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feyascorner · 3 months

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Ok but what if tav is the hero of baldurs gate right, the god killer, slayer of the chosen three, savior of the emerald grove etc etc and after all that is told they had this incurable illness that the parasite had only slowed down. Now, with it gone, it’s progressing again and Tav can’t help but feel so stupid, weak even, that such a mighty hero could be struck by the weaknesses of their own body

Maybe pushes everyone away when they find out, too afraid to tell them that after everything they’ve been through after surviving all of that that they were going to die anyways

AND THEN ASTARIONS REACTION!!! Because surely he would not take that news sitting down (if he found out at all)

a/n. anon how did you know this type of prompt is exactly my cup of tea <33

It's not fair.

You did everything right. You saved the grove, the Tieflings, the Druids, the gnomes, the city, and even those who did not deserve saving, you always came to their aid. You've slayed gods, mind flayers, githyanki, even a bloody elder brain. And now, finally, after so long, with the brain having been defeated, and nothing but pure bliss occupying your headspace, you think you finally have time to relax.

Instead, you're reeled over the bathroom sink, eyes blurry from how much your body seems hellbent on making you miserable.

Ah, you remember. No matter what you've done for others, no matter what you've sacrificed, you're reduced to nothing but a sick patient. One that has no hope for a cure.

The months spent with little to do with your illness has left it to come back tenfold, and now all you can do is grovel on the bathroom floor, head in your hands as you understand that this is all you were meant to amount to. In the end, you were always destined to rot away by yourself and succumb to this gods forsaken disease. You are no hero. This is what you truly are---the pitiful remains of someone who longed for more.

The weeks following the defeat of the elder brain are filled with mournful streets for those who lost their lives and the joyous laughter of those who live on for them. Celebration--though it's difficult with half the taverns having collapsed in the battle--is not out of the ordinary. Strangers and friends alike come together every night, singing praises to whichever gods they worship. Your companions are no exception.

But each and every time, you deny their offers. You've become quite skilled at making up excuses about feeling tired, about having errands to run, or having loose ends to tie up. In reality, you're a coward. Despite the trust they put in you, you cannot provide it back--not in matters like this. Not when you've all been through so much, just for your own journey to amount to nothing.

It's not like you haven't known about this disease. You knew your death was imminent. But now, after experiencing just a fraction of what life has to offer, you no longer want to let go.

It's just not fair.

For what seems to be the millionth time this week, you hear someone knock at your door. Whichever one of your companions it is, you don't bother taking a step from your bed, face still planted into your sheets. You don't have the energy to move, and the useless healing herbs scattered across the room don't exactly hide your secret. So instead of standing, you bury your face deeper into your bed.

"You can't stay in there forever."

You flinch as you realize it's a voice you've dreaded hearing. One that invokes so much love yet fear as you remember that if you see him right now, it might be your last. And you don't want that. Not at all.

"I don't know what we've done to make you push us away like this," he says through the door, and your fist tightens in front of your chest. "But this is getting ridiculous, darling. You have to come out eventually."

You remain silent.

"Gods, just--" he stops, and you can hear the hesitance in his voice. You swear it almost cracks a little. "--Have I done something wrong?"

At this, you're suddenly on your feet, rushing to push yourself against the door, but unwilling to open in. "No, Astarion, you haven't done anything wrong. Don't you dare think that way."

You can hear him shift. "Then why do you avoid me? The others, I can understand, but me?...I mean, I thought we were more than that..."

"We are, it's just..."

"Just what?"

The final thread of your resolve snaps, and you reach toward your lock. Your hand falters for a moment, but you eventually open the door slowly. And if the way his face falls tells you anything, you must look absolutely dreadful.

"Oh, my sweet, what's happened to you?" he whispers, his eyes widening even more when he sees the mess of your home behind you. The clothes all over the floor, the blinds shut despite there being no sunlight to shield from, the healing potions and herbs messily tossed around...you'd feel ashamed if you weren't so tired already.

"...Are you sick?" he steps inside, taking his time to take in the state of what you call home. When you don't answer, he whips around to you, alarmed. "You're sick. Is it a cold? Flu?"

You shake your head, sick of having to lie to the one person you don't want to deceive. "It's a long story."

"I'm undead, darling. I have all the time in the world."

"It's not a very nice story."

"If I wanted a nice story, I'd be listening to a bard someplace else," he says, and you feel your eyes bubble with tears as he steps closer. "What's happened?"

The words spill out like vomit, and you're soon telling him what's been weighing on you for so long. You find yourself sliding down to the ground, and he goes with you, letting you grasp desperately at the sleeves of his shirt while you tell him everything. You can barely breathe with how fast your talking but you're afraid you won't say everything if you get any slower. The entire time, he just stares at you, his arms circled around you, and only when you're done does his gaze finally flicker.

"...Surely, there must be a cure." He's suddenly glancing around the entire room, at pieces of herbs. "Surely, at least one of these would--"

"None of them work, Astarion."

"Then we can find the finest healers in the city--we can even go back to that damn druid, and ask him."

"I've tried."

"Well, you haven't tried hard enough, obviously, if you haven't found a bloody cure!"

You give him one hard look--one with dark bags under your eyes and a weariness that stretches on for weeks--and his temper seems to cool. His shoulders slump, but he reaches for your hand, rubbing his thumb against your skin. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I just felt so weak," you whisper. "I didn't want you to think that too."

Immediately, his eyes harden, and he takes both sides of your face in his hands. "No. I don't think you're weak, and that's not going to change. You've proven yourself more than I can count, and I know you enough to know that you can't let it end like this, love. You can't leave like this."

"Astarion..."

He shakes his head. "I won't let this take you from me. There have been too many opportunities for us to lose each other, and we've overcome them all. We'll just do it again. We'll go to the most skilled healers in Faerun. We'll go to all of them if we have to, and we'll start tomorrow."

You can feel yourself tear up again, and he kisses your tears away while you sob in his arms.

"I'll save you," he mumbles against your temple. "Even if it's the last thing I do."

#astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #fluff #bg3

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caraphernellie · 3 months

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last hope // e.w. ✧ [chapter one]

summary: there was little you could do to calm your excitement when you read and immediately recognised the name ellie williams in the email you received accepting your request to live on campus. sharing a dorm with your childhood best friend who you had missed so much? what a small world- it sounded like everything you could have dreamed of, like it was fate that this had brought her back to you. you could only hope that she hadn't changed, that she was still just as much a loser as you, and that things could go right back to normal. but not everyone stays the same after eleven years.

an: HELLO. OMG IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS FIC. i love it. i had the idea for a while to make a fic where ellie was this mysterious angsty roommate and i wrote the whole thing (it was a two parter) and i was not happy with it like at all. so i have completely changed the entire thing! basically. but this is so much better. and it's gonna be multiple chapters, slow burn 🫶🏻 im not sure how i feel about this first chapter pls be kind i had covid while writing this (and chapter two which i'm posting tmrw) so brain fog might have fucked this up big time but i wanted to introduce the story <3

cw: cigarettes, foster system, bitchy ellie, bad girl!ellie, good girl!reader, check masterlist for full list of content warnings !!

wc: 1.3k

if you missed the prologue you can find it here!! and the fic's masterlist right here :)

living with ellie williams is like trying to look after a disgusting animal – it’s like being a zookeeper of sorts. though you’re sure even the angry lions or crocodiles could be more pleasant than she.

it’s this blatant lack of disrespect that just pisses you off the most. the loud music in the middle of the night, the putrid cigarette smoke ruminating in her bedroom (which could definitely get you in trouble with the dean), the way she seems to have nothing better to do than hurl insults your way.

“what the fuck are you doing in my room?”

and she’s so secretive. but you get it. you hide things from her too, after all, she had declared you her enemy. it actually made you laugh when she’d done so, which had only solidified the apparent burning hatred she had for you. you didn’t even know what you’d done. she took one look at you, recognised you to be her childhood best friend, and then decided you were everything wrong with the world.

“the fuck are you doing in my room?” she growls, a tight grip around your wrist to pull you towards the door. her nails dig into the skin.

“woah, woah, woah, ellie, i–”

“are you after my journal?” she grunts, forest green eyes glare at you. it’s a hardened gaze, and if looks could kill, you’d have been dead five times already.

“no i- i don’t- i didn’t even know you had a journal in the first place,” you say, trying to pry your wrist out of the firm grip, only for ellie to grab your other wrist now too.

“then what the hell are you doing in my fuckin’ room when i’m not here?”

“i’m just looking for my phone charger,” you mumble, looking away awkwardly. “you took it last night, remember? i kind of need it back now.”

“oh.”

the snarl on ellie’s face drops and she begrudgingly lets go of you, but she’s still eyeing you distrustfully. even though you’re telling the complete truth, her stare still makes you feel like you are doing something wrong anyway.

“you could’ve asked,” ellie mumbles, and you sigh, unplugging your charger from the socket.

“not really, i mean, you slept till noon and before i could even ask you went straight for the showers. i have work soon, so i had to come grab it.”

“text me next time, at least,” ellie mutters, pushing you towards the door with a firm hand on the small of your back. “i don’t like you snooping.”

“i wasn’t even snooping, i just–”

“you so were.”

“oh no i was not,” you say stubbornly, narrowing your eyes. “i would not willingly enter your room for longer than a minute, smellie.”

“i- sm- do i smell?” ellie mutters, stopping to sniff herself. it’s oh so charming, the act garnering a small laugh from you. “i don’t smell bad, fuck you.”

“yeah, you don’t, for once,” you retort. “i’m–”

your teasing words are cut short when the bedroom door is slammed in your face. raising your eyebrows, you nod, talking into thin air.

“mhm. okay. i mean, i thought my word play on ‘smellie’ was genius, but…”

you shrug it off, heading back to the couch to put on your shoes and plug your phone in for a little while before having to leave for work. at this point work is a nice escape. being able to get away from complicated words and numbers and of course being able to get away from ellie’s suffocating presence.

nothing but music. and so many of the people you came by in your job at the little record store down the street were so cool, it was how you’d made the majority of your friends.

and you appreciate all those friends a lot, of course. you’re only three weeks into the semester and you know you’ll be able to rely on dina when the stress of finals week approaches later on.

you’d opted to stick to your own during high school, who cared if people thought you were some loser loner? you were focusing on studies, it’s not like your high school status would matter down the line.

but moving out of home now at nineteen meant you were going to have to find a support system that isn’t just your family– hence the sudden burst of extrovertedness you’d attempted since the start of september. you managed to find dina, and by extension, her very on-and-off boyfriend jesse, and their other friend cat.

but it feels still as though you’re missing something and you know exactly what it is, but lying to yourself is better than admitting you’re sad about ellie.

perhaps you’d got too excited after discovering she’d be your roommate. as you often do as an overthinker, you got your hopes up only to be let down.

ellie was supposed to be nice, still. in your head that inner child in you thought over how fun it’d be to basically have daily sleepovers with your old best friend, amusing yourselves over the same inside jokes, catching up and being able to navigate some of the crazier years of life with her.

but she pretty much crushed that dream with the way she took a step back after recognising you, and the words she said.

“what made you think i was going to be a dork like you still?” she laughed dryly. “that’s just unrealistic.”

and it hadn’t hit you at first as to why she acted like this. of course, it’s just as you feared. she’d moved out of boston to god knows where with god knows who and morphed into this mean, rowdy girl. the grown-up version of ellie isn’t who you thought she’d be, and at this point you felt you only had yourself to blame for feeling let down.

she was right, after all. it’s just unrealistic to think that after eleven years, she’d be the same.

if it’s not ellie’s overarching bitchy attitude she always carries, it’s the fact that you clash heads in every which way. she’s made it a point to snub you for being some kind of ‘goody-two-shoes.’ you told her it was immature, cringe even. the only response garnered being a scowl on her face.

after tying the laces of your docs, you sit for a moment. ellie barges out of her room again, not something you hadn’t predicted what with the loud sound of her feet you’ve grown used to already.

she’s carrying her whole bag, pens spilling right out the unzipped pockets. and almost like some kind of decrepit monster in a movie she pauses, taking a moment to glare at you. “what now?”

“huh?” a brief moment of silence is interrupted by you stifling a laugh. “dude, you came out here basically guns blazing, and you’re shocked that i’m looking?”

“i’m late,” ellie mutters with a frown, not bothering to pick up the mess she’s left behind as she laces up her converse. she doesn’t bother to sit down. “y’know, because i actually made friends in our classes. so–”

“crazy story, bro,” you say disinterestedly, leaning back into the couch. ellie sighs a moment before glaring in your direction again.

“you are a miserable person.”

“as if you’re any better,” you protest. it’s definitely a matter of butting stubborn personalities– it’s not like you want to fight with ellie like this. but your pride isn’t going to let you sweep her indecencies aside just because she used to play mermaids with you in the summer.

it’s just this part of you that can’t help but worry a little bit. she had to have spent years in the foster system. you’d worried all throughout your teenage years, hoping she’d have been treated fairly in the very least, though knowing in some place deep down that she probably wasn’t.

her excessive sleep, her bad habits, hell, even the attitude you can’t move past. it all has you a little bit concerned.

rising to your feet and grabbing your keys, you move past ellie.

“i’m working the closing shift tonight, so don’t be waiting on me, just because i’m sure you will.”

your jest earns a chuckle and a cluck of the tongue from ellie.

“riiiight, riiiight. i’ll be naively waiting around for you just like you did for eleven years.”

"i know you're flattered that i was still thinking of you, but there's no need to keep bringing it up."

"you're ridiculous."

taglist: @dinasvampgf @fadedin2u @eurewili @diddiqueen @machetegirl109 @craz1er4you @divinediors @onlinelesbo @thecowardwrites @readbydayana @slut4mascss @unicorniusfallapatorius @littlegingerperson2 @feelsoseencantdream

boy this app wanted to test my patience while i was formatting everything...

#ellie williams x reader #tlou2 x reader #ellie williams x fem reader #fem reader #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ fanfic #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x yn #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x you #ellie x yn #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie fanfic #ellie fanfiction #lesbian #sapphic #x reader #x fem reader

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your-bestamericangirl · 17 days

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Midnight Love || ch. 3 - white ferrari

Paige Bueckers x Uconnwbb!reader

previous: ch.2 - golden || next: .4 - april || masterlist

a/n: not proofread sorry baes <3

now playing: slow dancing in the dark by joji

She was sat on her bed, the passing clouds cast fleeting shadows over her room, enveloping her in a familiar wave of frustration. Throughout (Y/n)'s life, there had been countless instances where she wished she could freeze time, if only for a moment. In her experience, time never seemed to align in her favour; nothing ever happened at the 'right time,' and she often had to work tirelessly to make things happen. Unfortunately, her life hadn't witnessed any miracles yet, and there seemed to be no signs of any on the horizon to rescue her.

Currently, the clock displayed 5:47 PM.

A river of clothing continued to spill out of (Y/n)’s wardrobe, forming several piles scattered across her floor. Various textures and colours now adorned every crevice of her room. What started as simple 'yes,' 'no,' and 'maybe' piles quickly multiplied into categories like 'yes-if-the-weather-stays-nice' or 'maybe-but-it-would-look-better-if-my-hair-was-up'. Defeated, (Y/n) slumped from her bed to the floor. Choosing an outfit wasn’t a decision to be taken lightly in this context.

5:50 PM

Now would’ve been the perfect moment for her first miracle.

As she stared at the chaotic array of clothing before her, she couldn't help but feel a sense of unease creeping in. It wasn't just the prospect of selecting the right outfit; it was the nagging uncertainty about the evening itself, looming on the horizon like an unanswered question. After all, it wasn't like she was getting dressed up for media day, it was just the rest of the team. She found herself second-guessing the decision to go at all. With a heavy sigh, (Y/n) pushed herself off the floor, resolving to make a decision one way or another. As she stood there amidst the scattered clothes, (Y/n) tried to rack her brain for what had compelled her to agree to this outing in the first place.

***That morning

"And good Lord, right then and there, I wished I could’ve just gotten killed earlier on when I was in that shark tank because my mom appeared, mad as hell, and was ready to slap the shit outta me-”

Absentmindedly, (Y/n) hummed in agreement as her eyes scanned the fully stocked shelves. The aroma of freshly baked bread from the nearby bakery section wafted through the air, making (Y/n)'s stomach growl in protest at its emptiness. For the past four aisles, KK had been recounting her so-called horrifying dream from the night before, all from inside their shopping cart. While the first 30 seconds had been captivating, (Y/n) soon realized that KK was far from done. This dream had been so 'emotionally and mentally impactful' that KK felt compelled to act out her car chase scene, resulting in her abandoning the cart. After the fateful crash, the two found themselves with a worker trailing them from behind, ready to intervene with KK’s boisterous antics if needed.

The restock of the week was greatly needed. With the pantry, kitchen, and fruit bowl left with nothing but dust, both girls’ moods had increasingly deteriorated from the day before. As KK continued to recount her experience, (Y/n) was left with the task of finding what they needed. “Mhmm, sounds traumatic speaking of that. What else do we need?”

KK gave her a look. “Yeah, it was. Thank you for your consideration.”

“Always for you. But you didn’t answer my question—what else do we need?”

Realizing that KK couldn’t wring out any more sympathy from (Y/n), she shifted her focus from recounting her painful nightmare to recalling the items on the grocery list she conveniently left at home—a detail she kept from the older girl.

“Uh, okay damn. I think like… meat?”

The cart suddenly jerked to a halt, catching KK off guard. She lurched forward, instinctively steadying herself on the shopping cart. The harsh fluorescent lighting overhead felt too intense for the early morning, casting stark shadows across the aisles.

KK turned around to face her roommate, ready to berate her for the sudden maneuver. However, the words of distaste dissolved on her tongue as she beheld (Y/n)'s expression. The older girl stood before her, eyes closed, brows furrowed in the middle, teetering between disbelief and strained patience. KK would be grateful to come out of this conversation unscathed.

(Y/n)'s tone was short, “KK.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

With a deep inhale, (Y/n) gripped the shopping cart, her fingers tightening around the metal handle as she suppressed the urge to vent her frustration. Swallowing back all the profanities that came to mind, she managed a strained smile.

“What type of meat?”

“You know, like, bruschetta… maybe some bacon-”

“Maybe?” (Y/n) raised an eyebrow, her patience waning.

KK chuckled, the sound bouncing off the fluorescent-lit aisles. “Nah, just kidding. We definitely need bacon. And also… Oh shit… Ice?”

(Y/n) blinked, the abrupt shift in conversation catching her off guard. “...Ice? KK, are you good? Because last time I checked, you were the one who brought up meat in the first place.”

