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#has he just not done that lately why doesn’t he look at them anymore if I post while he’s asleep he just doesn’t see them anymore it hurts
unformula1 · 14 hours
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dear oscar (OP81 x LS2)
dear oscar (OP81 x LS2)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ synopsis: Logan writes a letter to help him manage his feelings, it does everything BUT manage feelings. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ pairing: logan sargeant x oscar piastri w/c: 892 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ a/n: this is day FOUR (lando's number) of loscar posts until we get a loscar podium!! some angst today!! might make this a series very much inspired from https://archiveofourown.org/works/54754315 masterlist ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ taglist: ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Logan crushes the sheet of paper and throws it into the pile of already crushed papers. He puts down the pen and cracks his fingers, again.
He’s been at this for hours and he hates it knowing he’s terrible at expressing himself and Oscar’s probably not going to even look at this. 
Logan takes a deep breath once again and picks up his pen.
Dear Oscar,
I’m not very good at expressing my feelings but I’ll try my best.
I’ve missed you lately and I miss all our late night conversations, my nights feel empty without them. I miss our friendship and the very long conversations we had. 
When you asked me how I was doing and I said “it’s been alright.” That was a blatant lie. I’ve been doing absolutely horrible. I haven’t seen a good day in months and every morning I ask myself why I’m doing this to myself, I ask if everything I left behind was worth it. Should I have given up?
 I’m glad you’re doing well and winning trophies, I’ve never been happier for you. Remember when your rookie year was being compared to Hamilton’s? That was amazing. 
Great, now he’s gone off track again, absolutely perfect. Logan’s pen left the paper again and he contemplated crushing this one up. He eventually decided against it and his pen tip touched the paper again.
He doesn’t know what he’s going to write anymore but he doesn’t care. He just wants to let his feelings out.
I hate how we don’t talk anymore. I hate how life has to pull its strings on us. I hate how we walk past each other as if we never knew each other. I’ve been trying my hardest, I really have.
I want to talk to you. I want to hear your voice again. 
I’ve been making wishes on every shooting star I’ve seen and been throwing in a penny for every wishing well I’ve come across, just wishing you were my friend again, wishing that I could go back in time and relive those moments in PREMA.
I didn’t treasure those times enough.
Every single time I see any McLaren video, I stop and stare, imagining that it could’ve been you and I. Believe me, I love how you and Lando have developed one of the closest bonds ever and trust me, I think Alex is a perfect teammate. 
But I just wish that we had another chance and I wouldn’t fuck it up this time. I really wish I did.
Every single time Lando calls you “Osc”, it makes me shiver just knowing that I could never be half the person Lando was. I do everything and risk it all just trying to be more like Lando or just someone who you would bother to look at
His mind flashes back to every single time he and Oscar have done anything together, watch movies, do stupid promotional videos, even sad times came back and made him wish he took those moments better.
He tears up slightly, but wipes his tears away before they spill onto the paper. Lando’s voice saying “Osc” rings in his head like an annoying bell which kills him slightly every time it repeats. 
Osc.
Osc.
Osc.
He slams his hand into the table, causing everything to jolt, even getting startled by his own actions. Logan isn’t even on Lando’s level, not even a quarter of the way there.
Lando’s better in every way, definitely much better teammate than Logan would’ve been.
His tears resurface but he doesn’t wipe them away this time, he lets them trickle down his cheek, cling on to his skin at his chin and finally drop down onto the paper, causing a stain.
More tears cause stains on the bottom part of the paper before Logan wipes them all away.
Please…
I miss you Oscar.
Regards Love
Logan
He places the pen down and looks at the letter, which has tear stains, but Logan couldn’t care less. He puts the letter down and folds it neatly in half, slotting it into a brown envelope. He seals the envelope tight, wrinkling the paper from pressing too hardly. 
He takes his pen up again and the tip floats above the paper.
He takes a few seconds before writing.
To: Oscar Piastri
His throat stings from crying. He didn’t even cry for that long but it hurts him. His own words repeat in his head like a knife twisting into his body.
He opens up Oscar’s chat on his phone, his last message being left on Seen.
3 weeks ago Great race :)
He hasn’t even given Oscar a message for the Australian Grand Prix but Logan couldn’t care less.
His fingers hover over his keyboard.
Can we meet sometime soon?
He hesitates about sending it.
Osc.
Osc.
Osc.
Osc.
He turns off his phone and takes a deep breath. 
He sits on his couch and leans back. The thoughts endlessly flying around in his head, like phantoms of his past haunting him again.
He closes his eyes and keeps them shut, imagining whatever makes him feel happy. 
Oscar.
Oscar.
Oscar.
Osc.
The tears squeeze their way past his eyelids and slide down his cheek. It’s a devastating feeling. 
He covers his head with a pillow and keeps his eyes tightly shut, crying himself to sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ there will be a part 2 (hopefully) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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steddiealltheway · 8 months
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When Eddie gets excited, he gets a bit overwhelmed. At least, that’s what Steve has noticed, with the way Eddie has to take a quick running lap, bounce up and down, etc. whenever he gets too happy.
Steve secretly thinks it’s adorable and tries his best to induce these little happy zoomies.
It doesn’t take much. Sometimes it’s just a small compliment such as, “That shirt looks nice on you,” that has Eddie bouncing on his heels and fidgeting with his rings with a smile on his face. Sometimes, Steve tries to notice something new like when Eddie trims his bangs or paints his nails, that makes Eddie flush red and mumble, “Yeah, I did,” before taking a quick walk around Family Video before making his way back to him.
This time, Steve isn’t really trying to get a reaction out of Eddie who is angrily storming around the break room of Family Video after Steve had seen his face upon entering the store and ushered him to the back.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Eddie mutters out, running a hand over his face. Steve sits back quietly, letting Eddie go on a little rant. “He said, we were allowed to have the basement for our campaign. All of it. Then, Ted Wheeler in all his glory suddenly says that we’re too loud, and we can’t do the campaign at their house anymore. I mean… it’s one more session! He could’ve sat in that damn recliner and shut him mouth for one more session! Fuck.”
Eddie groans dramatically and sits on the ground, head in his hands. “I don’t know what to do. It’s summer so we don’t have access to the school. And I can’t risk breaking in and having them take away my well earned diploma. Plus, my trailer is too small, and no one else has the privacy of Mike’s basement. We’re done for!”
Steve shrugs, seeing a clear answer to the problem. “You can do it at my house. My parents are never home, and I can stay in my room for as long as you need.”
Eddie’s head snaps up. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah,” Steve says, not really sure why he’s so shocked.
Eddie stands up quickly. “You’re positive you can deal with all the Hellfire members in your house?”
Steve nods. “I’ll even buy you guys pizza if you want.”
“Buy us pizza…” Eddie mumbles under his breath in disbelief. “Steve Harrington, are you granting me permission to use your house for Hellfire Club meaning hours of us yelling maybe even late into the night while we play our nerdy game?”
Steve nods and shrugs again. “Yeah. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Not that big of a deal?” Eddie repeats, once again in disbelief. He slightly smiles. “We’re going to be able to complete the campaign.” He bounces on his heels excitedly. “We’re going to complete the campaign!” He runs up to Steve and hugs him tightly, jumping up and down, successfully jostling a laughing Steve in his arms. “We have a place to complete the campaign!!”
Eddie puts him down and pulls back with a big smiles. “Thank you! Seriously thank you. This means so much I could just-”
Before Steve can react, Eddie is leaning forward and pressing his mouth against his in an enthusiastic kiss.
Eddie pulls back quickly and puts his hands over his mouth in horror. “Oh my gosh. I’m so- fuck. I’m so fucking sorry. I just got uh…”
Steve waves him off as Eddie backs as far away from him as possible. “You just got excited. It’s okay.”
It’s okay as it can be considering that Steve really wants to kiss Eddie again although he’s not sure what that really means. But suddenly the urge to make Eddie happy makes a whole lot of sense.
Shit. Okay. He can work with this.
He glances up at Eddie who looks petrified in fear. “I just got excited…” he whispers out.
Steve slowly makes his way to him and puts his hands on his shoulders. “It’s okay, Eddie. Really. I uh, enjoyed it.”
“You enjoyed it?” Eddie echoes uncertainly.
“Yes. But if it was just an excitement thing, I understand.”
Eddie breathes out, “And what if it was more than an excitement thing?”
Steve takes a step further into Eddie’s space and tilts his head. “Then I’d ask if I could kiss you.”
Eddie swallows harshly and leans forward. “It was definitely more than an excitement thing.”
Steve smiles softly and asks, “Can I kiss you?”
“Yes,” Eddie says, slipping his hands into Steve’s hair as he moves forward again.
This time, Steve knows to respond, moving his lips against Eddie’s gently before tracing his tongue against the seam of his lips, exploring the inside of his mouth when Eddie lets him in.
When Steve reluctantly pulls away from the kiss to check on Eddie, he gets a quick nip to the lip.
Eddie flushes red. “So, I sometimes bite when I’m happy.”
Steve leans in again and whispers against his lips, “Thank god I’m into that.”
And he’s going to make sure to learn all the ways to elicit these responses from Eddie, but first, he’s going to learn all the ways Eddie likes to be kissed.
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silveryclear · 4 months
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MOJABI GHOST
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Pairing: Miguel O’Hara X Ex Female Reader
CW: NSFW, Cunnilingus, Thigh and Knee Riding, Bilingual Dirty Talk, Penetration, Rough Sex, Needy, Desperate Sex, Mating Press, Cockwarming
Description: Miguel drops by your apartment after he can’t stand the silence of his penthouse. He misses you, and tonight, you’ll see just how much~
Translation done by yours truly~
Song: “MOJABI GHOST” by Tainy, ft. Bad Bunny
Smoking,
Drinking,
Fucking,
Pretending that I don’t think about you.
I don’t who I’m trying to kid,
For this feeling,
Won’t let me sleep.
And I wish,
I wish, that I could dream peacefully,
That I could dream about you.
Another night alone. Another night without you.
Miguel O'Hara looks over view of Nueva York while drinking from his third glass of whiskey on the rocks; rocks that have melted and diluted the drink that has been abandoned for thoughts about you.
The truth is that Miguel has abandoned many things because of his mind— the treacherous bitch does not stop thinking about you.
Who could ever stop thinking about you, is the question that he should be asking. But he doesn't. And he’s well aware why.
Because that would require him to accept the reality that he fucked up the only thing that had given him happiness and warmth after what had happened with his daughter. And once again, it’s something that he doesn’t allow himself to forgive.
At first, you were only a hindrance, an annoyance which he could not get rid of. You were always looking at him with that sweet expression, ready to face the next anomaly with a smile and good attitude. He couldn’t stand you. The fact that you could face every problem and tragedy, a particular characteristic of spiderpeople, without your spirit being corrupted ... he hated it. He hated it to death.
Yet, observe how easy it is for him to lie. Because in reality, he never hated you. How could he hate the one person who received him with such a unique and special warmth and affection— the woman who, one by one, took down each one of his walls, making them crumble to the ground and fall as he did when he fell in love with you. Although, too late.
He lets out a dry laugh. There is no doubt that he is Spider-Man: the people he loves never stay for long.
Isn't that how he ended up here in the first place?
He sighs, exhausted. I don't want to think anymore.
He takes a swig from the whiskey and frowns, letting out a sound of disgust from the watered down drink and decides to get back into the penthouse. He looks around.
And now what?
Fuck this pity party. Miguel may not be in his five senses at the moment, but he doesn’t think twice before activating his nanotech suit and traveling to your dimension. He doesn't know what is the right to do; If you prefer your space, that he never contacts you again. All he knows is that he cannot stand this purgatory; and that your screams and curses are better than the overwhelming silence of his apartment.
As soon as he steps out of the portal into your apartment, you can already sense each other. It is almost impossible to sneak up on a Spider person, that's why he isn’t surprised when he finds you sitting in your living room, staring at him without blinking.
"What are you doing here?" You ask without emotion after several seconds of silence.
"You know what I came for." he says as he removes his mask and approaches your figure. However, your cold look stops him in his tracks.
“I don't care. I want you to say it.” you say while you stare into his eyes sharply. He deserves it. "Be direct for once in your life."
"Hey," he warns, baring his fangs. “Don’t push it.”
You roll your eyes and cross your arms, ignoring his warning. "Then leave. I was clear: don't come back until you tell me how you really feel.”
"Don't you think I want to?!" Miguel shouts, frustrated; Not with you. Never with you. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, controlling his anger. When he opens his eyes, you’re surprised to see actual remorse. "I'm dying to have you in my arms again..."
You can’t help to soften your expression when you caught the frustration in his voice and how difficult it is to express his true emotions at the moment. "Then why the hesitation?" You ask softly, your voice a sweet melody to his ears. Then, a sudden thought makes your blood run cold. “...unless I wasn’t good enough for you.” Your voice trembles and you can't suppress the tears that arise.
Miguel’s face falls and without thinking twice, he runs to you and hugs you tightly, snaking an arm around your waist and his hand behind your neck. He listens as you sob into chest and he brings you even closer, his hand gently stroking your back. "Shh... no, my love, that can’t be further away from the truth." He whispers softly into your ear. "I am the one who’s not good enough for you."
Miguel lets out a dry, incredulous laugh. “I'm the worst… to cause the most wonderful woman in all of the multiverse to think the opposite…” He presses a kiss against your forehead and brings you closer to him. "You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Please, forgive me for being such a coward.” He murmurs apologetically as he buries his face into your neck and breathes in your scent.
God, how I missed this smell~
He leans back and stares into your eyes, stroking your cheeks and wiping your tears.
"I love you," he declares, more confident than ever. "I don't want to keep loving you from afar. I don’t want to run away, fearing that one day I will lose you if it also keeps you far from my arms.” He presses his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and whispering the last few words full of emotion, "If I still lose you...”
"God, Miguel..." You crumble once again and hug him tightly. "I love you so much," you confess in the midst of tears. "I’m afraid too, we are both spider people, we both risk our lives to prevent Multiverse from collapsing… our job is dangerous and it is painful to think about the great possibility that I could lose you,” You look into his eyes, holding his face in your hands. "But it hurts more to have you so close, and not by my side."
"I know..." He whispers as he leans towards your sweet touch. “I'm such an idiot. I thought I was protecting you from the pain, but in reality, I hurt you even more.” He stares into your eyes, his gaze full of remorse. "You could forgive this fool in love?"
You laugh softly and Miguel swears that his heart skipped a beat. Suddenly, you look at him with a mischievous smile. "Hmm, I don't know..."
Miguel groans and looks at you with desperation, as if he needed to hear that he has been forgiven to be calm. "Love, please..." He whimpers softly against your neck, kissing it sensually.
Your grin becomes wider and playful. You take his chin and make him look into your eyes. "But you sound so nice, Miguelito~” You purr. “Do it again~”
Shit...
Miguel feels how his cheeks redden and he short circuits when he hears your playful and dominant voice. It was a side of you that he had never seen. Or rather, one he never tried to get to know. He was so obsessed with controlling everything that he never realized that he kept you from expressing yourself around him.
Damn ... he definitely deserves to beg to you.
"My love..." He kneels in front of you and takes your hands in his. He looks at you with pleading eyes. "Please, I beg you... Forgive me. Let me show you how sorry I am.”
You feel your cheeks heat up at the sight of the most stoic and stubborn man in the multiverse kneeling in front of you, begging like a dog. Is this a dream? More like a miracle.
"Wow... You really missed me, didn't you, Miguelito~?"
Miguel takes your hand and kisses your palm, staring into your eyes. "You have no idea." He whispers. Your heart skips a beat, blood rushing through your veins at an extreme speed. You feel the love that this man has for you and you cannot avoid the genuine smile that grows in your face.
You place your arms around his neck and you kiss his cheek. "I forgive you. Show me exactly how sorry you are~"
It takes Miguel less than two seconds before he is on top of you, your back on the sofa while his knee separates your legs. It seems as if all your confidence disappears as soon as Miguel touches you, his large hands gripping your waist. You feel tempted to deviate your gaze, but his crimson eyes keep you paralyzed under their intensity, full of lust.
"Oh baby..." he lets out a soft growl as his lips brush against your neck, making you shiver once more. “Eres mía~” (You’re mine~)
His fingers quickly disrobe you, his lips kissing every inch of your soft skin. His breathing quickens, breathing hot and heavy as his mouth latches onto one of your nipples, hand groping the other. He lets out soft grunts and moans of pleasure as he worships your chest, sucking and biting, leaving wet hot marks on your skin.
You grab onto his hair, your back arching off from the couch as he continues his assault. He lets out a particularly long groan when he feels you grind your wet pussy on his knee. He chuckles darkly and presses onto you even harder, making you shiver and moan in delight.
“That’s it mami…” he growls, his breath hot and heavy against your neck. “Grind that needy pussy on me… make yourself feel good.”
A sound of pleasure escapes from your lips. You close your eyes and decide to immerse yourself in the pleasure that both have refused for too long— no longer wanting to deprive your body of what it craves; and your heart from the one you love.
Your arms wrap around his neck, hips bucking against his clothed knee, soaking the nanotech fabric. He can only watch in awe how easy it was to reduce you to a sensitive mess— rubbing and pressing his thigh against your throbbing pussy, gripping your hips tighter as he guides you.
“Oh fuckkkk… Miguel…” The way you so readily give your body to him— it awakens a primal side to him that even he didn’t realize he had. The need to explore how many times he can make you cum without fucking you with his cock had his mind reeling from the possibilities.
Should he finger you now? Should he make you cum on his tongue? Ride his face?
“Miguel… oh Miguel~” you mewl, the squelching sound of your juices on his leg echoing in the room. Small puffs of hot air leave past your lips, your hips bucking so needy and desperate for friction.
However the night ends, what he does know is that he so desperately craves to hear you whine his name like that again.
“Come on, cariño…” he keeps rutting your hips against his thigh, now unclothed as his dick strains against the nanotech clothing that covers his groin. “What do you need~?”
“Need you…” You pant out, chest heaving rapidly. “Need you inside… please Miguel~”
He chuckles darkly. “Already? But baby, we just started~” He teases, slowing down the rubbing against your clit, making you whine in frustration.
“Fuck that! I missed you, maldito!” You growl, making Miguel’s eyes widen when you voice out your frustrations.
This makes Miguel chuckle heartedly, gazing down at you with affection and primal lust. “You missed my cock that much, baby~?”
“Not your cock. You.” This startles Miguel, actually making him blush. His chest fills with so much love and affection for you. God, he needs you so badly.
“Te amo, mi arañita…” (I love you, my little spider…) Miguel murmurs softly before leaning down and claiming your lips softly. A low moans escape from your lips as you feel just how serious he is. “Missed you… missed your touch…” he breathes out against your neck once he pulls away, his lips brushing against your skin. Miguel shivers and groans, loving the way your warm, soft skin feels against his. You can only watch as he worships you, too paralyzed by this feeling to speak. “Missed your smell…” he inhales your scent softly before pressing a kiss on your neck. “Missed your voice… let me hear it please…”
“Ahhhh… Miguel…” you find your voice, breathing out your response as your chest rises and falls rapidly, trembling underneath him.
“Fuck…” he groans from your needy voice. Miguel trails wet kisses down your hot skin, licking away your sweat. His fangs lightly graze your thighs, teasing you with his tongue. He chuckles when you arch your back, whimpering his name, begging to take you— to do something already!
He grins as he kisses the inside of your thigh. “You’ve never been very patient.”
You whine, your hand making it’s way to his hair and tugging him closer to your throbbing pussy. He chuckles and licks a long, agonizing swipe along your glistening folds, making you groan in response. “Good thing I’ve never been very patient either~”
Miguel takes his time, swirling his tongue, lapping up your juices— yet, the way that he grips your thighs, so close to digging his claws into your skin while he groans from your taste— it only makes him look more desperate and feral than when he first begged for you.
