizing about the thought of you and Touya actually doing domestic things in public.
"No...I mean. I could have Kurogiri pour us some wine. Order some fancy shit. Maybe we could...go...stargazing on the roof?"
"Stargazing?" You try not to laugh before realizing Dabi is dead serious. "You want a romantic evening with me stargazing on the roof?"
Dabi seems to be biting his stitched tongue, trying to decide whether or not he regrets the offer. Your gaze softens seeing him be so genuine.
"That...that sounds lovely," You smile broadly, and Dabi breathes a sigh of relief before returning your smile.
...
...
The heist was successful, and, once you all returned to the hideout, Dabi gave you an hour to get ready before meeting him on the roof. You'd borrowed some makeup from Toga and had managed to find a dress in your belongings that fit well enough. Himiko was ecstatic and practically begged for all the details to be spilled in the morning, which you reluctantly agreed to.
Now, you're hesitantly opening the door to the roof, letting the cold wind whip your face and making you hold your dress down.
Now, you understand why Dabi said he needed an hour. String lights crisscross in a canopy overhead, linking over a table with a seemingly ripped tablecloth spread. Two glasses of cheap wine rest at opposite ends of the small round table, a bottle between them, and, there, pulling the chair back for you, stands none other than Dabi in a suit. It must've been something he borrowed because it doesn't seem to fit quite right, but it makes him look adorable and devilishly handsome. His spiky hair is combed as best as it could be, still looking rather messy, but it's charming to see that he's trying.
He doesn't say a word, just stares at you with pure devotion in his eyes as you step out into the night air. When you sit down, he pushes the chair in for you before awkwardly shuffling to his own seat.
"Any particular reason you wanted to do this?" You raise your eyebrow as you take your glass, risking a sip. You were right. It's cheap, but you like it.
"Figured it'd be nice to act like normal people before the world goes to shit," Dabi says unceremoniously before raising his glass and downing it.
...
...
You don't know how long you two spent talking and laughing, but it was enough time for Dabi to get increasingly more wine drunk. He was upset that you two couldn't properly see the stars through the light pollution, so, instead, he took your hand and was leading you in a slow dance. You giggle as he spins you around, surprisingly nimble and coordinated with how intoxicated he is. He brings you back in and dips you, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek before taking you back up again. Finally, you two stop swaying, and he pulls you into a tight embrace.
"I'm never-hic-never gonna leave you behind. Ever," Dabi slurs, though his words sound so solid in his own mind. Recognizing the pain in his voice, you wrap your arms around him and whisper:
"I'm never leaving you behind either, Touya."
189 notes · View notes
digitaldiarystuff · 2 months
Text
Worst Mistake
Tumblr media
omg hi! thank you so much for all the votes on the poll it helps me and also, i think this’ll be a long story so i want to divide it to parts if you guys enjoy it i’ll continue so please leave likes and comments as much as you can🥹💕
————
pairing: Jude Bellingham x Y/N
summary: Jude was a close friend of your boyfriend, so you meet him. What’s the worst thing that could happen right?
genre: i think a bit of everything
————
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Everything in your life was in place, you were in a happy and calm state, your job and your relationship were going well until he came along: Jude Bellingham. Jude was a close friend of your boyfriend Zack and the two occasionally facetimed or called which you knew about but you’ve never met because you were in Madrid whilst he played for Dortmund. Last summer you were supposed to go on a vacation with their friends but you had a family emergency that you had to attend and you didn’t mind at all. You were happy that Zack could get some time off with his mates and you didn’t think much about missing your chance to meet his friends but as soon as september rolled around, Zack came to you with good news.
“Jude’s signing for Real Madrid!” he happily exclaimed one day and you just shrugged, you didn’t care much about football even though you watched games with your boyfriend and family often.
And just like that, Jude came into your life. When you first laid eyes on him, you quickly realized photos weren’t doing him any favors. He was much more handsome in person but you tried shrugging the tingly feeling when you made eye contact because it was beyond inappropriate.
He first came to your shared house like the second day he landed in Madrid to spend some time with Zack before trainings start. He politely smiled and shook your hand as Zack introduced you to each other.
“Y/N, this is Jude. My best friend from childhood and this is Y/N, my lovely girlfriend.”
You smiled in return shaking his hand but you couldn’t understand why you suddenly started sweating. Your hands felt clammy and you found yourself hoping he didn’t notice but why was this important? You were just the girlfriend of his friend anyway. You three then sat down to have lunch, Zack told you all he knew about Jude’s diet and you tried to make something in regard to it.
“Everything looks amazing.” Jude said when you and Zack were trying to carry plates in.
“Y/N did everything, she also tried to make them as healthy as possible for you.”
The way Zack was talking about you made you feel even worse if that’s possible but Jude’s eyes on you made you feel zoned out.
“I can’t believe you put this much effort thank you so much Y/N” he said with a genuine smile and you felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest with his mention of your name.
You were never like this, you never once thought about being unfaithful because Zack was everything you were looking for. He was the perfect gentleman and you couldn’t ask for more. You loved him with all your heart so why was this man saying just your name had this effect on you?
“It was nothing, really.” you tried to cut short hoping they would dive into a conversation you didn’t have to take part in but every time Zack was talking about something you weren’t into, Jude brought the subject to you asking you your opinion. Any other day, you’d feel welcome and happy about your boyfriend’s friend’s behavior but not today.
Throughout the meal, your mind did things you couldn’t even register. You found yourself staring at Jude more than once, you even focused on his biceps flexing as he held the fork to put it into his mouth but everything you did made you feel ashamed of yourself so you quickly ate and excused yourself to wash some dishes in the kitchen even though you had a perfectly functioning dishwasher.