In response, KK stood up from her position in the shopping cart, the metal rattling as she shifted her weight. “No look, it’s Ice.”

Following KK’s gaze, she then spotted Ice Brady in the next aisle. The 6’3 forward struggled to fit numerous bags of chips into her shopping basket, her arms stretched to their limits.

With a resigned sigh, (Y/n) began to maneuver the cart containing KK towards Ice's location. The wheels squeaked in protest against the linoleum floor, the rhythmic sound echoing in the bustling store. Despite her being a D1 athlete, she found herself growing weary of playing the role of chauffeur for her friend. Yet, as she glanced at KK’s expectant expression, she knew there was no escaping it.

“Ice Brady," KK sang, her arms outstretched in a theatrical gesture as the cart rolled to a stop. The spectacle drew the attention of nearby shoppers, who paused to witness the unfolding scene, transfixed by the unexpected drama. "Would you care for some assistance today?"

Ice, caught off guard by the flamboyant greeting, turned her attention from the bags of chips to KK's infectious smile. Amusement danced in her eyes as she surveyed the scene before her. With a nod of acknowledgment to (Y/n), who was still navigating the cart into a suitable parking spot, Ice responded, "I mean, if you hopped out of the cart, I could put my stuff in, but I wouldn’t want to trouble your highness."

“Oh!” KK’s hands came together in childish glee, pleased by Ice’s answer, “How considerate of you, but it's alright, I’ve been feeling courteous today.”

“So now you’re feeling ‘courteous’?” (Y/n) deadpanned as she made her way around the shopping cart across from Ice. As KK made her stellar attempt to climb out of the cart gracefully, (Y/n) stood behind her to help lift her out, “I’ve literally been pushing you around all morning, babes.”

She then made her way over toward ice to give assistance with the various chip bags enough to feed a family for christmas dinner.

“So,” KK started her smile towards Ice, selectively choosing to ignore her roommate’s comment “what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

“Y’know, working had to feed the kids, and all that. You guys sure eat a lot”

“Wait,” KK gaped, “This is all for us?”

“Have you checked the group chat?” Ice questioned. In fact, they had not. Though she had been added days prior, (Y/n) had decided to keep her distance from that group chat. The two girls turned to look at each other, proceeded by KK quickly checking her phone.

Soon enough, her eyes ignited from within. “Hell yeah, party time,” she sang.

“K, you’re being dramatic, it’s literally just the team,” Ice laughed.

“Theres a hangout tonight?” (Y/n) questioned, her stomach forming knots at the thought of being in a room with all of the UConn Women’s Basketball team.

“Yup, everyone, including you two, are coming over."

(Y/n) glanced between KK and Ice, her expression shifting to one of mild apprehension. "Do I have a choice?" she asked, her voice laced with a hint of resignation.

Both KK and Ice exchanged a knowing look before simultaneously replying, "Nope."

6:15 pm

During her first official collegiate-level game freshman year, (Y/n) led her team to a resounding victory, later that night earning her the coveted title of 'The People’s Princess' of the NCAA.

Beneath the blaring lights of the stadium, (Y/n) was radiant. It was a moment she had long envisioned, the culmination of years of relentless dedication and unwavering determination. With her eyes gleaming and her words flowing with confidence, she effortlessly captivated the reporter and everyone in attendance. Her presence seemed to cast a spell over the crowd, drawing them in with her infectious smile and undeniable talent.

In the weeks that followed, (Y/n)'s reputation soared to new heights. However, amidst the high, a subtle unease began to gnaw at her. She quickly realized that the pedestal on which she had been placed came with its own set of challenges.

Despite her remarkable achievements on the court, she found herself confined by the weight of expectations. The public's perception of her became increasingly polarized, with praise often overshadowed by harsh criticism. She was both celebrated and scrutinized for her gentle demeanour, her commanding presence, and even her choice of attire.

The constant contrast between adoration and disdain left her feeling unsettled, she was constantly walking on a tightrope between two worlds. Over time, she became acutely aware of the need to separate her on-court persona from her everyday life, a process that had equally drained but benefited her.

Yet, as she immersed herself deeper into the complexities of her newfound fame, (Y/n) couldn't shake the nagging feeling that appearance had become everything. In a world where perception was predominant, she grappled with the notion that her worth was measured not by her character or accomplishments, but by the image she projected to the world.

All this to say that unfortunately, (Y/n) had been second-guessing tonight’s event over and over again. Only two individuals had truly seen beyond the facade she meticulously maintained: KK and, in a distant past, Paige.

As (Y/n)'s life flashed before her eyes, her gaze fixed on the door before her, its weathered surface worn by years of use. The soft hum of chatter from beyond the door drifted through the air, mingling with the faint scent of pizza and anticipation that hung in the hallway. Each groove in the wood seemed to whisper secrets, a silent witness to her inner turmoil.

She took a deep breath, her fingers tracing the edges of the doorframe. The cool touch of the wood against her skin sent a shiver down her spine, a tangible reminder of the reality awaiting her on the other side. What would they think of her? Did she look presentable enough? Doubts gnawed at her confidence, threatening to unravel the facade she had carefully constructed.

With a steadying exhale, (Y/n) pushed open the door, crossing the threshold into the unknown. The soft click of the latch echoed in her ears, signaling her descent into the realm of uncertainty.

The scene unfolded before her, intimate and genuine, a tapestry woven with the bonds of teammates. The UConn Women’s Basketball team occupied every corner of Ice’s condo, their laughter mingling with the warmth of the confined space. Despite the inviting atmosphere, (Y/n) couldn’t shake the feeling of being an intruder in this vibrant gathering.

With each step forward, (Y/n) sensed the weight of her decision. The events of this evening would undoubtedly shape her relationship with the team for the rest of the year.

Luckily, no one had noticed her entrance yet. As (Y/n) scanned the room, she searched for KK among the multitude of bodies, most of them towering over her. Despite her efforts, KK remained elusive. Frustration etched her features as uncertainty gnawed at her. She caught her reflection in a nearby mirror, regarding herself with unease.

With a sigh, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. Lost in her inner turmoil, (Y/n) failed to notice the door behind her slowly swinging open.

As the door swung shut, the breeze proceeded to cause a shift among her hair. Shoving away all distractions, (Y/n) straightened her back, took a deep breath and prepared for her next step further into the house.

“You gonna move? Or do you need help, princess?” Paige's voice cut through the air, shattering (Y/n)'s concentration. All prior thoughts dissolved from her mind at those words, her focus instantly shifting to the unexpected encounter with Paige.

Despite the familiarity of seeing Paige's face plastered on banners around UConn, the proximity still rattled her. She had thought she'd grown accustomed to it, but the reality of facing Paige in person was an entirely different experience.

She had an image to maintain, (Y/n) wouldn’t shy away at simple words anymore.

With a subtle steeling of her resolve, she turned to face the taller girl, meeting Paige's gaze head-on. Though she found herself looking up at Paige, she refused to give any ground in their exchange.

The tension between them crackled in the air, each word laden with unspoken history and unresolved emotions. (Y/n)'s jaw tightened, but she refused to let Paige see any hint of vulnerability. She squared her shoulders and held Paige's gaze with unwavering determination.

"No need for assistance, thanks," (Y/n) replied evenly, her voice betraying none of the turmoil swirling inside her. "I can handle myself just fine."

Paige chuckled, taking a step closer to her. "Of course you can, Your Highness," she quipped, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "But it wouldn't hurt to let someone lend a hand every now and then."

(Y/n) bristled at the implication but forced herself to remain composed. "I'll keep that in mind," she replied curtly, stepping aside to let Paige pass.

Paige's lips quirked into a knowing smirk, but she didn't press the issue further.

While Paige moved past her, (Y/n) couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that lingered in the air. Despite her best efforts to maintain her facade of confidence, there was a vulnerability in her interactions with Paige that she couldn't seem to shake.

As (Y/n) made her way further into the room, she found herself enveloped in a warm atmosphere. Smiles greeted her from every direction, genuine and welcoming, easing the tension that had knotted in her stomach.

“Damn, girl, I was just about to check if you had been kidnapped! What took you so long.” Exclaimed KK as she searched every inch of (Y/n). The younger girl’s gaze soon turned towards Paige suspiciously suddenly recounting the day prior, eyes snapping back and fourth. But then quieter KK added, “Hm, okay, I see, I see…”

A chorus of laughter bubbled up around them at KK’s dramatic statement, the sound infectious and light-hearted. (Y/n) couldn't help but smile in response, the weight of earlier uncertainties melting away in the warmth of their acceptance.

Any lingering tension between them dissipated in the face of the group's genuine warmth, replaced by a sense of belonging and shared purpose.

After making her rounds, (Y/n) went to sit by the couch, where a mini circle had formed as the team watched Azzi and Aubrey in their death match of Mario Cart. The room was filled with the rhythmic clicking of controllers and the occasional whoops and groans as players navigated their virtual karts through the colourful tracks. Azzi and Aubrey were locked in intense concentration, their eyes glued to the screen as they jostled for the lead. The competitive banter between them added to the lively atmosphere, punctuated by bursts of laughter and playful teasing from the rest of the team. (Y/n) leaned back, taking in the scene with a contented smile.

As the night progressed, (Y/n) found herself settling in, enjoying the easy connection of the team. Their genuine willingness to engage with her put her at ease, dispelling any lingering apprehension. After wrapping up a conversation with Ashlyn about her cats back at home, (Y/n) decided to take a brief respite. She excused herself and made her way to the kitchen, feeling a headache creeping in as result of the loud atmosphere.

The cool touch of the glass along her fingers was well welcomed as (Y/n) took a sip of water. From her position in the kitchen, she had a comforting view of the apartment. As her gaze swept from Azzi and Aubrey fighting about wins and losses, to KK and Aaliyah filming their third tiktok of the night, her eyes landed on Paige.

Obviously, people change as they grow up. Physically, Paige was taller. Her dark blond roots peaked out like a halo. But, the space between them seemed to grow as well.

With a sigh, she turned to grab another sip of water. The kitchen, bathed in the soft glow of overhead lights, hummed with activity. The tiled floor gleamed underfoot, a testament to the cleanliness maintained in the shared space.

Unfortunately, right as she turned, she bumped into the one and only Nika Muhl.

“Oh, shit,” (Y/n) jumped, the water in her glass sloshing dangerously close to the brim.

Before she could react, the collision resulted in the water spilling on Nika, the droplets now flowing from Nika’s shirt onto the tiles below. (Y/n)'s heart sank at the sight

“I’m so sorry, let me help you,” she stammered, scrambling for a nearby towel, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Nika waved off (Y/n)'s apology with a chuckle, her easygoing demeanour putting her at ease. "Don’t worry about it, (Y/n). Accidents happen." Nika took the towel she offered and dabbed at her shirt, trying to contain the spill.

(Y/n) winced, feeling guilty. "I didn't mean to, I was just lost in thought."

Nika leaned against the counter, a small smile playing on her lips. "No harm done. Do you want to talk about whatever was on your mind?"

(Y/n) hesitated, not wanting to burden Nika with her concerns. But Nika's warm gaze encouraged her to speak up. "Yeah, I'm just trying to find my place with the team, you know? Sometimes it feels like I'm still the new kid."

Nika nodded in understanding, crossing her arms casually. "I get that. But trust me, (Y/n), you fit right in. Everyone likes you."

(Y/n) felt a warmth spread through her chest at Nika's words, and she couldn't help but blush. "Thanks, Nika. That means a lot."

Nika chuckled, nudging (Y/n) playfully. "Hey, don't mention it. And you know what? Even Paige couldn't stop talking about how excited she was when she found out you were joining."

(Y/n)'s eyes widened in surprise at the mention of Paige. "Really?"

Nika nodded, a knowing smile on her face. "Yep, really. It seems you’re quite the People’s Princess, (Y/n)."

Feeling a mix of emotions, (Y/n) leaned against the counter beside Nika, both of them watching the group outside the kitchen enjoying themselves. The sounds of laughter and chatter filled the air, creating a comforting backdrop to their conversation.

However, (Y/n)'s attention was soon drawn to the sight of everyone getting up and preparing to leave. "Where is everyone going?" she asked, confusion evident in her voice.

Nika followed her gaze, her expression turning playful. "I guess it’s about that time now.” Nika then stood up to trail the team out of the apartment. “Team tradition."

Now playing: white ferrari by frank ocean

The night enveloped the surroundings in a tranquil embrace, casting a serene aura over the playground. The soft glow of the moon and stars illuminated the path ahead, casting gentle shadows on the playground equipment.

Amidst the laughter of her companions, (Y/n) found herself immersed in the peaceful ambiance of the night. As she followed behind the group, she couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over her. The cool night air brushed against her skin, carrying with it the faint scent of freshly cut grass and distant city lights.

With each step, (Y/n) felt a weight lifting from her shoulders, replaced by a quiet sense of serenity. She took in the sight of her newfound teammates friends ahead, their silhouettes dancing against the night sky, and allowed herself to be relax the moment, grateful for the new joys she would encounter with this team.

As they made their way onto the playground, the flash of red and blue metal bars pierced the air, bringing back memories of a time when playing D1 basketball was just a distant dream.

Following close behind, (Y/n) ended her destination at a swing set that shone silver and gold against the night sky. The chains groaned in response of her weight, their link rattling together, forming a melody long forgotten. As her world slowly swung on an axis, (Y/n) couldn’t help but finally be at ease.

As (Y/n) allowed herself to sink into the comforting rhythm of the swing, she became aware of a presence nearby. Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted Paige making her way towards the swing set, her silhouette cutting through the darkness like a shadow. Despite the tension that often lingered between them, there was something oddly comforting about Paige's proximity in that moment. With a silent invitation, (Y/n) watched as Paige settled onto the swing beside her, the chains creaking softly in protest under their combined weight.

For a moment, there was only the soft whip of the wind that passed by (Y/n)’s ears, occasionally broken by the rattling chains and the laughter that drifted from the playground. Though things between the two girls were complicated, (Y/n) missed their time together.

With a sigh, her eyes searched the distant lights above. Her mind filled in the blanks and connected the dots of the stars in the skies. Unbeknownst to (Y/n), Paige had been doing the same since she arrived.

“Ursa Major,” Paige murmured, the name of the constellation unintentionally slipping from her lips.

At the sudden break in the comforting silence, (Y/n) glanced over to her, giving her full attention.

"Is it still your favorite?" Paige asked, her voice soft with genuine curiosity, her gaze falling to the side to find (Y/n)’s surprised expression within the darkness.

“Yeah,” (Y/n) spoke softly, her mind filled with the countless nights they searched the sky together. An unexplainable wave of yearning and sadness washed over her senses, “it is.”

Paige then turned her attention back to the sky above, all while (Y/n) was still processing the fact that she remembered her favourite constellation.

“You still remember?” (Y/n) asked, the question slipping from her mind out to the world before she could stop herself.

Paige felt her blood rush scarlet. “Yeah, you know… how could I forget?”

Paige’s answer stunned her. She assumed that since they parted ways, Paige would’ve also tried to erase the memories from her mind. For (Y/n), it had been too much to remember.

Paige's response lingered in the air, the weight of its meaning hanging heavy between them.

Paige hesitated, her gaze searching (Y/n)'s face for any sign of recognition. "Do you ever miss it?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

(Y/n)'s heart skipped a beat at the question, her mind racing as she struggled to find the right words. "Miss what?" she replied, her voice barely audible over the gentle rustle of leaves and the soft glow of the stars.

Paige's gaze softened. "Us," she admitted, her voice tinged with vulnerability.

A whirlwind of emotions swept through (Y/n) at Paige's question. Her chest tightened, and her breath caught in her throat. The weight of their shared history pressed down on her, threatening to overwhelm her fragile composure.

Yet, amid the turmoil of conflicting emotions, a flicker of longing ignited within her.

Everyday.

She wanted to respond.

I’ve never stopped missing us.

She hadn’t expected such a question from Paige. Though she had been hoping, deep down, she knew that Paige might not have the same space for her in her world. After all, a sun doesn’t need a moon to survive.

Over time, their dynamic had shifted, revealing that (Y/n) relied more on Paige than the other way around. But those words brought into question whether (Y/n) had been wrong about them all along.

Her eyes swept to the side to meet Paige’s expectant gaze, her eyes reflecting the silver moonlight.

“Always.”

Neither Paige nor (Y/n) had been expecting the answer to be spoken. At the revelation, the corners of Paige’s lips curved into the slightest smile.

As soon as the conversation started, silence drifted between them, The two girls drifted back into their quiet comfort. Only now, they both shared the same information. Possibilities of the upcoming sprung up into (Y/n)’s mind. Things would be different then she expected, but maybe that was a good thing.

(Deleted scene)

“Nah, Paige is occupied at the moment,” KK laughed, her voice carrying over the chatter of the group. With a deft swing from the monkey bars, she landed next to Aaliyah, where her phone was propped up to capture their talents. As they continued their antics, the live chat exploded with questions about (Y/n) after the idea of getting Paige on the stream was quickly shut down.

“Damn,” Aaliyah murmured, her eyes scanning the flood of messages, “y’all really love her, don’t you?”

A chorus of affirmative responses flooded the chat. Meanwhile, Azzi's voice cut through the background noise, calling both Aaliyah and KK over to witness her latest feat on the monkey bars. With a shared grin, the two girls left their spot, drawn by Azzi's infectious energy.

In the darkness of the night, the bottom right corner of the screen was illuminated just enough to make ou two silhouettes together on a swing set. The descovery sparked a flurry of speculation in the chat. Messages scrolled rapidly as viewers attempted to decipher the identities of the mysterious figures. Within moments, messages began pouring out as Paige and (Y/n) were finally identified.