You jolt and shiver in delight, the drag of his fat, warm tongue bringing you to heights of pleasure you only had the joy of experiencing with Miguel. The feelings of pleasure were so delicious and excruciating, it makes you buck your hips against his face. You grind your pussy on his face unashamedly, his nose brushing against your clit deliciously.
Watching from below, how your hips arch and you tug harder on his hair is all that Miguel needed to die happily. His groans and harsh breathing muffled by your desperate grinding.
“Mmm… shlppp… mmnh…” His eyes remain trained on your cute expressions, a particularly harsh suck of your clit eliciting a whiny moan from you that had him reeling.
“Fuck… Miguel…! I’m so close!” You whine so pretty and needy. His claws digging dig into your thighs, pressing his face harder against your cunt as he eats you out like an animal.
Miguel moans against your cunt, murmuring for you to cum on his tongue, to do it now. It comes out a wet, muffled mess, but you didn’t care. You were already a moaning mess as you came, spreading your juices all over Miguel’s face. His tongue works on your core like a man dying of thirst, lapping up every drop of your juices and overstimulating the fuck out of you. He never came up for air, submerged between your thighs, delving his tongue deeper, sucking harder. This is where he belongs.
“Mi— Miguel! It’s too much..!” You whine, trying to push his head away but he’s glued to your pussy— and he’s not moving until he’s licked you clean.
After a few more seconds, he gives your pussy one last lick before he comes back up, his tongue hanging out as he smiles smugly. You twitch and writhe underneath him from the overstimulation, gazing at him with a satisfied and dazed expression. He tantalizingly drags his long tongue around his mouth, lips, chin… cleaning up your cum from his face, making sure you watch. “Dios mío, que rico sabes mami~” (My god, you taste delicious mami~)
You whimper, your hole twitching at the erotic display. Miguel watches as your pussy flutters with primal lust, smiling at you like a predator. “You liked that, baby? Do you still want more?”
Before you could respond, Miguel is on top of you, claiming your lips in a hot, sensual kiss. You groan at the taste of yourself on his lips, this only turning you on even further. He grips your ass, bringing your wet core towards his now fully unclothed and erect cock.
“Mmmngh… mmnh… ahhhhh…” You whimper into the kiss as he grinds his cock against your sensitive folds, spreading your juices all over.
“You want this cock, baby? Huh? I can’t hear you. Tell me how badly you want me. Tell me. Tell me how badly you want me to fuck you.” Miguel whispered into your ear as he kept grinding himself against you, teasing you once again. You can only cry out, frustration building up inside of you as you feel your hole squeezing against nothing, craving his thick cock.
“Please… Miguel…”
“Dime lo que quieres preciosa… ¿quieres que te lo meta? ¿Sí? ¿Quieres que te coja?” (Tell me what you want, precious… you want me to put it in? Yeah? You want me to fuck you?)
“Yes, Miguel! Just… please!”
As much as he loves teasing you, he needed to nestle his cock inside of you. Right. Now.
“M’gonna bury this cock deep inside you… make sure your pussy remembers the shape of my cock…” He chuckles as he lines himself up with your hole and slowly pushes his cock past that first, tight ring inside your cunt. “Fuck… such a tight fit… bet you didn’t fuck anyone with a dick as big as mine…” he groans and pushes further. “no other cock can stretch you out like mine can…”
“No one… only you…” you breathe out in satisfaction as you finally feel your pussy getting full. “M’so full…”
Miguel lets out a string of curses and groans at the feeling of your tight pussy pulsating around him. “Yeah, that’s right baby… only my cock can fill you up this good.” He smirks as he looks down at you, caged between his arms and large body. “Gonna let me fuck this pussy, huh? Want me to pound you until you can’t think?”
“Yes, Miguel! Yes!”
That’s all the confirmation he needed before he started rutting his hips against yours at a fast pace. No time to start slow, no. This is the type of desperate and primal sex that lovers have after they’ve gone a long time without seeing each other. The type that builds up overtime only to be released in the heated thrust of each other’s hips. The type that has you moaning out gibberish and wrapping your arms and legs around him as Miguel thrusts his hard cock inside, going feral on your pussy.
“Fuck… I missed this… I missed you…” Miguel grunts with every thrust, small puffs of air leaving his lips as he ruts even faster, deeper. His muscles flex with every movement. He presses his hot body against yours, feeling your tits brush against his chest with every thrust.
“M-Miguel… please… harder!” You moan, digging your nails into his broad back.
“Yes…” his voice is so rough, so hungry that it’s almost jarring. Every word he says, every look on his face seems to radiate his intense feelings for you.
He needs you, oh, does he need you.
His arms are like steel on your body, keeping you still within his grasp, and he makes you feel every inch of him, pounding himself into you in a frenzy. This is what he had been looking for, needing. He fills your entire existence for just a moment, completely and utterly enraptured by you.
“Te amo… te amo tanto…” (I love you… I love you so much…) he whispers into your ear, biting and sucking on it. One of his hands makes its way between your legs as he rubs your clit. “Ven conmigo, bebé… I need you to cum with me…” (Come with me, baby…)
“Miguel! Ohh… I’m g- Mmm… Ahhhh~!” Your moans are muffled by his lips against yours. The pounding of his cock, his thumb rubbing your pussy, and this hot, searing kiss was all you needed to finally let go. Squelching hot cum bathes Miguel’s cock and balls as you tremble and writhe in ecstasy.
“That’s it, baby… god, you did so good…” he groans, placing your forehead against his as he ruts his hips faster. Grunting as he chases his own release. Not long after, Miguel is cumming inside your pussy, spurting hot loads of his cum so deep you can feel it in your womb. The moans he lets out sound so raw and desperate, you feel like you’re watching a whole other person.
He sighs in satisfaction, pressing a kiss on your forehead before laying down besides you. He pulls you into his body, his cock twitching as he keeps it nestled deep inside your cunt.
“Fuck… I don’t think I’ve ever come this much…” Miguel lets out a breathy laugh and you look at him in awe. The afterglow of your session makes him look so… ethereal. You blush and involuntarily clench your pussy around his cock.
Miguel chuckles. “I felt that, preciosa~”
You roll your eyes and look away from him, flustered. “Then take it out!”
“Mmm… why should I~? I very much prefer having you close like this.” Miguel inhales in your scent and presses a tender kiss on your neck. The action flusters you further, making you blush at his sweetness and his opposing teasing.
“Te amo, mi vida…” (I love you, my life..) He whispers softly as he closes his eyes, bringing you closer into his embrace.
You smile softly and close your eyes as well, slowly dozing off. Not before you utter the same words back, “Te amo, Miguelito~”
.
.
.
.
A/N: A little fun fact: this fic was originally written in Spanish first because I wanted to practice writing (specifically smut) in my native language. I might end up posting both languages on AO3.
2K notes · View notes
swanhaze · 8 months
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ON THE BEACH — conrad fisher x reader
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warnings: alcohol, swearing, yn is a mess, miscommunication, angst, slight hurt comfort
she stumbled through the sweaty bodies of people, her mind spiraling, the bottle of alcohol feeling heavy in her hand, this past year has been rough for yn, the love of her life dating her best friend, losing the house that she spent all her summers in, the women who was like her second mother dying.
it was bound to happen but it didn’t hurt any less, just like yn finding a full bottle of alcohol on the table and picking it up was bound to happen, hurt people do that sometimes.
the night air hits her when she walked out party, this was exactly what she needed, the late night breeze to bath her and wash away all her stress and hurt.
she lets out a sigh, closing her eyes feeling at peace for second, but that was interrupted when she opened her eyes to see two fishers and a conklin looking at her with not the best looking facial expressions.
“what happened?” she asks, her words slurring together, a product of the amount of alcohol that she’s had in the past hours.
there’s silence for a couple seconds that felt like hours, the six eyes of the three people looking at her in concern, it was obvious that she wasn’t it the right state of mind to be telling her this, especially when yn loved the beach house so much and losing it has been doing a toll on her.
the conklin girl is the first to speak up, “nothing, yn.” she says softly, trying her best to shake up yn, lately anything she says to yn angered the girl lately, it’s not like belly could blame her though.
yn stumbled down the steps, grabbing onto to jeremiah’s shoulder to stabilize herself, “it doesn’t seem like nothing.” she says, bringing the bottle to her lips.
she feels his eyes on her, the older fisher, but her clouded mind tries to ignore it, she can’t be weak.
“it’s nothing I promise.” belly says inching closer to her best friend hesitantly, are they even best friends anymore?, “hey, maybe you should take a break from the drinks.” she says raising her hand to take the already half way done bottle from yn.
yn brings her hand that holds the bottle away from belly’s reach, scowling at the girl, “why?” she asks, “don’t act like you’re a saint Isabel, that’s never gotten drunk before.” yn says implying to last summer.
the taller girl squeezed her eyes before opening them again, “that’s not what I’m saying.”
“that’s exactly what you’re saying.” yn says moving away from jeremiah’s shoulder, she knew that wasn’t what belly was saying, but her drunken mind wanted to pick a fight, something she couldn’t do all year, because she was pretending to be fine.
“because you’re belly conklin.” yn says tauntingly, “the girl that can’t do no harm, the saint that everyone loves, give it up for belly conklin everybody!” yn yells unexpectedly grabbing some attention of some of the people around them, they get waved off by conrad.
Jeremiah puts his hand on yn’s shoulder but she shrugs him off, “but you know who should be called the saint?” she asks sarcastically walking closer to the other girl, “me.” she points to her own chest. “because I never would’ve did what you did to me belly.” yn says tearfully, the hurt from the past year fills yn’s head as she tilts her head back to keep her tears at bay, “I would’ve never done that to you.”
“yn.” his voice fills her ears, a sense of concern is in his tone, it makes her feel weak, something that she never wants to be, but look at her now, drunk and almost in tears.
“what are you talking about yn?” Jeremiah cuts his brother off, but he knows what she’s talking about, everyone knows, all except conrad.
“nothing.” she says mocking the words that were said to her not to long ago, she then smiles her emotions doing a 360, “who cares, let’s have fun guys!” she exclaims, trying her best to take their minds off of the vulnerability that she just showed. “it’s a party!”
conrad finally inches closer to her, trying his best to take the bottle out of the intoxicated girl’s hands, “yn, belly’s right let’s take a break from the drink.”
she pushes his hand away, “no.” she whines stubbornly, backing away from him.
yn brings the bottle up to the sky and smiles, “let’s make a toast guys.” she says stumbling backwards, Jeremiah’s hand finding it’s way to her back immediately.
“let’s make a toast to…” she trails off looking up in thought, before her smile becomes bigger, “a toast to losing the beach house.” she jeered.
belly and jeremiah’s face fall even more if that’s possible at the girls words, conrad shaking his head disappointedly, disappointed that you would say that and even more disappointed that you let yourself get to this state.
she brings the bottle conrad’s face, only for it to be pushed away and she gives him a fake pout, “no toast?” she asks tauntingly.
“suite yourself.” she says brining to bottle to her lips.
she drunkenly walked away and yells out, “you guys are so boring!”, she takes another sip, “I’m going for a late night swim.”
the three watch her figure disappear into the night, “late night swim?” conrad whispers to himself in confusion.
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her throat burns as she stumbles through the sand, heading towards the water that replicates a black hole, ready to suck her in.
she take of last big gulp of the alcohol before letting herself lay in the ocean, letting it take her away, only the sound of the waves filling her ears.
she finally feels at peace, she closes her eyes and lets all the hurt, stress and sorrow release from her, the waves wrapping around her like a cozy blanket, cradling her like how susannah would.
just as yn thought she had some peace, she feels herself being pulling from her blanket that is the waves and into the air, “what the hell yn!”
she’s thrown over the persons shoulder and out the water, she already knows who it is, and it’s makes her angry.
“let go of me!” she screams hitting his back repeatedly as he walks out the water, “you asshole!”
she feels herself being thrown on the sand and looks up at the oldest fisher, “why did you do that?” she demands.
“why did I do that?” he asks in shock, before pointing to the ocean behind him, “yn, you could’ve died! I just saved you.”
“I didn’t ask to be saved.” she said stubbornly as she got off the sand and stood up.
“what’s your problem?” he says, it sounds like he’s completely fed up.
“what do you mean?”
“wha-what do I mean?” he asks walking closer to the shorter girl, “yn you’ve been acting different since last summer, all you’ve done is ignore me and if you’re not ignoring me you’re giving snarky marks, you’ve been a brat all year.” he says pointing at her accusingly.
“I have not been a brat!” she raises her voice defensively.
“yes you have!” he yells back leaning down to her face.
“even if I was being a brat I have every right to be!”
“really yn?” he laughs sarcastically, “really? what’s your right for acting like a fucking brat.”
“-because I’m hurt!” she yells over him, pointing at her self, “I’m hurt that you would date my best friend knowing that I was in love with you!” a nasty sob is finding it’s way up her throat, everything that she’s pushed down from the last year finding it’s way up.
he inches closer to her, he looks at her like she spoke another language , she’s in love with him? “what are you talking about?” his voice is shaking, his hands are shaking.
“don’t make me repeat it.” she whimpers, this is what she was afraid off, she lets something out and she can’t stop.
“you’re in love with me?”
“why are you acting like you don’t know?”
“because I did’n-!”
“you didn’t know?! are you serious conrad?” she yells over his yells, “do you take me for an idiot? everyone knows, steven knew, jer knew, taylor knew, shayla knew, your mom knew, belly and steven’s mom knew, my mom knew!”
yn lets out a shaky breath, “belly knew.” she says letting a small cry out, she still can’t believe that her best friend would do that to her. “everyone knew conrad, you had to know!”
he shakes his head repeatedly, bringing her face closer to his chest, “I didn’t know.” he whimpers and repeats himself about ten times as she sobs into his chest. “do you know how hard it was to watch you two? so shameless, it felt like you didn’t care for my feelings at all.” she cries turning her face away, but he cups her face in his hands and turns her to face him.
“I’m so sorry yn, I didn’t know.” he says letting his thumbs wipe her cheeks, “this changes everything..” he trails off, “if I knew I would’ve…”
“you would’ve what!” she cuts him off, pulling away from his grasp.
“yeah you would’ve what conrad?!”
both conrad and yn snap their heads in the direction of the familiar voice.
belly stands in the sand her orange outfit making her stand out, she doesn’t look at yn, knowing she’ll cry if she looks at her broken best friend, “you would’ve what conrad?”
“belly…” he trails off.
“no,no you would’ve what? you would’ve dated yn?” she asks walking closer to the two.
“don’t do that…”
“no,no, you would’ve what? you would’ve dated her?”
“yes, I would’ve!”
belly and yn flinch at his outburst, he would’ve what? “and you would’ve never forgotten her corsage too right?”
yn shakes her head trying her beast to wrap her head around what just came out, the man that she’s been in love with her whole life’s mouth. “I… I need to go..” she says stumbling away from belly and conrad.
“wait yn!” conrad exclaimed reaching out for her.
“I’m sorry.” she says walking away, “I can’t right now… I’m tired.” she then walks into the night leaving her best friend and the love of her life in the beach.
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azrielsdove · 2 months
Note
I had the idea late at night so idk if you don’t want to write that, i understand haha
Reader and azriel are mates and have been for a while, nesta and elain were made and feyre and rhys asked cassian and azriel to look after them. Reader was okay with it but elain showed her a different side then the others, where she is rude and is telling her az will be hers, reader tried to bring it up in private but no one believed her because elain is so nice in front of everyone. Elain starts to sit in readers place and stands next to az, so reader isn’t even going out anymore. Az has a lot of other missions as well and tells reader that he only loves her and elain means nothing to him, maybe elain overheard that. After a mission az gives rhys his reports and then fell asleep on the couch, elain lays down next to him but he is so out that he doesn’t even feel her, reader wants to see after az and sees that, when she is trying to leave, rhys finds her and she shows him everything that happened even the parts where elain was rude, reader then leaves for awhile to get away from everything and azriel just loses it. You could add more angst if you want but i would love for a happy end with az and reader maybe where is is also pregnant?
The Other Woman: Azriel x Reader
Warnings: Angst, Spiraling thoughts
***
Elain Archeron was quickly becoming the bane of your existence.
You understood the she had gone through incomprehensible trauma along with her sister, and you understood why Rhys would appoint Azriel and Cassian to help them. You had no issue allowing your mate to help the poor girl come back to life, accepting her new fate. No, that was not the problem.
The problem was that she was a nasty, two-faced, bitch.
The first time it happened you were completely taken aback, shocked by the words that had come from the otherwise soft-spoken female.
“He’s going to be mine, you know.”
You had stilled your movements, turning slowly to see her peeking out from the library doors. “Excuse me?” You asked, certain you had misunderstood.
She gave a sneering smile. “Azriel. I’m going to make him mine.”
You couldn’t help the laugh that had burst from you. “Okay then,” you said, moving to continue walking. You made a note to bring it up to your mate later, warn him that Elain may have gotten too attached.
Unfortunately the following days had been hectic, Azriel was sent on a dangerous mission for Rhys. You hadn’t gotten a chance to speak to him, and with the state he came back in you had no interest in adding anything else to his plate.
It happened again a few days later.
“Why would he stay with you when i’m here?” She asked, looking you up and down.
You raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m sorry? What are you on about?”
She rolled her eyes. “Azriel, obviously. Why would he need you any longer? I’m certain I can satisfy him miles better than you can.”
“Mhm,” you mused, nodding at her wild claims. “Do you understand the mating bond?”
She made a noise of annoyance, crossing her arms in front of her. “I have a mate, and I can’t stand him. That ‘bond’ means nothing to me.”
“It means something to Az,” you said, staring her down. “What has he done that makes you think he’s interested?”
She gave a pretty smile, smoothing the skirts of her dress. “Feyre has Rhys, Nesta has Cassian. It only makes sense, does it not? Three sisters, three brothers. He’s smart enough to have already figured it out. The only thing standing in our way is you.”
You hummed at her delusions, turning to leave the room. “Have a nice night, Elain,” you said, acting as if she had just been talking about the weather. You refused to give her the satisfaction of upsetting you.
Some nights later you were sitting with Azriel as he caught up with his brothers, lost in thought while you sipped your wine. You heard a faint call of your name, turning to meet the concerned eyes of your husband. “Are you alright, my love?” He asked, scanning you over for anything amiss.
You smiled, shaking your head. “I’m fine, just thinking.”
“You’re thinking pretty hard there. Az was calling your name for ages,” Cassian laughed, but his eyes showed the same concern. You sighed, taking a bigger drink of your wine.
“I’ve just been dealing with something, that’s all,” you said, swirling the liquid in your glass nonchalantly. Azriel watched you closely, trying to read what was wrong.
“You can always tell us,” Rhys offered, tipping his glass your way.
You took a deep breath, looking down at your hands. “Have any of you ever had any issues with Elain?”
Three blank stares met yours.
“I’ll take that as a no, then,” you muttered into your wine.
“What kind of problems?” Azriel pressed, worry in his expression.
“She’s just been, a little….rude to me.”
Silence.
And then loud laughter.
“Elain?” Cassian gasped out, pounding on the table. “Quiet, docile, Elain? Are you sure you aren’t confusing her with Nesta?” You shot him a nasty look, Rhys’ own chuckle drawing your attention to him.
“How has she been rude?” He asked, not hiding the smile on his face.
You looked down at the ground, embarrassment coloring your cheeks. “Maybe i’m just reading into it. I thought she was jealous…that she was into Az.” You regretted even bringing the topic up as Cassian and Rhys broke out in more laughter.
“No way! Elain has a mate, remember? Why would she go after a married male?” You nodded at Cassian, acknowledging his words.