“Where can I put these?” Jude asked from behind you and you almost dropped the plate from your hands.
“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” he said while you tried to catch your breath.
“It’s okay.” you smiled without looking at him. “You can put them over there, I’ll clean em.”
You turned around trying to continue but his presence didn’t leave the room.
“I can help.” he said while walking over and started rinsing the dishes you put in the sink and you smelled his scent which was so sharp but manly. That scent was intoxicating for sure, there had to be a chemical in there that made you high.
“Jude you really don’t have to.” stand here with me with nearly no space between us, you wanted to say but held your tongue.
“You cooked an amazing lunch for me, I can help with the dishes with no problem.” he turned to you smiling but you couldn’t face him, there was less then 50 centimeters between you guys and this was wrong but then something much worse happened. He slowly reached over and took a strand of your hair out of your cheek and his touch on your face and neck felt like being electrocuted. You instantly looked up at him and he was already staring into your eyes. You knew you should’ve looked away, this eye contact was going on for so long but you felt like time had stopped at that moment. His hand still touching on your neck holding the small strand of hair and his dark eyes staring into your soul, you just couldn’t and so couldn’t he. He was looking at you like he was trying to memorize your face with so much intensity but the moment came to a halt when you heard footsteps outside of the kitchen. He quickly left your hair and you turned back to your dishes as Zack walked in.
“You really shouldn’t, you’re the guest man. Just go sit in the living room and I’ll help Y/N clean up.” he said to Jude and Jude obeyed without any words. He left you in the room with Zack and your conscience.
After the cleanup was done, you told Zack he should spend time with Jude and you’d leave them to it and just be in your room but all you wanted to do was cry your eyes out. This infatuation was wrong.
You were slowly becoming sleepy when the door opened and unfortunately, it wasn’t Zack.
“Oh I’m sorry, I thought this was the guest room. Zack said I could use its bathroom.” he quickly explained.
“No worries, let me walk you to it.” you got up and Jude started following you like a lost puppy.
“Where’s Zack anyway?” you asked.
“He had to go to the office for some last minute work stuff.”
Oh shit, you thought.
“And I’ll be on my way to the hotel in a minute don’t worry.”
“Hotel?” you asked.
“Yeah, I didn’t have time to find a place yet so I’ll be staying at a hotel for a while.”
You were going to strongly hate your next move in the future.
“I actually work at a real estate company who deals with A list celebrities and business people, we make 3D designs of every estate we currently have. If you’d like I can show you a couple of houses.” you offered, you knew you should’ve kept your mouth shut but this was helping a friend out and nothing more.
Jude’s face lit up immediately.
“I mean, if it’s okay with you…” he trailed off
“Of course.” you smiled and showed him the bathroom then you went into your office to pull up the drawings you had for houses that’d be a fit for Jude.
He came rather quickly and was standing up right behind you.
“Oh, let me get a chair for you.” you said standing up but he put his hands on your shoulders.
“Let me get it, it’s the least I can do.” he smiled and pulled the extra chair over to your desk. You didn’t realize but you were once again lost in him, examining his every move until he sat down.
You spent the next 20 minutes going through possible options, he really valued your opinion and told you time and time again he trusted your guidance but being this close proximity with him has made you go a little dumb.
“And we have this one. I think this is a good option, it has 4 bedrooms and 3 bathrooms. I mean I love this one because it feels homey if you know what I mean, I think this is one of the best in Madrid. I personally would go for this.” you explained focusing on the screen telling him about your favorite house listing but Jude’s eyes were focused on you. He was very intrigued by the manner you talked about something you love. You could feel his burning gaze and tried your hardest not to look back. He leaned in close and turned his head to the home you were showing. He held his hand up to the screen and asked about something but his arm was in front of you so you lost all focus.
“Huh?” you suddenly came back to your senses and turned to him as he also turned to look at you. It was happening again, he was all you could see and he evaded your mind like nothing ever had. You didn’t realize how close you were sitting but there was around 10 centimeters between you. He was looking to your eyes until his eyes shifted to your lips and you instinctively licked them as you were suddenly feeling dehydrated. He loudly gulped and it was your turn to look at his adam’s apple. The tension between you was undeniable and you could both feel it in your core.
You didn’t even know it but he was slowly moving forward, he didn’t mean to it just happened.
“Y/N” he said just above a whisper. You couldn’t say anything back just waited there but as your noses touched, you got out of your trance and pulled back abruptly.
He also pulled himself together and you both strictly looked forward not daring looking at each other’s eyes.
He then got up from his chair.
“Um, thank you for everything. I think I should go now, I have somewhere to be but I’ll keep the houses in mind. Thank you.”
You couldn’t even reply back and just watched him escape the room and soon, you heard the front door slam.
Could you just avoided the worst mistake ever?
————
omg i got so carried away i can’t believe!! i thought this was going to be hard but i don’t think so anymore hope you enjoy please leave any comment that helps me a lot💕
149 notes · View notes
eroqista · 9 months
Note
Can I request just to write luocha, yuan, and dan heng teasing a darling by calling them good girl after seeing their darling congratulate them after wining a fight against some of the enemies.
yandere luocha, danheng, jing yuan (sep.) x fem! reader
958 words
✮ — ꒰ cw. this will, of course, include yandere tendencies. yandere tendencies might include stalking, murder, kidnapping, and drugging. if any of these make you uncomfy, feel free to scroll past. i’m not responsible for your media consumption in any way!