(Y/n) and Paige: Sparks Fly on Live Stream

Fans were treated to an unexpected sight during teammate KK Arnold's recent live stream, as basketball stars (Y/n) (L/n) and Paige Bueckers made a joint appearance. Their presence together immediately set social media abuzz, with fans reigniting dating rumors that have followed the pair for years. Despite both athletes maintaining silence on the matter, the resurgence of speculation has divided fans, with some eagerly shipping the duo while others advocate for their privacy. As (Y/n) and Paige continue to focus on their careers, fans remain captivated by the possibility of a romantic connection between the two athletes.

a/n: yuhh chapter two done! sorry for the wait, it's been a tough week lmao! anyways, im begging you PLEASE LISTEN TO WHITE FERRARI WHILE READING THE NIGHT SCENE ITS SO GOOD

anyways, thanks for all the love and support you guys are the best, loving all the comments <333

also for future chapters, does anyone live in seattle? cuz mc is gonna be from there and i need a highschool that was good at basketball or just one in general. LOVE YALL SO MUCH SEE YOU NEXT TIME

taglist: @kenzie-luvzz , @juphey , @h34rtsformilli , @pinkandlilacroses , @i-bribri-i , @thatonemarvelfan03 , @girlokwhatever , @ihrtthotdads , @kc88888888 , @nfleditsrjustbetteridk , @imsobabygiirl , @vi0lentb3rry , @sejus-wife , @katemlk , @littlelesbianinternujung , @ktaerssoi , @evangelinexo , @c999sh

#paige bueckers headcannon #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #wlw #uconn wbb #wlw fic #uconn huskies #x reader

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maxsimagination · 2 months

Text

𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 - 𝙢.𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩

warnings: smut, soft dom!millie. 18+ under the cut

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it was a friday night during international break.

the whole team had been working hard during the week in preparation for the game against italy, which was on tuesday.

sarina had willingly agreed to let us have the majority of the day off, after a quick training session (which ended up being not-so-quick) before we retired to our apartments for the day.

i was in my own room, with girlfriend millie splayed out over my bed.

we’d only been together for five months, but she was almost never in her own room if she had the choice, preferring mine instead.

“mills, i’m bored can we do something?”

“sure, y/n/n. we can watch a movie?”

i scrunched my face at the option.

“can i pick?”

a soft smile graced millie’s lips.

“of course.”

she held out the tv remote which i happily took and clambered onto the bed with her.

it took me a while to find something that looked decent enough to watch, but we decided on a popular romcom.

i settled into the bed, curled into millie’s arms. the defender was taller, and older, than me so her body was like a shell to my own.

the movie played out in front of us, scene after scene.

i would never admit it, but i got a bit bored after a while. my head rested on millie’s shoulder, trying my hardest to stay interested in the film.

spoiler alert: that didn’t work.

so i shuffled my body around, trying to find another position that was comfortable. millie had no clue what i was doing, but grabbed my hips and pulled me down on top of her own.

“you gonna watch the movie or not, princess?”

“y-yes.”

her voice was deep and gravelly, which short-circuited my brain and gave my body the shivers. this was the first time i had this feeling, it gave me goosebumps and a weird sensation that pooled in my gut.

i wiggled around a little more, but the feeling only grew. millie took notice of my movements, manoeuvring me so she was resting against the headboard of the bed and i was sitting on her lap.

“are you okay, baby? you keep wriggling round.”

i could feel myself burn up at her words.

“‘m fine. just need to get comfortable.”

she gave me a knowing smirk, letting me go back to attempting to watch the movie but keeping her hands on my thighs.

for the next half hour, she was drawing patterns, squeezing and sliding her hands all over my thighs. she had to know what she was doing to me, the feeling in my gut was growing stronger.

“mills, please.”

i breathed out.

“please what, princess?”

“please touch me.”

i was nervous. i wanted her to touch me, she knew that. but what she didn’t know was that i was just as experienced in the sex department as a fish is at flying.

i was a virgin.

millie’s hands slid higher up my thighs, closer to the edge of my thin pj shorts.

“where do you want me to touch you?”

she was torturing me, she had to be. my cheeks were flaming from the embarrassment.

“mills, please don’t tease me.”

a flicker of sympathy could be seen in her eyes, and she didn’t ask me again. her hands went higher up until they slid under the waistband of my shorts.

i wanted this to happen, needed it even. but i was shit scared to let it happen.

“mills.”

i put my hands on hers, effectively stopping her in her tracks.

“what is it? do you want me to stop?”

her response was immediate.

“i just.. need to tell you something before we keep going.”

“you can tell me anything, y/n.”

deep breaths, in and out. i worked up the courage to finally tell her.

“i’ve never done this before. i’m a virgin.”

i mumbled the last word, but millie’s could still hear it.

there was a beat of silence, in which i looked up at millie, expecting to see disgust or some variation of anger. but instead she had a soft smile on her face.

“that’s perfectly fine, princess. we can take it nice and slow. if you need me to stop at any time, you just say so.”

i got butterflies in my stomach at her words, she was so soft and kind and caring.

i nodded along and millie slowly started moving her hands back up and down my thighs. she lifted one of her hands up to my chin, where she turned my head to face hers, placing a small kiss on my lips.

i got a little more confident, pulling her back in for a longer, more heated kiss, which then became a make out session.

“mills, you can take off my shorts.”

my voice was soft, nearly a whisper. but this was a big step for me, and millie knew it.

“you’re sure? we don’t have to.”

“i’m sure.”

i guided her hands up to the waistband of my shorts, letting her take control from there.

she knew what she was doing, flopping us over so i was laying on my back on the bed and she was hovering over me. again, she rested her hands on my waist with her fingers hooked in the waistband, giving me a questioning look.

i nodded at her, begging her with my eyes to just take them off.

it was slow and torturous, watching millie pull both my shirts and lacey underwear down but we finally got there.

“can i touch you?”

“yes, please millie, touch me everywhere.”

i knew she was trying to be considerate and check if this was okay, but i just wanted her to fuck me.

her large hands pulled my legs, spreading them apart and showing myself to her.

she started slow, dragging a finger through my already-wet folds, then two, then her tongue. i jolted at the sensation of her mouth in between my legs.

she had me weak with need as she lapped up the juices that seemed to be never ending from my pussy.

“m-millie please.”

i was moaning at her movements, she was sucking on my clit, while working her fingers upwards and into my hole. she set a slow but steady pace, pumping into me.

it didn’t take long before i needed more, my hips were rocking up to meet her thrusts.

she sucked harshly onto my clit, making me cry out. that quickly turned into another moan as she quickened her fingers’ pace.

it felt very sudden, one minute i was desperate for more, the next i was hanging over the very edge of my orgasm, begging to let go.

“i’m g-gonna cum, mills, please can i cum?”

with a flat stripe licked up from my hole to my clit, millie let out a gruff,

“cum, princess.”

and sucked harshly on my clit to push me over the edge.

it was pure ecstasy. pleasure. i was on cloud 9 and i never wanted to come down.

when i finally did float back to reality, my eyes were droopy and my limbs felt weak. i could see millie grabbing a cloth from the bathroom, before walking back over to me.

“well done, love. such a good girl for me.”

she cleaned me up before dressing me again, and we cuddled in my bed until i fell asleep.

#woso #woso x reader #woso community #woso smut #millie bright #millie bright x reader #millie bright imagine

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flowerandblood · 6 months

Text

Formula for perfection

[ Michael • Gavey x painter student! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, fingering, sexual tension, angst, smut, humiliation, swearing, brat taming ]

[ description: After what happened between them, Michael decides, albeit reluctantly, to fulfil his promise. He tries by his own efforts to recreate what he felt then, to understand what made him experience such pleasure, however, when he tries to satisfy himself something is missing in his equation. But what? Sexual tension, angst, domination and humiliation kink, bitchy, ironic Michael. ]

Part 1 − Equation without solution

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

It seemed to him that after everything that had happened between them his brain had stopped working, slowed down only to handle his basic vital functions like breathing, but apart from that he felt a void in his mind.

She told him she would stay with him for the night if she could sleep in his shirt and he felt his cock pulsate hard in his sweatpants at the thought. He just gave it to her and watched as she buttoned it up with her back turned to him so that he couldn't see anything.

There was something exciting to him about fucking her without seeing her naked body, that even though he had come inside her a moment ago she was still a mystery to him, an unsolved equation.

He turned off his lamp when she lay down next to him, his bed was single and thus cramped, there was no way their bodies wouldn't touch at their slightest movement, however it didn't seem to bother her.

He turned away from her and she snuggled her body against his back to fall asleep in that position. He couldn't sleep for a long time, thinking and analysing what had happened between them, coming to the conclusion that she had planned it, that she had only done it in order for him to help her, knowing that he would not agree otherwise.

Helping her was not in his interest, he had his classes and theses to write, however, he was a man of his word and figured that since he had taken on this task, he would do to her what he had promised.

He hadn't opened his eyes in the morning when he heard her slowly get out of bed and begin to dress, pretending with a pounding heart that he was asleep, and only opened them when he heard her leave.

He breathed a deep sigh of relief then, feeling strangely excited and anxious at the same time in her presence, unable to decide what he thought of her.

He decided not to bother himself with it.

The next day, at her request, he came to her class. She ran up to him with a thick album in her hand, inside the pages had coloured markers which she had to stick on beforehand. They stood at the side of the classroom so as not to disturb other people who were just painting a model.

"Look. I'd like you to examine all these portraits and decide whether you see any correlations in them other than the golden ratio and the Fibonacci spiral. It is basic that with a portrait the golden division lines are on the eyes and mouth, and with a bust on the head and shoulders, however, this is not enough for me."

She said lightly, looking at him with great excitement, and he sighed heavily, not feeling like doing it at all, seeing no point in it.

"What if I don't find anything like this?" He muttered indifferently, looking through the book she had given him without much concentration. The girl shrugged her shoulders.

"Nothing. Just try."

Even though he decided right away that he would move on from what had happened between them and not dwell on it, he couldn't forget the feeling she evoked in him when he was deep inside her, when she apologised to him, when she looked at him with that innocent, pleading gaze.

A pleasant shiver ran through him at that memory and he licked his lower lip involuntarily, letting out a loud breath.

He had never before come fucking himself with his own hand while watching any porn as hard as he had with her then.

He recognised, however, that it wasn't a matter of her as a person just her behaviour and what she said.

Thus he imagined this scene again and again as he satisfied himself, only with the body of another woman, the kind he liked to see in films. This brought poor results and only aroused his frustration.

Something was missing, but he had no idea what.

He replayed in his head again and again that night, what she had done, what she had said, the way she had kissed him, the way her hands had roamed his body, what he had felt and why. He had no idea what he was supposed to do to evoke the same reaction in himself again, to feel it again.

He thought perhaps it was the result of surprise, the excitement of the unfamiliar and unknown that made him perceive everything so wonderfully strongly, and now that he knew it had no effect.

Discouraged, he began flipping through the album she had given him, looking at the paintings page by page, bored. Suddenly he stopped and went back a few pages earlier.

The positions of the figures in both paintings formed an isosceles triangle.

He took a notebook and wrote it down, drawing a schematic next to it.

He was intrigued to notice in the various paintings that the people portrayed were inscribed in various geometric figures, usually triangles or regular shapes, delineating the entire composition, on whose lines were the most important points of the work.

He was shocked at how something that looked so chaotic and haphazard could be so well thought out, arranged with such great precision.

When he showed her the result of his work the next day she began to squeal with delight, making him not know what to do with this reaction.

"Thank you! Now it all makes sense!" She exclaimed cheerfully and threw herself around his neck as if it was the most joyous day of her life.

She let go of him, looking at him with those big eyes, and he grunted, correcting his glasses with his pointing finger when he felt them slip off his nose.

"Are you going to use that?" He asked out of the blue, wondering if his work would have any results, or if he was doing all this for nothing, just to satisfy her curiosity.

"Yes, now I know why something didn't seem right in my portrait. I chose a composition where her arms are too close together, and I have to position her so that her figure forms an equilateral triangle! Would you like to see the end result?" She asked him lightly, and he muttered under his breath and nodded, looking around the room without much interest.

"How can I repay you?" She asked softly, and he looked at her surprised, wondering if she had already forgotten what they had done.

"I have already received my payment." He said with a mocking smirk, however this did not seem to discourage her at all.

"True." She said with a smile, turning away from him as if nothing had happened, going back to her easel and sitting down on her chair beside it, putting his notes aside and glancing at them, marking with a pencil how she should change the composition without paying attention to him.

He felt that he had made a mistake in his calculations as soon as he looked at her bare thighs sticking out from under her girlishly light dress, pleasantly framing her waist and breasts, his manhood pulsed painfully hard.

They were completely alone in the room.

He bit his lower lip, feeling that he should move from his place and just leave, that he was standing in front of her like an idiot, but the thought that she might have wanted more made his heart pound hard in his chest, the pulsing blood rushing quickly to his lower abdomen.

Why did she take him off balance so easily?

"What is you problem?" He asked annoyed, feeling that he had to understand what she was talking about, that it wouldn't give him peace if he just left her alone now.

What did she want?

Why was she so fucking unpredictable?

She looked at him surprised as if she had completely forgotten his presence and blinked, her face perfectly calm and gentle.

"What?" She asked and he rolled his eyes, frustrated, correcting his glasses again with an impatient gesture.

"What do you fucking want? Hm? Do you like playing with boys?" He asked with the grimace of amusement characteristic of him in moments when he felt insecure and needed to quickly regain control of the situation.

She looked at him in disbelief and completely froze in half-motion.

"I'm not playing with you. I never wanted you to feel this way." She muttered with some kind of embarrassment and fear that she might have hurt him, although that wasn't the point at all.

After all, he felt absolutely nothing for her.

"So what did you want? Fuck strange, desperate guys?" He laughed in disbelief and she moved uncomfortably in her seat.

"No, just you." She said softly causing him to completely freeze, some type of error entered his brain and his thought processes stopped completely.

He pressed his lips together, glancing down at her thighs again, thinking about what was between them, that he felt like pressing her against the wall, turning her to face towards it, and fucking her from behind.

He swallowed loudly when he saw her gaze drop to the bulge in his trousers and turned away, wanting to leave the room immediately, terrified, but her voice stopped him.

"Do you want me to come to you again? To help you with your problem. A favour for a favour." She asked lightly drawing further, not even bestowing a glance on him. He looked at her over his shoulder, shocked, wondering if she was really proposing what he was thinking about.

He stood stunned for a moment simply staring at her, not believing that he was completely hard, that if he could he would have thrown himself at her and ripped off her fucking panties.

"To fuck?" He choked out without thinking and she burst out laughing, glancing at him with amusement.

"Yes."

He couldn't believe he'd agreed, afterwards he completely panicked and walked out, leaving her alone, wondering what he'd actually done.

What if someone finds out? If he gets kicked out of university?

On the other hand, Kyle was constantly visited by girls who moaned so loudly that he could hear them in his room. However, he was rich, he could afford to be so thoughtless.

He could not.

He had been restless all evening, fearing what would happen, whether she would laugh at him, whether she would be disappointed in him when she saw how little he understood and could do when it came to female fulfilment.

He shuddered when she knocked on his room door. He stood up, opened it for her and simply let her in. She stepped inside with a confident stride as if she had been in his place many times before.

She sighed heavily, as if tired after a long day, pulled off her shoes and threw herself onto his bed, laying down on her stomach, snuggling into his pillow.

He stared at her for a moment, again feeling the same emptiness in his mind as before, glancing down at her thighs and the part of her buttocks that was visible from under her dress. He licked his lower lip, feeling a throbbing in his trousers at the thought that he could approach her, that he could touch her.

He moved with a slow, uncertain step towards his bed, her eyes closed, her face gentle and calm, as if she trusted him completely although he didn't understand for what reason.

After all, he could hurt her, take advantage of her, how could she be so reckless?

He sighed quietly under his breath in surrender, pulling off his glasses and putting them down on the desk. He sat down slowly beside her with a loud creak of his bed, his large hand went to her soft thigh and rose higher, tentatively squeezing her firm buttock.

"− so pretty −" He hummed more to himself than to her and she murmured with some kind of contentment, he felt her buck her hips up so that they came out to meet his warm hand.

"− do you visit many boys like this? −" He asked with amusement, slipping his fingers under the material of her panties, squeezing her flesh in his hand, massaging her in a circular motion, a shudder ran through her body every time he came anywhere near the heat between her thighs.

"− only you −" She mumbled, and he swallowed hard, feeling squeeze in his heart at her words, running his fingertips over her hot entrance, gathering her wetness that slowly began to flow out of her, feeling her body shudder each time he rubbed against her clit again.

"− why? −" He asked drily, applying pressure to the point hidden between her folds, he heard her gasp loudly for air, surprised and thought with amusement that she enjoyed it.

"− I − I don't know −" She babbled with increasing difficulty as he finally discovered what pressure from his fingers and where made her quiver, his movements accompanied by the louder and louder click of her moisture, her hips pushing against his hand, trying to find a stronger source of friction.

"− are you no longer able to put together a meaningful sentences? − all you need is for someone to tease your pussy a little and you can't concentrate? −" He asked amused, sliding the tip of his middle finger into her, her body arching, a loud, surprised, innocent moan escaping her lips.

"− I'm sorry −" She mumbled in embarrassment, and he felt her words in his cock, all swollen and throbbing, felt the whole situation turning him on more and more.

"− yeah? − and that's why you're leaking like a slutty little thing? −" He sneered and slid his finger deeper between her tight, hot, rough walls, pulsing hungrily against him.

"− please − a little higher −" She whimpered, and he licked his lower lip, changing the point of pressure, suddenly feeling a rough spot between her muscles, which when he touched her whole body went through a shiver, her lips parted wide.

"− yes, please, there, please −" She cried out loudly clenching her fingers on his pillow, moving her hips to the rhythm of his hand, feeling his heart pounding hard, watching enthralled as her wetness dripped and slicked with every movement of his finger.

"− so fucking wet from rubbing her cunt − that's what you came here for, right? − do you like someone to watch while you lie spread open like a little slut? −" He hissed, a sudden loud, pathetic moan escaping from her throat, her moisture beginning to spill out of her, her walls clenching tightly on his finger.

He rose from his seat and knelt behind her, unbuttoning his trousers quickly, feeling that he couldn't resist any longer, that he wanted to feel her.

"− lift your hips up and slide your panties down − now −" He commanded coolly breathing loudly and she immediately obeyed his instruction.

He lowered his boxers and his swollen, throbbing cock slapped against her buttocks. She whimpered, feeling it, squirming beneath him. He grabbed her thighs and spread them apart in front of himself like a book.

"− shut the fuck up − are you in such a hurry? − so desperate to feel my cock? − fucking slut −" He growled and forced his way inside her in one sure, brutal thrust, immediately imposing a fast, aggressive pace on her, she pressed her cheek against his pillow and cried out loudly, her lips parted wide in surprise at how intense the sensation was.

"− oh fuck −" She whined, moaning and quivering, her walls clenching against him giving him a resistance he didn't seem to mind though, panting loudly along with her as he held her firmly by her waist, slapping his thighs against her bare sticky buttocks with each thrust.

"− you have no fucking shame − do you want me to fucking fill you? − hm? − a bit of cum wouldn't hurt this tight little pussy, would it? −" He hissed out between intense, fast, deep stabs of his hips, feeling that he was on the edge, that this was what he needed, what he wanted, her moisture running down her thighs.

"− Michael − oh God − yes −" She mewled in ecstasy as her body was finally shaken by her orgasm, her face expressing pure delight, her walls were clenching down on him making him just give up.