“Yea, i’m sure i’m just misunderstanding,” you mumbled, draining your glass in an instant. You stood, heading for the door.
“Aw now, we didn’t mean anything bad! It’s just such a shock that Elain would be trying to get Az!” Rhys called out behind you, trying to convince you to stay.
You looked back, eyes connecting with Azriel’s. “I’ll be up shortly,” he said, his unspoken words hanging in the air. He was not going to let his brothers get away with laughing at you. You gave him a small smile and continued out to your room, leaving him to deal with them.
***
Elain only grew worse after that. She started openly flirting with Azriel, laughing at anything he said and placing her hand playfully on his arm. He always pulled away from her, moving to stand by your side as a silent “Stop”.
She didn’t care.
Azriel spent the nights trying to convince you that Elain didn’t matter to him, that you were the only one for him. You wanted to believe him, needed to believe him, but the comments she made when no one else could hear were getting to you.
“You’re too ugly for him.”
“Don’t you think he would want someone younger? Are you even able to give him children at your ancient age?”
“I know he wants me. He looks at me when you aren’t paying attention.”
“You’re pathetic, you know. He deserves better. He deserves someone who can stand proudly at his side.”
Her words swam around your head, eating away at you. You were sinking down into yourself, drowning in self-doubt. What if she was right? What if Azriel really did deserve better?
You began spending more time locked away in your room, an attempt to avoid Elain’s nasty comments. You had no desire to see her throw herself at Azriel, and you didn’t think you could handle much more of her taunting. A rational part of you knew that this was ridiculous, your husband would never give her a second look. Another part of you was embarrassed that this young girl was so good at getting into your head, that she had rendered you a shell of yourself. The largest part of you, unfortunately, bought in to all she said and hid away in shame.
Azriel was getting progressively more worried about you.
“My love,” he murmured, stroking his hand through your hair as he held you close. “I have half a mind to tell Rhys to send her somewhere else. Why does she trouble you so?” He couldn’t understand how Elain had torn down his perfect wife, leaving this ghost in her place.
You buried your face farther into his chest, wishing you could just disappear. “I don’t want to cause any trouble.”
He sighed and held you tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You are the stars in the sky, the warmth of the sun, the cool breeze under my wings. Nothing, and no one, is comparable to you. Especially not Elain Archeron. You are all there is for me, you are my everything. My heart and my soul. She is nothing to me.”
Tears fell from your eyes and his words prompted you to look up, the love shining on his face washing over you. “I know, Az. I know it’s foolish to allow her to make me doubt us.” You ducked your head down, ashamed. “Though sometimes I still wonder if you should’ve been mated to someone more powerful.”
Azriel clicked his tongue at your age-old concern, a conversation the two of you had gone over many times. “You know as well as I do that that’s not true. You were the one cauldron-made for me. We were sworn to each other from the day of our creation. Do not ever forget that.” He slipped a hand under your chin, bringing you back up to look at him. He studied your face like it was a painting, like he needed to memorize everything he saw. His thumb came up and brushed away your tears as he pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. “Elain will never be what you are.” He kissed you again and again, swallowing your fears with his adoration.
Neither of you noticed the form of the female standing outside the slightly open door.
***
Azriel was tired, shuffling through the house after yet another mission. He hated that he had been gone so often recently, especially with the issues you’ve been having with Elain. He was sick with worry over the whole situation, and was growing aggravated with Rhys’ lack of action. Even when Azriel had spoken to his brother himself, the High Lord still struggled to believe his quiet sister-in-law was being so horrible. Az even went to Feyre, who got upset that he would accuse her sister of such things.
He ran a hand over his face, making his way to the library to find you. He was disheartened when he opened the doors and found you weren’t there. He took a seat on one of the leather couches, deciding to just wait for you there. Azriel knew that you often came around this time to browse the books, and he was too tired to continue searching for you. He gave a gentle tug on the bond to alert you that he was home before tipping his head back and closing his eyes.
***
Elain was positively delighted to find the sleeping form of the Shadowsinger. She looked around quickly to make sure no one saw as she gently closed the doors to the library behind her. She wasted no time in curling up next to him on the couch, resting her head in his lap. She slowly dragged his arm over her waist, a wicked smile coming across her face. She knew you would be coming to find him, and what a sight you would see when you did.
***
The second Cassian dropped you at the House of Wind you were practically running through the halls. When you had felt the tug that meant Azriel was back, you demanded Cass bring you home in the middle of lunch. He grumbled about not being done as you packaged the food up for him, pulling him from the little restaurant. You were in much better spirits today, Elain hadn’t approached you in days. When Cass suggested going down to Velaris to eat you had jumped at the opportunity, excited to be in the happy bustle of people who lived there.
You slid to a stop in front of the library, one of his shadows twisting around your legs. “Hello,” you cooed, a smile on your face. The shadow started moving faster, almost as if it were upset. Worry took over your heart then, concern that Azriel had gotten hurt.
You threw open the library doors and stopped dead in your tracks. There, on the couch, was Azriel. Uninjured, asleep.
And curled up on his lap was Elain.
You stood there in pure horror, not noticing Cassian coming up behind you. “What?” He said, taking in the sight in front of you. You didn’t realize you were shaking in rage until he put his hands on your arms, trying to pull you away.
“Get off of me,” you ground out, ripping your arms out of his grasp. Cassian called your name, trying to stop the explosion that was about to happen. Your vision was red, the anger and pain of seeing the two of them cuddled up like lovers too much to handle. “I’m going to kill them.”
“You will not,” came a powerful voice, Rhys stepping in front of you. “My office. Now.” You wanted to spit at his feet and tell him to shove off, but one look at his eyes told you that wouldn’t end well. You huffed, allowing him to lead you away.
Unnoticed on the couch, Elain smiled.
***
“Why would you stop me?” You practically yelled, pacing back and forth in front of Rhys.
“You can’t murder my brother and sister-in-law in their sleep.” He said, as if this was a regular occurrence.
“That filthy bitch,” you swore, turning to face Rhys head on. “I tried to tell you who she truly was, and no one listened.” You glared at him, crossing your arms in front of you.
“Elain has never showed signs of what you spoke of. As horrible as it is, could it be that Azriel was a part of this?” He regretted the words before he was even done saying them.
“Why do you refuse to believe that she could be playing a dirty game behind your back? Behind everyone’s back? I had no reason to make up lies about her, Rhysand,” you spat out, power crackling at your fingertips.
He stood, coming to stand by your side. He pulled your hands into his, looking down at your glowing fingertips. “Show me,” he said, voice hardly above a whisper. You faltered, power fading away. You were embarrassed to let him see how badly she had affected you, but you knew he would not believe you otherwise.
“Okay,” you whispered, looking up into his eyes. You felt the strange sensation of Rhys entering your mind, pulling through all your memories with Elain. He listened to all the nasty things she said when no one else could hear, and felt the pain she caused you. When he was done he looked ashamed of himself, upset that he had brushed you off.
“I-I’m sorry,” he said, pulling his hands from yours. “I should have trusted you.”
You nodded. “Yea, you should have.” Rhys looked at the ground, his hands in his pockets. “I want to go away for a while. Anywhere. I can’t stand to be around her any longer, and I certainly have no interest in speaking to him.” You couldn’t even say your mates name, the hurt cutting too deep in your chest.
“As you wish,” Rhys said, “I’ll meet you on the balcony in an hour.”
***
Azriel woke with a start. Something was very, very wrong. Starting with the female asleep next to him.
He didn’t stop himself from jumping up, nearly knocking her to the floor. Not that he cared. “What are you doing?!” He hissed between his teeth, angry that she would pull a stunt like this.
Elain smiled up at him prettily, stretching as if she had been asleep for hours. “I was just sleeping, Azriel.” He hated the way she spoke his name, as if it were a sensual demand. “Your sweet little mate didn’t come to you, did she?” She fake pouted, tucking a hand under her chin.
Azriel’s eyes flared, his shadows whipping through the room. He stepped closer to her, hauling her to her feet with a strong grip on her arm. “This game you’re playing is done. Speak to me or my wife again, and I will make sure it’s the last thing you do.” He couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty at the fear in her eyes as he strode from the room, searching for you.
***
Rhys had taken you out to the cabin at your request. You wanted to be somewhere alone, but safe. “What should I tell him?” He asked as he headed to leave.
“Tell him to figure out what he wants before it’s too late.” Rhys nodded, looking you over once more. “If you need anything, i’m just a call away,” he quipped, tapping the side of his head before winnowing out of sight.
You sighed, sinking down into the plush sofa in front of the fireplace. You stared into the burning flames for what felt like hours, lost in your own mind. Azriel wouldn’t have lied to you, would he? Your mate has always been an honest male, had always loved you with everything he had. You found it hard to believe that he was messing around with Elain behind your back, regardless of what you saw. You knew how nasty she could be, and wouldn’t put it past her to pull something like this.
At the same time, the image of his arm draped lovingly around her was burned into your brain. You saw it over and over again, how well they complemented each other. The strong, dark Shadowsinger and the quiet, warm Archeron sister. Had the cauldron made a mistake? You couldn’t help but remember her words, ‘three brothers and three sisters.’ You and Azriel were mated decades before she was born, it could be plausible that the cauldron had made a mistake.
Yet the cauldron had also given Elain her own mate. It wouldn’t mess up twice, would it? Unless the cauldron had meant for you and Lucien to be mated, and Elain with Azriel. Perhaps something got crossed over and the pairings were mixed. Could all your years of joy and love with Azriel be wrong? You never felt anything was awry when you were with him, always feeling like you were truly meant to be.
You sighed and wrapped a blanket tight around you, willing it to keep away the lonely cold. You couldn’t imagine a life without Azriel by your side, and you didn’t know what you would do if that’s what he wanted.
***
“Where is she?!” Azriel bellowed through the halls of the House, shadows infiltrating every room and hallway. Rhys and Cass stood in front of him, trying to calm their brother. “I know you know! What kind of a game are you playing, hiding my own mate from me?!” He was angrier than he had ever been, angry at himself, at Elain, at Rhys. How could he have let Elain play him like that?
“I won’t tell you anything until you’ve calmed down,” Rhys stated, power rising to match Azriel’s.
“Calmed down? You expect me to calm down when that witch has been ruining my mates life, and now she’s disappeared and no one will tell me where she went?!” Azriel was seething, pacing angrily in the hall.
“I’d watch how you speak about my sister, Azriel.” He whirled around to see Feyre, eyes cool as she took in his agitated form.
“Your sister is a disgusting, selfish, spoiled brat! Someone tell me where my mate is before I tear this city apart!” He didn’t care that he was yelling at his High Lady, at his High Lord and brother. All he could see was red, and he was half a second away from leaving the House and looking for her on his own.
“Enough, Azriel,” Rhys commanded, bringing attention back to him. “Feyre, unfortunately it does seem true that Elain has been acting…undesirably.” There was a silence for a moment, her eyes widening as he shared the memories you showed him.
“Oh, Az,” she soothed, taking a step closer and reaching a hand out for him.
“Don’t touch me!” He shouted, pulling back from her. “I need to know where she is. I have to explain that what she saw was a dirty trick.” The anger was fading from his voice, despair taking over. What if you didn’t want anything to do with him anymore? He wouldn’t be able to handle losing you over this.
“Az,” Rhys started, voice calm. “She asked to go away. You’re going to have to give her time to process what has happened.” He took a step towards his brother. “I am sorry I didn’t listen before. She showed me her memories, of everything Elain had said. She will be dealt with, I promise you. I should have never let it get this bad.”
Azriel knew it wasn’t entirely his fault, but that didn’t stop him from lashing out. “Yea, you should’ve listened. When has she ever lied to you, Rhysand?” He shook his head. “Let me know if she contacts you,” was the last thing he said before storming off towards your shared room.
***
Some time had passed since you left Velaris, and the loneliness was threatening to overtake you. You had felt some tugs on the bond once Azriel realized you were gone, and had shut him out. You didn’t need him bothering you as you tried to figure out what to do. After pondering for days, you still had no idea what was true or not. You felt like you were losing your grip on reality, that you were sinking down into a pit of your own creation. You’d hardly moved from the couch since you arrived, staring into the endless flames.
A knock at the door startled you, but you no longer had the energy to truly care. You turned your head slowly to see Rhys walk in, eyes full of worry. “Have you moved at all?” He asked, taking in that the food he had left was untouched.
You shrugged.
Rhys came and sat next to you on the couch, looking you over. “He’s losing it without you,” he said softly, unsure what kind of mental state you were in.
Your eyes moved from the fire to him, stare blank. “I think you should come home. Being out here alone isn’t doing you any good. You’re withering away to nothing.”
Good. You’d rather disappear than live with the idea of Azriel and Elain. Rhys seemed to read this on your face, gingerly grabbing one of your hands in his own. “She’s been removed from the House. She’s not allowed out without Feyre or myself with her. She won’t hurt you anymore.”
You blinked. “What does Azriel think?” You asked, voice hoarse from no use.
“Az couldn’t care less about her. He’s worried about you.” There was a pleading in his eyes, begging you to come back with him.
“What if she was supposed to be cauldron-made for him?” Your voice was quiet, broken. You could feel the pain of your words as they hit Rhys, the shame of having ignored your attempts at warning him how Elain truly was.
“She isn’t. Even if you and Azriel were not mates, I have never met two people more suited for each other than you. It is clear that the love you hold is a special thing, something most won’t ever experience.” He tugs your hand closer. “Please. Come home.”
You didn’t know Rhys to lie to you, and your heart longed for Azriel. You couldn’t hide from this forever, regardless of how it turned out. “Okay,” you said, allowing him to pull you to your feet and winnow you back to Velaris.
***
Azriel was waiting when Rhys flew you back to the House, eyes wide as he took in the state of you. When Rhys set you down you immediately stumbled, head light from the lack of eating and sleeping. Azriel caught you before you could hit the ground, an alarmed gaze shooting to Rhys. “We will talk later,” he said, “take her to your room. I’ll send for Madja to check her over soon.”
Azriel nodded his thanks and carried you to your room, tucking you into the bed. You sunk into the familiar smell of him, trying to force the spinning in your head to disappear. “My love,” Azriel murmured, brushing hair out of your face. “What have I done?”
You opened your eyes and took him in. Truthfully, he didn’t look much better than you. There were deep shadows under his eyes, and his face was unusually gaunt. The stress of this situation had clearly taken its toll on the both of you.
“Are you in love with her?” You asked, tears pricking at the back of your eyes.
Azriel looked at you as if you had grown two heads.
“I’m sorry? In love with Elain? In hate with her is more like it.” You couldn’t deny the acid that dripped from his words, the anger the permeated the room.
“I saw you two. Asleep in the library.”
He scoffed. “I fell asleep waiting for you. She took it upon herself to take advantage of the situation.” He looked down at his hands, silver lining his eyes. “I never should have let it go this far.”
You sat up slowly, reaching out for him. Azriel moved quickly, gently laying you back down as he laid beside you. “Easy, my love. Your body is weak.” You hadn’t realized how bad you had gotten during your time at the cabin, suddenly feeling dizzy and sick.
“I’m so sorry, Az. I didn’t know what to do, I couldn’t handle it,” you sobbed, not even noticing the tears that had started falling.
“No, no. Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong. I should’ve fought harder against her, tried harder to get Rhys to listen.” He cupped your cheek, running his thumb through your tears. You curled into his touch, allowing him to wrap his arms around you and pull you to his chest.
You cried until your head was pounding, Azriel whispering sweet nothings into your ears. “I love you. Only you.” Your tears slowly stopped, until you felt confident enough to look up at him.
“I love you. I shouldn’t have doubted you,” you said, leaning up to kiss him.
A knock sounded at the door. Azriel jumped up to get it, letting Madja into the room. She began checking you over, tsking at the state of you. “I’ll give you something for dehydration, and you’ll need to start introducing food again. Start with soup, and work your way up. I have a sleep aid as well, I recommend you take it promptly.” She ran her hands over your arms and legs, ensuring all your bones were still in good shape. She did the same over your head, shoulders, and chest.
“Your heart sounds good, and your lungs are working well. You were lucky the High Lord came when he did, much more of letting yourself wither away and you’d have a significantly harder recovery ahead of you,” she chided, continuing her check of your body. Her hands swept over your abdomen before she paused, bringing them back up. “Ah,” she murmured, Azriel immediately on guard.
“What is it? Is something wrong?” He asked, gripping your hand a tad too tightly.
Madja shook her head. “No, nothing is wrong.” She looked up at you and cocked her head. “You are a lucky girl, you know. Not many pregnant fae could have refused food and drink for that long and still kept a reasonably healthy body and fetus.”
You stared at her.
She stared back.
Azriel stared at the both of you.
“What?” You finally asked, breaking the silence that had settled over the room.
She smiled, pressing her hands against your abdomen again. “A baby. Healthy, winged, i’d say 12 or so weeks along?” 12 weeks? You did the math in your head, realizing with a start that around 12 weeks ago Elain started terrorizing you. That shortly after that her words began affecting you worse and worse, that you couldn’t understand why she was able to make you so upset.
Now you knew.
“A baby,” Azriel whispered, looking at you. Madja took that as her cue to leave, placing the medicine on your nightstand and slipping from the room. He pulled you into his arms, inhaling your scent deeply. Sure enough, there it was. A lighter, fresh scent hidden under yours. He must have missed it throughout the recent stress and his back-to-back missions.
“A baby,” you whispered back, more tears threatening to fall. “Our baby.”
You saw tears of his own in Azriel’s eyes as he leaned down to kiss you, whispering “baby” in between each kiss.
The ordeal with Elain behind you, you allowed yourself to slip off into sleep, dreams of your future with Azriel and your child playing in your mind.
***
I’m so sorry this took so long for me to finish! I got into a bit of a writing rut, but I hope this was what you wanted. Thank you so much for your request! <3
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tangledupinyellow · 3 months
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Conference | Joel Miller X Teacher F!Reader
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authors note: Ah!!! I took an unintentional hiatus, it's been so chaotic in my life lately which doesn't need any details. But I am so so so happy to get back to writing and posting my little dumps here, especially now that life's calmed down I can get some more out for the new year!
summary: You are Sarah’s sixth grade teacher and you see Joel show up for the teacher parent conference. It’s your last meeting of the day and of course Joel being Joel, he’s late due to work and he came there in a rush and is still in his dirty little work clothes, which doesn’t leave a good impression on you.
warnings/tags: 18+, no use of y/n, no outbreak au, very slight praise kink, parent/teacher relationship, fingering, desk fucking, nicknames (good girl, darling, baby girl), unprotected piv, spanking, slight breeding kink, creampie
word count: 4.4k
 In annoyance, you look over at the clock once again. It feels like the fifth time you’ve done that in the past five minutes. You rubbed your eyes with a groan and lined up the papers on your desk yet again as if you hadn’t already done that ten times before while you’d been waiting.
You tapped your fingers on your desk, trying your best to stay patient. You had decided that you would stay here for another ten minutes or so, making it twenty minutes of waiting in total, before you would call it a night and head back home.
It was the end of the second-semester conference, and you had spent your evenings sitting down with the parents of your students to discuss any concerns you may have about their child. And with this next conference you had coming up, you had more concerns about the parent than the child itself. You had more complaints about them, as well. And being incredibly late was one of them.
Being even five minutes late would have been something you would let slide, but for something that has gone on for nearly twenty minutes, you weren’t sure if waiting would be worth it anymore. You could just give him a call that you would assume would bring you straight to voicemail, and you’ll give the one-sided conference there. 
What made you even more irritated was the fact that these meetings never took more than ten minutes, and you couldn’t understand why a parent couldn’t take a measly ten minutes out of their day to check up on how their student is doing while they’re at school.