✮ — ꒰ a/n. my two husbands and my bestie’s two husbands. also i rlly love this request so tysm 🤭💗 i wrote this extremely late at night like it is darker than gooch outside (stolen from jay cause he’s that dude real)
Tumblr media Tumblr media
luocha is an interesting character. but, in all fairness, it isn’t everyday you see someone carrying a large, prepossessing coffin on his back through the streets like it’s nothing.
maybe that was what made him so attractive to you. his extraordinary strength and perhaps the stamina he must possess to haul such a large object around for hours on numerous occasions?
whatever the reason, this man had you wrapped around his finger. tight. and in the chances he’ll let you slip off that finger, it’s not looking too good. but why even worry when you don’t want to leave yourself?
whatever happened, you only know that you snapped back into reality when a loud ‘thud!’ erupted from close by along with birds disappearing into dust to the sky as ashes admit from their once lively bodies.
you looked over to see luocha sheathing his sword in an elegant manner that perfectly matched his character and personality, your heart racing as you grin.
“dearest (name).. what happened? what have i warned you about? it’s not always safe to roam without me, remember? you’re vulnerable half the time which won’t do you good out of the safe zones.no, it won’t do you good IN the safe zones, either.” luocha spoke with that tone that put you over the moon.
luocha seemed upset. he nearly lost the one he cherished to no extent because she was just so careless with her surroundings most the time. luocha ran a hand through his silky blonde hair, looking at you from the corner of his eyes.
luocha prepared to listen closely and attentively as he heard your intake of air before you spoke. his heart fluttered as the praises dropped from your tongue.
he accepted the praises, letting them settle in him as he absorbed the warm feeling that arose from them. it would only be fair to return the favor; would it not?
“that’s sweet of you, dearest. but i’m only doing what is necessary to keep you clear from harm and danger’s reckless path of destruction. but no matter. i’ll accept praises from my darling good girl any day, yeah?” luocha said with a smile.
Tumblr media
the general himself is a busy man. either doing work, helping train his retainer, yanqing, or just finally taking a well deserved break. this explains why he likes keeping you around him so much.
not catching many breaks means that there are limited time windows when he’ll be able to catch you for at least a moment to give you a sweet, tender kiss as he reminds you how much your worth is to him. this worth is quite high, might i add.
with these limitations in place, the odds you’d be out without him instead of beside him or on his lap as his muscular arms cradle you close to his chest.
but when the two of you go for a nice walk and a pest decides to disturb your serene and tranquil moment together, yuan will be taking that moment to just flaunt a little. just to impress you more than you already were when you first met the respected figure.
you were his delicate doll and he had no intention of allowing even a single hair on your head to be hurt in the slightest. it was his job to protect you, after all. what partner would he be if he didn’t protect the one closest to his heart?
the fight was quick. if you blinked, you would’ve missed everything. the general was very strategic and powerful. even more so when motivated to impress you with his strength.
“you see? anyone else would’ve ran off like a coward with cold feet. though i could never abandon my precious doll. aren’t you such a good girl for me? go on, sweetest. use your words and tell me how good you are for me, okay? it would mean the world to me to hear those words come from your pretty lips..”
Tumblr media
danheng is so doting towards you. he wasn’t exactly sure how to open up at first, always being more reserved and choosing to isolate himself from as much humanly contact as possible.
this meaning that he gets shy to give much affection like kisses, hand holding, cuddles and such in public. but there’s a whole different danheng lying under that tough overhead layer of his. and it only took so little to awaken it.
but just because this sweet, lovey layer isn’t visible to the public eye, the protective one most certainly is. and you don’t need a telescope to be able to see it even from miles away.
whenever you go trailblazing, there’s no way you’ll be out of his sights. when exploring new places, he’ll be extra protective, holding your arm or linking a finger with yours. he just wants to hold you in some way so he knows you’re still there with him.
“the area up ahead is unknown to me. trail closely, will you? don’t stay out of my reach. i want to have access to you if there’s an emergency. you’re my top priority…” he would say, blushing at the words left his mouth. he was still a bit shy about all this affection and love.
once you agreed, a smile tugged on the corner of his lips, “good girl, (name).” he said, ruffling your hair gently as to not mess it up or cause it to get in your eyes from the movement on your scalp.
the words impacted you so much. your heart beat sped up at his words that he didn’t even realize would have such an adorable affect on his princess. a blush crept onto his face, deepening the previous shade. was he too straightforward, perhaps?..
587 notes · View notes
itgetsquiet · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
(。◝‿◜。) to the rhythm of love (。◝‿◜。)
Tumblr media
y/n attends a lot of dance classes, but never hits the dance floor, which leaves wooyoung gets curious. and flirty.
pairing : dancer!wooyoung x gn!reader genre : fluff, college!au | wc >1.4k | featuring bestie!yeonjun *・♫ : move by brb.
Tumblr media
it wasn’t your intention, to hide. you just never wanted to be an obstacle for everybody in the dance class, especially since your goal for being there was always different. you have always admired the dancers in their controlled moves. fluid hand snakes, rapid foot work, feelings that are shown not only with their body, but with their skilled face expressions too. your love for their art always made your heart flutter and body freeze until the dance number was done. destiny granted you with a dancer for a best friend, so now you witness the magic of performances more often than ever.
still, you have always admired from afar. there was no need for you to participate, other than nod your head to the beat or control yeonjun when he asks for your advice. thanks to the guy you showed up in dance halls more than you could have dreamed of since he spread the word about your videographer skills, so now you have been visiting a lot of classes. it has also been helpful for your artwork. observing movement, so close and so often, helps your trusted pen as you sketch everything you see with a speed of light, until the memory is fresh with an image before your eyes.
so you accompany yeonjun often and you know a lot of his fellow dancers, but you always keep yourself small in the dance class. this way you don’t bother the dancers, especially those who still feel timid, sharing the floor with the more skilled colleagues, and take note on the way the dance flows, which helps in taking videos of the dancers later.
it was never your intention to hide. however, you feel not only surprised, but also uncovered, as if your shelter was broken into, when a guy you’ve never met before comes up to you after today’s class.