"− fuck − shit-shit-shit −" He babbled with his eyes closed and his lips parted, panting heavily as he finally cum inside her, his warm semen filling her core. Their bodies moved for another moment with the loud, sticky click of her juices, his hands stroking her buttocks.

It was fucking mind-blowing.

He looked at their joined bodies and just breathed, concentrating only on the pleasure and relief he felt, only on the fact that he wanted to do this with her as often as possible.

There was no other option.

"Wanna be my girlfriend?"

_____

@at-a-rax-ia @daemonskelitsos @@alphard-hydraes-blog @travelingmypassion @valeskafics

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siscon-stsg · 3 days

Note

could you write a scenario about gojo fucking his sweet little virgin and innocent sister. When he looked so long her cunt, she blushed and said;

Nii-chan, p-please don't look at it

I love your writings <3

(CW: incest, innocent and virgin reader, my bad writing and not beta'd, satoruniichan being manipulative cuz yeah that's him. name-calling. oral (f receiving). corruption. degradation if you squint i guess? finger-sucking. cliff hanger cuz i'm evil)

THANK YOU PRETTY BABY YOU'RE THE BESTTT!!! i'm kissing you on the mouth mmmmmmwah c'mere. i suck at writing full pieces, haven't done it in literal AGES, but i did my best for you!! so sorry if it sucks!! my brain hurts i am not used to thinking for long periods of time. /j

satoru's eyes were impossible to escape from. he'd always make you feel naked under his gaze, like two stars sucking the light out of the night sky.

but now they gazed down at you with such hunger it was almost threatening.

“hmmm,” he hummed with a grin, long fingers tracing aimless patterns all over your wet cunny; “don' close y'r legs, pretty. don' ya wanna make your big bro happy?”

and that only made you whimper more. what was so entertaining about this? you struggled not to close your thighs around his pretty head of white hair. “niichan! don't look!”

your parents could be home any minute! what would they say if they saw you like that? knees to your chest on the living room couch, satoru inspecting you down there like he was eyeing a ring at a jewelry store!

he played with your puffy lips, rubbing them up an down. he pulled down the hood around your clit, he stretched your entrance to the sides with both thumbs; only to laugh at the sticky trails of pussy juice drooling down from it.

“why not?” satoru had to laugh at you. some nerve you had to complain, really, when your little pussy was drenched and pulsing, so far untouched. he spat on you, spreading it around your pink flesh with a thumb, and smirked when it got you all squirmy.

“c'mon, be good 'n stay still”. a firm, steadying hand pressed down on your tummy. “y're more than old 'nough to still be a virgin, y'know? i'd be embarrassed if i were you”.

was that true? was not having sex at your age that bad?

satoruniichan always had so many friends, did so much better in school than you, was always dating one girl or another... he'd know about that sort of thing, right?

after all, you were always picked on for being the prune little sister. your parents never approved of any boy you had a crush on, and being a good daughter you never went against their wishes.

satoru caught on your dilemma quick. he leaned in close, blowing his hot, tickly breath teasingly over your clit. “wan' big bro to change that?”

“change w-what? hm!” you moaned. this time you couldn't stop your thighs from closing when satoru's lips sucked on your clitty, slurping loudly until you cried out.

“pop y'r cherry, dummy,” your big bro chuckled. “that way, y' won' be so pathetic anymore”.

the name stung, “pathetic”. tho you could barely think about that with satoru loudly licking, slurping, kissing, burying his face into your pussy. nose into your clit, and purring. arms hugging your hips so you can't escape his hungry stimulation.

you couldn't even think, only moan and shiver. were big brothers even supposed to do this sort of thing to their little sisters? but then again, it felt so good!

satoru pulled back with your clitty slurped between your lips, giddy for the cute cries you let out. “'nd?” he said, voice much deeper and husky than before.

“c'monnn, say yes!” his cheeks puffed up and satoru pouted, like a spoiled child begging for candy. only that this “child” was rubbing your clit in tight frenzied circles with his thumb, not slowing down even as you trashed and squirmed and whimpered. satoru dove tongue first into your soppy hole, muffling his words in your sloshy muscles: “d'y' wanth t' be p'thethic 'll y'r lwife 'r noth?”

“n-niichan!” is all you could say, or cry. your muscles were stiffing up, specially down your belly. satoru seemed impatient, because his tongue swiftly exchanged placed with two long, too long fingers that crooked inside your virgin pussy. he felt around, until finding your gummy, sensitive little walls.

he thrusted and thrusted from his wrist at a sadistic pace, laughing at you and at your slutty teary face. you were going to be such a whore, he just knew. “wanna cum, huh? my pretty sluts wan's to cum?”

“y-yeees!”

your clit felt on fire under his slimy tongue. your walls were spasming, pussy crying as much as your eyes and it was like your body was made of jelly. you shivered and cried, and when your back arched, hips bucking against his hand, your eyes saw heaven and stars twinkled behind your eyelids and

satoru stopped.

“noooo! no! why'd you sto- mmph!” his slick fingers stopped your whining by thrusting down your throat. you almost gagged, throat and pussy convulsing in synch.

the albino sat back on his heels without pulling back from your mouth; one hand fumbling with his sweatpants until it came out springing. angry red, leaky, pulsing, and he rubbed the tip of his dick a couple times against your slit with a deep grunt.

“didn't give ya permission t' cum, did i? now open up f'my cock, slut”

#tw.incest #tw incest #dd:dne #big bro/little sis #big bro gojo #tw.dark content #dead dove do not eat #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #gojo smut #satoru smut #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #tw dark content #this was one of those stories that literally wrote itself #i just put my pussy on the keyboard and this came out sorry

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alwritey-aphrodite · 11 months

Text

Cruel Summer

no rules in breakable heaven

Pairing: Jaime Tartt x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ - smut(f receiving oral, other implied nonsense, cursing

Word Count: 5.5k

Author’s Note: clearly I’ve gotten caught up in the babygirl wave, my lovely wife @andr0medafallen helped me immensely and I love her. Also I’m just a slutty little virgin so I can’t be held accountable for any inaccuracies

Conversations are swirling around you, music is blasting from a building down the street, you’re keenly aware of the blood pumping in your veins, and you need a goddamn break.

You loved spending time with Keeley, you really did, but it’s hot and muggy outside, and this is the fifth party you’d been to in the past week. Tonight, at least, is with the Richmond boys, and not some friend of a friend of Keeley’s where all you do is stand in the corner and drink by yourself. Keeley, ever the social butterfly, is off chatting with Rebecca and Leslie, giving you the opportunity to focus on not losing your mind.

It’s strange, to feel so simultaneously alive and asleep, and you could swear you can feel the air buzzing in your ears. You simultaneously want to go to bed and to stay awake for the rest of the night, it’s like your mind can’t figure out what it needs.

And then Jamie’s walking over to you and the world comes back into focus.

The two of you aren’t very close, connected mostly through your separate friendships with Keeley, but from what you’ve heard from her and from the internet, he seems to be turning over a new leaf. Though, there was a part of you that enjoyed his bad boy attitude, even when he was a bit of a dick.

Maybe you just had a thing for men who were emotionally unavailable.

“Want me to walk you home?” Jamie says after a few seconds of standing next to each other in silence, shocking you out of your silent appraisal of your surroundings.

“Huh?” Clearly, your brain-mouth connection is taking a while to get up to speed.

“You seem kinda out of it, I know you came with Keeley, figured I should ask if you wanted to leave.”

The kindness of his offer is a little shocking in the way it’s so purely sweet, and again, your brain seems a little slow on the draw.

“I’m alright, I can call a car in a bit,” you tell him, not wanting to drag him away from a fun night just because he saw you acting all mopey and uncomfortable.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t mind getting outta here,” and then it’s clear to you that his offer is simply an excuse for him to leave the party, and while your heart drops a little you can’t say you blame him.

“What the hell,” you respond anyway, finishing your drink before you turn to follow Jamie out of the party, stopping by Keeley to let her know you’re headed home.

The walk back to your place is mostly silent, the air hanging heavy and thick as you try to figure Jamie out. It’s clear that he’s changed from the first time you’d met him, back when he was only Keeley’s douchebag of a boyfriend, shortly before his stint on reality TV. Now, though, he seems different in some way that you can’t quite puzzle out.

“Wanna come up?” You offer, your heart and your brain in a heated argument over how awful and irresponsible of a decision that is.

“Nah, I’m alright,” he sticks his hands in his pockets and you try not to let your heart sink onto the ground with this cool-guy routine of his.

Still, you thank him for taking you home and head up to your apartment, flicking off your shoes and berating yourself for acting the way you did. Even though you’re an adult, and wanting to sleep with someone doesn’t make you a bad person, there’s a layer of guilt that hangs over your simple question, over your desires.

Maybe it’s because he’s Keeley’s ex, and even though she’s moved on and found her perfect match, girl code says you shouldn’t even look at him. Maybe it’s because as far as you know, he’s an awful person who would treat you like nothing. Or maybe it’s because he’s actually worked on himself and you’re going to self-sabotage anything good that could even possibly happen.

The guilt you taste at the back of your mouth doesn’t change the fact that you want him, though, so you throw a longing glance out your window and are surprised to see Jamie still standing on the street below. As quick as you can in your old building, you unlatch the window and push it open, sticking your head out.

“Change your mind?” You ask, a grin spreading on your face when Jamie jumps at the sound of your voice.

“That ok?” He throws back, looking a little bashful and so unfairly adorable that he makes you a little dizzy. You just nod in response, and he seems to get the message because he disappears from view and a few seconds later, there’s a knock at your door.

Briefly, you wonder if he ran up the stairs.

There’s a part of your brain that keeps screaming about how this is a bad idea, that come morning you’re going to regret this, but you do your best to ignore it as you close the door behind Jamie and press your lips to his. His hands find your waist, settling there with a firm grasp, and you hope you never need oxygen again.

It’s addicting, the way he touches you, the way he kisses you, and you do your best to ignore the alarm bells ringing in your mind that you’re never going to be able to move on from this and instead just enjoy yourself. Moving on autopilot, you find yourself at your bedroom door, and feeling lightheaded you pull away from Jamie and rest your forehead on his.

“Can I?” He breathes against your mouth, fingers grasping the bottom hem of your shirt. You nod enthusiastically, your nose brushing against his. Once your shirt is flung somewhere into the depths of your room, Jamie’s hands settle on your bare ribs.

Pushing every worry you have to the back of your brain, you follow Jamie’s lead and, with his help, pull his shirt over his head as he walks you back towards your bed. Obviously, you’d known he was fit, but seeing him so close, so open to your touch is a whole other feeling. You want to trace his entire body, his scars and bruises and tattoos, first with your hands and then with your mouth.

“This is just a one time thing, yeah?” Jamie asks as your hands settle onto his jaw, trying to bring him in for another kiss.

“Yeah, of course,” you respond, being the cool girl you know you’re meant to be even as you fantasize about hearing the stories behind his tattoos and spending mornings together.

It’s practically impossible for you to keep your hands off of him, every layer removed giving you more of his skin to explore. Jamie, though, seems just as greedy as you are, kissing and touching his way across your body. You feel alive, electric in ways you’ve never felt before. It’s as if every moment you spend with Jamie, he takes up more and more space in your brain, until he’s all you can think about.

Jamie, as he bites that sensitive spot underneath your jaw bone with a grin.

Jamie, as he trails kisses down the center of your body, from your sternum to your belly button.

Jamie, as he moves lower and lower, his hands resting on your inner thighs.

Jamie, he’s all you think about until you can’t think of anything, your mind shut off and your body rewired as you feel like you’re exploding from the inside out.

And then everything comes rushing back in, all the sounds and scents and feelings of your apartment, all the thoughts you’d tried to keep away. You still haven’t said anything, focusing on breathing and not floating away.

“You need water or something?” Jamie asks from his spot on the pillow next to you, watching as your breath continues to heave in and out of your chest.

“This is my place, shouldn’t I be asking you that?” You retort once it feels as if your heart won’t escape your chest.

“There aren’t any rules about who gets water.” You watch as a smirk grows across his face, “Besides, you look like you need it more than me.”

Trying not to give in to his teasing, you hide your face in your hands and groan, “Maybe that means you should have been trying harder.” He shrugs, conceding before he slips off your bed and begins the hunt around for his clothes. You wish you could ask him to stay, even just for a few minutes longer, but instead you shrug on a large t-shirt and walk him to the door.

“See you around,” you offer as you lean in the doorway, Jamie making his way to the stairs.

“Yeah, sure, see ya.” And then you're left all alone again, your brain running wild within your skull, so you make your way back to your bed in the hopes that you can fall asleep and pretend you aren’t regretting all of your life decisions.

The next few times you see Jamie, the two of you talk sparingly, sticking mainly to waves across the room or slightly uncomfortable smiles. And it’s a shame, because you’ve found that you actually enjoy talking to Jamie, but now you’re not so certain you can handle yourself around him.

Even though you know Jamie’s not looking for a relationship, it’s hard not to think about what you’d be like together, if you’d even work out, because in your mind, what’s the point of trying if you know you’re going to fail? Why would you enter into a relationship with someone if you know it couldn’t possibly last?

“Hey,” a voice says from behind, shocking you out of your introspection. You jump, ready to scold whoever snuck up on you when you hear Jamie’s laughter, happy and loose.

“Jesus, Jamie, you scared me to death,” you tell him as his laughter dies down, eyes scanning for anyone watching your interactions. You know that no one cares, that people have casual relationships all the time, but you can’t help but feel like you’d be judged for doing the same.

“You wanna get out of here?” He asks, and you can tell from his voice, from his eyes, from the way he’s holding himself, what he’s really asking you.

“I thought that was a one time thing?” You hide your smile by taking a sip of your drink and delighting in the way Jamie’s cheeks redden.

“What I meant was, it’s just a no-strings-attached thing.”

“I’m flattered,” you tell him, already turning to leave and planning your text to Keeley that you hadn’t felt well and called an Uber to leave early.

Instead of an Uber, though, you find yourself pressed up against Jamie’s car, his hands holding your waist and his tongue down your throat. As much as you loved the attention, you pulled away, placing a gentle hand on his cheek when he tried to follow.

“Someone could see,” you whisper against him, trying to keep an ear out for anyone else leaving the small party at Colin’s house. This seems to bring Jamie back to his senses, though, because he unlocks his car and slips inside, but only after he kisses you one last time.

The drive to his place is short, leaving the two of you sitting in his driveway, no sounds but the noises filtering in through the cracked windows. There’s something about this, about him, that just feels like summer, like late sleepless nights and days spent in bed.

Even though neither of you have spoken about it, you can tell that whatever relationship you have with Jamie ends with the summer. You know this is for the best, knowing that once training and games pick up again he’ll barely have time for friends, let alone any other kind of relationship, but you hate the feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. It feels like there’s an expiration date, some dark cloud looming over your sunny day, and it’s making it hard to enjoy the time you do have with Jamie.

You’d never say any of this to him, though, because you’re not even sure if you’re really friends, if this relationship you have is anything beyond physical. It’s not as though you sit around pining after Jamie Tartt all day, but you can’t help but feel left out whenever you see him with his actual friends, as if you’re missing something important about him. The two of you have a surface level connection, and you’re fine with that, you really are, it’s just hard not to get caught up in your own head.

Jamie, though, is doing his best to get rid of seemingly every thought you have, leaning over the center console to kiss you again. It’s cramped and a little awkward and you don’t have any room to move around, but you can’t stop. Eventually, the two of you break apart for long enough to stumble into Jamie’s house and then you’re being pushed backwards to his bedroom.

The realization hits you that this is the first time you’ve ever been to Jamie’s house, and you can’t help but look around his bedroom, taking in all of his choices in decorations and knick-knacks.

“That’s a pretty color,” you say absentmindedly, starting off into his room.

“I’m sorry, am I boring you?” Jamie asks, pulling back from where he’d been sucking a mark onto your chest.

You can’t help but laugh, loud and unrestrained, as you run your fingers through the strands of hair hanging in Jamie’s eyes, giving them a gentle tug. Looking down after you catch your breath, you notice Jamie smiling at you and suddenly you feel too exposed, too open and you want to turn and run and never see him again but instead you use your light grip on his hair to pull him up for a kiss.

There’s a strange feeling deep in your stomach, one that you plan to ignore for as long as you can because it’s distracting you from Jamie. At first, you’d just thought it was the want filling your body, the urge to pull him impossibly close and feel him impossibly deep, but the feeling’s still there hours later as you lie boneless and sleepy.

Jamie’s off getting you some water, even though you never asked for any, and when he returns you’re dozing on his pillow, resisting the urge to snuggle under his sheets.

“You can just stay here tonight, if you want,” Jamie offers, sitting on the other side of the bed and staring off into space before quietly adding, “I wouldn’t mind.”

“Your bed is pretty comfortable,” you reply, thankful that you don’t have to get up and go searching for your clothes.

Instead, Jamie hands you the glass of water and a t-shirt, one that you gratefully slip on before getting under the covers. You fall asleep almost immediately, exhaustion spread throughout your entire body and mind, so you never know that Jamie lies awake almost the whole night, staring at the ceiling and trying not to wake you up or think about how perfect you look while asleep next to him.

When you do wake up, it’s with the sun streaming through the windows and Jamie’s arm slung over your waist. The two of you are impossibly close, both sharing the same pillow despite the size of his bed. It pains you to notice that he’s incredibly adorable when he’s sleeping. Part of you wants to kiss him all over and wake him, but the other just wants to let him sleep forever, watching as he breathes.

Luckily, you don’t need to make that choice, as Jamie’s eyes flutter open and you can see when he realizes just how close the two of you are and he tries to play it smooth but he scoots back to the side he fell asleep on.

“Did you sleep alright?” He asks, and you’re more focused on the scratchy way his voice sounds than the actual question. You just nod, hoping that was the right answer and delighting when he smiles, all soft and sweet and just for you.

You need to leave, get out while you still can before you end up spending the whole day with Jamie, because you know if you stay for a second longer you’re never going to want to leave him. Most of your time together was spent sleeping, but it's already almost impossibly hard to leave him. While you still have your resolve, you slip out of his insanely comfortable bed and go hunting for your clothes. It kills you a little inside when Jamie doesn’t stop you.

“Want me to drive you?” He asks, sitting up and moving to get out of bed and you need to stop yourself from staring at his toned chest, at the shorts low on his hips.

“No, I can just walk, it’s a nice day,” you lie, having no idea what the weather was like but hoping that summer wouldn’t let you down. Jamie nods, settles back into bed, and you could swear your heart physically aches because none of this should be happening.