But after checking who you were supposed to meet with at this very moment, you couldn’t help but be surprised.
Joel Miller was supposed to be here nearly an hour to talk about his daughter Sarah, one of your favorite students. You knew you weren’t technically supposed to have a favorite student, but you made an exception for Sarah. She was very wise beyond her years and quick-witted, almost like a mini adult. You couldn’t help but have a bit of a sweet spot for the kid.
You would have thought that with a kid like that, a parent would look forward to meeting with their teacher just to hear about how wonderful their child has been doing. But apparently, with Joel Miller, it was a different story.
You gave yourself an extra five minutes before you would just pack up your things and leave. You didn’t have time for this, and you already gave this man more than enough of your time this evening.
Your eyes shot over to your classroom door when you heard a knock followed by a man walking in and closing the door behind him.
“I wanna start off by apologizin’,” He began immediately and walked over to the empty chair on the opposite side of your desk that you had reserved for the parents, “Had’ta work a bit of overtime, but I came as fast as I could. Don’t wanna know how many stop lights I ran on my way to get here.” He chuckled and shook his head before taking a seat across from you.
“It’s nice to see you made it, Joel.” You greeted him before pulling out Sarah’s files from your desk to go over with him.
You could tell he had just gotten off work and clearly didn’t get the chance to stop at home first to freshen up or get changed. There were still dirt stains on his denim jeans, and his hair was a tousled mess. But then again, this was how you were used to seeing Joel. Out of all the years you’ve been teaching his daughter Sarah, you’ve rarely seen him dress up more than a flannel and a pair of jeans. 
You’ve only seen him dress up three times for as long as you knew him when the two of you went on a few casual dates. That was before you started teaching his daughter. While you had a genuinely good time with Joel those three times you went out, you didn’t know if you could continue seeing him after finding out that you would be teaching his daughter. Even though you did like him and wanted to continue the small relationship that the two of you had blossomed, you felt it would be too awkward with the whole ‘you being his daughter’s teacher’ thing.
So, you had to cut it off with him and keep the relationship between the two of you strictly professional.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Joel grinned and got comfortable in his seat, scooting it closer to the desk while you set Sarah’s files down.
“Almost left. I wasn’t sure if you were going to show up or not.” You laughed quietly with a shake of your head and opened up the folder filled with Sarah’s worksheets and essays she had completed the previous semester.
“Again, I wouldn’t miss it,” Joel repeated, “I’ll take any chance to get to be able to see ya again, even if it’s just you telling me how Sarah’s been incredible these past few months.” He chuckled, a hint of flirting in his voice that you tried to brush off.
It wasn’t unusual for him to flirt with you, for you were the one who cut things off even when he didn’t want to. There were still some feelings there that he had for you, and he hated that he couldn’t express them. He almost felt like a teenage boy. The fact that he couldn’t convey his feelings towards you made him want to do it even more, just to see if you’d crack one of these days.
You gave him a knowing look with a tilt of your head, almost acting like a playful warning, before pulling out one of Sarah’s most recent science essays to review with him.
“Well, I’m sure you wouldn’t be surprised to hear that Sarah’s at the top of my class this semester. She’s tested very high, and her writing skills are well above average for her grade level.” You give him a smile and nod before pointing out some of the highlights you found in her essay.
Joel listened with a permanent smile on his lips as he listened to you compliment his daughter, all things that he’d heard many times before from past teachers. He didn’t even know how Sarah was his daughter or how she was even related to him at that. He was never anywhere near as intelligent as she was when he was in school, and she was much brighter than he ever was. He was incredibly proud of her, as proud of a daughter as a father could be. 
“You’re right. I ain’t all that surprised.” Joel said through a chuckle and a shake of his head. 
You laughed along with him and tucked her essay back into her folder before setting it back down on top of your desk, “And I’m sure you’ve already heard this before, but Sarah really is a pleasure to have in my class. Helps keep me sane sometimes.” You joked, laughing a bit more with the man before you.
Even though you had to cut things off with Joel, you were glad that it didn’t make things awkward in meetings like this, which was something you worried about once you found out that you were going to be teaching his daughter. Thankfully for the both of you, you were able to get along just as well as you had when you first met.
“Every single one of these conference things I go to I hear the same ol’ thing,” Joel laughed and ran a hand through his messy and disheveled hair from a days worth of hard work, “Sometimes I don’t know how that girl is related t’me. Makes me proud every damn day though, that’s for sure.”
“I’m glad to hear that. She talks about you often.” You mentioned and organized her folder with all of your other students.
“She does?” Joel asked with a curious eyebrow raised.
“Mhm,” You hum, “She loves talking about you. You have a bigger impact on her life than you may think, Mr. Miller.” You smile at him and stand up from your chair, giving a silent end to the conference, for you didn’t have much else you had to tell him. You both knew his daughter was an excellent student and absolutely thrived in your class. There was nothing much else to discuss.
Joel couldn’t help but smile at your words, feeling his heart warm up in his chest as you spoke. He loved his daughter so much, but knowing that she even still liked him in her tween years was a big deal to him. It made him feel that even though he was a single father and that was as hard as all hell can be, he was succeeding at it. He watched you stand up and slowly followed your actions.
You cleared your throat and inhaled, grabbing your purse as you prepared to say your goodbyes. You didn’t want this conference to be awkward, but just being in the same room with him made you feel vulnerable, and you weren’t sure you could hide that very well from him.
“Well, Mr. Miller, it was very nice to see you again.” You nodded in his direction.
“You can call me Joel, y’know,” He chuckled with a shake of his head, “Just because we had to end things in the past doesn’t mean you need to be all formal.” The smile never left his face as he spoke, but you could feel your heart sink in his chest the moment he had brought it up.
You were hoping that the two of you would be able to move past it or not mention it at all during this little parent-teacher conference meeting. And right when you thought it was all going well and you said your goodbyes, he had to go right ahead and make it awkward for you.
“Right, my apologies, Joel,” You corrected yourself, the tense feeling in your chest still not disappearing, “I’ll see you around.”
Joel watched as you turned to leave towards the door but quickly stopped you before you could make another move, “Wait.”
There was that tense feeling in your chest all over again.
With yet another deep breath, you slowly turned to face him, “Do you have any questions for me, Mr- ..Joel? Any questions about Sarah, or..?” Your voice sounded weaker than you intended it to be.
“Well, there is something that I’ve been meanin’ to ask ya. Not about Sarah. I already know that she’s been doin’ just fine in this class.” He began.
“I’m only here to talk about Sarah and give you her progress report for the semester. I’m sorry.” You tried to cut him off before he got too deep into it. You had a gut feeling that you knew where he would be trying to get at if you didn’t stop him ahead of time. And you have already made yourself a personal vow that you would never mix your love life with your professional life. Even though Joel Miller made that so damn hard to do.
Joel furrowed his eyebrows as he stared at you in silence for a moment, almost as though you had said something wrong. And by this look he was giving you, you were kind of worried that you had. But that worry was quickly washed away once a chuckle escaped his lips.
“Darlin’, I’m more than just Sarah’s father. And you’re more than just Sarah’s teacher. I think we both know that now, don’t we?” A smirk crept up on the corner of his lips while his hand rested on top of yours.
“Mr. Miller, I don’t need you to be talking to me like I’m-”
He cut you off with your name. It shuts you up almost immediately.
“What I’m trying to get at here is that I miss you. I miss being with ya. Don’t think you can punish me for that, sweetheart.” Joel shook his head and gave your hand a squeeze before moving it back down to his side.
You took a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts before speaking, “Joel, it was fun being with you, but I can’t-”
“Why not.” He interrupted yet again, knowing just what you were about to say.
“You know why. Because of Sarah.” You kept it short, for he already knew the reasoning behind your rejections.
“What about Sarah?” The man was persistent, “Sarah loves you. She adores you as a teacher and talks about you and this class all the damn time,” He couldn’t help but chuckle as he spoke, “Now tell me, why would it be so bad seeing me?” His eyes bore into yours.
“It’s unprofessional..” you tried to reason.
“Unprofessional, hm?” Joel repeated and gave you a small smile, “Alright then. If you really don’t want me anymore, I won’t push it. But it was really nice seein’ ya again, sweetheart.” He winked in your direction before heading over to the door.
“Wait.” You surprised even yourself by speaking up.
Joel hummed and looked back over at you, his hand on the doorknob while waiting for you to start talking.
Your breath was shaky as you tried to calm your nerves, looking between down at your lap and over at Joel, “Come.. come here, please.” You stuttered over your words and motioned your head over to the empty seat across from your own.
Joel gladly did as you said and filled that empty seat.
The two of you stared at each other in silence for a moment, both of you anticipating to see who would speak up first. You never broke contact with his eyes, the hazel specks bringing you back to the few days and nights the two of you spent with one another. And you hated to admit it, but having him alone in a room like this made you want to rip off that dirty flannel right off and claim his lips with your own. Somehow, you had managed to keep it all under control. But the longer he stayed, the harder it was to resist that urge.
“Yes?” Joel responded simply before continuing, “Is there more of Sarah’s papers that you want to go over with me or…?” his voice trailed off with a slight raise of his eyebrow, seeming as though he already knew the answer but just wanted to play this little game with you.
And what got to you was that he was right. Both you and Joel knew that you didn’t call him back over just to go over a couple more of Sarah’s papers.
You weren’t sure how to respond. But thankfully, Joel took care of that for you just fine.
“That’s not it, is it?” Joel’s voice grew quieter as he stood up from the chair once he saw you shake your head slowly.
The tension in the room was growing so thick that you could cut it with a knife as he walked over to your chair, leaning over so his breath was just hitting the skin on the back of your ear, “You want something a little more, don’t ya..” he whispered, the hot breath on your ear causing shivers to go down your spine.
All you could do was nod as you involuntarily leaned your head back and fluttered your eyes shut. He still knew how to get such a reaction from you.
“Yeah, s’what I thought.” Joel grinned with a soft tone in his voice.
His hand slowly moved down to your shoulder, goosebumps arising underneath your blouse. You never thought you would miss the feeling of Joel Miller touching you on the shoulder so much. Especially when all he did was touch you on your covered shoulder.
“We really shouldn’t be doing this, Joel,” You tried to talk some sense into him, more trying to talk some sense into yourself. You knew that you wanted this. He knew that you wanted this, based on your reaction that you would give him with every little touch of his hand, “We shouldn’t…” you tried repeating, your voice cracking just slightly when his hand moved down from your shoulder to your right breast, giving it a firm squeeze. Your mind was working against itself, debating over right or wrong. But when his strong hands gripped you like that, as if you were all his, you couldn’t resist.
You couldn’t help the moan that left your lips as he fondled your breast, “Just tell me if you want me or not, sweetheart, simple as that.” he whispered in your ear. His breath on your sensitive skin was enough to get your heart rate going.
“Keep going.” You mustered out, taking a deep breath and watching your chest rise and fall.
Joel couldn’t help but smirk at your words as he moved his hand away from your breast and lowered to your stomach, “Are the doors locked?” He whispered, glancing over at the door that attached your classroom to the hallway.
“I’m already past hours. We should be fine.” You whispered. That was enough of an answer for him as he pushed his hand down your leggings to cup you through your underwear, making you gasp at the contact.
“Already so wet for me?” Joel chuckled and shook his head as he rubbed circles around your clit through your underwear, “Such a good girl, just like I remember.” He praised, placing kisses on your jaw and your neck.
You moaned at his words. Hearing him call you a good girl made your panties even wetter if it were possible. Your mind kept screaming at you, trying to remind you why you had stopped seeing him in the first place. You were his daughter’s teacher, for crying out loud. You didn’t want to complicate things anymore. But when he kept circling your clit with his two fingers, all of those thoughts seemed to disappear in a cloudy fog. All you could focus on was the sensation.
You bit down on your lower lip to try and hide in your moans, your hips bucking up to his fingers at the same time. The motion of your hips caused a low chuckle to escape from Joel’s lips as he continued to rub you at the same pace, savoring how much you seemed to be enjoying his delicate and practiced touch.
Joel never broke eye contact with you as he slid one of his fingers, then two, into your now soaked pussy. He groaned quietly and closed his eyes for a short moment at the feeling of your tight pussy, just imagining how it would feel like to have you squeezing around his dick.
A gasp turned moan left your lips as he started moving his fingers in and out of your pussy. He stared into his eyes, trying to ignore the fact that his jeans were currently restricting his near painful erection. Just the sight of you staring up at him from your chair with your mouth slightly agape made him want to just bend you right over your desk and fuck that sweet pussy of yours. The image of you screaming his name and looking up at him while he fucked you from behind over your desk burned in his brain. Why keep it just a little fantasy?
“Stand up.” Joel demanded and swiftly removed his now wet fingers; the emptiness was soon followed by an intense yearning for something more.
Your mind was hazy with lust while you did just as he directed. You stared at him, but his eyes were focused on your chest, which was moving up and down slightly in both anticipation and excitement.
“Take off your shirt.” Was his next demand, very much to the point. But his heart was going just as fast as yours.
You didn’t waste another second as you removed your shirt over your head while he unbuckled his belt at the same time, his eyes watching you the entire time. Knowing that he was practically watching your every move made you tingle in excitement.
Joel licked his lower lip as he watched you, letting out an involuntary groan. You could hear the zipper of his pants when he zipped them down, and he slowly walked up behind you. His calloused hands gently unhooked your bra, his touch surprisingly tender. 
He caressed your sides, slowly moving down to your ass. His touch remained gentle, and you felt like you were in the arms of a loved one, a husband you’d been married to for years, perhaps. You were quickly taken aback, however, when he gripped onto your hips and bent you over your desk. You held onto your desk and let out a moan of both pleasure and surprise. 
“Can’t wait to fuck this pussy.” Joel mumbled under his breath, but just loud enough for you to hear.
“I need you inside of me, Joel,” You practically begged him, your head resting on its side on your desk, “Need you so bad.” Your voice was nearly a whimper at this point.
Joel couldn’t even help but smirk as he heard your pleas, which were all for him and no one but him. The sound of you begging for him made his cock throb in his jeans. He quickly let himself free, pulling his jeans and underwear down and letting them fall down to his ankles. 
He pulled down your leggings just as fast, pushing your underwear off to the side to reveal your glistening pussy, wet and ready just for him.
“So, so pretty darlin’..” Joel praised with a shake of his head, admiring the sight for just a moment as he stroked his cock, giving it a few good pumps before pushing himself inside of you.
His fingers gently dug into your hips as he slowly and carefully slid his entire length inside of you, whispering quiet praises of how you were such a good girl for him in your ear. With how wet you were for him, he was able to get inside of you relatively easily. The feeling of his dick finally being inside of you was indescribable. He wasn’t able to stop imagining what it must feel like ever since he first walked into your classroom.
“That’s it.” Joel cooed and rubbed your hips before slowly entering in and out of you, starting his thrusts at a slower pace to ease you into it a little bit more.
Soft and strangled moans were caught in your throat as he took control, your eyes slowly starting to flutter shut at the feeling of being so full. Gradually, his thrusts became faster and faster as his breathing increased. His own groans overpowered yours, much to his dismay.
A quick smack was laid on your bare ass, earning a quick and loud moan from you, one that was much louder than you expected.
“I want to hear you, baby girl. Want to hear how good I’m makin’ ya feel.” Joel said between huffs and groans, his thrusts never slowing down but increasing in speed and intensity.
You let your mouth and throat relax at his request, not even bothering to hide your moans and whimpers. The building was completely empty at this point. Nobody in their right mind would still be here at these late hours of the night except for the two of you.
“Mmm..” Joel groaned and nodded, keeping a rhythmic pace with his thrusts while he held onto your hips, “Love hearing you like that..” he grunted, his voice staggered as he thrust in and out of you.
“Love you fucking me like this, Joel... Goddamn, I love it so much.” You moaned and let out a quiet yelp as he spanked your ass again, the slap of skin against skin echoing in the room. You moaned even louder at the contact.
“Me too... Fuck! Me too..” Joel repeated, his words weakening as he felt himself getting closer to the finish line. He bent his body forward while holding onto your hips, resting his head in the crook of your neck, leaving messy bites and kisses all along your skin, “So close, mmm... So fuckin’ close, baby..” He whispered, his thrusts getting messier with more fervor.
He slowly looked back at you, taking a good look at your messy hair that covered your face while you were being fucked by him. Your mouth was agape, your eyes were closed, and soft moans left your soft lips. And it was all for him... All of this was all for him…
“Fuck!” He squeezed his eyes shut as he came, pulling your hips in closer to him to get as deep inside you as he possibly could.
That was what brought you over the edge. You were surprised to have finished so quickly, or even at all, for that matter. But the way he grabbed your hips to be as close to you as possible, to fill you up as much as he could, sent you waves of euphoria. Loud moans of his name filled the room, followed by a lot of heavy breathing.
His sweaty body hovered over yours as he slowly removed himself from inside of you. That feeling of emptiness in your pussy was there once again. 
Joel kissed the top of your head and stood back up to put his jeans back on, leaving you over the desk to try and recover from your orgasm, your heart still pounding.
“Fuck..” Joel whispered breathily as he buckled up his belt, looking over at you as you tried to recover yourself from off of your desk, your legs struggling to keep stability.
“Yeah..” You chuckled in agreement and took a deep breath, slowly sitting back down in your desk chair.
“So,” Joel began and leaned over to get closer to you, his elbows resting on the desk, “Are you free this weekend? Sunday?”
You couldn’t help but smirk, already knowing where he was trying to go with this request, “Are you trying to ask me out on a date, Mr. Miller?” You inquired knowingly.
“I may be,” He smiled charmingly and stood up. “Depends on your answer.”
“Well, in that case,” You paused and stood up from your chair, pressing a cheeky kiss to his lips, “I’ll see you on Sunday. Don’t be late.”
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lis-likes-fics · 4 months
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At the End of the Day
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Pairings: Tommy Shelby x wife!Reader Word Count: 4k words Kink: Cockwarming Warnings: NSFW, smut, arguing, unprotected sex, fingering, desk sex, creampie, swearing... A/N: Nothing much to say for this one. Hope you enjoy and thank you! <3
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He’s stuck behind his desk. Again. He’s got his pen in hand and a multitude of papers sprawled out on his desk as he works and works and works.
He’s been like this all week, buried under paperwork as you handle the children and the maids and the rest of the family. When he isn’t behind his desk, he’s out on business with Polly or his brothers or at a social event with you for the same business as Polly and his brothers. You could properly count on two hands the number of minutes he’s spent with the children or with you collectively.
You miss him. The kids miss him. You hate that he has to work so much.
“Tommy,” you whisper from the doorway of his office, knocking on the heavy door quietly as you look at him.
He hums deeply but doesn’t look up. Stuck in his work, he takes a drink from his glass and keeps his pen moving. His cigarette is still smoking in the ashtray set to the side, not quite finished yet. You sigh, saying his name again. Not so sweetly this time. “Thomas.”
He sighs and looks up, but his pen is still set firmly between his fingers. “Yes, dear?” he responds. He’s exhausted, you can tell, but he’s good at pretending he isn’t. You’re just better at knowing that he is. You stay by the door, looking at him as your eyes dart down to his pen. He looks down at it and sighs.
Tommy sets down his pen, a peace offering. He gestures toward you. “Come. Come in.”
You step forward, taking your time in coming into his office as you close the door gently behind you. You approach his desk, and he watches you walk toward him and come to a stop. You lean on the dark wood, your fingers pressing into it as you look at him.
“The children miss you,” you speak gently.
He hums, picking up his pen again. “I’ll tuck them in tonight.”
“Too late. They’re already in bed.” You sigh when he begins writing, rolling your eyes.
“Well,” he mutters, “that’s that, isn’t it?”