“why are you always lurking here?”
you snort at his choice of words but he doesn’t bat an eye. while you keep packing your things into a bag, the guy sits beside you, folding his legs and awaiting your answer, so you conclude it’s not going to be over soon.
“i’m not lurking,” you answer with a smile. once you are done, you turn your head his way to find him and his crooked smirk, eyes devoted to you completely. “what is it to you?”
he shrugs. “i just noticed you come often with yeonjun but never dance. thought it’s a shame, a pretty one like you would look good on the dance floor.”
he is blatantly real, you don’t notice and mischievous deceit in his eyes, and this is why for a moment, just for a tiny little part of the second that passes you get flustered. 
you’ve never officially met him, but it doesn’t mean you haven’t noticed him. he is good-looking, especially when he smiles, self-assured, while dancing. his style is similar to yeonjun’s, which is why you’re not surprised they often get to be filmed in the same group. and you would be lying if you said you didn’t expect to see him, after all, today is the first dance class that yeonjun hosted all by himself. it was a given that this guy would appear, which is convenient because a sketch of him that’s been sitting in your notebook turned out really well, the only thing missing are the moles on his face.
and now you have the perfect opportunity to memorize them. all you need is to look back at him before he notices his effect on you. in addition you may try to save your dignity.
you’re probably too late. his laughs a bit, showing off his canines, but you still fall for this dangerous, almost arrogant smile. suddenly, he’s back to earth once he gets an idea.
“want to try?” “try what?” “dancing.” you don’t answer, still taken aback, but he reassures you, “promise, i’ll go easy on you.”
this is way out of your comfort zone. whenever you attempted to do something as simple as a beginner move or a silly tiktok dance, yeonjun would laugh at how stiff you are. so, even though you are wearing a comfortable fit, are done with work, are attracted to this guy who is going out of his way to flirtingly ask you to dance with him, you are preparing yourself to politely decline the offer. at least you won’t get sweaty near someone you find attractive.
until he gets up and hands you his open palm in invitation.
“i’m a good teacher.” “i’ve never seen you teach a dance class, how would i know?” “but you’ve seen me dance. i’m pretty good, right?” “that doesn’t prove anything.” “yeas, but you don’t deny it either.”
a sly fox, he smiles at you and glances at his impatient hand. you hold yourself back, trying not to smile or to roll your eyes, wondering how this one exchange can be both fun and annoying. but you put your hand into his and get up.
“but don’t make fun of me,” you ask. whatever it is that he finds in your plea, sincerity or insecurity, makes him put a serious, but still soft expression on.
“never,” he promises.
he leaves your side and put some hip melody on, showing you simple moves and guiding you through steps to the desired result. he fixes your limbs and compliments your efforts. maybe he is a good teacher after all.
minutes after minutes, you get lost in ups and downs, you laugh at his jokes or chase him around the class when he decides that you grew close enough for him to finally mock you. the fun of this additional dance class is addicting. you don’t know where he got more energy, but you love it. so much that you don’t notice yeonjun appear in the doorframe with an adoring smile until he makes his presence known.
“wooyoung!” he yells, attracting your attention. you realise that you didn’t even ask for the name of the guy, so at least now you know what to call him when you gush about him to your other friends. “leave my best friend alone, they are probably tired of seeing your smug face for hours today. and you,” he points at your frozen form, “don’t you have to meet some teaching assistant in like twenty minutes?”
you curse and run up to your phone to check the time. yeonjun is right, you should rush to the meeting. with a slight panic you look at wooyoung. “sorry, i gotta go.”
the soft smile adornes his features. “it’s okay.” but you’re still frozen on the spot, so he laughs and rushes you, “go!”
you awkwardly laugh with him, – and yeonjun, but you kinda forgot he’s in the room – grab your bag and run to the door, screaming “bye” to both of the guys. 
unbeknownst to you, wooyoung squeals in joy and runs up to hug yeonjun against the latter’s will. “thank you, thank you, thank you!” he chants, jumping around his friend. “they’re so cute, oh god.”
with a small smile, yeonjun hands wooyoung a mop, reminding that there’s work to accompany the fun part of meeting you.
“you promised to help,” he reminds wooyoung.
“way to be a party pooper,” woo grumbles but still obliges, remembering the deal: yeonjun leaves wooyoung and you in the room alone, wooyoung helps him clean said room afterwards.
yeonjun cleans the mirrors when he hears the annoyed voice behind him, “i didn’t have time to ask for their number.”
a sly fox enters once again, but yeonjun sees right through it. he turns blind to this indirect request and shrugs, “well, find them later.”
“but the campus is huge, and we all have classes, and the weekend is ahead so i probably won’t see them…”
yeonjun senses that mere seconds separate this peaceful moment and wooyoung’s childish tantrum. so he gives up, not without an annoyed sigh.
“i’ll ask them later if i can give you their number.”
his eyes are so far in his head in the roll that he doesn’t notice in reflection that wooyoung creeps up at him from the back to place the wettest, the loudest kiss on the cheek possible. 