You shouldn’t even be here in the first place, but here you are not wanting to leave. You shouldn’t be staring at him, with his mussed hair and his tattoos on full display. You shouldn’t have any feelings for him besides physical attraction and the basic feelings of friendship, but you’re starting to worry about that feeling in your belly that just grows and grows every second you spend with Jamie.

“See you around,” you tell him, leaving as quickly as you can before you convince yourself to stay any longer. You wander around London, all turned around and trying to find your flat without thinking of Jamie, while Jamie sits at home and tries not to think of you.

The rest of your day is spent doing meaningless activities, chores and work you’d been putting off for weeks. You wash your sheets and clean your fridge and respond to emails, trying your hardest to keep your mind off Jamie. It’s impossible, and the second you find yourself distracted, your mind wanders right back to him. What you really need is to leave your house, find someplace with blasting music and bodies pressed impossibly close, somewhere that you’ll have no space to think of anything, let alone Jamie.

Lucky for you, Keeley stays busy, always having one event or another she needs to go to and she always lets you tag along. Tonight your mission is to stop thinking of Jamie, even if that doesn’t mean going home with someone else. Just for a few hours, you don’t need him consuming your every thought.

Unfortunately for you, Jamie is always welcome with Keeley and has the same exact plan as you.

The air inside the bar is stifling, as if there’s no air conditioning and no windows, just the thick summer heat. You notice Jamie almost immediately, though it would be impossible not to with his highlights and his beaming smile, like your own personal sun. As much as you try to fight it, you can’t help but wonder if he noticed you at all, if he thinks of you at all when you’re not together.

You’re two drinks deep and you can’t help but think about Jamie, about what he thinks of you. Are you really just someone to fuck, someone who’s attractive enough for him to sleep with you whenever he feels the urge?

You’re three drinks deep and you can’t help but wonder if you could ever be anything more to him, if he’d ever want that. It’s common knowledge that Jamie’s still a little hooked on Keeley, and who could blame him, but are you really just a distraction?

You’re four drinks deep and you can’t stop crying, the tears flowing like rivers as Keeley and Rebecca try their best to comfort you, to calm you down. Eventually, Rebecca calls you a car and Keeley waits with you, ready to leave and make sure you get home safely.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I promise,” you say through your sobs as you sit in the backseat on your way to your apartment, Keeley rubbing up and down your arms in a soothing manner.

“This isn’t about Jamie, is it?” She asks in that kind, understanding voice of hers and it only makes you cry harder.

“I think I love him and it fucking sucks.” Keeley’s hand moves to smooth over your hair as you lean against her, all the fight draining out of your body.

“Babe, just tell him.” You can’t help but shoot her a glare, one that she brushes off with a laugh, “What’s the worst that could happen? He won’t sleep with you anymore?”

Your mouth drops open, shocked to your core that Keeley knew about what the two of you had been doing and your heart breaks a little more because you feel like you’ve just betrayed one of your best friends. Keeley, though, gives you a supportive little squeeze, one that tells you that she isn’t mad at all.

That was one of your favorite things about Keeley, how supportive she is of all of the people she loves, no matter the situation. She’s wise beyond her years and is the kind of person who will go out and get whatever she wants through her own hard work and determination. Keeley is absolutely someone you need on your side, and it hits you just how thankful you are for her and all she does for you.

Here you are, sobbing over a boy, and Keeley does nothing but support you and try to help you calm down. She doesn’t look at you like you’re over-dramatic or crazy and instead is doing her best to fix whatever was making you feel this way.

“Clearly, this whole situation-ship is hurting you, and if he doesn’t want the same things as you, maybe it’s time to let it end,” she finishes with another loving squeeze, just as the car pulls up outside of your building.

The two of you slide out of the car, Keeley offering you her hand as she helps you up to your apartment and you’re left reeling by what she’s said. You didn’t even know you wanted something more until it hit you like a ton of bricks tonight, Jamie consuming your thoughts in all the wrong ways. You know Keeley’s right, that whatever you have going on is only going to hurt you in the long run, so you resolve to tell him everything the next time you see him.

Keeley’s wise words from the car and the glass of water she gave you before she left after confirming no less than ten times that you were okay have you sobering up rather quickly. You’re left feeling embarrassed and exhausted to the bone, wanting nothing more than to lay down in your bed and stay there for the next hundred years, but suddenly there’s a knock at your door and Jamie’s standing outside.

“Keeley let me in, hope that’s ok,” he tells you, seeming slightly uncomfortable and you briefly wonder if it’s because of your puffy eyes and slightly disheveled appearance, embarrassment coursing hot through your blood. “Just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Jamie always keeps you on your toes, and though you know this isn’t a big deal, it warms your heart all the same. Jamie Tartt, drama queen footballer and prick reality star, is at your front door to see if you’re ok because you left a bar crying. You’d promised yourself that the next time you saw Jamie, you’d sit him down and talk about your feelings, vowing that you wouldn’t hide them anymore.

But here Jamie is, being all sweet and concerned, and that plan goes out the window. There’s just something about him that makes all the sense leave your body, so instead of having a conversation about your feelings you pull him down by his shoulders and kiss him.

It’s messy and desperate, and even though you’ve sobered up since leaving the bar, your head is spinning and your thoughts are starting to become consumed with Jamie. There’s a weight behind it this time, one that you’re sure the both of you are aware of, because Jamie’s hands are gripping your waist with a bruising force and you barely even pull away from him to breathe.

Both of you know something is going to change.

As you make your way to your bedroom, clothing is thrown down the hallway, a sock here and a shoe there, until you almost trip trying to remove your pants. Luckily for you, though, after what seemed like a miles long walk, you finally reached your bedroom door.

Jamie pushes you gently inside, breaking the kiss but staying close enough to breathe the same air, and he keeps pushing you back until the back of your knees hit the bed and you fall onto it with a sound of surprise. Jamie just smiles, but it’s soft in a way that makes your insides melt and not the cocky smile he has whenever he scores a goal.

You scramble to sit up, to take your shirt off, but your brain shuts off when you see Jamie get on his knees in front of you. More gently than you ever could have imagined, he tugs on the hem of your pants, bringing them down your hips until you need to push off of the bed to get them down the rest of the way. He continues to pull until they slip free of your feet, and by the time he’s standing again you’re throwing yourself upward to kiss him.

There’s just something about him that makes you want to be near him all the time, like a moth to the flame. It doesn’t feel self destructive though, and that’s what scares you. It scares you that you might be hurting yourself without knowing but it scares you more that this might not hurt you at all.

It’s always a little shocking to you just how gentle Jamie is, the soft way he cradles your jaw when he kisses you and the way he runs his hands up and down your back when he can tell everything is starting to get overwhelming. Of course, he can be plenty rough and you have the bite marks on your thighs and the hickeys on your chest to prove it, but it seems like it’s in his nature to be soft with you.

“You sure you wanna do this?” He asks, fingers playing gentling with the hem of your shirt.

“100%,” you reply, and give him a quick kiss to reaffirm your statement. Now, he wastes no time in pulling off your shirt and starting to remove his own clothes. It makes you pause, standing there by the foot of your bed in the process of removing your bra, because suddenly he’s shirtless and it never gets any less surprising despite the many times you’ve been in this situation.

It’s not like your being subtle in your ogling, and Jamie just smirks when he sees you staring. He pushes you back onto the bed, softer this time, and you scoot yourself backwards until your head is resting on the pillows. Jamie joins you, pushing your legs open wider so there's room for him to lay in between them.

Then, you’re almost certain you’ve died and gone to heaven because he’s slipping his fingers into the waistband of your panties and tugging them over your hips and down your thighs. You’re absolutely no help, lying there pliant for him to maneuver however he sees fit because you’re fully convinced your brain has stopped working.

It’s a little startling, how well Jamie knows your body. He always knows the right pressure and movement and location to make you see stars, make your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth drop open. You’d think that he’d be all bark and no bite, but it’s so clear to you now that he has the skills to back up his attitude.

You have the bite marks to prove it.

Your fingers are itching for something to grab onto, something more substantial than grasping at your bedsheets, so you gently twist Jamie’s hair around your fingers, just enough to ground you, to keep you anchored to your body when you feel like you’re seconds from floating away.

It feels too good, too overwhelming, you’re unable to control any of the sounds that come out of your mouth. Jamie’s hands are gripping, digging into the flesh of your thighs and it stings where his fingernails dig in but it’s so perfect you can’t help the way you whine.

The connection between your brain and your mouth must be severed because you keep babbling away about how good, how perfect everything feels. You’re not thinking at all, only able to focus on the feelings building deep in your belly until Jamie licks at your clit with the perfect amount of pressure and you just fucking lose it. Your mouth drops open and you’re completely unaware of the sounds that come pouring out of your mouth until, “I fucking love you.”

It’s like you’ve been doused in a bucket of ice water and Jamie’s pulling away and you’re fucking terrified and the pleasure that’s been building inside your body is completely replaced with dread. After you feel Jamie pulling back, you turn your gaze from the ceiling down to between your legs where Jamie still lies.

He just grins, looking like sin himself with your slick making his mouth all shiny and glossy. And then he gets right back to work, nipping at your inner thigh before doubling down his attention, working twice as hard and you don’t even remember what you’ve said because you’re thrown headfirst back into the intensity of Jamie’s full skill and attention.

It’s only seconds later when you’re almost certain that you’ve died, feeling like an exploding star as your back arches off the bed and you dig your fingers harder into Jamie’s hair and your mouth falls open again. When you regain your sense of existence, your body feels tingly all over as if the remnants of your orgasm are still coursing through your veins.

Breathing hard, you look down to see Jamie resting his head on one of your thighs, just waiting for you to come down from your high. He places a kiss over one of the marks he made on your inner thigh before he crawls up the bed to plant a soft kiss on your lips.

He disappears after that, and you’re a little worried that he’s left you like this before he comes back a few minutes later, with a glass of water and a plate of snacks. The thought of him trifling through your cupboard makes your heart stutter a little and you’re so overwhelmed with feelings that you can only manage to give him a small smile in thanks.

The two of you sit quietly side by side on your bed, eating the snacks Jamie had brought. He checks in on you again and again, making sure you’re totally comfortable. And then, he clears his throat and shifts around, looking uncomfortable and you can feel your heart rising into your throat, dread gripping at your stomach.

“Are we gonna talk about what you said?” He asks, tracing shapes on the bare skin of your knee as he talks and looks anywhere but your face.

“I think I meant it,” you tell him, feeling as if your whole world is crashing down around you. There are other important things in your life, work and friends and family, but there’s something about Jamie that even after the limited time you’ve had together, the thought of losing him makes you sick to your stomach.

“Good, that’s good to know.” He goes quiet for a moment but his fingers never still in their drawing, “I think so too.”

“Good,” you tell him with a smile, one that he returns and it makes you want to cry because he’s so gorgeous and wonderful and you won’t be losing him after all, there’s a hope for you, a future, and that’s all you need.

You know nothing is certain and there are plenty of things that could go wrong, but you try to bask in the afterglow of what’s been confessed the same way you’d lay in the sunshine. You feel warm and happy and you’re determined to hang onto those feelings, to enjoy the time you spend with Jamie instead of worrying that everything will come crashing down.

There’s just something about him, something that makes your worrying come to a pause whenever you’re with him. He brings you an unexpected sort of peace, one that you vow to enjoy now that you’re not worrying when it will disappear, when he’ll disappear. For once, that feeling in your chest isn’t one of anxiety but one that you’re convinced is love.

You love Jamie Tartt, and that thought isn’t as scary as it once was.

Tags: @andr0medafallen @pazvizslasprincess @scaramou @parcelofbread @lightninginab0ttle @curlypeter @maggiecc @percysaidnever

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt fluff #jamie tartt smut #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction

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bunnys-kisses · 4 days

Text

"the bounties & death au" (a modern gods au)

a/n: 'sunlight' by hozier is burned into my brain

god of death!simon has been locked away for centuries, not able to return to the surface of the earth after being casted away into the shadows of the underworld. but once he finds himself free, in the countryside of england.

the world feels and looks different than what he remembered. it even smelled different. but the familiar grey sky of england loomed in a familiar way. the only thing in the distance was a small stone cottage with smoke coming out of the chimney. his legs felt weak, but he managed to make it to the cottage. it had been so long since he walked, after being chained on his knees. to walk again felt like being a newborn deer.

who was he to see on the other side of the door, was none other than you. you looked scared and quickly closed the door. you squeaked, "no one's home! please leave."

simon was a bit confused, his eyebrows knitted together as he knocked once more. he said in his low voice, "i know yer in there. please, let me in."

"are you going to kill me?" "no." "are you sure?" "i need help, i have no interest in killing ya." he lit up when he saw you open the door and look up at him.

you took him in but told him that he had to sit at the chair in the kitchen and not move. you knew it was a risk but, there was something familiar about him that you couldn't quite put your finger on. (you'd later recall when you felt close to death after the death of your previous boyfriend).

but simon is kind, you find it comforting to speak to him. he was calm and didn't move from the chair. when he moved as he ate, his movements were slow as to not scare you. simon thought of you like a rabbit. small and delicate, easily nervous.

the first act of kindness he had received in a long time was you sharing a meal with him. the gods didn't need to eat, but the warmth of the stew you made had him feeling warm.

you were an author who had stayed out in the country for some time in order to get a break from the weight of being in the city. you remarked that london was beautiful, and while simon had no way of imagining a city that big, he knew it was nowhere as beautiful as you.

he wouldn't make a move until your last night in the cottage before you headed back to the city. you said you'd drive him wherever he needed to be, but he said he had no home.

you asked him why and he said, "the place i came from. i cannot go back to." and while he hunched his shoulders, you reached up to him and allowed him to stay with you. you had grown to feel affection towards the man, even if you had many more questions about him than answers.

but that night, you shared wine together. you were all over him, your smaller body up against him. when he held onto your ass so you wouldn't fall over, you moaned. you giggled and told him you hadn't been held like that in a long time.

and for the first time in eternity, as simon thrusted into you, he would worship you rather than people worshiping him. as he held your hands onto the bed while you made love, he wondered if it was possible to build a shrine to you. to allow others to worship you the way he wished to do to you.

"you make me feel alive." you whispered in his ear.

an exhale left simon's lips, he then kissed you deeply once more. as you moaned into the kiss and wrapped your legs around his waist, all simon could think about was that he understood why humans were so desperate to get into the heavens. because if it felt anywhere close to how he felt next to you, he would scramble to get through the gates.

his little human, his little fruitful bounty <3

#the bounties & death au #bunny speaks #call of duty #reader insert #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty smut #simon ghost riley #call of duty x reader #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley fanfiction #god!simon #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost x reader #ghost #ghost cod #gods au

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happy74827 · 3 months

Text

Bring It In

[Sam Winchester x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: After a rough hunt, Sam seeks your comforting touch.

WC: 1747

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Sammy!! My adorable pookie. God, he was so precious in the early seasons that I just had to write about him.

『••✎••』

Waking up to a shadow in the middle of the night, especially when you were staying in a motel that was miles away from any civilization, was never a good thing. Especially when you could feel it even before opening your eyes, its presence heavy on the air. It made your senses scream and your heart race.

The feeling of being watched and studied was not something a normal person would like to wake up to, and as you lay there in bed with your eyes closed, that feeling struck you right into your core, making your muscles tense. Adding into the fact of the complete awareness of the supernatural world you were a part of, that was just the cherry on top of the cake.

But as you lay there, your brain going at 100 miles an hour, you realize this instance wasn’t one of those life-threatening situations you were so used to. It was an oddly comforting feeling as the flashlight you flew into the darkness was caught in the hands of someone you trusted with your life, the same hands that have touched every inch of your body in a way you could never forget.

He had been hunting all night, you could tell. Although it was dark, and only the soft glow from the motel sign illuminated the room, you knew his clothes were covered in dirt and leaves, and his hair was a mess. He didn't care, though, as he walked closer to you, his eyes becoming clear as he turned the flashlight on.

Sam had a tendency to get into these moods. A mood where he needed something to ground him and remind him that the life he was living was worth fighting for. You had always been that thing for him, his anchor, and as he approached the bed, his mind was racing with everything and nothing all at once.

As he sat down on the edge of the bed, his large hands reached out, touching you softly. It wasn’t sexual; he had no interest in that right now. He was looking for comfort. He just needed you.

You sighed, pulling yourself up from your position on the bed to get a better look at him. His eyes were tired and glistened over with some sort of sadness that he tried to keep hidden from you, but he knew he couldn’t. The tears reflected the moonlight that shined through the blinds and through the flashlight, and although the shadows under his eyes were more prominent than usual, he still looked at you with the most love you could imagine.

You didn't have to ask him why he was here, why he had been gone all night. You knew. He was a creature of habit, and Sam was very good at reading people. He knew when you were at your weakest when you needed him the most, and you did the same for him.

He needed reassurance. He needed to know he was doing the right thing, or else the guilt and shame would eat him alive. So when he saw the soft expression on your face, the gentle smile, and the look in your eyes, he nodded. It was soft, barely noticeable, but you saw it.

“You scared me.” You said, reaching forward to take his hand in yours. The flashlight was still clutched tightly in his other hand, the light shining up at the ceiling.

He sighed, squeezing your hand and looking away. It was silent for a moment before you felt him shift. The mattress moved slightly under his weight as he scooted closer, his eyes meeting yours once more.

Without a word, he reached forward, the hand that had been holding the flashlight coming up to rest on the side of your face. You leaned into his touch, the roughness of his hand feeling nice against your soft skin. He ran his thumb over your cheek before moving to cup the back of your head.

He was slow, almost hesitant, and you gave him a reassuring smile. You loved this man more than anything, and the gentle kisses he placed on your forehead and cheeks were the most tender of moments. You felt your heart swell as he finally kissed your lips, his hand moving from the back of your head to wrap around you, pulling you closer.

He let the flashlight fall to the floor, the loud thud it made against the carpet going unnoticed. You felt his lips tremble slightly, his emotions getting the best of him as he deepened the kiss. You wrapped your arms around him, tangling your fingers in his hair as you pulled him closer.

It wasn’t long before he pulled away, just slightly, his breath warm against your lips. Now you saw the blood, the bruises, and the cuts covering his face. He didn’t seem to care about them, but you did. It broke your heart, knowing that he had spent all night killing monsters and demons just to keep you safe. To keep everyone safe.

He let out a sigh, a long, hard breath as if he had been holding it in forever. Relief, the kind that came after a good cry or after a bad case of the flu was gone, washed over his face, and you could see the tension leave his shoulders. He leaned forward, resting his head on your shoulder, his arms tightening around you.