You clench your jaw, your eyes fluttering at the audacity of his words. You hum, watching as he writes, the sound of pen scratching paper filling the room as he gets back to work. He hadn’t even lasted a minute. You should know, you counted. He made it thirty-eight seconds between putting down his pen and letting it touch his hand once more.
“When I tucked in August tonight–” you snatch the pen forcefully out of his hand, ignoring the way he sighs as you slap it down onto the desk and look at him. It takes him a moment to look you in the eyes so you would continue, “–he asked if he’d done something wrong. He asked me if Daddy still loves him and his sister.”
In his eyes, you can see the regret beginning to blossom there. But as quickly as it comes, he’s masked once again in exhaustion and duty. “I–”
“I’m not finished,” you interrupt. He glances away but immediately looks back at you, knowing you won’t speak unless he’s looking in your eyes. “Delia wants to know why Daddy doesn’t brush her hair after she wakes up anymore. She said she’s scared that you got tired of her.”
That hurts him even more. His jaw twitches as he processes. “My–”
“I am still not finished.”
He sighs. With a shrug, he says, “We’ve only got two children.”
You close your eyes, clenching your jaw once more to show your frustration. He doesn’t speak again, allowing you the floor. “And you’ve got one wife who wants to know why you’re letting business come before family. Family above all else, that’s what it is. That’s what the whole fucking family is about, Tommy.”
He waits a moment to know if you’ll speak again, not wanting to interrupt you and feed your anger. He speaks slowly, “I’ll take the children into town tomorrow. We’ll spend time together.”
“And then you’ll go back to work.”
“I work for them, for you,” he says, his voice raising a bit. “I do all of this to keep you all safe and happy.”
You sigh, chuckling lightly as you shake your head. “Tommy, the kids are happier when they get to see their father. Spending time with them for a single day and disappearing for another month isn’t going to make them fucking happy!”
He doesn’t want to fight with you. He understands what you’re saying, and he’s frustrated that his efforts are not being understood, but he doesn’t want to fight. He looks at you, and he can see that you’re just as tired as him. He sighs, backing down before you both end up in a screaming match. Screaming at each other won’t fix anything.
He rubs his eyes and picks up his glass, taking a sip from it and setting it down gently in hopes of easing his nerves. He looks at you, staying quiet for a long time. You take his silence for what it is, a moment to breathe. So you take a breath and lift your hand, removing the crushing weight of your palm from his pen. He doesn’t look at it.
“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I’ll spend more time with the kids. They shouldn’t be missing their father.”
You sigh, looking around the room in an effort to level your voice. “It’s not just them who’s missing you, Tom.” You look back at him. “We don’t even sleep in the same room anymore. You’re always down here on this fucking couch or back in Small Heath on ‘business’. I can’t remember the last time you held me, the last time you touched me.”
He sighs. You watch his shoulders fall. “Come here,” he bids softly.
You shake your head, removing your hands from his desk and taking a step back. “No.”
“Come here,” he says again, not as softly.
You blink away from him, a heavy sigh leaving you as you make yourself move. You walk toward him, rounding the desk to his side. He reaches a hand out to your side. You begin to jerk away from him, but he’s not having it. He pulls you in, both hands on your hips as he turns his chair to face you.
Tommy looks up at you, resting his chin on your belly as his thumbs caress your sides. It feels good. Really good, you almost melt into his touch. But you don’t want to give him the satisfaction as you place your hands over his and pretend like you’re trying to push him away. He’s unconvinced, but he plays along.
“I’m sorry,” he says again. Two sorries in one night…you must have won the lottery. “I know you don’t want to hear me say it…but I have a little more work to finish tonight–” you go to push him off with a scoff, but he holds you tightly and raises his voice a bit above your frustration, “–and then I will tend to your needs. I promise you.”
“Tommy–”
“I promise,” he insists.
You look at him, wanting to be angry but finding yourself helpless at the sight of his normally cold eyes staring up at you with more warmth than anyone else—besides his children—would ever receive. You sigh heavily, rubbing your temples and refusing to look at him as you speak. “Fine.”
He actually smiles, breathing a gentle laugh. “As a matter of fact,” one of his hands slides down your side and ducks underneath your nightgown, “I can do two things at once.”
He pushes your panties to the side with his fingers and presses his thumb to your clit. Your hips jerk away from him at the sudden touch and you speak, annoyed that your voice comes out as a whisper. “Tommy.”
“Shh,” he kisses your belly over your gown. “Let me take care of you.”
He slides his fingers over your folds, swiping back and forth along the length of them before slipping between them. Your eyes flutter at the feeling, leaning into his touch a little more as his thumb continues to tease you. You set your hands on his shoulders, holding yourself steady as he watches you react to him.
You moan slightly when his finger pushes inside of you, parting your lips to delve deeper. He works it into you as the arousal begins to seep. “Good girl,” he bids, feeling you begin to slick up for him, just enough for him to add a second finger inside you. You grip his shoulders a little tighter.
He pumps them slowly, massaging inside you as you begin to move your hips to the rhythm. You’re becoming faster than you would have liked, enjoying his touch too much after being without it for too long. “Tommy,” you whisper, a little whinier now that he’s got you worked up. He can see your nipples poking through your gown now.
“Just like that, come on,” he whispers. “Get nice and wet for me.”
His voice washes over you like velvet. You find yourself succumbing to him. You lean against him, into his touch, accepting his truce. His thumb massages your clit some more, making sure you’re nice and ready for him as he feels his cock stiffening in his pants.
After a moment, he pulls his fingers out of you. You grunt, your frustration returning at the loss of stimulation. You open your eyes and look at him again. You huff. “If you want me calm, this isn’t the way to do it.”
He chuckles, reaching a hand toward his belt as he begins to undo it. He just tells you to hush (in a kinder way) and pulls his cock out as he fixes his seat. You consider for a moment before relenting. You bring one leg over him, hovering over his lap in a straddle. You watch him as you grab his cock and line it up with your pussy, slowly sinking down on him and closing your eyes at the pleasant stretch. You moan gently. He breathes a little heavier, his hands on your waist tightening as you take him deeper and deeper.
When you’re sitting in his lap, you both let out a relieved sigh as you rest your forehead on his shoulder. You stifle a moan and begin to grind your hips, but he quickly stops you with his hands gripping your waist. You huff, but it comes out as a whine. “What?”
“I still have to work, darling.” “You can work later,” you argue.
He chuckles breathily. “Yes, but I’ll be able to pay more attention to you if this gets done first.” He raises his hands to your face, brushing his thumbs over your cheeks. “You’ve just got to sit there and be still. I’ll take good care of you.”
You try not to pout. It would be too bratty, and you need him to take you seriously. But you do pout, and he does think you’re bratty, and he takes you seriously anyway. “How long is this going to take?”
He glances at the papers on his desk and considers for a moment. “Ten minutes.”
You roll your eyes and groan. “Hurry up.”
He kisses your jaw and retrieves his pen, tapping your bottom and telling you to be a good girl while he works. You sit and wait, keeping yourself still with more trouble than you think it's worth as the stagnant stretch of his cock feeds your hunger and refuses to quench it.
He braces his hand on your back as he works. You rest your head in the crook of his shoulder, your fingers tangling in the hair at the base of his neck.
When you grind your hips absent-mindedly, searching for some friction, he lightly smacks you with a low grunt. “Stop moving.” You hum lightly, refusing to apologize but choosing to listen.
He's so warm, and he fills you so well. The urge to roll your hips once more fills your thighs, but you remain as still as you can, little moans and whimpers in his ear acting as your only act of defiance. He was thick, sitting so deep inside you as you clenched to feel him pulse.
It's been too long. You don't know how much time has passed, but you're reaching your limit as your desire for him after being neglected for too long grew to unthinkable depths. He's right here. You might as well take what you can.
“How long has it been?” you complain, pulling away to look at his face.
He doesn't look at you, but you can see the slight turn of the corner of his lips as he replies. “Nearly finished.”
“How much is nearly?” you question, raising a brow at him.
He turns his eyes on you. “Nearly.”
But you're sick of waiting. You need something, anything, right here and now before you keel over dead. You roll your eyes, “That's enough for me.”
You roll your hips atop his lap, moaning deeply in your throat at the pleasure that blossoms at the feeling. He grunts, holding your hip tighter and gripping the pen as though it were a lifeline.
“Love, I–”
Your words lift from a moan as you shake your head. “No,” you take his pen once more and toss it across the room, “I'm more important than whatever it is you're working on. Otherwise you would have sent me away the moment you could.” You take his face in your hands and pull him close to yours, your lips just barely touching, your voice low and frustrated. “It's my turn.”
He stares at you, awaiting your next move in silence. But you don't move, against your greater impulses, you sit still and stare back.
His lips crash against yours, a bruising kiss that begs your attention just as much as yours begs his. You moan into his mouth as his hands tighten around your hip and hold the base of your head.
He grunts into you, enjoying the taste of your lips as he guides your hips, grinding you down on top of him as he devours you.
The pleasure is quick to overtake you, sinking into every limb and flicking at every nerve. You're dripping onto his lap as you lift yourself up on shaky legs. The puddle of slick you've created just from sitting there for who-knows-how-long would be embarrassing if you hadn't been in this position so many times, being filled up by Tommy's cock.
You lift yourself until the tip of him is embedded inside you, the flex of your thighs making you tighter as you do. When you drop back down it forces rough moans from both of you as you grip onto one another for dear life.
You do it again, setting a rhythm as the electric feeling of the thrusts spreads through you. The sound of your thighs smacking into his lap fills the room with the steady pace, creating a sinful beat for your love to keep time with.
And the bliss of finally being tended to is good, but it isn't enough. You need more.
You wrap your arms around his shoulders and bury your face in his neck, moaning meekly and rolling your hips. “Tommy,” you whimper, your voice a gentle plea, a helpless whisper, an innocent manipulation. “Tommy, I need you.”
He tries not to shudder at the way you sound, pleading in his ear. He holds you tighter.
“What do you need, darling?” His voice is rough and full of breath, eager to smell your perfume and taste the liquor on your lips.
“More,” you hum, followed by another whimper only half-real as you grind yourself once more. “I need more.”
He knows what you're doing. He knows all your tricks, all the little ways you get him to do exactly what you want. He knows the voice you use, the breaths you take, the way your eyes focus on him, the way you hold him just a little differently. He knows everything.
But at the end of the day, he is just a man who loves his wife. A man who would do anything to see her happy.
He strokes a hand down the back of your hair, his parted lips passing shallow breaths. Nevertheless, he pulls you from his shoulder. “I'm not giving you anything until you say ‘please’.”
You lick your bottom lip between your teeth, stifling a moan as you decide whether or not you'll obey. But you do. With your palms at the sides of his neck, you speak. “Please, Tommy,” you beg softly. “Please give me more.”
He considers you, stalling just to make you squirm before picking you up and putting you on the desk, ignoring the pages and pages he lays you on. They're mostly done. He'll finish them eventually and let them go to whoever it needs to go to, still smelling of sex and the perfume you wear if it must. He doesn't care, he just needs you.
He holds you by the back of your legs, kissing the side of your knee as he stares at you the whole time. You watch him fondly, your breath shallow in your chest. He slips his hands down your thighs to hold your hips, lining himself back up with you and sinking inside once again.
Your eyes close and you purse your lips, a moan slipping through at the feeling. He presses himself inside you, rubbing against that deep part of you that makes your eyes roll. “Mm, Tommy.”
He sighs deeply, pulling out and pushes back in to set a steady pace. He starts with long, slow strokes that eventually build into a slew of quick, rough thrusts. You moan as you lay your head back against the desk, closing your eyes and trying to stay quiet as you gripped the desk behind your head. Your limbs tingle with the feeling of the pleasure spreading throughout your system. You clench around his cock and bury your face in your arms. You wrap your legs around his waist and bite your lower lip with the smallest grunts.
“Come on, love,” he rasps, his hair disheveled and his breath rough with exertion and desire. “You wanted this, don’t hide from me.” He reaches one hand out to gather your wrists in his palm. “Moan for me, darling. Look at me.”
You bring your attention to his face, your lashes fluttering with each little thrust inside your quivering pussy. You release your bottom lip from your teeth, setting free more whimpers and whines as your back rubs against the wood of his desk, the rock of his hips having you bouncing atop it.
He looks pretty. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide with lust as he gazes upon your body. For a moment, he wonders if he should take off your gown to see your naked body beneath him. But if he has to pull out of you before he’s finished, heads will roll. “Is this what you want? Eh?” he wonders aloud, letting go of your wrists to place your legs over his shoulders. You reach forward just enough to grab his waist, holding him close as the pleasure builds to wavering heights in both of you.
He presses his thumb to your clit, pulsing and in need of stimulation. “You needed me to fuck you nice and rough? Make it all up to you, eh?”
You nod sloppily, not paying too much attention to what he says as the pleasure gets closer and closer to that so desperately needed release. Your thighs tremble, the delicious shocks of desire bringing them to life as he continues to fuck into you.
“Tommy,” you gasp, dropping into a moan at the end of his name. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”
“You are, eh?” he teases, rubbing your clit just a little faster. “Have you said ‘please’?”
You mewl, helpless as you obey simply for your own satisfaction. He’s got you laying on his desk with his cock shoved in your cunt, and you’re moaning for him like the whores he used to fuck, but you’re still mad at him, even if you still love him with everything you’ve got.
“Please,” you moan. “Please let me cum, Tom.”
He grunts as he accepts, his thrusts becoming sloppier as he keeps on. “Alright,” he says. “Go on, love.”
The pleasure rises within you until you can’t hold it in anymore. With a thrust of his hips and a flick of his thumb, you fall apart as you close your eyes and lay your head back, your lips parting with a loud moan to let his name slip from your lips like honey. Your thighs tremble, your pussy flutters around him and pushes him over the edge.
A rough groan, bordering on a growl, erupts from his throat as he shoves his cock as deep inside you as he’ll go, grinding his hips to bury himself there. “Fuck,” he curses, your name rumbling in his chest. He spills inside you, rolling his hips into you as he does to fill you up with his warm spend. Your body tenses as you accept him, your lungs full of breath as your whimpers bleed into each little sigh until you feel the pleasure beginning to wane in the tingling of your toes.
He leans forward, towering over your body as his hips continue to thrust into you, his lips finding the junction of your neck and shoulders to taste your skin against his tongue. His kisses embed themselves in the fabric of your skin until they reach your lips, eager to slot into their natural place and become whole once more. The sounds he muffles into your mouth borders on a moan as his eager thrusts slow against the sensitivity of your pussy still coming down from your high.
You both linger there moments after you’ve returned to the earth through obligation. When you’ve come to yourself enough, wrap your arms around his neck and let out a long sigh, releasing the deep breath you’d taken moments before.
“Fuck,” you curse on a sigh, carding your fingers through his hair.
Tommy pulls his face from the crook of your neck and kisses you again, long and slow and almost possessive. He leans back to see your face, bringing his fingers up to brush them over your forehead, looking fondly into your eyes and searching your face for all of his favorite little features.
He sighs. “I don’t say it enough,” he says, his voice low and gentle and sincere. You stare back at him, stroking your knuckles along his jaw. “I love you, wife.” Your noses bump. You breathe each other’s air.
You breathe a little laugh, humming lightly. “No, you don’t say it enough.” You close the gap to kiss him again, a quicker kiss. “I’ll make sure you do.” You don’t return it, but he can see it in your eyes that you do, you do love him. He can see in your eyes just how much you can’t measure it. You don’t have to say it. He knows.
He taps your side, breaking away from you as he pulls out with a small sigh. He takes your hand and helps you to sit up. As you do, you take hold of his shirt and bring him close to your face. He thinks you’ll kiss him again.
“And, Thomas,” you smile a little, but he can see the threat lingering on your lips before they speak it, “if those words come out of my children’s mouths one more time, I’ll cut your cock off and feed it to you.”
Part of him wants to believe it’s just a threat—you love him (and his cock) too much. The other part knows it isn’t. You love your children more.
He smiles at you, nodding. He laughs as he says, “I love you, woman.”
You sigh on a hum, taking in the sight of his pretty face. “Hm… I know.”
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shoulmate · 1 year
Text
This isn’t the first time Iwaizumi’s heard the team talking about you.
“Just seems ta not wanna be here an’ doesn’t even like us...” Miya reflects after practice as Bokuto fervently nods. “Never comes out with us, even ta eat...”
Kageyama grumbles “doesn’t stay late when we’re doing extra practice.”
“Hasn’t shared any social media with us,” Hoshiumi adds.
He thinks about it a lot, what the guys said.
What they’ve been saying.
You’re a different kind of manager than most of them have had and from the outside it would seem like you’re not particularly invested in the job, in the team.
Everything the guys say is true.
You’re not overly enthusiastic, you don’t spend any time with anyone on the team outside of practice, you don’t show up early and don’t stay late, no one’s been able to find you on social media, and no one’s been given your cellphone number. You have a work phone through which they can reach you but it’s not yours.
And then they find out.
“Completely makes sense now...Uncle Hibarida’s the one we hafta thank fer our manager,” Miya complains. “A bit’a nepotism an’ we’re denied a key asset.”
There’s a round of shared sentiments and you’re suddenly even more out-of-the loop than before.
Iwaizumi hates that he’s starting to feel the same way. “I just...I’m trying to understand the hiring decision...” he offers after asking Hibarida about you and why you’re so...apathetic.
The coach measures Iwaizumi with a look but he doesn’t offer an explanation; he just pats Iwaizumi on the shoulder and walks away. Without a satisfying explanation, or any explanation at all, Iwaizumi wonders if you’re going to make it as their manager.
   Suna’s off his game.
He knows it and he’s doing everything he can but it’s not working. No matter how much extra time he puts in on the court or in the weight room he just can’t get out of this slump and he’s internally panicking that he’s going to get benched.
When practice gets out he feels lost. Everyone’s got a place to be and he lingers in the locker room, dragging his feet to go home wondering if he should stay and keep trying.
“Suna?”
He’s surprised that you of all people call him out of the locker room. “Yeah?”
You search his expression for a long moment and deeply inhale, like you’re hyping yourself up to face a big obstacle. “Come on.”
“Huh?” His expression scrunches up. “Where?”
“Conbini.” You’re almost frowning.
“Ookaay...” Suna awkwardly tags along curious and confused as to what’s happening. You don’t try to make any small talk along the way and when you lead him to the candy section you just stop and point to the “chuupets?”
You nod inscrutably. “They’re your favorite, right?”
His narrow eyes flick to you, taken aback. “Yeah...so?”
“So,” you sternly reply, “pick some out. My treat.”
“But...why?” His eyes narrow even more at you. “We’re not even allowed to have treats. Iwaizumi’s gonna flip.”
You cross your arms. “If he has a problem with it, he can take it up with me.” When Suna doesn’t make any move your arms fall back to your sides. “Okay, look...I know we’re not...friends...but I do care. You’ve been having a hard time recently and need a...well...I don’t know,” you admit self-consciously and shift your weight. “I just thought...” You sigh in defeat. “Let’s just forget this...Sorry.”
You step past him to leave-
“Green Apple.”
You freeze.
He tentatively picks up a package, avoiding your gaze.
“When I was little my favorite flavor was green apple...” the plastic crinkles in his hand. “I don’t like it anymore...Hate it, actually...But sometimes I eat it anyway...just to see if I can feel all those good things about being a kid again.”
“What’s your favorite now?” you ask quietly, looking at the assortments with him.
“Pineapple.”
“Then we’ll get both,” you offer without hesitation and take the biggest variety pack, the only one with both flavors and bring it to the counter.
Suna’s still by the candy section when you’re done paying.
“You coming?” you call. Though he gives you a mystified look, he nods and follows.