“thank you, man. i owe you.”
he’s annoyed, and in no way he will let wooyoung know that he’s actually happy about this outcome. you deserve the best, and wooyoung seems to be willing to give it to you.
335 notes · View notes
tarjapearce · 8 months
Text
Bad Teachings (Pt. 5)
Tumblr media
Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader
WARNINGS: Strained relationships, friendship starters, piercings, awkward truths. Slow Burn.
Summary: Relationships are weird. And truth isn't always kind. At least, you might have a friend.
(Might feel a bit boring, but we're building something here. 🥹)
Pt. 6
"OK. I've got one for you." —
—??
"What's the scariest plant?" —
You almost giggled into the reply in your head. It was another ridiculous joke, silly but science-y that upon reading it on a blog, you instantly thought on sending it to Miguel.
In the meantime while he replied, if he ever did that is, you kept on working in a new project. Despite the previous client complaining initially on the low numbers on her beauty product line, the numbers were making small changes in other states, giving a glimpse of hope in the team.
Your job itself at this marketing company, Searchbloom, was to make the briefs, office automation of said briefs and of course help prepare new campaigns for approved projects and important clients  such as celebrities, big companies, influencers and anyone with enough money to afford a complete market investigation.
Your phone buzzed as you finished another brief from a client.
—Red Tide or Algae Bloom. Really bad for marine ecosystems.
You blinked and shook your head at the little fact that you'd probably forget in the next hours. The giddyness of your comeback taking over once more.
Interesting. I thought it was the BamBOO!—
—Ever thought in going out more?
Damn.
Campy jokes were scratched off your list of things. You could picture in your head the reaction, dead, boring and possibly judging.
I'd need real friends for that(?) —
—Not a bad thing to be on your own, y'know?
Oh?
Swallowing at the dryness of your mouth, you finished the little brief, digitally signed it and sent it to another coworker in the other side of the office cubicles.
I know. But doing things on your own isn't always fun. I mean, I'd really love to go shopping, hanging out for lunch and the like with other people.—
His eyes squinted at your words on his screen
I mean we are social beings by nature, sadly, and as much as I'd like to keep doing things on my own, the making friends fever has taken over. —
—Trust me, don't rush things. They'll come to you in the right time.
Your brows arched in surprise at what you just read and pursed your lips in a tight smile.
I mean, I could ask you to hang out but I know you are a busy man. Plus, I gotta step a bit more out of my comfort zone, ever since I got out of college feels like the right time to start making little changes, can't be socially inadept forever, I guess? —
And I'm not sure if you'd actually be interested in such things, you're a workaholic, so yeah. Sorry for the long ass message. —
He hummed and his lip curled faintly upward
You should try it as well.—
—Got enough to live by. Thanks.
You actually give these "Leave me alone" sorta vibes 🤔—
—That pretty much sums it up.
Oh...
                                      I see—
Your heart gave a wobbly and doleful beat, eyes stuck in reading that sentence over and over again. You gulped laboriously the lump that had just formed in your throat.
He wasn't asking to be left alone, was he? Maybe he was actually hinting that you should leave him alone.
Oh no. No, no.
You hated assumptions. But he was pretty clear about the meaning of the message, right? Right?
Closing his chat log, you put your phone away and tried to pour yourself into work to little to no avail. Your brain felt like split in two, blooming headache biting at the back of your head. Week had just started.
You tried. You tried with all your might to keep the harrowing-thoughts at bay, but over thinking you ever old friend only made things trickier than intended. You barely wanted to look at your phone, cause what would you find there but implicit rejection? Even though the other part of you wanted to reach out, at usual.
Another cold realization. You were the one that always sparked the small and sparse conversations you had.
"... Fuck." Seeing your log of messages with him, offline, just made you cringe at how precisely you were acting and wanted to avoid be seen as. Clingy and desperate.
Gulping down, you pressed on the trash bin icon. Breath stilled for a second as you tapped on the 'Yes' confirmation button. He hadn't replied since yesterday.
Why would he anyways?
Question ghosting over your mind.
It wasn't that hard to process.
His words seemed to make sense now. The palpitations in your heart only made themselves clear further the more you thought about it.
God knows how long he had been waiting to say such things.
You grunted at your thoughts. The noise and unkind thoughts reverberating in your head, made your migraine to simmer to a higher level. You had barely slept as the whole situation was breaking piece by piece the little functionality you had left for the day.
But, tasked yourself with one thing, to not look at your phone through the day. A rather easy task since you only used it to check your little social media, watch funny things or videos that caught your interest.
The knitting and crocheting stash of videos in your gallery weren't enough to keep you distracted. So you had added a new category, city wandering for new spots. And four pm sounded like a good hour to actually start. 
And if wandering the city alone, after work to keep you busy from over thinking probable assumptions wasn't considered a hobbie, you certainly didn't know what else to call it.
So you finished work, clocked out and adventured yourself in the arts of local wanderlust. But of course traffic fucked throughly all chances of doing so. You went to the supermarket to grocery and toiletries shopping.
The situation had made you so oblivious to the fact that you needed to replace some basic stuff at home. Shampoo, toothpaste, conditioner, exfoliants.
You couldn't help but notice the coffee and grain aisle full of new products. Hazelnut lattes, cardamom and clove blends, brands you didn't even know that existed, some cheap, other expensive, and of course you took one in between. A small international sample blend.
Your card surely had died a little when you slid it to pay. Almost a houndred bucks in beauty products and another houndred and a bit more in groceries.
The groceries and toiletries were checked from the expenses list. To your little solace, Mr. Landlord was waiting for you with a man and another door.