“I know,” He spoke, his voice cracking slightly. His tone was soft, his lips brushing against your ear. You shivered, rubbing your hands over his back. “I’m sorry, I just.. I needed- I needed to make sure that you were okay. That we were okay. It just... It gets overwhelming, and with what happened to Jess-”

You shushed him, turning to place a kiss on his temple. He sighed again, his breath tickling the side of your neck. His scent surrounded you, a mix of dirt and sweat and a hint of gunpowder. Dean’s presence was there, too, a bit of cologne and beer mixed into the air.

You didn't need to know where Dean was. You were pretty sure he had been on a hunt with Sam, and now he was at a bar, trying to get over his demons. The two brothers were so closely similar and yet so different, but in moments like this, where they were both torn down to their core, you could see the resemblance.

The two of them had a lot of things in common, but their biggest similarity was their stubbornness. They refused to ask for help, and they were afraid to show weakness, especially in front of each other.

Dean was off, drinking his worries away, while Sam came to you. A pattern the two had developed.

You had met the brothers in a motel very similar to the one you were in now. You were there for a simple vacation, a break from all the stresses of your life, but things changed when you were woken up to the sounds of gunshots and glass breaking.

Dean had burst into your room, dragging you out with him. He was a smart guy, and although he had no clue who you were, he knew you were in danger. He had gotten into a fight with a… well, it didn’t matter what it was; all that mattered was that the thing had a taste for human flesh.

You and Sam had bonded instantly, and Dean wasn't too far behind. It was the start of a beautiful friendship despite the poor circumstances. After a year of being around each other, helping each other out with whatever situation came, the three of you became closer than you ever thought possible. A little more with Sam, of course.

So, now, when Sam comes to you late at night, needing you, needing reassurance, you don’t hesitate. You give him all that he needs and more, and when he holds you close, his body trembling and his words shaky, you know it was the right decision.

His grip on you tightened, pulling you into him. You let him, holding him just as close, your hands gently running up and down his back. You could feel the fabric of his shirt under your fingertips, and the heat from his skin radiated through.

After a moment, he pulled back, his eyes searching yours. You could tell he was worried about Dean, about you, about the whole situation. He was afraid of what was coming, and although he didn’t know it, his fears were valid.

There was a lot to come, and it wasn’t going to be easy. The two of you had been through a lot, and although you didn't regret it, the thought of something happening to him was enough to drive you crazy.

You were about to say something, but the words never left your mouth. He was kissing you again, the force much stronger than the last, his hands gripping your arms tightly. It was an amazing kiss, filled with all the passion and love he had for you, and as he moved you, pushing you onto the bed, you felt his desperation.

It wasn’t a desperate need for sex, but a desperate need to be close to you. You knew this, and as you tangled your fingers into his hair, kissing him just as desperately, you knew he needed you more than anything. Who cared if you ended up losing more sleep than normal? Who cared if the sun came up and Dean returned to the room, finding the two of you still tangled up together in a mess of sheets? Who cared if the world was coming to an end and this was the last time the two of you would ever see each other?

He needed you, and as he whispered your name, his voice cracking with emotion, you knew he had no plans of letting you go. Not now, not ever. And when Dean did pop up a few hours later with messy hair and his shirt on backward, he would take a single glance and walk right back out the door, knowing he was going to be okay.

The three of you would be okay, and when the time comes and the world starts ending, you would fight till the very end. Because there is nothing worth fighting for more than your family, and you would do anything to protect the people you loved.

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holybibly · 2 months

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Hello~~ I've previously asked anonymously but I wanna send pics and gifs, so I'm uncovering my identity batman style to lose my mind over Seonghwa 🤭🫣

Like what?? 😭😭

This man man makes me lose my mind so bad, like every picture I see of him just flips a switch in my brain and suddenly *I'm* the rabid wolf chasing after a pretty bunny

I feel like he'd maybe try to be really dominant at first but would so easily let himself be flipped and ruined, I wanna blow this man's mind fr

This picture even has his hands in the perfect position to tie them up ahsjshshsj someone take my internet away please 😭😭

Firstly, hi baby, good to see you. Secondly, should I even mention that I have been drooling over him on a daily basis? God, I think the Ateez have ruined my mind just a little bit. Third, I'm going to go and make that damn fic with the cute hybrid Hwa. So we can all (I really hope) quench our thirst for the whining, submissive, and subservient Seonghwa. God, I fucking need this. I am needy and not ashamed.

In the meantime, I give you this. Have fun, my brave bunny.

"God, why must you be so beautiful? Is that fair?" You coo, running your thumb over the sugary brown flesh of his nipple. He twitches at the touch—too sensitive. "Too beautiful, annoying."

Seonghwa's arms are lifted and tied to the bed frame with silk ribbons, leaving him helpless and writhing as you deny him his second orgasm of the night, bringing him to the brink of pleasure before you withdraw. He lets out a soft, needy whimper as he is unable to make any other sounds.

He looks lost in his pleasure, his pupils dilating so that only a small ring of iris can be seen, his sensuous lips parted, and his chest rising and falling in small breathless sighs.

"Oh, darling, you sound so anxious. Don't you want to cum already, my beautiful boy?" Your teasing elicits another moan from Seonghwa as you delicately run your fingernail along the bulging vein on his cock. He twitches in response.

Overstimulated, Seonghwa closes his big, shining eyes and pushes his hips into your hand, hoping to feel some kind of friction. You chuckle weakly and lower yourself to kiss his beautiful, sensitive cock. As you blow on his dripping, reddened head, you hear another pitiful whimper from him.

Teasing him is one of your favourite things to do in the whole of the world. He melts so easily and submits to the sweet torture. It is too beautiful to ignore. You just want to eat him whole. Sue you for that.

Your soft tongue traces the same vein as your long fingernail did a few moments ago; pre-cum flows freely down his shaft, and you lap it up hungrily. Sweet. Covering his cock completely with your lips, you slowly lower your head down, a movement that you know will drive him crazy, but it's not enough to make him come. This only serves to make Seonghwa even more desperate.

"Please, I can't stand it anymore." He's got this wonderful voice; you could listen to it for hours when he's at his peak.

He lifts his hips, begging you to take him deeper into your hot, wet mouth, but instead he gets slapped lightly. Forcing him to stay still under your care, your hands rest on his hips. In an agonisingly slow motion, you slide down the length of his cock until your nose is pressed against his pubic bone. You simply suck him into your mouth, warming him up and trying not to add any extra stimulation with your tongue.

His high is rising again. You can feel the tension in his lithe, elegant body. The sound of his lingering, unsatisfied moans is suspiciously quiet as he tries to hold himself back. Admiring his delicious, high-pitched moan of utter frustration, you remove your lips from his cock with a pop.

"My sweet, handsome boy." You're just mocking him; it's a little sadistic of you, but who allowed Seonghwa to be so handsome? All your actions are completely justified. "You've been such a good boy to me, Hwa. Are you ready for your reward?"

He nods feverishly; his long hair is spread all over the pillow, and he looks so wonderful in your eyes. You reach out and untie his hands, kissing his chest on the way and leaving a couple of hickeys.

"Seonghwa, this is your wish, isn't it? I need words, my beautiful." You whisper in his ear as you untie his numb hands.

"Yes, I do... I really want my reward." He breathes out.

"What do you need, baby? Tell me what your wish is." He's so unbelievably cute when he's winded. He pauses for a second, thinking about what he wants, and you gently rub his wrists where they were bound with the silk.

"I want you so badly, please." He pulls you by your hips so that you straddle him, gently stroking your curves with his graceful, thin palms. Seonghwa reaches up to kiss you, his plump, wet lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss before you feel his cock enter you.

You let him do whatever he wants to you, but you lean down and put your hands on his shoulders to help balance you, whispering again.

"Come on, my beauty, fuck me good."

#ateez smut #kpop smut #atz smut #ateez hard hours #ateez unholy hours #smut #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #park seonghwa smut #ateez scenarios #ateez au #ateez x reader

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jaysgirlx · 11 months

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Can you do a Jason Todd x reader where the reader doesn’t think she has a chance with Jason because “he’s a 10” and the reader has low self esteem

❝ 𝐇𝐄’𝐒 𝐀 𝟏𝟎 ❞

❥ pairing: jason todd x reader

❥ summary: jason has always call you names like pretty, gorgeous and beautiful and you could never fathom he ever meant them.

❥ warnings: insecurities, anxiety, crying & comfort.

❥ wc: 2.1k

You sat on the roof of Wayne Manor as the rain poured down quickly. The roof was quite slippery at this point so you didn't mind staying up there a little while longer. It was just water right? You looked down from the roof, noticing Jason Todd also in the rain looking up at you with that dumb cheesy grin that never failed to make you smile.

Is he…looking at me?

He waved and for a brief movement, he seems as if he was thinking before you watched him attempt to try and climb the building while it rained. His looks definitely made up for his lack of brain cells. After many, many failed attempts Jason had actually managed to make it up there and sit down next to you. He could tell you were holding in a laugh but only smiled at you.

"Hey beautiful"

Your heart always fluttered at his compliments especially since you knew that you wouldn't ever hear them from anyone else.

"Hey Jason"

"Why are you up here in the rain? You could get hurt y'know"

You watched him relax and lay down a bit as the water washed through his dark black locs. You were too focused on his hair to even remember his question. Without asking you threaded your hand through his curls, at first it had startled him but it only took you seconds before you relaxed him by massaging his head gently. You'd never noticed how curly his hair was until now, probably because you'd never seen his hair yet. It wasn't fair that you had been deprived of such a sight for this long.

It wasn't long til it had started to settle into your mind that he liked to call you pretty, beautiful, cute and etc. You never corrected him because why would you, someone as hot as him gave you daily compliments that you didn't even deserve and it was all on his own accord. But that made you wonder, why would he do this. This Jason we're talking about. Jason that bitches about patroling with Dick. Jason that teases Tim about his boyfriend. Jason that somehow managed to trick Daimen into watching Gossip Girl. Why would he call you pretty?

"Jay?"

"Hmmm…yes pretty?"

Another flutter? Jeez, calm down.

"Ummm, why do compliment me so much?"

"Cause you probably don't hear it enough"

To you his words translated as, "No one probably calls you pretty" and it wasn't wrong. You never had anyone actually tell you they thought you were beautiful or stunning. While your mind wandered you began to chew on your bottom lip, thinking about all of your insecurities. Your weight, lack of confidence, feminism, looks and there was so much more, and day and night they ate at you, made you feel so inferior, so weak, almost as if you meant nothing.

Jason sits up causing you to quickly retrieve your hand from his locks. The rain had slowed and it was probably safe to get down. You could tell because it didn't take Jason much to get to the ground. He looked up at you, his cheeks tinted a pink hue from what you assumed was the rain.

"You coming?"

"Not yet, I'll see you at dinner, Jason"

Jason's mouth opened and closed multiple times, as if there were words he wanted to say but just couldn't form. After a while, he nodded and walked into, Leave you alone outside once again with your pathetic thoughts.

I'd never have a chance with a guy like him…

—

"Get off my case Grayson"

"I'm just trying to understand why you've been avoiding him lately"

"Can't we just enjoy our weekly lunches in silence?"

"I just want to help you y/n I swear"

You looked at Dick Grayson for a moment before taking a small bite of your sandwich. If you told him he'd get off your back and it's not like he'd tell Jason right? Once your voice found the words, you began "To me Jason is like a 10 and I'm…" your voice cracked slightly and you stopped talking instantly. You knew that if you had continued, you'd spill out all your dumb insecurities all those things that made you so pathetic.

"You're what y/n?"

"I'm like a 2/10 on a good day"

Is my self-esteem really this low?

The air between the two of you was deathly silent. You watched Dick's fists clench but quickly relaxed as his gaze met yours.

"Who told you that y/n? I want specific names. Did Jason say that to you? Tell me because if he did I will kick his ass if necessary-"

"Grayson, no one said anything. No one had to because I already know it and Jason probably already thinks it, he compliment me because he knows no one else will"

For a while you just looked at the table, you were sure that by now you were crying because of your blurred vision. You couldn't face Dick like this, you were a ticking time bomb waiting to explode and you didn't want him to hear you. So you left. You ran out of that cafe and got yourself out of there, right after grabbing your phone of course. Dick didn't need to hear all the things you hated about yourself and all the things that made you doubt everything aspect of your being.

Why am I like this?

Once you were out of there, you decided to go back to your apartment. Though you lived at Wayne Manor, you had your apartment in case you needed some private time or just somewhere to lay low. You decided it would be best to walk, so you could clear your mind a bit.

You wiped away your cold tears and tried to keep on a happy face or avoid drawing any unnecessary attention to yourself especially because of the scene you had probably caused at that cafe. This whole thing felt so dumb in your head, why did you have to avoid Jason. It was not like he was hurting you, if anything his compliments were one of the highlights of your days but maybe that was a good reason to avoid him. There was no point getting attached to someone who was definitely of your league.

You pushed those negative thoughts out of your head and decided before heading to your apartment, you'd do some shopping and maybe even buy yourself some food. Eagerly, you went to the nearest clothing store in the neighborhood and decided to splurge a bit on a couple new clothes then decided to treat yourself to some seafood as takeout. Little things like these were the only things sometimes that could make you feel loved.

When you had finally arrived at your place you were relieved. No one was there plus none of your neighbors were around so you could rest and relax in-

"hey there y/n"

You jumped at the dangerously familiar voice. Jason? Why was he here? In your apartment? You took a couple steps back, getting ready to make a run for it. You couldn't talk to him, not yet, and especially not after today's events. You looked up at him studying his body, he was dressed in his gear except his helmet was nowhere to be found and he had on a different shirt.

"Please don't run away, y/n," Jason said taking a step towards you. The two of you locked eyes for what seemed forever before Jason started to close the distance between the two of you and you let him. So many things raced through your head, you thought about pushing him away, running away again, or maybe just hearing him out. The thought of him being this close to you was a dream come true under the right circumstances but this wasn't the time to be thinking like this especially when you knew he didn't see you the way you saw him.

"Dick told me a bit about what happened earlier at the cafe, he said it would be best if I came to check on you," he said looking down at you. By now your back was pressed against the door and you'd dropped all your bags. You needed to get him out of here.

"Jason I'm fine, you can go"

You never would've thought Jason cared this much for you. So much that he broke into your apartment just to see you. But you were thinking of this all wrong, Jason was a nice guy who probably just wanted to clear things up that's all. There was nothing more to this and you had to convince him just as you convinced yourself that the two of you would never happen.

"Did you know I hate the rain?" he said quietly picking up your dropped bags. He grabbed the clothes and gently put the food in your hands. There was a voice in your head warning you to not drag this out any longer but you didn't want to listen this time. "But when I saw you on the roof the other day, suddenly I could tolerate it"

"So many bad things happened on rainy days but seeing you… that was best thing"

Jason grinned at you as he grabbed your bags filled with new items and clothes and placed them on your kitchen counter. He then motioned for you to come to sit with him on your couch once he was done. By then any sense of self-respect had gone out of the window now. Without much hesitation, you followed him which earned you a soft chuckle from him that sparked something in your chest.

"Y/n I think I gave you the wrong answer the other day"

He can't say anything worse than last time if I avoid it.

"For what?" A beat passed, and you looked up at Jason and he was… nervous? he was sweating and could barely make eye contact with you. He clearly had trouble finding his words and that was partially your fault because you knew exactly what question he was talking about and you could even admit it yourself. It was a stupid question that you had asked in the heat of the moment and you wished you could both forget about it and move on but that's not how things work. Though you regretted asking, you still listened to what he had to say.

"When you asked about why I compliment you so much. What I meant to say is that when I find a girl undeniably beautiful all I can ever do is remind her of it every fucking day"

There had never been a time that your heart had raced this fast until now. Jason took your hand and held it, softly as if you were going to break. The small space that you put between you on the couch was now gone as Jsson pulled you closer to him.t

"You are not a 2/10 sweetheart, you are so much more than that and I will do whatever it takes to make you see that," he said flashing you one of those cheeky grins you loved so much. If your face hadn't been red before, it was sure to be red now. It was at this moment that you knew he meant it. That Jason did not pity you and in fact thought that you were one of the most attractive girls he had ever seen.

Jason had wanted you to know for a while, he thought you did at first but after hearing from dick what you thought of yourself, he found himself willing to do anything for you to understand how you felt about you. How Jason Todd saw you and now you had no doubt now in the way Jason saw you.

"Jason you don't know how much that means for you to say that and how much I needed to hear that," you said as if you were out of breath even though you had only said a couple words. because this was literally breathtaking. "I really really like you Jay"

Jason looked at you before grabbing you into what was a mesh of a hug and a tight squeeze and saying, "Please don't say anything else just lemme hold you" he said quietly as he held your body close to his. squeezing his big arms around your waist and pulling you even closer together as if you'd run away if he dared to let go.