       Iwaizumi’s on the bus when he sees you and Suna sitting on a bench together. He only has a glimpse as the bus drives by--are those candy wrappers between you?! There’s no doubt candy isn’t allowed on the diet plan but for the first time the two of you are smiling and the next day at practice Suna’s in top form.
He doesn’t bring it up but ever so slightly
something shifts.
    Bokuto’s next.
The owl disappears during practice one day after a hearty round of laughter that wasn’t necessarily directed at him but it was definitely because of him.
“He’s done this since high school,” laments Yaku.
Miya sighs “he’s a sensitive boy.”
From the corner of his eye Iwaizumi sees you slip out of the gym while the others debate sending someone to find him.
“Seriously,” Yaku assures them, “he’ll hide somewhere for a little while and come moping back around.”
“You guys keep practicing. I’ll take a look,” Iwaizumi offers to a round of gratitude. 
He doesn’t have to wander far until he hears your low voice.
“Is that better?”
“Yeah.” Bokuto sounds unnaturally small. Iwaizumi stays out-of-sight, waiting for something else to happen but Bokuto asks “what are you doing?”
“Keeping you company,” you simply reply.
“But...why?”
Iwaizumi imagines--tries to imagine--you shrugging your shoulders. “I don’t like being alone when I’m upset...” You consider something for a long moment. “It’s hard...because usually people want to do something...like they can fix it...When all I really want is to not be alone.”
You’re both quiet for a while before Bokuto softly admits “usually everyone just tells me to cheer up.” You wait quietly as he adds “but it just makes me feel worse...I just want to be sad!” 
“Sometimes people can’t handle seeing someone act in a way that doesn’t fit the person they think they are.”
“Huh?”
Iwaizumi smirks at Bokuto’s confusion but there’s no trace of humor in your response, only patience as you rephrase it. “Everyone sees you as the ball-of-energy Bokuto. And they’re too fragile to understand you get sad, too. You have every right to your feelings Bokuto for however long you need to feel them.”
Iwaizumi’s heart aches when he hears the emotion in Bokuto’s voice. “Thank you.”
    After that it’s Kageyama who’s having trouble with his nails and nail file. Iwaizumi catches a glimpse of you giving him something after practice and the next day Kageyama’s meticulously caring for his nails with a glass-crystal file.
Then Sakusa who states displeasure about the lack of hand sanitation throughout the facility and finds new stations set up a few days later.
Ushijima who stares at his phone for a long time until you sit with him and help write a reply to something.
Finally Kiryu who goes out for a run after practice. Iwaizumi doesn’t think anything of it until you dash out; he follows and gets to the lobby in time to see you speeding off on a bike after Kiryu. On his way home he catches sight of you, the two of you, sitting on the same bench you shared with Suna as you listen intently, patiently to the over-thinker who’s clearly venting. 
It becomes clear that you care for them, just in your own way.
Sure you don’t stay late or arrive early every time one of them does but there are too many monsters to keep up with and if you tried, you’d never leave. So you’re not here extra but when you’re here, you’re here. You’re not the out-going or bubbly manager many of them are used to but you go above-and-beyond for them.
It’s clear you want to be here as much as they do.
So when they have their first press conference of the Olympics and someone from the crowd insults the vertically challenged members of your team?
You have to be contained.
With walls of muscle like Ushijima, Ojiro, and Hyakuzawa, it’s laughably easy for the team to hold you back. It doesn’t stop you from spitting venomous challenges for the coward to show themselves so you can properly insult them back, though,
“Seriously? You think that was bad?” Hoshiumi comments. “Do you even see what people say on twitter?” 
“No, I don’t have one,” you reply. “What do they say?”
In his shock he misses your question. “You don’t have one? What do you have, then? Instagram?”
“No.”
“Tik Tok? Facebook? Discord? Tumblr?” He gags “myspace?”
You laugh “no! I don’t use any social media.” A moment of realization comes over you and you ask “wait...what do to they say about you guys on those sites?”
If there was any doubt left in how you felt about the team, it’s gone after your reaction.
“I was wrong about ya,” Miya admits as the team moves into the dorms for the Olympics and he sees the special attention given to everyone’s needs, put into the specific accommodations for each athlete. “Fer a grumpy little scrub...yer a good manager.”
Iwaizumi sees the small and private but glowing smile as the setter walks away.
In the way you defend them from negativity, intervene when reporters are being unprofessional or fans too intense, and support them from start to finish more than anyone else, you’re their champion.
Their heart and soul.
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average-cosmopolitan · 6 months
Text
After-Lab Escapades
NSFW below the cut AFAB Sub Albedo / gender neutral Dom Reader. Dumbification, oral sex (Albedo receiving), overstimulation, use of term mistress/master, mentions of a safe word that isn’t used (as in, he says “too much” and “too fast”, but is prompted to use the safe word and doesn’t.)
minors DNI.
You look up curiously as Albedo calls your name, tilting your head. He puts away the hot plate, looking up to you. “Are you almost done cleaning the tubes?” he asks, bent all the way over to put it in the cabinet beneath the counter. 
You pause for a moment at his position before nodding in confirmation, putting the last tube back on the rack. He quirks an eyebrow, “everything alright?”
You try to take your eyes away from the somewhat compromising position he’s in. Truth be told you’ve been having thoughts about it recently: being between his legs, eating him out for hours on end, ever since you found out he had that anatomy. You aren’t sure why Rhinedottir made him that way, male in every aspect except between the legs. Nevertheless, the thought has plagued your mind ever since. 
He calls your name again, seeing you zoning out. He takes his gloves off and quickly washes his hands in the sink, dries them and then walks over to caress your cheek with his now cold hand. It brings you back to reality, looking at his pretty face staring at you. 
“I’m alright. Sorry, just—“ “What thought are you so hung up on, darling?” He interrupts, sharp and observant as always. Albedo’s expression turns stern. If you lie, he’ll know… and if you’re blunt you might get a funny reaction from him. So, you decide to just say it. “Would you let me eat you out?”
“…”
Albedo’s face slowly turns red. “Wh—“ he almost yells your name, settling for a taken-aback quiet-yell, “Here?? We’re in the lab— what’re you thinking!?”, he says, flushing further as he looks over at the unlocked door.
You roll your eyes, “You asked.”
He thinks it over for a moment. It’s late, and no one should be in the building anymore. But still, this is the lab in the Knights of Favonius HQ, since you wouldn’t have made it back to Dragonspine in time for the ingredients to not spoil. It was time sensitive…
Albedo slowly calms down, still with a nervous flush. “f-fine. Just… be gentle…” he mumbles, looking away, shifting nervously. You chuckle, backing him up until he’s up against one of the lower tables. He gasps lightly, putting his hands back against it for balance. You lean in to kiss his neck, and one of his hands comes back up to rest on the back of your head. 
You nip at the star marking on his throat, and he shivers at the special attention. He tries to close his legs on instinct, but your knee is already in between them. He holds back a whine when you bring it up against his clothed crotch. 
He murmurs your name, sucking in a breath when you suck a light hickey into his neck. Your hands slide down to his hips, then forward to unbutton his pants. In one swift movement you strip down both his pants and underwear, and he gasps at the sudden movement. You push him onto the table, and flinches when his bare ass meets the cold table. 
He suddenly feels all too exposed, especially when you grab his thighs tightly and spread them apart. Albedo’s eyes widen when you drop to your knees to be face-level with his now exposed pussy, blushing profusely. 
He looks away when you lean forward, expecting you to go right for it. He opens his eyes again when he feels your lips on his thigh. Slowly kissing up his inner thigh, open-mouthed and hot. So very close, but never quite getting to his most sensitive area. Teasing him, as he begins to shift in place. “Please…” he whispers, interlocking his ankles behind your head. 
You chuckle, simply continuing. His cunt is getting all leaky and wet, slick sliding down onto the table. And though it pains you to waste, it’s so cute to see him try to wriggle his hips to tempt you. Starting to whine lowly and tighten his thighs involuntarily around your head before realizing he’s preventing you from moving by doing so. 
“P-please? I’ve been good…” he says, pitch higher than he would’ve liked, starting to sound desperate and pathetic. You look up, his usually piercing blue eyes now looking down at you with desperation. “Then beg,” you respond simply, and very matter-of-factly. He clears his throat, looking away, before sighing. “Please…? I’ve been so good… pleeaaase, mistress/master? I’ll do anything, just please, please… fuck me with your tongue. Please?”
You hum, pretending to be deciding. He whimpers, trying to start again “Please, just— A-Ah!!” he gasps as you lick all the way up his folds, your fingers peeling them apart holding them open. He whimpers as you latch your lips around his clit to suck on it, biting his lip to keep from making too much noise. 
He glances back at the door, a worried thought about any noises echoing down the halls passing through his mind. Well, that’s before you wrap your arms around his thighs and pull his hips closer and begin to ravenously devour his cunt, lapping up his slick and hitting all the right spots. 
Albedo squirms slightly, gasping out and letting our strangled moans, thighs squeezing around your head. You only continue, sliding your tongue in and out of his sopping hole. You feel him flutter around your tongue, a prolonged whimper ripping itself from his throat. Gods, he’s so sensitive. Why does he have to be so sensitive?
He can’t help but buck his hips into your mouth, with a “Ghhk! Wai— ah! You’re going too, mmh! f-fast!!”. You promptly ignore him, shoving your tongue in and out of his slit faster and faster. Soon, he bucks his hips faster and tightens around your tongue, stuttered yelps of “C-coming!” coming from his pretty bitten lips. 
He gushes around your tongue, gasping out your name once more as his eyes roll back, arms faltering to keep himself up on the table. He promptly lowers himself down onto the table to avoid falling if his arms fully give out. He pants, trying to recover for a moment. 
He shifts to look back down at you, since you’ve been silent for a good moment, before he jolts and gasps at the feeling of two fingers plunging into his used cunt, scissoring him open. “W-Wait! I just came, I— Ahh! NGH!!” he lets out a small, overstimulated scream when your fingers curl and find that little spongy spot inside him. 
“Remember our safe word, ‘bedo?” You ask, pausing momentarily. He slowly nods, nervously looking away. A beat of silence passes as you give him a moment to say it… and nothing. You chuckle, starting to thrust your fingers into him and hitting that spongey spot dead on every time. At the same time you start to lick and suck at his clit. 
He cries out, arching his back away from the table, jerking and squirming slightly. You hold his hips firmly in place as his toes curl. Albedo, who is usually so in control of himself, involuntarily writhing and letting out cut-off shrieks of pleasure under your tongue. 
Quicker than he’d like to admit he reaches his peak again, this time squirting on your fingers and tongue. He quickly bites down on his wrist, screaming against it, luckily muffling it (Tch. You’ll have to do this again back on Dragonspine so you can hear his cute little screams in full. How annoying). Alongside that, a single tear runs down his face, as he whimpers pathetically in the aftermath. 
When you start up yet again, he starts to plead halfway incoherently- “N-no! I just came tw— Agh~! Twice! Mmmmnh—! Mistress/Master, pleaaAAHN!! *hic* Please! Too much, toomuchtoomuchtoomuch!!”. But still no safe word, as he squirms and writhes, tears and drool running freely down his face. His body convulses and jerks around, but you’re still able to keep his hips still enough to devour him like he’s your last meal. 
He whimpers and cries “MerCY— AAHN~!” over and over, and no safe word. Sobbing when you stuff a third and forth finger into his his leaky, red pussy. He shakes his head, your fingers dragging against his gummy walls as you pound him with your fingers and licking up his folds. 
He’s babbling incoherently and lets out a wail of pleasure, going completely limp on the table as he gushes around your fingers one last time. He pants heavily, twitching and whining stupidly when you pull your fingers out of him, a string of arousal staying connected to them for a moment. 
He lifts his hips dumbly, a dazed look on his face as he tries to get you to sink them back into him. Albedo looks so debauched, hair stuck to his forehead, hair all messy from his squirming, tear tracks down his face. You wipe away a trail of drool from his lips and chin, after wiping the slick off your own. 
He reaches out, unsteadily sitting up to take your wrist, bringing your hand to his mouth as he takes your fingers into his mouth, tired mind remembering to clean up after himself. He lets out a low groan at the taste of his own juices, sucking on your fingers and eventually pulling away. 
You chuckle lowly, looking down at him. 
“Good boy, Albedo.”
Note:
*Comes out of no where after a long time* *Throws you Albedo content (my baby boy)* Do not question. Simply enjoy. Thank you.
455 notes · View notes
nakahras · 1 month
Text
᯽ they forget valentine’s day • multi
synopsis • dazai is an oblivious and dramatic fool. chuuya is a wounded puppy that needs to relax
warnings • dazai (he needs his own warning yes), i’m not sure this even has cursing, anxiety, alcohol, drunk chuuya bc he’s a lightweight, reader is a civilian, fem!reader
wc • 2.8k
a/n • happy valentine’s day, lil birdies <3
᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽
dazai:
you’d been pouty all week. giving him short responses both verbally and through texts. on day 3 he plucked up the courage to ask but you were short with him once again.
“i’m fine, osamu.”
you were lying to him. you never called him by his full first name, never called him “osamu.” it was always “‘samu” or “baby.” he tried his best to get it out of you a couple more times that day before letting out a huff of defeat at his desk. he was usually able to avoid his paperwork by distracting you but this week has been excruciating for him. you were “too busy” with paperwork. when had you ever been too busy for dazai? it just didn’t make sense.
you were lying and he knew you were.
on day 4, you were both dispatched on a mission together. it was just a standard patrol. something you have done a million times before and usually use it as an excuse to goof off and make a date out of it. this time, however, you apparently took it very seriously. you wouldn’t even let dazai hold your hand. dazai was wounded at this point. his chest felt heavy in the worst way possible.
even worse you started referring to him as dazai. he thinks he would prefer osamu over dazai.
“bella, why are you treating me like a mere colleague. i’m your boyfriend. shouldn’t i be able to hold your hand?”
he’s pouting, you can hear it in his voice but you refuse to acknowledge it. “we’re on assignment, dazai.”
“‘samu. ‘s ‘samu, not dazai. what did i do to deserve this injustice?” the pressure in his chest grows as you continue to look forward, straight faced.
you let out a sigh. “if you don’t know what you did -- or didn’t do -- i don’t know what to tell you.”
dazai spends the rest of that assignment wracking his head over things he specifically avoided doing.
on day 5 he started to actually sweat a little bit because of your increasing mistreatment of him. was this how you were ending things with him? he couldn’t for the life of him think of anything he had done wrong, or hadn’t done at all, as of late. he had been on especially good behavior recently. so the only conclusion he could rationally (read: irrationally) come to was that you were sick of him. you couldn’t stand him anymore. you hated him. that was the only possible explanation.
it wasn’t.
on day 6 dazai had lost all hope. he spent his whole day at his desk staring at the ceiling. he was moping and he was aware of it. the whole office was aware of it but no one was indulging him and that was part of the problem. it’s as if everyone was in on it with you. they all knew but no one would give him a hint. traitors. every single one of them were traitors. even his usually sweet protege, atsushi refused to stare dazai in the eye. that’s how he knew they were all keeping it from him.
dazai wholeheartedly believed they were all plotting on his demise.
finally ranpo came to dazai day 7 with a bag full of…heart themed treats? what was he supposed to-- oh. OH!? how could he have missed that it was mid february. he was meant to ask you to be his valentine and now it was day of and he didn’t even have any plans. he didn’t like the idea of ranpo having to bail him out. once he’s connected the dots, dazai bolts straight up. his chair crashing to the floor with a loud thud. he startles everyone in the office, even you look up in shock. he doesn’t say anything just rushes out leaving everyone, especially you, utterly confused.
he comes back an hour later with the biggest stuffed teddy you had ever laid your eyes on and the most gorgeous bouquet of 2 dozen roses. you’re not even sure where dazai got the money to buy them? you desperately hope he didn’t manage to steal them. he struggles his way over to you and gives you his big pleading puppy dog eyes that he knows works every time.
“i’m such a fool! my belladonna, i’ve failed you and i deserve to be shot where i stand. if you were to deny me i would completely understand,” no he wouldn’t. “but would you please be my valentine?”
you try to stay stern with him but you can feel yourself melting under his big brown eyed gaze. you’re conflicted and it shows on your face. “’samu…”
thank god for yosano walking in at that very moment. she is your savior for the second time this week. she looks at dazai incredulously and then just starts crackling. everyone looks at her confused. once she’s composed herself enough, she looks to you.
“please, tell me i get to be the one to break the news to him.” dazai’s brow furrows in confusion as he looks back at you for an answer.
you nod your head and smile relieved. “i haven’t told him yet….”
“told me what? what am i missing? why are you two being so cryptic?” dazai is whining now. he’s only slightly nervous that you have yet to give him a response, surely you won’t say no to him, right?
wrong.
“this sweet little angel agreed to be my valentine yesterday.” yosano announces proudly while wrapping an arm around your shoulder.
it’s comical, the way dazai’s jaw drops. he let’s out a dramatic gasp. “yosano i thought we were friends. you would steal my bella just like that?!”
“chicks before dicks, dazai. you slept on my pretty angel for too long.”
dazai tries so hard to be appalled but the shrill and scandalized “yosano” kunikida yelps out makes dazai lose his composure. the brunette takes opportunity in yosano and kunikida bickering to pull you aside. he gives you an earnest look, one so rare that you forget to breathe for a moment.
“are you really going to continue to be yosano’s valentine and not mine?”
curse his shining burnt caramel colored eyes. curse his pathetic shaggy haircut that made his waves frame his face so beautifully. and last of all curse those pouty and perfectly pink lips of his that you’ve denied yourself of for a week now. you want to curse him. you really do. but he is so pretty and you’re so weak to a pretty face.
your fold under his gaze and huff in defeat. he lights up like the radiant star he is. you missed his light, it had been dull the last 7 days. you pout as he brings you into his arms. “thank you for giving me another chance, my bella. i promise to make it up to you.”
“you better, ‘samu.”
᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽
chuuya:
chuuya always worked extra hours. it was normal for him to overwork himself. but lately he felt as though his workload had doubled. he could only delegate so much before he started to feel bad about not doing the work himself. even the paperwork started piling up. after a long 4 days of sleepless nights chuuya has finally managed to clear out every stack of papers that were littering his office.
as if she had a sixth sense for knowing when chuuya was done with his work, kouyou walked in at the most opportune time. “a little birdy told me that you’d finally finished your work. how about we go for drinks to celebrate. it’s still early enough. my little sister should still be in her night class, right? she wouldn’t mind if i stole you for an hour or two, would she?”
“a drink?” chuuya can’t deny that a nice glass of vintage sounds heavenly right now. he hasn’t seen you in 4 days and although he wants nothing more than to hold you in his arms, he has to respect that you’re currently occupied by the one night class you have a week. kouyou was right, you wouldn’t be out until 9pm. it was only a handful of minutes before 7pm.
chuuya nods. “yeah, i could go for a drink.”
he found himself in one of the private rooms of one of the many restaurants kouyou owns. as promised he is sipping at his second glass of wine, heat is starting to settle in his stomach and he knows that soon enough, if he doesn’t pace himself, he’ll be feeling that heat in his head. it always made his mind foggy.
the conversation had lulled but it was a comfortable silence as they both picked at the appetizers kouyou had ordered for the two of them. kouyou takes a bite of and enoki beef roll and sighs in satisfaction. mid chew her eyes widen and she hums as if something just occurred to her. she hovers her hand in front of her mouth starts to chew quicker. a finger is held up by her other hand to indicate that it’ll just be a moment.
kouyou swallows her food intently and looks at chuuya excitedly. “what do you have planned tomorrow for my little sister?”
kouyou gives chuuya an excited smile and expectant look. the problem is…chuuya has no idea what kouyou is talking about. why would he plan something for tomorrow? panic starts to settle at the pit of his stomach. why would he have something planned for tomorrow? did he forget your birthday? anniversary? what even was the date?
kouyous smile drops as she watches visible panic flit across chuuya’s expression. she sighs, feeling a little sorry for bringing it up. she thought maybe chuuya had been working so hard to get everything finished to enjoy the day with you tomorrow. no, he was just being his usual self and overworking himself to exhaustion. evidently he had no idea what tomorrow was.