You let them work, as you unpacked your things. At least you had a new door, a prettier yet still sturdy like the previous one.
Still, no message from Miguel.
----------
On Wednesday you tasked yourself with the same endeavor as yesterday. Not checking your phone. The videos in your "To watch" list were boring and annoying. Political propaganda, movie recommendation spams, mysoginistic stands ups, reactions to bizarre videos.
Nothing worthy to wasting your time on your lunch break. At least you would have the chance to wander the city on your own. You had noticed some work you had slacked, finished and other projects advanced. A perk you didn't think possible in the admist of chaos.
But why would you even congratulate yourself for doing something that was expected from you?
Right.
You clocked out and once more you went to the city. This time no traffic was there to stop you. Parking in a lot, you took your tote bag and walked. Getting comfy shoes to walk after work was added as a mental note. You stopped on a sidewalk.
Streets bustled with people walking like they were probably late to an appointment, Neon signs begun flashing their lights, adorning the streets with their different colors, different sort of aromas filled in your lungs. Pee, trash, hot dogs, sweets and bakery, perfumes, cigars, gas, weed somewhere.
An overwhelming start. You walked in the bakery's direction. To your surprise when crossing the street it was just a little mobile kiosk with choux pastries. Even though the products looked esthetically pleasing, the prices on the whiteboard underneath, made you turn in the opposite direction. And just then you found your first treasure.
Tea Bar. But not a gentrified-looking tea bar with over the top foliage decor with expensive furnace that charged you for just breathing their air. More like a tavern-esthetic sort of Tea bar named Julien's Potions.
Spices, herbs, and other pastries, rested within funky shaped glass containers, the clerk was also into a sort of role-playing that added a little charm to the place. Hand carved wooden tables and chairs littered strategically the small local. Six tables max. The art on the walls was minimalistic, yet still added to the overall layout in the place.
Prices were significantly much more affordable and the little treat you got, a red berries cold brew tea and Mango muffin, we're exquisite. It gave you enough energy boost to return at the parking lot. Of course you took some pictures of the place.
You felt proud. Your first solo adventure had been wonderful.
On Thursday you had ran into a little fancy liqueur shop. Ironically as it was, alcohol and you didn't get along, but the different labels, the shape of the bottles, the year of brewing, the array of sizes and prices, the origin place, made it all too pretty for you to ignore. There were bottles that surely would  cost at least five months worth of your paycheck.
Friday was a busy day at work and of course you just went home. On Sunday you had found a well hidden treasure, a bakery. This time, you took more pictures of the different pastries you had never seen before. Petit fours intricately adorned with such precision you wondered if they had a special machine for it.
Puff creams, chocolate croissants, pain au chocolate, Buttery buns that made you salivate. It kinda brought you back to the baking school sales, your mom's peach gallete and strawberry tarts were popular, and  the only two recipes you knew by heart. The rest, long forgotten and replaced with new hobbies' knowledge.
-------
A week and a half had been exactly gone by, and not looking at your phone had been easier than you had thought. You had discovered a few more places to add to your personal list. A crystal and esoterism shop, where you bought lavender incense. A little thift shop where you got a lovely and fashionable champagne colored trench coat. And today, you kinda wondered where you'd take yourself on a Friday evening
This time you hoped to find a knitting shop. Starting a new hobby meant to invest in it. And your cheap wools had ran out as you were learning the basics of knitting. After work, you'd park your car in a spot of the parking lot, but to your surprise it was closed early. So you drove until you'd find another, nearby the thrift shop you had found. Open 24/7.
You walked east, the bustle of the city wasn't as loud in some parts of it. You gave the thrift shop's clerk a brief smile before continuing down the street. To your surprise there was a Tattoo and Piercing studio. A.F.A.U.'s Emporium. Sid Vicious' voice reverberating through the place the closer you approached.
Your eyes widened upon seeing none other than Hobie on the front desk, organizing a bunch of guitar cords. The place was divided in two. To the left there was the tattoo artists and piercing cubicles. To the right, apparels and other handicrafts were neatly displayed before anyone that actually took the time in looking.
Walls painted in jet black, with a dim white grunge texture as a decor. Pictures of protests, famous singers that made a significant impact on society through their subversive forms of expressions were hung on the wall.
Jello Biafra, Kathleen Hanna, Patti Smith, David Vanian, to name a few, along some bands logos spray painted in some spaces.
A stark contrast with your well dressed for the system-look. Hobie arched a brow at you and chuckled.
"Got lost in the way, birdie?"
You shook your head as you kept looking around.
"I was wandering the city, actually found this place by mere coincidence. Looks pretty cool."
"Humbly"
"You work here?"
He sneered and shook his head.
"I owe it. Me and many others, actually. I'm just the face fo' it."
"What does... AF..."
"Anti Fascist Artist United." He sniffed as his lip twitched.
Your eyebrows rose and you glanced over the piercing cubicles.
"So ya just... wander in the city and see what happens?"
"Uh, yeah?"
"Cool. But dangerous."
"I never go too deep in the city just... the outsides. Don't want to fuck around to find out what's in store for me." you chuckled, Hobie followed.
He tucked his hands on his pockets and walked over you, he motioned to follow him.
"How come every time we met you turn cooler?"
He shrugged and took you to the handicrafts.
"You did them?"
"No. My work's on the other side. These are made by local artist that are involved one way or the other in tryin'to get mo' spaces for people that actually bring a change into community."
"So all of this Merch..."
"Ain't free, that fo'sure."