"Because I really like you too pretty girl"

Always remember that you can be loved guys<3

#✩ kleo's kollection ✩#✩ secret messages ✩#✩ just for you hun ✩#divider by saradika #jason todd #jason peter todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd is red hood #red hood #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #dick grayson cameo #dick grayson

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brisquad-unit-4402 · 5 months

Text

cuddling to sleep with noctyx

i’m back in my sonny brisko appreciation (non-parasocial) arc. but did i ever really leave?

tags: gender neutral reader, achillean reader in uki’s entry (no f!reader x uki), established relationship, fluff, do not enable me and my sonny delusions i had to cut myself off so hard here

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

🎭 Alban Knox

he sleeps on his side most often and usually faces you for the warmth

it explains why his definition of “comfortable” is pressed up against you, resting his head in whatever nook he finds along your body. his legs tangle up with yours and then tumble out of the way in the middle of the night

but uh, doesn’t explain how when you fall asleep and he’s still awake, he places one of his hands around your cheek

he doesn’t move it. his pinky curls around your jawline, a thumb close to your lips, slightly parted as you rest. he’s worried if he moves it’ll stir you awake

so he stays put, letting your heat sink in through his palm as it frames you. every pore of your skin. the color on your face dyed in the dark. the soft lashes over your closed eyes

he counts the latter until his own are fighting to stay open as well. when they do he always loses track of the number, but he, admittedly, sheepishly, wishes he could admire them with full attention

when you wake up it’s to alban’s slumbering face, always the second to wake after you, and his gentle grasp connecting you together, still with that hand resting along your cheek

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

🐑 Fulgur Ovid

he claims he’s not a romantic and doesn’t like to be touched often. which is true; you doubt he even owns a pair of rose-tinted shades

for the most part affection is expressed through quality time and acts of service rather than physical touch. night is one of the few exceptions

he doesn’t know how but he can’t get comfortable without your head resting on his chest like a pillow

he tries to rationalize it by comparing you to a weighted blanket, or how some nights when he takes off his limbs to get comfortable it’s like you’re making up for his metal weight. phantom ease rather than pain

it’s strange. it’s the most peaceful moment of the day. he doesn’t know how to handle it when it feels so effortless. aren’t you only supposed to feel this way after a grand gesture?

a human heartbeat travels up his throa2, and rather than anxiety, it's calm. your leg wrapped along his cold skin eases him and he doesn't understand it. you slow him down when he's used to living in a whirlwind

his brain is always set to analyze but this may be one of the few times he wishes he could shut it off. instead he savors it as you both drift off, and refuses to bring it up when he wakes up

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

🔗 Sonny Brisko

above all else he prioritizes learning what you like, what you want, how he can put you at ease even though he’s so unsure of himself and what he’s doing

you’ll have to reassure him but eventually he’ll come into his own. and when he does he still keeps your preferences in mind while making himself at home

he likes bear hugs, his cheek up against your back as you spoon, keeping his arms around you like a precious treasure

he doesn’t stay still. you can feel him rub circles along your back, searching down for your hand, giving it a squeeze and unconsciously rubbing his fingers along yours as he nuzzles closer to your nape

his favorite way to cuddle is with your head in his lap, drifting off while watching tv or his games

if he has a free hand it’ll be by your head, playing with your hair if you’ll let him, and giving you tons of headpats

he gets nervous when you look back at him but the small, dopey little smile on his face is too adorable to ignore. especially once your eyes close so he can lean over and kiss you on the forehead without any shame

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

🔮 Uki Violeta

uki is someone that loves the feeling of being relied on and relying on his partner in turn, so of course his heart soars when you rest your head on his shoulder for a midday nap

especially when he can feel the grip on your interlocked hands loosen as you fall asleep. he looks at you so fondly once you drift off

he’ll lean his head on yours as well, if he can, letting his body relax as he does. he loves nuzzling and he loves indulging in it

as he presses his head to yours he tries to commit to memory the warmth of your skin, the gentle rise and fall of sleep, your soft scent…

your scent is especially comforting to him. it's human to the core with the slightest hints of where you've been. he’s already planning how to steal your shirt once the day ends because it’s too damn cozy and he never wants to let the moment end!

this is one of the rare times where uki forgets his stresses. all that matters is making sure this angel has the best nap possible

he doesn’t let go of your hand, even though his grip is soft. a manicured nail traces along one finger, soaking up the texture of your skin, and once you wake up with him fast asleep instead, you may just recognize the outline on your hand and cheek in the same shade as uki’s lip gloss

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ ⁭masterpost ✧. ┊ ⁭kofi

#noctyx x reader #alban knox #alban knox x reader #fulgur ovid #fulgur ovid x reader #sonny brisko #sonny brisko x reader #uki violeta #uki violeta x reader #noctyx #nijisanji en #nijisanji x reader #noctyx fluff #alban knox fluff #fulgur ovid fluff #sonny brisko fluff #uki violeta fluff #4402 writes #been in SUCH a noctyx mood lately

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somekindofpoet · 1 year

Text

Oh!Dealer Pt II

Summary: Drug Dealer! R and Vada try to figure out how this is all going to work.

Word Count: 3.1K

Warnings: +18 NSFW, smut, language, drug use

A/N: This has been cooking in my head for a while, so here it is, finally! A little smutty, a little angsty. Hope you guys like it!

Part I

You wake up with a heavy arm draped across your naked hip. Your eyes feel heavy, like weights are tied to your lids by a delicate thread. Your entire body is spent, aching, and exhausted. If it weren’t for the hand resting on your stomach, you know the depths of the withdrawal depression would have you spiraling into despair right now.

But the sight and feel of that arm brings back memories of your night spent in a euphoric, drug-induced haze. A haze half caused by the owner of the arm herself, Vada Cavell.

If you weren’t at a chemical low, you’d probably feel giddy at the realization of the fact that not only is she still there, she’s still naked. Instead, you feel a dull excitement, like knowing you’re going on vacation, but it’s still months away. It’s present, but so far away, you can’t actually immerse yourself in it.

Not completely, at least. But when her fingers begin to stir, her nails softly scratching at your skin, the vacation feels like it’s only days away instead of months.

She’s buried under a mountain of blankets and pillows, the only thing visible to you is her hair and her arm draped over you. You can feel her legs still intertwined in yours, but she’s almost entirely swallowed up by your bedding.

“Uuuuuugh,” she groans, her voice raspy, “I think I’m dying.”

You take a long, slow breath in, nodding even though she can’t see you. “I think I’m dead.”

Vada presses a flat hand into your stomach, squirming under the blankets until her eyes appear half closed. “Can you tell whoever resurrected us that we want to stay dead?”

“I don’t think any higher power is going to help me after what I’ve done.”

Vada pushes her bottom lip out, “Do you think we’ll ever be happy again?”

You give her a tired smile, “In the next four to six business hours, we should be among the living again.”

She whines, rolling back into her blanket cocoon. You close your eyes, content to sleep the morning away.

“Y/n,” Vada’s voice is muffled and soft beneath the blankets.

“Vada.”

“Could we like…I don’t know, would you maybe wanna…” she pauses, and you sigh.

“What?”

Her voice is small, almost childlike, “Could you cuddle me?”

You open your eyes, frowning at the pull you feel in your chest. You consider the proposition. It’s not the worst idea. Maybe your recovering brain chemicals lower your guard, or maybe it’s just her absolute vulnerability at the moment. But you find yourself carefully pulling back the covers, crawling under them with her, and pulling her body close to you. She feels so small in your arms, a teaspoon of a little spoon.

She sighs contentedly, squirming her body back until not an inch of your skin is separated. You fall asleep like that, holding her against you, your nose in her hair.

——

Vada’s constant squirming wakes you again. You’ve shifted a bit, your face pressed against the back of her neck, her hair fanned out on the pillow above you. You’re not sure how much time has passed, but the sun is shining through the cracks in your curtains, so you think it must be at least mid-morning.

Vada whimpers, shifting her hips back against you again. You lift your head, trying to look down at her, but it’s almost impossible with the duvet over your head.

“What’s wrong?” You croak, your throat dry.

She lets out a shaky breath, “Uhm,” she hesitates, “you’re kind of turning me on.”

You jerk your head back, her words rattling the sleep from your brain. You take stock of your position, and it makes more sense. Your lips were brushing the skin at the top of her spine, your legs are intertwined with hers, and your hand is resting just below her belly button.

You startle, trying to pull away, but you’re met with an iron grip of Vada’s fingers around your wrist. It’s strange, to feel turned on when you’re still recovering from the ecstasy. The warm pooling in your lower belly is there, an aching between your legs. It’s not hungry, more indulgent than anything. But it’s certainly present.

It becomes gluttonous when she draws your hand down, luring your fingers between her legs. It’s almost automatic, the way you begin to touch her, your lips on the curve of her neck.

She pushes her hips back into you, whining as you lazily circle her clit. You press a gentle kiss into her neck, breathe her in while you indulge her. She stays quiet, breathy, and sighing, rocking back into you. She whines when you pull your fingers away, catching your wrist again.

“Sshh,” you whisper in her ear, “let me.”

A small noise comes from the back of her throat, her grip dripping from your wrist. You push her top leg over, run your fingers up the back of her thigh. You kiss her shoulder again, your tongue slowly tracing over her skin. Your hand slides between her legs, cupping her, making her gasp. Your palm presses into her, then you trace your fingers down until you can gently push two fingers inside of her.

She groans, her body pushing into yours. Your pace is languid, sluggish, lazy strokes into her, but it’s enough. She tries to turn toward you, but the finds the angle less satisfying, so she holds the pillow to her mouth instead.

It feels good, a small pinhole of light in your withdrawal. Her whimpers and whining into your pillows, the steady rocking of her body against yours. It’s almost enough to trick you into thinking you’ve recovered.

Her orgasm is patient, creeping up on her and slowly tingling through her. It’s longer than you expect, but somehow more satisfying than the night before. More real.

She turns her head away from the pillow, and the quiet moan that leaves her is what you imagine the first breath of life must sound like. Relieved, satisfied, joyful even.

She shivers and pushes your hand away, forcing your fingers out of her. You lift your arm so she can roll into you, her chest pressing into yours. She tucks her head under your chin, kisses your throat, and hums softly, her arm wraps around her waist, and yours pulls her into you, your hand flat on her back.

You can feel her eyelashes against your skin, her jaw slack as she falls asleep again. You think you should probably get up, get to work, but find yourself unwilling to untangle yourself from her. Your eyes slide shut again as you give in.

——

You wake up the second time that day to an empty bed. A shuffling behind you makes you roll over, squinting your eyes in the light.

You can see Vada’s outline, picking through your records on the shelf below your window. She turns to you, holding up a Chopin vinyl. As your eyes adjust to the light, you can see the perplexed look on her face.

You stretch your arms over your head, frown at her and drop them. “What?”

“What is this?” She asks, her voice soft.

“Chopin?” You tell her, confused.

She gives you a look that tells you that’s not the answer she’s looking for.

“But why do you have it? And why is your bed so nice? And your house? And why do you have a piano?”

You sit up, scratching your head. Grab your t-shirt from your nightstand and pull it over your head. She waits for your answer, her eyebrows raised.

“I like Chopin. Is that a crime?”

Her voice is high, tight when she replies, “You’re a drug dealer.”

You rub your eyes, not following her logic. “So?”

She drops the vinyl onto the shelf. Your eyes shoot to it. It’s not where it belongs, and that itches at your brain unpleasantly.

“So you’re supposed to be…supposed to be,” she gestures around with her hands, searching for the right words.

Your brows furrow, beginning to feel insulted, “Supposed to be what, Vada?”

Her face scrunched with worry and confusion, “I don’t know. Scary. Shady.”

Your teeth grind together at her words, her judgment. You slide out of your bed, walking around to your bathroom.

“I’m sorry I didn’t meet your expectations of a drug dealer. I’ll try harder to be more shady next time.”

“No,” she says, coming around your bed to the bathroom doorway, “that’s not what I mean.”

You brush your teeth, narrowing your eyes at her in the mirror. “Why don’t you say what you mean then?” You slur around your toothbrush.

She opens her mouth to speak, then snaps it shut, deflating, “I should go.”

You spit into the sink, close your eyes, and sigh, “Do you need a ride?”

“No. Nick is on his way.”

When you open your eyes again, she’s gone.

——

The next day, you wake up in a much better mood. You feel guilty for snapping at Vada, apologize through text. She never replies.

It just so happens to be your twenty-first birthday, but you don’t tell her. After the way you treated her, you don’t deserve her attention anyway.

Your grandma makes you pancakes and fusses over you the best she can. You remind her that you live there so you can take care of her, not the other way around. She just responds by waving you off, mumbling something about love on your birthday.

That afternoon, your phone rings, and when you see who is calling you, your heart nearly stops.

It’s Whisper.

“Hello?” You answer the phone, willing your voice not to shake.

“Centennial Park. Twenty minutes.”

“Wait, what? Why-“The line goes dead before you finish asking.

You sling your phone onto the coffee table, completely unnoticed by your snoring grandmother. You press your fingers into your eyes, stressed about what your dealers may want.

Birthday or not, you have to get your ass to the park. You growl in frustration and stand, grabbing your phone and heading out the door.

——

Whisper and Noodle are under the gazebo, looking for all the world like a heavily tattooed couple out for some sunshine. You gulp, striding over to them. When they see you, Noodle waves his arm over his head like an overjoyed child. Whisper’s eyes track you like a predator following its prey.

You approach the gazebo, lean on the wooden pole with your arms crossed. You’re trying to look relaxed, but you chose to stand there because it would allow you a quick escape if necessary.

“Sit down, kid.” Whisper directs you, pointing to the bench across from him.

You hesitate, and he narrows his eyes at you, his nostrils flaring in irritation. You sit obediently. You glance between them, nervous and unsure.

“So, uh, what’s up? It’s only been two days I haven’t-“

“You need to move double.” Whisper interrupts, kicking a black bag across the gazebo. It slides to a halt at your feet.

“I…what?” You look up at him, confused.

“Double. You have two weeks.”

Panic lays itself across you like a shroud. Your heart races, your stomach twists.

“I can’t move this much, man. It takes me two weeks to move my usual stuff.”

Whisper curls his lip, his hand drifting to his hip. You know his gun is there, hidden under his tank top.

“I don’t recall asking you a fucking question, little buddy.”

Noodle giggles. You gulp, your hands shaking.

Whisper stands, looks down at you, “I don’t care how you do it, just do it. Or else.”

“Yeah,” Noodle laughs, standing with Whisper, “or else!”

A cold chill goes through you, emanating from your gut to the tips of your ears. “O-okay.”

Whisper smirks at you, a gold tooth flashing in the sun, “That’s my little buddy. Now get the fuck out of here. See you in two weeks.”

You sling the bag over your shoulder, and you can’t stop yourself from running to your car. You throw the bag into the back seat and hightail it out of the parking lot, sweat beading on your forehead. You have no idea how you are going to push double the amount of drugs you usually did. Your mind races, trying to come up with solutions. You find none.

You finally begin to calm down on your drive home, the trembling in your hands subsiding. With your nerves frayed, you pull into a gas station and park. It’s your twenty-first birthday, and you’ll be damned if the last few days didn’t deserve a drink.

You go inside and make your way to the beer fridge. You quickly find a case you want, open the fridge, and pull the box out. As soon as you stand, the cardboard tears, sending cans rolling every which way around you. They clatter on the tile, dented and spinning.

You stand with a now empty box, staring at the cans sliding across the tile floor.

“Of course,” you say, your voice nearly breaking.

You tilt your head back, and squeeze your eyes closed. Take a deep breath. Drop your shoulders and open your eyes, setting to work at gathering the stray cans and sorting them back into the rolled box like some kind of karmic Tetris.

A man steps over you as you knelt down, reaching for the cans. Your hand shakes, irritated at his indifference toward you. You shoot him a glare, and he looks down at you like he feels bad for you. You grit your teeth, gather the box in your arms and stand.

The man at the checkout counter doesn’t even check your ID.

When you drop back into your car, feeling defeated, you set the torn box of beer on the passenger seat. You rest your forehead on the steering wheel, your hands on either side of your head.

“What have I done to deserve this?” You grumble to yourself.

You check your phone, nothing. Vada still hasn’t replied to you.

With a cold sickness in your belly, you start the car and begin your drive home. About ten minutes into the drive, a flash of movement behind your rearview catches your attention. Your body goes rigid as you try not to jerk the steering wheel.

A fucking wasp is inside your car, clinging to the glass just above your head. You grind your teeth, searching for a place to pull over, praying the stupid thing doesn’t drop into your lap.

The one saving grace of the day is when you pull over, jump out of the car, and watch the wasp leave without too much of a fight. You know you must look like a crazy person, your windows all rolled down, throwing things at the bug, but at this point, you don’t give a shit. The last thing you need is an angry wasp stinging you relentlessly as you’re trying to drive your sorry ass home.

With the dramatics of the winged creature over, you finally climb back in and make your way home. You’re feeling sorry for yourself, cursing the universe at your bad luck. You start to wonder if maybe, just maybe, you're living in a sitcom.

A shiny blue bicycle is on its side in your driveway, and you wonder who it could belong to. You shoulder the bag of extra drugs you hadn’t asked for and scoop up your beer in one arm. You eye the bike as you walk up, not recognizing it as one belonging to the neighborhood kids. The front door is unlocked, and you tell yourself to scold your grandmother for her negligence.

There are voices coming from the kitchen when you kick the door shut behind you. You frown, curious. You turn the corner, and your grandmother is at the oven, grinning. The smell of cookies fills your nose, distracting you from the visitor at the island.

“What-“ you stop mid-question, realizing who else is in your kitchen.

“Hi. Linda was just telling me about how you used to cry until they let you play the piano.” Vada says, her eyebrow rising as she teases you.

You scowl at her, then at your grandma. Vada couldn’t be bothered to text you back, but she was willing to come over, unannounced and hang out with your grams? Who the fuck did she think she was?

Vada must have sensed your dismay because she shrugs, her nose crinkling as she smiles apologetically.

“I think we should talk,” she says gently.

“It’s her birthday today, you know,” Linda says, her eyes twinkling at Vada.

The last thing you need is for your grandma to fall in love with Vada. Then she’d ask you questions about her every day, and you’d have to explain who she was to you. Not your girlfriend. That much was certain.

Vada looks at you with sad eyes, “I didn’t know.”

You shrug, set the beer on the counter, “Why should you?”

She frowns, thinking hard about your question, “You could have told me.”

“Kind of hard, when you ignore my texts,” you grumble, turning to place the beers in the fridge.

“Well, I’ll leave you girls to it,” Linda chirps, hobbling away from the oven.

When she’s out of earshot, Vada tilts her head and speaks, her voice quiet, “We should talk.”

You crack open a beer, shut the fridge, and lean back against it, “Okay. So talk.”

“I’m sorry, for running out the other day.”

“You didn't run out. You don't need to be sorry.” Yoru voice is harsher than you want it to be, but you can't find it in yourself to be soft when your day has gone the way it had.

“Still,” Vada says, “I’m sorry. It’s just. I don't know, I was surprised.”

“That I’m a person and not a walking pez dispenser?” You bite back.

“Vada sighs, rubs her eyes with her fingertips, “No, thats not what I mean.”

You huff; you’re being petulant, you know it. But it’s your birthday, and you can cry if you want to. “Vada, just say what you mean, for once. Please. Save us the time.”

She jerks her head back, hurt apparent on her face. She shakes her head, chewing on her lip, stands up from her chair. Her eyes dart toward the hall that leads to the door, and you can tell she's considering escape. You don’t blame her. Your foul mood would drive anyone away.

“Maybe we should talk later,” she says, moving past you. She turns in the doorway and looks back at you, “Happy birthday, y/n.”

As soon as she’s gone, you regret it. You want to run to the door, ask her to come back. Apologize for being a royal prick. But you don't. Instead, you grab another beer and lock yourself in your bedroom with a giant bag of pills you have to figure out how to get rid of.

#jenna ortega x reader #vada cavell #vada cavell x reader #vada x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x y/n

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peachesofteal · 1 year

Text

Cupcakes

Maybe this will be a thing. Or maybe not. Either way, I've got the Pedro brain rot.

Joel Miller/female reader One shot - 1.1k words - AO3 Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, mentions of blood, violence, gore. Joel is bad at feelings. Descriptions of explicit sex. Joel doesn't understand you.