“chuuya, calm down. it’s only valentine’s day. she’s forgiving. i’m sure she won’t hold it against you if you forget one valentine’s day. even so, you still have time. i’ll make reservations for dinner for you two at my nicest restaurant, the one at the hotel in the business district. i’ll book you a suite to stay the night as well. on me.”
chuuya visibly relaxes but the look on his face is still one of worry. kouyou gives him another expectant look and chuuyas shoulders slump over. he looks like a wounded puppy. she could practically hear the whimpers.
“i didn’t ask her to be my valentine…” chuuya feels ridiculous saying it but he figures if anyone was going to understand it would be kouyou.
kouyou picks up the bottle of wine and tops off chuuya’s now empty wine glass. she doesn’t think he’s noticed in his panic how much he’s had to drink but she’s hoping a little more will relax him. she doesn’t expect him to finish the whole glass, maybe just another sip or two.
kouyou has never been so wrong in her life.
᯽•᯽
you get let out early from your night class, something about needing to prepare for tomorrow? whatever that was supposed to mean. perhaps it was a special day for him?
as you’re walking up the stairs to your small apartment you look at the time: 8:23pm. you had expected to take the train home but one of your friends offered to give you a lift home. so you were home earlier than expected and you were so appreciative of it. it’s been a long week and you just want to relax.
you shot chuuya a text when you got out. you felt a little guilty for not being able to talk to him more the last 5 or so days. you’d been busy with starting up clinicals and of course having mock patient evaluations and notes due the same day. but you were finally settled and just so happened to have the next 2 days completely free.
you check your messages and see that the message is marked as read but chuuya never replied. you don’t have much time to worry about it though because the second you’re rounding the corner you see -- is that two? yes, it is. you see two familiar heads of ginger hair standing outside of your apartment door. your brows furrow as you get closer and notice your boyfriend is leaning on kouyou for support. his face is abnormally red; it's almost comical.
you clear your throat and kouyou looks up from struggling to keep her own balance. she gives you an apologetic smile. “sorry to dump him on you, sunshine, but he refused to go home after he got your text. i had no choice but to bring him here.”
chuuya seems to have enough consciousness to realize that kouyou is talking to someone. he finally looks up and squints at your for a moment before his eyes light up in recognition. he whispers your name under his breath and gets this adorably determined expression on his face. oh god, he and kouyou must have just came from having drinks. he’s surprisingly stable on his feet still, only stumbles over his feet twice before he’s standing in front of you, examining your face intently, as if he's looking for something that’s clearly not there.
“did kouyou feed you too much wine again, baby?” you let out a small giggle and chuuya swears he could cry over how much he missed you these last few days.
“...yeah. she did. drank too much wine. ‘was good though.” his sentences are short and words are slurred. you think if his speech wasn’t slightly broken, he would definitely be slurring more.
you peer over at kouyou and smile at her appreciatively. “thank you for getting him to me safely, kouyou. are you gonna be alright getting home?”
she waves her hand at you dismissively. “he insisted. i have my driver with me. you two lovebirds have a good night and enjoy your date tomorrow~”
just like that, kouyou leaves you confused. before you’re able to process her words and form a question she’s already made her way around the corner and out of sight. you look at chuuya for an answer instead. his eyebrows are furrowed and he’s examining your face once again. you begin to feel self conscious and pat at your face.
“what? what is it? also… what was kouyou talking about? what date? are you taking me somewhere tomorrow?” you know you might be asking too many questions for chuuya’s muddled brain right now but you’re far too confused to care.
chuuya huffs as if remembering something distasteful. his mouth turns down in a frown and he does something he rarely would sober. his hands find your waist and he pulls you into him with his ability. you make a small squeak of surprise as you practically crash into his chest. your palms placed o his chest to brace yourself. you notice chuuya is uncommonly stable for his state and chalk it up to his ability being activated. you’re correct of course, his body is illuminated by a red glow -- your’s is too.
before you have a chance to ask what in the hell was going on you’re distracted by chuuya’s hands slipping under your scrub top and circling your waist. your breath hitches at the intimate touch. his head drops to your shoulder and he breathes you in. the breath is immediately followed by a content sigh.
“‘m sorry. i forgot” it’s muffled but you still make it out.
you swallow thickly trying to ignore just how much his touch affects you. “you’re sorry about what? what did you forget?”
“didn’t ask you sooner…” you think maybe he’s lost his mind. it’s the only explanation you have for the nonsense he’s spewing.
you reach over to pry chuuya from your shoulder but it’s no use. you let out a defeated sigh. “ask me now.”
chuuya looks up at that. for the third time in the past ten minutes he’s examining your face. you’re no longer questioning it. you suppose it makes sense. it’s been almost a week since you last saw each other. you can’t deny that you missed him too.
“be my valentine?” you don’t think that you’re seen him this nervous since he asked you out.
your brows furrow for a moment until realization slaps you in the face. your mouth forms a circle as it hits you that today is the thirteenth of february. tomorrow is valentine’s day. guilt seeps into your very core. you had completely forgotten because of how busy with school you were.
you sigh and reach out to hold chuuya’s face. “only if you’re still willing to be mine too since i also forgot that tomorrow is valentine’s day.”
chuuya perks up, it’s akin to an excited puppy. you can’t help the way your heart melts at the sight of his soft expression. you giggle as chuuya brings you in and showers you in kisses. you can’t help but to think that all the hard work you put in and going days without seeing chuuya is all worth it when you finally reunite and get to see him again like this.
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flowersandbigteeth · 1 year
Note
Big orc with a small mate who is just so small and fragile they just cry sometimes scared they'll hurt them
This is a little on the darker side, but I hope it is a bit of schadenfreude.
General Plot: You meet and befriend an orc who has a penchant for finding tall bridges.
Orc (Orion) x female reader
also, just a note, when I say "small" in this I'm saying as compared to an orc, not any particular body size or shape
Word Count: just under 3k
W: as brief as i could while still getting the message across descriptions of sa and suicide, otherwise sfw soft yandere behavior
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“Damn,” Orion’s friend and coworker Joss whistled, peering across the shitty dive bar they were posted in, “don’t think I’ve seen a prettier sight in my life.” 
Orion’s eyes flickered from his drink to where Joss was looking, a table of women, your heads huddled together as you worked on your answers for the trivia game you were playing. 
“I got it!” you shouted at the guy running the game, “the answer is Oregon!” 
Orion gulped on his drink and it went down like a lump of lead in his stomach. You were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen in his life, your eyes glowing and your cheeks warm from smiling. The women around you were all beautiful in different ways, but his eyes focused on you and he couldn’t look away. You were so small. It almost made his eyes prickle as he considered how you could possibly survive in this world being so delicate. 
As a mercenary Orion knew the darkest dregs of the world. He’d seen pretty, innocent things like you broken and bloody in the snow when his team had arrived too late. It broke his heart every time and looking at you…something in him was moved. 
“Let’s buy the ladies some drinks,” Joss grinned, already turning to the bartender to organize a pitcher of margaritas for your table. 
You glanced up at the waiter as he carried an armful of drinks over to you and your friends. You’d never done trivia before and you didn’t go to bars, but they’d convinced you to get out of the house for once and join them. So far it had been fun, though as the waiter spread the drinks out in front of you and your friends you frowned.
“No thanks,” you said politely, pushing the glass back across the table when he got to you, “don’t drink.” 
The waiter smiled, scooping up the cup before gesturing to the two orcs sitting at the bar. 
“Compliments of the gentlemen,” he explained and the rest of your friends raised their drinks and smiled at the handsome orcs. 
They were obviously military of some kind. You could tell not because they were dressed in fatigues, but because the hair that was traditionally worn longs for orcs was instead cropped close to their heads. 
The larger one seemed to be looking at you and you held up your soda and tipped it at him with a friendly smile, before turning your attention back to the game. For some reason you didn’t want him to think you didn’t appreciate his attempt at a gift, but this was why you didn’t go to bars. Everyone was trying to ply everyone else into sex with alcohol. It just wasn’t your scene anymore. You didn’t do hookups and you didn’t drink, so…what was the point? Trivia, was your best friend's answer. 
“I’ve got the brunette with the curls,” Joss said to Orion as he smirked at your table. 
Your friends were eating up the orcs' attention, casting them wily smiles and flipping their hair. You didn’t blame them. They were good looking, with large, shining tusks and bodies any human body builder would kill for. The larger one had an arm full of tattoos peeking out from the tight black shirt he was wearing. 
For your part, you huddled down into the hoodie you were wearing and took a sip of your soda. It wasn’t like the orcs were flirting with you anyway. They were probably looking at Emily, who had long blonde hair, or Tina, who had dark flawless skin and tight, shining curls.
You didn’t notice Orion’s gaze focusing solely on you. 
“She doesn’t like margaritas?” he asked the bartender, nervously, when he returned with your empty glass. 
“Doesn’t drink,” he murmured, already moving on to his next customer. 
That comforted him a little. At least you weren’t going to be wandering drunk through the streets on your way home, but the idea of you walking home all by yourself bit at him. Orion was feeling things he’d never felt before and he didn’t even know your name. 
He was a mercenary. He wasn’t a kind, warm orc; never had been. He was good at killing. Very, very good at killing and that’s what his life consisted of, death, blood, and lonely cold nights camping out waiting for orders. 
He had his fun with girls he ran into in the odd cities he found himself in. They had a way of finding military men with money, but he’d never had a girlfriend or any sort of real connection. He’d never expected to live long enough for it to matter…but there you were. You weren’t all made up like the other girls, dressed in a bulky hoodie that swallowed you, with your hair brushed away from your face. Yet, you were the most beautiful one sitting there, chewing your lip and wrinkling your brow as you tried to think up answers. 
“Come on,” Joss said to him, throwing back the rest of his beer, “I think the game is ending.” 
The winners were announced (not your team) and you were trying to figure out how to slide past your drunk friends to escape home when the orcs approached your table. 
“Evening ladies,” the shorter one said, flexing his biceps as he scraped his thick fingertips through his short hair to the delight of your friends. 
“Excuse me,” you murmured, wiggling past your starry eyed friends and almost completely ignoring the orcs. 
You bid them all goodnight, but they are busy batting their eyelashes and circling their fingers around the mouths of their glasses. Best leave them to it, you thought as you made your way to the front door, not noticing the taller orc abandoning his friend to follow you out.
Orion didn’t have a plan. He’d never stalked a woman before, but there he was, using his combat skills to make his huge form disappear in the urban environment.  
He got more and more uneasy as you left the nice part of town and turned on to a dark street. A siren blared, startling him for a second as a cop car flew past and he almost lost track of you before he caught sight of you again fidgeting with the loop of keys in your hand and stuffing one into the door of the first floor apartment you lived in. 
Orion frowned, sneaking as quietly as he could up to your side window. Your home was incredibly insecure, he noted. With his strength he could easily pop the rusted bars over your windows out to get to you and your door was a laughable piece of plywood. 
His eyes watered again imagining your pretty face twisted in fear from some unknown attacker. He had to stop for a moment to take a breath and gather himself. Feelings he’d never felt before were bubbling up in his stomach like a witch’s cauldron, but standing outside of your house like a creeper, he had no idea how to approach you. 
He ended up keeping vigil outside of your house all night and woke from a shallow doze when you started moving around inside. Peeking through your window he could see you smoothing your hair dressed only in your panties and a little t-shirt that rode up on your waist. Compared to him, you were just so incredibly small! It still confounded him that you could survive in this awful neighborhood and not be harassed daily. 
Since it was the weekend and you weren’t hung over like your friends, you went about your morning routine and donned your usual hoodie to hit up your favorite coffee shop. An iced latte was the perfect way to start a Saturday. 
In the light of day, Orion hung back as he followed you down the street, waiting a few moments before he entered the coffee shop after you. 
The shop was busy, but there was a loveseat open and after getting your latte you took a seat on one side to drink it. 
“Mind if I sit here?” Orion asked, after he’d gotten his own coffee. 
You smiled up at his looming figure and scooted a bit to the side so there was plenty of room for him. 
“You look familiar,” you mentioned, making light conversation as you sipped your drink. 
The orc gave you a small smile. 
“Name's Orion,” he said, pleased to have a reason to talk to you, “I think I saw you last night at the bar…you were with your friends…but you don’t drink…” 
You giggled. 
“Oh yeah, they dragged me out to that,” you said with a grin, “they think I’m a hopeless homebody because I don’t like to get drunk. I’m (Y/N).” 
He smiled back at you, taking in your pretty twinkling eyes and soft looking skin. He had to hold back his tears as he looked down at you, so little in the seat next to him and tucked cutely in your big hoodie. He wondered what you would look like dressed in his t-shirt and wondered how he could possibly hold you without hurting you with his big hands.  
“That’s not a bad quality to h-” he started to say, but was interrupted by a slightly nasally voice trying to get your attention. 
You winced as you looked up to find one of the last people you wanted to see and part of the reason you didn’t drink hanging over you. Dane, a man you’d met once at a bar was holding a coffee with his other hand stuck in his pocket. 
“(Y/N)!” he said grinning, “Great to see you! I’m surprised I didn’t hear from you after all the fun we had last time…did I put my number in your phone wrong or something?” 
He reached down to snatch your phone out of your hand, as if he were going to check it. 
You winced and shrank back. 
The reason you didn’t drink was the last time you went to a bar you might have had a bit too much and Dane offered to take you home. Though his idea of “take you home” meant assault you while you were too drunk to fight back and then leave you crying on your couch with a text in the morning that said, “had fun last night, can’t wait to do it again.” 
Of course, you hadn’t told anyone as you probably should have. You were too embarrassed and ashamed, so instead you tried to shake the experience away and swore to yourself you’d never drink again. 
To your surprise, however, before Dane could reach your phone, Orion’s hand intercepted his. He could see by looking at you, you were uncomfortable and though he couldn’t possibly have known what happened, he didn’t like the man. 
“Hi,” he said, scooping up Dane’s hand into a tight handshake, “I’m (Y/N)’s boyfriend Orion, I don’t think we’ve met before.” 
Dane sneered and looked Orion up and down. The look on his face said he didn’t take the orc seriously. 
“Boyfriend?” he laughed, “that must be new…(Y/N) and I had a good time just a couple of weeks ago, didn’t we?” 
He turned his attention to you, but your eyes were filling with tears, stressed and embarrassed that he would even say something like that after what he did. You would not describe it as “a good time.” Orion growled and squeezed Dane’s hand until the bones popped, wiping the smile from his face. 
“What the fuck are you doing?! You’re going to break my hand!” Dane howled, causing the whole restaurant to look at the scene he was causing. 
Fire flooded your cheeks and you tried to make an escape, pushing past Orion, but in another surprising move, he dropped Dane’s hand and put his arm around you. In any other circumstance, you would have been a little frightened, but at that moment a warm hug was just what you needed and you leaned into him without thinking. 
“Let’s get out of here, (Y/N),” he said, giving you a gentle smile, before giving Dane a pointed look, “this place is starting to smell like trash.” 
He hustled you out of the building and led you to a small park where there were some cozy benches tucked amongst the trees. Spaced out from your encounter, you let his strength lead you without a fuss. 
He sat you down and you just sat in silence for a few minutes coming back to your senses. Orion had seen enough victims of assault in his line of work to know what the look on your face meant, so he gave you a little space to collect yourself before speaking. 
“You don’t have to tell me what happened if you don’t want to…but I’m a good listener if you do,” he said quietly, brushing a loose hair out of your face. 
You looked so small and helpless in front of him and he focused all of his will into not scooping you up and carrying you off, keeping you locked up so tight no one could ever get to you again. He could snap you like a twig with just a flick of his wrist, no wonder some horrible man thought he could take advantage of you. 
Without meaning to you let out a sob and the whole story came spilling out. It took all of Orion’s mental fortitude not to respond with anger. That wasn’t what you needed right then. Instead, he pulled you into his arms, tucking your head under his chin and rubbed soothing circles on your back while you cried. 
Despite his fear of smooshing you, he managed to squeeze you just gently enough to reassure you without hurting you.
“This wasn’t your fault,” he said, realizing why you didn’t drink, “men can be disgusting. No one should take advantage of someone while they are intoxicated…it’s just sick.” 
After you’d had a good cry, you exchanged numbers and Orion walked you home promising you everything would be okay. Even though you weren’t sure you quite believed him, something about him felt safe so you let yourself feel comforted and spent the rest of the day resting in your pajamas trying to keep your mind off of it. 
That only worked for a day, because the next morning as you were flipping channels you saw a familiar face on the television. It was Orion. He was being interviewed by a news reporter. You hurriedly turned the volume up to hear what he was saying. 
“I saw him climbing the railing,” he said evenly into the microphone the reporter had shoved in his face, “but I was just too late…I couldn’t get to him in time to save him.” 
His face was oddly blank considering the warmth he’d shown you the previous day. The camera centered back on the reporter. 
“Depression has taken yet another victim here on the St. Anne’s bridge. It seems the security cameras on the bridge were not functioning when the event occurred, so there is no video record. Officials are promising to put more cameras and safety measures in place to stop tragedies like this from occurring. If you are experiencing thoughts of harming yourself please call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline. Simply dial 988. Dane Andrews will be remembered as a…” 
You muted the television and blinked as images of the man who assaulted you flashed on screen. Dane is dead. You didn’t want to celebrate someone’s death but for some reason it put you at ease. You’d never accidentally run into him again. He’d never have another opportunity to taunt you. You couldn’t erase what had happened but it felt like you’d gained some closure. You were so focused on that, you didn’t even consider that it was a bit odd Orion was the last person to have seen him before he jumped off of the bridge. 
You hurriedly pulled out your phone and texted him. 
I saw you on the news…want to come over? 
It was only a few minutes before he responded. 
Be there in ten. 
You quickly put on some proper pants and brewed a pot of coffee while you waited for him to knock on the door. When it finally came you found yourself smoothing your hair and glancing in the mirror before answering it. For some reason you wanted to look some kind of way when he saw you. 
You opened the door to the Orion you remembered, not the cold emotionless one on TV. He gave you a big smile and to your surprise he had a bouquet of peonies in his hands. 
“For you,” he said, holding them out to you. 
Despite the somber mood of the morning, you smiled back, letting him inside and hurrying to the kitchen to find a vase for the pretty pink flowers. 
“It’s crazy what happened to Dane,” you said as you poured him a cup of coffee, “I guess even people like him have their own inner demons.” 
“Mmm,” Orion said, noncommittally as he sat at your kitchen table and took a sip, “I hope you feel a bit safer…” 
His eyes followed you as you got a cup and poured yourself some coffee. Of course, he had no intention of telling you, Dane did not kill himself. He had thrown Dane off the bridge after making sure he regretted ever laying a finger on you. He knew just what to do to make it look like the damage had been caused by his body banging on the rocks under the bridge, not Orion’s fists. 
You sighed. 
“You know I feel a little bad for saying this, but I really do feel safer,” you admitted, your gaze meeting his gold irises. 
He smiled. 
“Good,” he said, “you deserve to feel safe. Nothing like that is ever going to happen to you again.” 
Sitting down next to him at the table you fiddled with the handle of your mug. 
“You can’t be sure of that,” you murmured into your coffee, “things happen all the time.” 
He pulled your chin up to look at him, cupping your cheek gently. He knew he would have to be gentle with you always and he looked forward to holding you even closer.  
“While I’m around they won’t happen to you,” he stated.