You giggled
"No, I mean, You just rented this place to give other people a space to offer their art and goods without charging them?"
"Nah. they do pay a small quota, meaning, they can come and clean up, organize shite. Government pays the rent, they get full profit of their thingies. Everyone's happy."
"And the tattoo part?"
He smirked and shrugged.
"Government pays the rent, so... puttin' that to good use."
Your eyes widened slightly and you just nodded.
"Might need a bit of that smart for myself."
"You gotta shape it, birdie. Anyways, what brings ya here besides, yer 'wanderlust'?"
You sighed and shook your head.
"Been wandering the city on my own to try and distract me from something that is messing me up. Just glad I found a familiar face after almost two weeks of random strangers."
"Life's a bitch, innit?"
You nodded and went through the merchandise. T shirts with trippy designs, Pottery in fruit shaped bowls, handcrafted watercolors and painting supplies and of course, knitting tools. Your grabbed a couple of  wools and paid him to take  the small bundle with you.
"So what yer' here for?"
You looked up at him and sighed
"I'm trying to make friends on my own."
"How's that going?".
You shrugged and a humorless laugh came out your mouth.
"I mean... ever since college... way even before that, actually-" You looked up and scratched your neck awkwardly when he gave you his seizing stare.
"Sorry. Don't wanna bore you with my ramblings."
"Haven't said nuffin'" He sat across you and looked at your fumbling hands. The music had died down a bit.
"Saw yer door being replaced."
"Oh yeah. I'm glad I'm not getting stuck anymore." You looked at him and chuckled.
"Whut?"
"Do you always stare at people like you're judging their choices?"
"Yeah. Makes it funnier when they get all squeamish. Like ye."
"I'm not squeamish."
He arched an eyebrow and you both chuckled.
"Can I ask your age?"
"So ya can feel a Lil'more glum for what you might have or haven't achieved so far?"
"My thoughts exactly." you shrugged with a silent laugh.
"24."
"Ah, yeah. I can already feel the disappointment."
"A too well dressed disappointment"
"Is that why you call me... uh... runway girl?"
"No. Glam life, glam dressing, glam job. Runway sort of shite, so runway girl. Been there, done that. Not fo' me."
You didn't know whether to feel offended or laugh at his assumptions. Everyone was assuming lately.
"My life is anything but glam, Hobie. Just work enough to keep appearances. Something that my job also requires from me."
"That's why the name is perfect for ya"
"It's boring."
He pursed his pierced lips in mild derision
"Graduated uni?"
you nodded.
"Found a job of what you did study for?" Again, you nodded and sighed.
He chuckled.
"Still, you're just assuming. My life is boring. Really. One would think that working in branding companies offers you alot. But it's just another fancy way to say you're-"
"Another workforce for da capitalism?"
You chuckled and shrugged.
"Yeah, I guess. And people think I actually hang out with celebrities-"
"You don't?" He snorted and you frowned
"See?! You were assuming things! And no. It's rare when I actually meet someone famous. I basically make resumes of what they want, how they want it and make it come true. And if I ever meet them means no good. And still I have to dress up like I'm interviewing someone important."
" A wish maker, then. Might call ye Fairy."
" Sounds less brash than Runway girl actually."
" So lemme get this, you graduated uni, are working on something you actually prepared yourself for, dress up like an expensive doll, but... ya wander the city alone tryin' to make friends? "
"Sounds a bit more depressing and pathetic when you put it that way." He tittered at your words.
"Sounds like you're just living by."
"Yeah. That's been a recurrent feeling, even before college."
"What do ye want?"
"Uh... what?"
"Like, yer acting like yer living the life some dream of, but have the life some hate. That leaves ye in the middle. What do ya want?"
"Right now? I'd like a hug and be told everything, at least up here" You pointed at your head, "Will be fine. But since life is a bitch, I wanna get my ears pierced actually."
His smile was satisfied.
"That's a start innit?"
"Yeah... just realized that ever since college, I... didn't get the chance to do a lot of things."
"Uni seems like the dementor of people's dreams. Even worse if it's private." You chuckled and nodded. He motioned for you to follow to the front desk.
"Both ears?"
"Nah, just my right one for the moment."
"A'ight. Pick one, it's on me."
You looked at him with excited eyes, he just smiled.
"This one. It looks soo cool and it's stylish." You went for a triple helix hoop in your upper lobe.
"Golden, silver or colored?"
"Uh... golden."
He prepared his working area. Your chest felt a bit less constricting.
-----
The first thing you  did when coming home, besides giving Hobie a ride and greeting his mom on the hallway and getting a random invitation for afternoon tea, was to look at your new body modification on the mirror. Golden 6 mm hoops adorned your ear. You couldn't help but feel giddy and a little sore. Hobie was careful, and he was a pro at it.
Your phone had been buzzing nonstop hours ago. You made a quick dinner for yourself out of the left overs. You then took a shower and changed into your pjs, TV remote on hand, The Diary of Bridget Jones ready to play for the third time, when the notification sound dinged. You groaned.
Your thumbs padded and scrolled through the logs. Some were from the work's group chat reviewing the week's assignments, others from your social media announcing new videos for you to watch, your ex college classmates uploading new photos, and something more unexpected.
Miguel's name on the bottom of your notifications. It was almost comical how you had to rub your eyes and make a double take to confirm that it was him. He had messaged you. Your heart skipped a beat. Your thumb hovering on the unread text, like if reading it would make the room to suddenly explode.
You pressed on it and all you could do was blink almost stupidly at it's contents.
—If you're done giving me the silent treatment drop by on sunday. Need your help.