He doesn’t understand you. You smile. With your mouth, your pink lips curling above a deep scar on your chin.

“It’s my trophy.” You told him one night. “I got it from a crazy fucker who had a barn fulla clickers.” He’s not sure why any person would be penning up a bunch of those things, but you did say he was crazy. “Killed him though. Was one of my first ones.” He watches your face go dark with the memory, and he tries to imagine what you were like before all this. Soft, sweet. Probably someone’s wife. Maybe you stayed at home. Made dinner, made breakfast. Maybe you were the type that made cupcakes, real ones from scratch, with sweet spun sugar icing. Maybe you took care of someone.

He doesn’t understand the way you think. You’re always telling him to take it slow, take it easy, take his time. He can’t. He doesn’t know how. He has to move fast, quick, easy on his feet. He cannot slow down. You have no problem making pace, but it doesn’t keep you from voicing your opinion.

“You’re gonna give yourself a heart attack. Don’t the doctors usually start old men on baby aspirin at your age?” He’s not that old, for christ’s sake. He’s not even forty-five yet, he thinks. When you laugh at your own jab, it feels like he’s been punched in the stomach.

He doesn’t understand the way you fight. You creep around like a god damn cat, brandishing a knife in your hand, another two slipped in your boots. You liked surprise, and you hated guns. The first time he had watched you put a blade in someone’s clavicle, he thought he was going to be sick. He didn’t like you having to get so close, no matter how many times you tried to assure him you were fine. And he hates how his head spins when he watches you put that same knife in the side of a clicker’s head, twisting it for good measure, before you’re shoving off of them and bashing their skull in.

“Can’t aim worth a shit.” You complained the day he took you out for practice. You couldn’t hit a single bottle, and he couldn’t fight the grimace that graced his face. When you saw it, your cheeks turned a different color, and guilt burned inside him.

He doesn’t understand why you’re so fucking stubborn. Why you don’t listen when he tells you to do something, when you blatantly ignore him when he tells you not to follow the crying little kid that’s begging for help.

“It’s not like it was life or death.” He turned on you so fast he watched your eyes go wide, his arms pulling your shoulders towards his chest. “It is life or death!” He had yelled. You had run into that building without a care after that kid, and he could hardly keep up. Turns out, the kid’s mom was already infected, and he didn’t understand. He was only five. You covered his eyes while Joel put her down. You had carried him all the way back to camp, even after Joel had offered to take him, arms wrapped tight around his back as he cried. So stubborn. But you let Joel hold you that night, for the first time. In the dark, your hand running up and down his spine, your whispered words repeating over and over. “I’m fine. I’m fine, Joel.”

He doesn’t understand your feelings. The way they shift from one day to the next. He doesn’t like how it feels when he catches you crying, drop of tears webbed in your pillowy lashes.

“What is it?” the words are gruff, and he wishes he was softer for a split second. You sniffle and shake your head. “It’s my dad’s birthday. Or would’ve been.” He gets it, he does. But he doesn’t know how to show you, so he just sits down on the step, his shoulder against yours. You wrap your hand around his knee after you’ve dried your tears, and he holds his breath while you turn your tear-stained face up towards him. “Thanks, Joel.” His name on your lips makes his blood sing.

He doesn’t understand the way you talk to people either. The way you make everyone feel like they’re some ray of sunshine in your life. Like they matter to you. You give everyone your smile, and your eyes, and your touch. You rub Rita on her back when she throws up every second week of the month, like clockwork. You braid the Marshall girl’s hair when her mom isn’t around to do it. You try to arm wrestle John when you both get a free moment, and he can hear your laugh clear across the yard when he lets you win.

“He gets a kick out of it.” You tell him one night. “Makes him feel good. Shitty world we live in, you know?”

He knows.

He wants to make you feel good.

He hasn’t had a woman under him in years. He’s all rough sandpaper, and he can’t imagine that scraping against your porcelain skin. But, that doesn’t stop him from thinking about it. He dreams about bending you back on one of those shitty mattresses, your skin rippling in goosebumps under the tips of his fingers. He imagines the way your mouth tastes, how your hand would feel wrapped around his cock. He thinks about how you’d sound, with his mouth on your cunt, his tongue licking up inside you, pulling an orgasm through your gritted teeth. He’d hold your hip in one hand and fuck his fingers into you with the other, feeling the way the walls of your cunt clenched down around him. He thinks about how he’d push your hips down onto his cock, your back arched in his arms, your mouth pressing into his shoulder as you moan. “Joel.” you’d whine, tongue darting out to lick your lips, hand gripping his forearm. “Fuck, Joel. Please.” He’d bite the skin of your neck, bringing it between his teeth, pulling the blood to the surface to brand you. You’d be his.

These things he wants, they’re just a fantasy. A gentle dream, like the memory of the world before. He knows that, he does. But it doesn’t stop him from wanting. From watching you when you’re on guard, hips swaying with every step you take. Doesn’t stop him from taking himself in his hand when he thinks about the curve of your waist, the prominent dips in your hips, the soft crease where your thigh bends when you sit, legs folded against each other. He wants to pin you beneath him until you’re shaking, wants to hold you to his chest while you sleep. He wants the sweet, soft spun sugar that melts in his mouth, the feeling of you in his arms. He wants the cupcakes, the real ones.

He wants it all. But it’s only a fantasy.

#joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #Joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou hbo #joel tlou #joel miller x oc #peaches writes #female reader #tlou fanfiction #Joel Miller

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disassociation-daydreams · 8 months

Text

Secret Admirer - Dave York x F!Reader

A/N: Not only is this my first time ever writing fanfiction, but also the first time I've written anything in general, not counting essays in college? But I've had this idea rolling around my head the past few days and felt the need to get it written down. Shoutout to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for being so supportive and an amazing human being overall! I definitely would not have typed this out or posted it if it wasn't for you <3

Sorry if this hurts you the way it hurt me! Idk why my brain did this.

Summary: Dave is meant to be watching a target, but instead he ends up paying more attention to you.

Pairing: Dave York x F!Reader

Rating: 18+ (mdni)

Word Count: 3,010

Tags and Warnings: allusion to murder, allusion to violence, possessiveness, stalking, obsession, age gap, pervy Dave, pining Dave, allusion to drug addiction at end, mention of alcohol, slight voyeurism, mention of hospital stay, mention of suicide (only to cover up for Dave being a murderer), angst (I think that's it? My first time ever doing warnings)

He was meant to be watching a new target; noting the time of day he’d get home (Wednesdays and Thursdays a few hours later than the other days of the week), his habits (smoking a joint and passing out on his couch before he even made it to his bed), and anything else the piece of shit did that was noteworthy. And to be fair, he was watching him… but he was also watching her.

Her, whose windows he could see right into as he watched from the dark apartment in the building adjacent to theirs. Her, who just happened to have the apartment in direct view of his vantage point. Her, who was one door down from his target. He was trying to be discreet when he chose an apartment diagonal from his current prey; he hadn’t meant for it to turn into a distraction.

He hadn’t meant to watch her as well; he had never been the type to voyeur, to invade an innocent person’s privacy for his own enjoyment (that was saved only for the guilty). But her curtains were always wide open, both her living room and bedroom lit up from lamps until she turned them out, a tv until she was tired of watching in one room, shutting it off and then the other illuminating the space in the next, or even her phone as she stared down at it in her bed.

He hadn’t meant to watch, but he also couldn’t stop.

From evening to the early hours of the morning, his attention was hers. Her apartment was cozy, filled with soft blankets, books littering multiple surfaces, mugs of coffee (or maybe tea?) all over the place, and a cat tower in each room sometimes occupied with a small, white cat that she fawned over when she arrived home between 6:15 and 6:25 PM every weekday. She had a seemingly normal schedule for a 25 year old (he knew her age from research he had done for strictly professional reasons). He would be gone by the time she woke up each day, but based on her clothing that she stripped out of as soon as she got home each night and the information he could find online, she seemed to have the typical 9-5 schedule that accompanied a boring office job.

Her schedule seemed monotonous on those days: come home, greet her cat, shower and change into a large t-shirt and panties (his second favorite part of her routine), make dinner for her and said cat, then collapse into bed. Sometimes she would scroll through her phone or pick up a book for a few hours with the tv on the opposite wall brightening up the space slightly, until she fell asleep around 10:00 PM (this was his favorite part of her routine). For hours after that, when she (and the target) were both sound asleep, he could watch her without feeling so guilty for doing so. He could watch the way her body tossed and turned a few times for the first couple hours until she settled into her REM sleep. He could watch the slow and steady rise of her breasts, the peaceful look on her face with her full lips slightly parted, the way her arms never seemed to get comfortable while she slept, sometimes clutching a pillow to her chest or sometimes rising above her head as if her wrists were pinned in place (fuck, he wants to do that to her, encase her small wrists in one of his palms and hold her arms still while the rest of her body writhed and squirmed underneath him). He wishes he could watch her when she wakes up, see the way her soft and pliant body stretches, memorize her morning routine so he could imagine himself in more parts of her life. He can’t risk it though; can’t risk the morning light illuminating where he and his camera sit perched, can’t risk falling asleep in this spot as exhaustion from being up all night overcomes his body, can’t risk getting a glimpse into more parts of her life and falling more in love than he already has.

So, he takes what he can get. He sits there and watches her (and him; yes, the target still exists) for a few weeks, her weekday routine monotonous, but her weekends not so much. She came home later on those days, usually a little past midnight, sometimes only a little earlier. She never brought anyone home with her, her makeup was always perfectly in-tact, and she never seemed the slightest bit tipsy, her footsteps steady but also lighter as if she had a song stuck in her head from earlier in the night that she was still dancing to. He had come to the conclusion that she was out with friends after the first two nights of this routine. Or at least he hoped for his sake and the other party’s. He had no right to feel possessive over her, to feel like he had a claim to her body and her heart, and he knew this rationally… but that didn’t stop him from wanting to break the wrist of any possible suitor that laid a hand on her waist, to punch any mouth that could have landed on her soft skin until the face beneath his fist would be unrecognizable. She wasn’t his, but that didn’t stop him.

Her routine was predictable for the most part, even on those weekend nights where the time she was coming home varied. It was predictable until it wasn’t. It was predictable until one Saturday night she didn’t make it home (big deal, she probably crashed at a friends, right?). It was predictable until she still wasn’t home Sunday night and he saw her cat pacing around in anxiety and probably hunger. It was predictable until he watched another girl her age enter the apartment Monday night, feed the cat and pet it, then pack some clothes and other items into a bag before leaving and locking up the apartment again. The routine became predictable again, but not with his girl. Instead, he watched this random girl stroll in at the same time for four days, feed the cat and spend time with it on her couch for an hour, and then leave, just to repeat the next day.

It took less than two days of that routine for him to cave and figure out where she was; Boston Medical Center, been there since the Saturday she stopped coming home, discharge date undetermined and reason for her admittance not given. He could’ve dived deeper, threatened the life of her nurse or doctor for more information, hacked into the hospital’s medical records, and he was about to be at that point, until she returned home on Friday with the same random girl from the past four nights helping her inside.

______________________________________________________________

Dave York was not a good man and never could be considered one. He stalked, tortured, murdered; some for money and others for pleasure. His dreams, not nightmares, were full of vengeance against the people he deemed guilty and felt he should bring justice to. In fact, he can’t remember the last time he had a nightmare, not sure there was anything left in this shithole of a world that could scare him… until this. He had lost count of the amount of people he had drained life from, but at this moment he had never wanted to kill anyone more even though had no idea who his victim was. He was sure that when he made it home in the morning that he would be fighting against sleep because every time he blinked, all he could see was this version of you behind his eyelids. You, his soft, angelic girl with the cute, white cat and the predictable routine. You, who was now limping through your house, a large black boot on your right foot, bruises scattered up your plush thighs, disappearing under your clothes until they reappeared around your neck in the shape of handprints. You, who usually had a soft smile gracing your lips, but whose face now winced in pain from the light your friend just turned on that beamed directly into your black-eye.

Dave was sure he was looking into the camera still, but he couldn’t see you anymore. In fact, he couldn’t see anything at all, anything except the color red.

______________________________________________________________

You don’t remember when you first noticed it, the feeling that you were being watched. You don’t even know if you are, nothing ever confirming your suspicions, you just had this feeling. This feeling that there were almost always eyes burning holes into the side of your face, or the back of your neck depending on which way your body was turned. The feeling wasn’t always there, in fact you only felt it for a few hours a day, from the moment you came home until you fell asleep. By the morning, it was gone and you wouldn’t think anything of it, moving on with your usual routine.

It should have scared you, should have creeped you out. You could’ve closed your curtains, could have told someone and tried to check it out, but you hadn’t. For one, you didn’t want people to think you were paranoid, and secondly, the gaze never seemed predatory. In fact, you often felt protected, endeared, even revered… which may sound crazier than the idea that someone was watching you if you ever told anyone that.

You had an idea of where the feeling was coming from, somewhere in the building next to yours, but you never searched the windows to figure out who, mostly because you weren’t entirely sure you’d want them to stop like they probably would if they were caught. So, you went on with your routine, always feeling their gaze at night and never paying it in any mind. You had almost completely forgotten about it at this point, after being away from home for so many nights in that god-forsaken hospital bed. It had been the furthest thing from your mind, the least of your concerns after what you had endured and the pain that was still wracking your body. But, you felt it again now, as you sat on the edge of your bed, trying not to cry anymore than you had been, not sure if the tears would even come anymore. You felt their gaze peering into the side of your head, watching you.

Had they noticed your absence? Did they wonder where you had gone, why someone else was in your apartment every night, why your body was now littered in bruises? Did they care? You didn’t even know if they existed, but that didn’t stop you. It didn’t stop you from walking over to the desk in your living room, pulling out a piece of paper and a sharpie, and scribbling onto it before limping over to the window to tape your message for whoever was watching to see, on the off chance that they did care, or even existed.

______________________________________________________________

“I’M OKAY”

That’s all that was written, in large, black letters, on a piece of white paper that he watched you tape to your window. He should have felt more worried than he was, about the fact that you knew he was there, even if you didn’t know who he was. He didn’t know how long you had felt him there or why you felt the need to reassure him right now, all he knew is that he felt more angry than before. Angry at shitty societal standards that made you feel like you needed to act okay in a moment like this. Angry at himself for not being there to protect you from whoever thought it was a good idea to lay a hand on what was his. Angry at this person that he was going to find and torture until all the bruises and breaks in their body matched the ones they had left on yours. He was going to let this anger consume him until he saw the light go out of their eyes, until he saw it return to yours.

______________________________________________________________

Your routine became monotonous again, after a few more days of resting at home. The bruises were starting to fade along with the pain, although the boot would remain around your broken ankle for another few weeks. You were back at work the Monday after coming home, not able to justify to your corporate shit-head bosses that you needed more time off. The days seemed to be dragging on for longer, exhaustion overwhelming your healing body to the point that you were collapsing into your bed within an hour of getting home each day. By Wednesday evening, after a longer than usual wait for the metro, you might as well have been dead to the world around you, people and buildings blurring together, the sounds of the city sounding like white noise in your ears, until you arrived outside your apartment door and your eyes focused in on the bouquet of peonies sitting on the ground.

Putting your key in the lock and pushing the door open behind the vase of flowers, you quickly bent down to pick them up while making sure not to spill anything out of your work bag in the process. After setting everything else on the floor by your couch, you placed the vase of your favorite flowers on the coffee table in front of it, the setting sun outside your window casting the room in a soft-orange glow, partially impeded by the “I’M OKAY” sign still taped to the window.

Taking a few more moments to get comfortable, your booted foot lifted up to rest next to the vase and Toast, your furry companion, begging for attention in your lap, you reached over to pluck the small card from in between some of the flowers.

Inside, in slightly messy and what could only be described as a man’s handwriting, a short message was written:

“Glad you’re okay, the other person isn't. They’ve been handled.”

It should have scared you for multiple reasons. One, the fact that someone is watching you was now confirmed, and two, they’ve alluded to doing another person harm.

It should have scared you, but it didn’t. You’ve never felt more safe.

______________________________________________________________

Dave watches you as you walk in with the flowers, as you pull out his card and read the short and possibly terrifying message he left inside. He watches as the first genuine smile he’s seen on your face since you disappeared on him graces your lips and gets his heart beating rapidly in his chest. You were smiling because of him, you weren’t scared of what he had written and what he alluded to doing. He had brought a smile to your face and he would be damned if he ever let it fall again.

Only a few minutes after watching you read his message, his eyes followed you as you took down your previous sign from the living window and replace it with a new one.

“THANK YOU 🖤” ______________________________________________________________

One week after that, the job Dave was originally watching for had been handled. He couldn’t justify it anymore, already taking weeks longer than he usually would just so he could prolong watching you every night, and hemorrhaging money on the weekly rent he was paying to use this apartment for his stake-out. On the last night of the job, he watched you with an alertness like never before, keeping his blinking to a minimum so he could commit each and every single part of your life and your being to memory. He stayed past the sunrise the next morning so he could finally witness your morning routine that he had fantasized about, giving himself one more piece of your life that he could imagine himself fitting into, in another life.

______________________________________________________________

You stopped feeling like someone was watching you. It happened suddenly, one night it was there and the next it wasn’t. It wasn’t there the night after either, or the one after that. Your mind couldn’t decide between being more worried that something had happened to them or that you would never get to feel their gaze upon you again.

Paramedics had been in your building the night after the feeling had disappeared, entering the apartment next to yours and leaving with someone in a body bag. You weren't sure if the two were connected, but wouldn't be surprised if they were, even if your building super informed everyone that your neighbor's death had been ruled a suicide.

After a week without your secret admirer, you closed the curtains. ______________________________________________________________

He did his best to stay away, to not give into the temptation that was the sight of you. It was like trying to break an addiction, one that he didn’t want to get rid of but needed to. He could only imagine the havoc you would wreak on his being if he ever had the balls to approach you in person; you would utterly destroy him, ruin his heart and soul for anybody else. After a week of withdrawals that made him even more snappy and impatient at work, and cravings for your smile and light that were starting to blur in his memory, he gave in.

He gave the building super an excuse that he had left something in the apartment and would be out in a few minutes. After grabbing the key and sprinting up the stairs to the seventh floor, he slowed down his pace, trying to get his bearings and calm his racing heart rate before it exploded out of his chest.

Finally, he turned the key in the lock, pushed the door open, and strolled up to the window adjacent to yours. But, instead of the usual sight that greeted him, his pretty girl going about her life, he saw nothing.

You had closed the curtains.

#Dave York #Pedro Pascal #dave york x you #dave york x reader #dave york fanfiction #dave york x female reader #equalizer 2

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