---------
Taglist:
@yeyrpp2 @zaddyskye69 @gejo333 @bigbassbug @daddylorianisastateofmind @namjooningera @d1lf-loverrr @amb3rrz @xantic0101 @niyanispunk
332 notes · View notes
luvfy0dor · 4 months
Text
“Let's Cool Down" ♡⁠˖” ; Seasonal Scenarios! ੈ✩‧₊˚ Chuuya Nakahara x GN!Reader
Warnings; None
Description; Vacation house activities with Chuuya!
Tumblr media
A/n; Lately I've been starting to utilize my queue. Also I think I'm flopping because I pick whack ass times to post. But anyways, there are some parts in this where I am just yapping away tbh
★ Chuuya likes sitting in a hot tub with his partner, a glass of wine sitting on the edge while he talks with you. He also likes late night ocean swims and teasing you.
ೃ⁀➷
The soft feeling of the hot tubs jets against your back almost made you shiver. It felt nicer than you remembered from the other day and gave you a bit of a pleasant surprise as you settled down on one of the built in seats, your lover sitting right across from you. He gave you a relaxed smile, which you returned as you let your feet float up into his lap. One of his hands rested on your ankle, the other holding onto the wine glass he brought with him. His lips became stained with the red liquid as he sipped on it, the soft glow cascading onto his skin from the fairy lights decorating the gazebo of the vacation home. He had rented it out in hopes of relaxing with you for a few days, relatively limited on vacation time because of the nature of his job.
"Is it comfortable?" He asks, his voice as soft as the sound of the bubbles coming from the hot tub's jets. You hum, nodding your head as you made yourself comfortable in the body of warm water. The ocean was visible from the homes porch, the soft waves crashing onto the shore with the moon reflecting onto them. It added to the comforting atmosphere the two of you had created with one another. He held out his glass before speaking and breaking the vocal silence. "Do you want a sip?" He asked. You shook your head in denial briefly. "I'm alright, thank you." You said with a small smile. His arm retracted and brought the drink to his lips. "You were starin' at me so I thought you might want some. Is something on your mind?" The way he cared for your well-being and simply tried to make you feel better even at the slightest signs of discomfort, real or imaginary, made your heart warm a little. "No, sorry, I just zoned out." You reassured him.
He smiled at you and reached out to hold your hand under the water. Your conversations over the next minutes were occupied by plans of the coming days and memories of similar activities. As you talked with one another, exchanging small laughs and giggles, you could feel your body heating up. That and the scent of the chlorine could make you light headed. You couldn't help but feel a bit dizzy and as though your body had become lighter and more buoyant in the water. Chuuya noticed this again and took your hand, gently pulling you upward. "You look like your heatin' up, darlin'.." he says, pulling you closer to his body and stroking your back gently. "Yeah, I definitely am" you say, taking a deep breath and laughing a bit.
"I know something that could cool ya' down." He says, looking over your shoulder at the dark ocean. Your gaze followed his as your turned your head and upper body. "Hmm...is that really the best idea? I mean, it's really dark- and you know, the winds already cooling me down pretty well." You say while turning back to him. He nods and grabs your hands gently, interlocking both of your fingers. "Well yeah, but it could be fun! Do you really think I'd ever let my darlin' get swept away by the ocean?" He asks, a small grin on his face. You playfully roll your eyes and step out of the hot tub, your boyfriend following suit. The both of you walk down to the start of the sandy beach, him grabbing your hand and running down towards the water. You stumbled at first, but eventually we're able to keep up with him, both of you eventually getting to the water and being forced to slow down. You went in to your knees before your initial running came to a halt.
"Do you feel any cooler?" Chuuya asks, his lips tugged into a loving grin as he scooped some water up in his hands and splashed it at you. You laughed and splashed him back, yours was a lot more forceful, making him back up a bit with a chuckle. "A lot cooler!" You say, talking over the loud sound of the waves. The deeper the two of you went out, the closer you stayed to him. The waves were now crashing against your waist, Chuuyas grip on you allowing his ability to keep you upright and from being toppled over. The wind blew through his long hair and the moon draped a beautiful glow over his pale skin. He looked so gorgeous. He rotated his body to face you, his wet and dripping hand emerging from the water to gently cup your cheek. His thumb caressed your cheek bone as his face got closer to yours. "You're so... indescribable." He mumbles, pulling you in for a gentle kiss on the lips. Your cheeks heated up as you kept him close with your hand on the back of his neck.
You only broke the kiss for a couple of seconds at a time, pulling each other right back in. You could feel Chuuyas smile plastered on his lips against yours while they moved together. He squeezed your hip through there swimwear before his hand slid over the curve of your ass before lifting you up. You gasped briefly in surprise but you quickly adjusted through breathy laughs. Your hands were on his cheeks as you both kept eachother close. He pulled away after a moment and started to let you down before dropping you completely. You fell into the water and could already hear his laughter while submerged. You quickly resurfaced, your hair and entire body soaked now in the cold liquid. You wiped the salt water from your eyes before playfully smacking him on the shoulder. "You can't just drop me like that, Chuuya!" You say through snickers and deep breaths. He rubs your back, while simultaneously guiding you back closer to the shore, both of you grinning from ear to ear.
"I'm real sorry, can you forgive me?" He asks, holding you close. You place your pointer finger on your chin, pretending to be deep in thought over the matter. "I guess." You tease, leaning into his side lovingly. He smiles and kisses your cheek. "Thanks my love, you know I would never intentionally do such a thing." He says with a smirk. You just roll your eyes and nod along. "Totally."
Tumblr media
155 notes · View notes