You had no idea why, but for some reason you believed him. Your cheeks flushed just a little and your heart fluttered. 
“D-do you plan on sticking around?” you asked quietly. 
“I don’t ever plan on leaving you,” he said and you swallowed thickly.  
If it were anyone else those words would have been frightening, but Orion had cast some kind of magic spell on you with his kindness and you only felt safe and seen. 
You raised your much smaller hand to place it on his larger one against your cheek and looked up at him. 
“I think I’d like that,” you said with a small smile. 
2K notes · View notes
mrzombielover · 20 days
Text
- slow ride ch2
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feat. sinner!adam x fem!hotel worker!reader
previous chapter || series masterlist || next chapter (wip)
warnings: NSFW, more substance use in this one, a bit of angst?, readers emotional issues
a/n: i feel like my writing sucks esp in this chapter cause im sorta rusty and sick so i cant even tell if this makes sense but oh well😭😭😭 anyway pls send me hazbin reqs!!!!! having the worst brainrot lately esp for this horrible man!!!
wc: 2.9k
“I'm not breaking up inside / I'm much to proud to moan / Baby, please come home”
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Oh my god. What did I just do? Why did I do this?
You turn your head to look at Adam where he’s lying on the other side of the bed, and find his expression closely mirrors your own. Pure disbelief is written on his features, and you grimace, turning to look back at the ceiling.
After a moment, you sit up, grabbing your box of cigarettes and a lighter off your bedside table. Once lit, you swing your feet off the bed to reach for shirt and now ripped panties, standing up when you’re partially dressed. You hear Adam sit up behind you.
“Soo, that was… uhhh…” He trails off, mouth hanging open as he thinks of what to say.
“Let’s… not speak about this again,” You say carefully as you turn back to face him.
“Yeah. yeah, i’m good with that,” He says quickly, finding his robes off the floor. You’re surprised he doesn’t say anything about the smoke.
You cross the room to get your pants off the floor, pulling them up as Adam grabs his jacket. You pull up your fly, and look up to see Adam’s staring at you with an expression you can’t read. His eyes flicker to your lips, and he starts to lean closer.
“Kiss me and i’ll cut your fuckin’ tongue out,” you say as you turn your head away.
“Oookay then. I’ll, uh, see ya,” For once, he has no snarky comment or crude joke to make as he straightens up and leaves your room.
After that, you told yourself never again. It happened once, it’s out of your system, it’s done. A one time thing.
But then it happens a second time.
“It’s a disgusting habit! All your clothes, your whole room fuckin’ reeks!”
“Are you tryin’ to get me to loose my temper here? ‘Cause i’m about to shove you out that fucking window!”
“And look how angry you get, you fucking fiend, it’s been like 2 hours!”
“Why don’t you mind your goddamn business?”
You raise an arm to hit him, but he catches your elbow, twisting you around so your back is to him and he can hold you in place. You struggle to break from his grip, when suddenly-
“Oh my god,” You deadpan, but your voice doesn’t come out as disgusted as you expected at the feeling of something hard poking into your lower back.
“Okay, this is not my fault-“ Adam says quickly.
“You- fucking perv!” You spit, but your words hold no weight when he flips you again and lifts you up, placing you on the counter and you make no effort to struggle. You spread your legs so he can slot between them as items pushed out of the way cascade off the counter, falling to the floor with loud crashes.
You then told yourself that would be the last time. But not even you fully believed yourself. And once it happened a third, fourth, and fifth time, you just accepted this is something that happens now. You’re not proud of it- some of you hates yourself, but another part of you finds a a sick, primal pleasure in it. It’s the only guaranteed way for you to get him to shut up, if only for a few minutes. The fight for dominance- fuuck you’re messed up, huh?
Thinking of the humiliation you’d feel if any of the others found out- oh god, how could you look Alastor in the eyes again- you change absolutely nothing about your behavior around Adam. On the surface, nothing has changed at all. You two still bicker and argue all the time, if anything, worse than ever. Yet the other members can feel something’s up, that something changed. Adam’s insults feel more hollow. He always said shit just to rile you up, but there was usually an undertone of truth to his words. Not anymore- it’s all stupid shit that everybody can tell he doesn’t care about. Nobody says anything about it, though, until-
“What the fuck are you smilin’ for?” Angel’s voice makes Adam jump as he enters, sitting down on the couch beside him.
“What-? I wasn’t smiling,” Adam quickly denies. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh my god- are you’re gettin’ laid?” Angel grins, sitting up. The look on Adam’s face tells him everything, and he can’t help but laugh. “Oh, you so are! No wonder you’ve been in such a good mood lately,”
“Uh, duh i’m getting laid, I’m Adam, I’m the origin-“
“Yeah, yeah, original dick. But that’s not what I mean and you know it.” Angel grins widely, and Adam can feel his face heating up. Oh god- why is he blushing? Since when does he care? He pushes the thought from his head.
“…You don’t know her,” Adam decides to say, crossing his arms and turning back to face the TV, hoping Angel will just leave it at that.
“Try me,” Angel leans closer, looking intently at Adam’s expression. When Adam says nothing, Angel laughs again.
“Oh my god I so know her,”
Adam grits his teeth but says nothing as Angel laughs.
“Okay, fine, don’t tell me who you’re havin’ weird secret kinky sex with,” Angel shrugs, turning to face the TV. “I’ll find out eventually,”
That makes Adam sweat.
You can’t help but laugh, nearly spitting whisky everywhere while Husk chuckles to himself. Sure, it’s a bit trite, ranting to the bartender about your shitty day while he pours you a stiff drink, but Husk could always make you laugh about it, and call you out on your bullshit if needed. He was real, and you liked that about him. Plus, it beat drinking alone when none of your other friends wanted to party on a Wednesday.
“-and not a crazy bitch like I’m a crazy bitch, crazy like she lit her mom’s hair on fir-“
“Husk holy shit!”
Both of you look in the direction of Angel Dust’s voice as he runs from the hallway towards you both. He leans over the bar, eager to share whatever news he had.
“Adam’s fucking somebody- somebody here!”
You choke on your whisky, spitting it back into the glass. Angel and Husk both look at you with a raised brow.
“My bad,” is all you say. you can’t think of anything else that would play it off, so you just quietly wipe off your face while Angel recounts his encounter with Adam. You feel an eye twitch- you could strangle that prick for being so conspicuous.
“You’re quiet, Y/N,” Angel says in a teasing tone.
“I just could not care less if I tried,” You say back, firmly but with a shrug, and you hope it suffices as an acceptable explanation, and that you come off as your usual apathetic self. You finish your whisky, and luckily, Angel doesn’t give you any more shit. Slightly unsettled by that interaction, you avoid Adam for the next few days.
Late one evening, everybody’s gone up to their rooms and the hotel is quiet. You’ve already eaten, smoked, brushed your teeth and put on pajamas, but there’s nothing good on TV and you’re bored and high and just want a task to keep busy. So you wander aimlessly into the kitchen and find yourself doing the dishes that Charlie was too stressed out to do earlier.
As you scrub brown charred bits off a pan, you find your stupid weed-addled brain wandering to Adam. You haven’t fought with him in a while, mostly because you’d run away before he had the chance to start, but still. It feels weird, being so calm lately. No wonder you’re bored. It’s the way things used to be at the hotel, before he arrived. You guess you hadn’t realized how used to his presence you’ve gotten. Gross. You cringe at the thought.
Luckily, your phone starts to vibrate on the counter, giving you a distraction. You pick up and hold it between your ear and shoulder without looking at the caller ID.
“Yo, where are you right now?”
Of course.
“Adam? What the fuck, when did you get a phone?” You snort. When you realize you’re smiling you clear your throat and force your face to relax.
“Whatever. Can you come upstairs?”
You pause. He sounds slightly odd.
“What, like, to your room?” You raise an eyebrow. “Why?”
“ohmyfuckinggod- can you not be difficult for fucking once and just do what I ask?” Then, as an afterthought, he adds “Please?”
Damn, okay. You don’t say anything for a moment, thinking maybe you’re just smacked and he’s being normal.
“Suuuure… Just uh, gimme a minute,” You say carefully, putting the dishes down. Then, he hangs up on you. What a dick.
Unbeknownst to you, while you’ve been thinking about him, he’s been thinking about you way more.
You’ve been avoiding him- obviously. Not unexpected, but it pissed him off to no end. He’s fucking Adam! Who are you to ignore him? Aren’t you supposed to be keeping an eye on him, anyway?
By now, the others have started to accept him- including them in their plans, drinking with him, no longer leaving a room when he enters- so he doesn’t really need a chaperone anymore. Despite this, it still feels wrong. Even in a room with every other patron of the hotel, he’d started to notice when you weren’t there.
He didn’t even notice he was starting to miss you at first. It wasn’t until he and Charlie were seated at the bar, and he drank more than he probably should have, that he mentioned you were avoiding him.
“What’dya, miss her?” Husk asked.
“Awww, Adam!” He still remembers the look on her and Husker’s faces. “You are starting to change! That’s so sweet of you!”
And then because she was drunk she kept rambling about it for like 30 minutes, but he doesn’t remember the rest of what she said, just the utter humiliation he felt. He shut up for the rest of the night to avoid spilling his guts any more, but Husk- the annoying fucker- still gives him knowing looks every now and then.
And after Nifty had washed his sheets, and he’d noticed that his pillows lost the scent of cigarettes, perfume, and shampoo you’d left behind, he knew he was royally fucked.
The worst of all, though, is that he feels helpless to feeling these emotions- and even worse, he doesn’t want to stop feeling them. Before he’d even noticed it, he was thinking about you all the time, and he was fine with it. The embarrassment was killing him, even though, supposedly, nobody knew.
On this particular night, he’d probably had just a tad too much beer with his dinner, because when he’d returned to his room and flopped on his bed, there was a little bug in the back of his brain that kept whining about how empty it felt. He tossed and turned for a bit, just wanting to sleep it off, but he eventually gave up, reaching for his phone.
“Adam?” Before you’re finished knocking, Adam jumps up to get the door, pulling you inside quickly. You make a noise of surprise as he scoops you up immediately, not saying anything as he carries you to his bed.
“Damn, needy, huh?” You laugh. This time, it’s him telling you to shut up as he tosses you onto the bed and crawls over you.
You sit up slightly to help him get your shirt off, and then his lips are on your neck, trailing down to your chest as he unclips your bra.
“Haven’t seen you in a while,” He says with a casual shrug as his hands run up your torso to grope at your tits.
“mm,” You hum, arching your back into his touch. “missed this?” You smile sarcastically. Missed you, he thinks.
“Sure missed these,” He pushes the thought away and grins back, squeezing your chest for emphasis. He pulls back briefly to rid himself of his own shirt, then bends back down to press more kisses to your flesh. He looks up, staring at your expression as he takes one of your nipples in his mouth, reveling in the whimper he’s rewarded with.
“fuckin’ perfect tits…” He mumbles into your chest before nipping at your skin. You let your eyes shut as his free hand slides down, under the band of your shorts and his finger brushes the hot skin beneath, skimming over your lips. Adam thumbs at your clit through your panties, relishing in the whine he rips from your throat.
Impatiently, you shift your hips up to slide off your shorts and panties, then reach to tug at his belt loops to signal he should do the same. When he looks up and sees the desperate look on your face, he decides not to keep you waiting, and pulls back to rip off his pants and boxers.
You guess avoiding him these past few days has affected you, too, because you’re surprisingly desperate. You sit up, wrapping your fingers around his cock, smearing his arousal across his length, and whatever he had been planning to say dies and comes out a needy garble of nonsense that makes you snicker.
To your surprise, he has no quip as he crawls over you and pushes himself between your legs. He bites back a gasp when you rub the head of his cock between your folds, a groan following a moment after as he begins pushing into you.
Your thighs are trembling by the time he’s fully inside of you, and you wrap your legs around his waist weakly while you adjust to the stretch.
He sits up fully, and from this view, you look stunning. The way you're laid back on his pillow, tears pricking in your eyes, he thinks you look more angelic than anything he ever saw in heaven.
“fuuuck,” He groans, letting his head fall onto the bed as he starts to move his hips.
“Adam!” The way you whine his name is truly sinful, and he feels his dick twitch in response.
“holyfuck, ‘s so big,” The slight burn makes you regret your impatience now, and his face makes you regret stroking his ego. You make a point to ignore his self satisfied laugh, focusing instead on how his cock stretched you open, making you to tighten and release around him. You turn your head, looking at his wicked fucked-out smile that grew wider and wider as his movements got deeper.
You can’t speak, you just moan helplessly as your hands search for anything to grab onto to steady yourself. You throw your hands around his neck and bury them in his now dark wings, in the way you always did. You gripped the feathers tightly and let out a moan and oh, god, he’s not going to last long, he thinks, with you gripping the sensitive feathers like that. He groans again, then his lips find your shoulder, where he leaves messy, open-mouthed kisses trailing towards your neck.
“so fuckin’ sexy, so, so good for me,” you barley even register that he’s speaking, with your entire focus being on the way he moved in and out of you.
“you’re- so beautiful,” he says between grunts. your eyes widen.
“wha-ahh-“ before you can question that, a particularly hard thrust makes the words die in your throat, and you’re clawing to his biceps again.
A warmth of pride erupts in your chest at the way his breathing has turned labored and his grip on you tightens. An arm snakes around your waist, the other under your head, pulling you impossibly tighter against him as he continues to desperately pound into you. The proud smirk you wore is wiped off your face when you feel one hand releases you and his hand trails down, eventually pressing a thumb your clit, rubbing small circles that make you moan and twitch beneath him.
You can’t even warn him before your whole body erupts. You spill over, you lose sense of where and who you are, all the while, Adam pounds into you, strokes you inside and out. You vaguely hear a sudden crash and him mumbling, thanking god that you came before him because seconds later, he’s spilling his own cum inside you with a broken wanton groan.
Adam stills for a moment, panting as he holds you close. When he rolls off you, he keeps one arm around you, pulling you against his chest. Huh. That’s new.
Neither of you say anything. That was… different, than you’re used to with him. You furrow your brows as you think, and find yourself confused. The cogs in your head turning something terrible in your mind, questioning his intentions.
Once you’ve caught your breath, you sit up, pushing away his arm as you go to find your clothes. He frowns, watching you pick your shirt up from the ground and pull it over your head. You looked guarded, like a cornered doe, like you were just waiting for the chance to sprint away.
Adam grabs his own boxers from the floor and pulls them on, quickly crossing the room to where you were. He looks down at you, and feels an odd, tightening in his chest, something he’s felt a lot since falling to hell.
He leans against the door, putting on a cocky smile.
“Soo… this was like a booty call, huh?”
“…Yeah, whatever. See ya,”
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unluckilyimnot · 1 month
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catch your face before you can hide your blush
rayne x reader (mashle)
fluff
m.list
note: me thinking so damn hard about a neutral way to say "she's just a girl" bc yes it's a joke but not inclusif enough and ugh it turns out bad
Feel free to request! Take a look at the rules before :)
I hope you enjoy !
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 It’s not that you don’t like to work with Rayne, it’s the opposite in fact. He always has the right word, a good point to make and it’s easy to explain your point. But if there was one thing you had to point out, it would be how seriously he looks at you when you work. Or when he doesn’t have anything to do, in fact.
Yes, you were sensitive to his charms, but you don’t know if he’s conscious about it at all. Whenever he talks, you have to stay focused on what he’s saying without minding too much his voice, or just even his lips – which are usually dry, you wished you could hand him your lip balm without thinking of the indirect kiss that would create. You’re just a normal teenager, you lose it easily around your crush.
But right now, your real problem was that you were talking and he was listening. Which means that he, it seems like, has to look deeply into your eyes when you make eye contact. Things are, you can’t stay concentrated when he glances at you that way. There’s something so simple yet interesting, he’s drinking all your words as some divine speeches and your brain stops braining. You found yourself mumbling a few words that don't mean anything anymore, you can’t bounce back on you last words because you already forgot them ; and of course you don’t miss the way his eyes fell on your lips for a second before looking back at your eyes.
You can’t help but look away, a burning hot feeling on your cheeks and the second you turned your face away, something cold grabbed your before you could. Your eyes are back into his, getting lost when he doesn’t say anything, simply holding you still.
You’re alone in the library, it’s about to close yet you still have so much to do but it’s like time stopped. He can’t get his eyes off you, nor can you. Cat got your tongue for a few seconds that felt like minutes before you opened her mouth.
“Why do you always look at me like that ?” you whisper, scared that if you speak up you’ll break something.
“Can’t I when you talk to me ?” You’re losing it. Your mouth is dry and keeping the eye contact is killing you. If he looks at your lips one more time you’ll be a goner. Moving his fingers along your jawline instead now, he got a little closer, his nose brushing against yours. “So ?” he insisted, since he didn’t hear your answer but you only nodded at him.
Then his eyes took another peek at your lips, and he’s about to speak again, but you can’t help but lay a small kiss on his lips before he does.
It’s his time to be surprised but not enough to let go when you try to pull away.
“You’re really thinking you’ll get away with that ? Wait ‘til we get to the dorm.” 
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Freaking obsessed with this man as well lately. I'm not done with mashle yet but soon and I'm SO SAD. I loved it so much ❤️‍🩹
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luvit · 3 months
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Pine-ing for You | Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
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☆ kyle "gaz" garrick x gn!reader ☆ fake dating, home for the holidays, sloooowburn, fluff, slight angst (very little), friends to lovers trope, kind of idiots to lovers (reader side LOL), looots of winter holiday puns ☆ 23k words / 7 chapers total ☆ after lamenting the prospect of yet another year of going home to your family and meeting the countless comments from aunts, uncles, grandparents, parents, and even the family dog, you're wondering how to deal with the fact you're alone this christmas. once again. luckily for you, gaz is quite eager to offer himself for the job to be your pretend boyfriend for a weekend.
this is v heavily inspired by the interaction i had with @buttdumplin during my gaz day celebration. i dedicate all 7 chapters of this to u. the full work is available on my ao3 here! if you'd like a quick teaser, the prologue is down below 😘❤️
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“What time are you coming in?”
“Probably around late afternoon to early evening.”
“Do you think you’ll be in time for dinner?”
“Yeah, I’m planning on leaving pretty early so I can make the drive.”
“What? You’re not flying in? Or taking the train?”
You sigh, switching your phone to the other ear while you continue to stuff more random clothes you forgot you had into a suitcase. You didn’t realize you brought so much stuff. And screw winter clothes for having to be so bulky. Why can’t they make warm clothing that doesn’t take up 70% of the space in your bag with just one coat and a pair of boots? Why do you have to look like the Michelin Man to protect yourself from the cold? Man, going ready to go home for the holidays sucked.
“I’m going to drive. I decided maybe I can make a few stops on the way to visit some of my friends before coming home.” You think about your plans with Price, how he invited you to have brunch with him before both you and him go to your families. Gives you both just one more day to be able to unwind and not have to deal with the chaos of your big families, no matter how much you love them.
“Are you sure?” your mom asks, her tone evident that she’s disappointed she can’t have you for a few more days. “You can still fly in and we can have one of your uncles or aunts go pick you up at the airport.”
And there was the part that sucked the most about going home for the holidays. No doubt seeing you come back with nobody to introduce to the chaos of home means whoever would pick you up or see you first sends the (unsurprising) news to the family group chats. You’ll have to hear way too many comments about how it’s time for you to settle down and start a family. Why’d you have to choose such a dangerous job anyways? Why couldn’t you go into accounting and find someone nice who can finally stand next to you in the holiday family photos so it’s not empty in that spot anymore?
“I’m sure, mom,” you drag on, already feeling drained at the mere thought of encountering your family again.
“Are you bringing—“
“I’ve got to finish packing. Bye!” You hang up, knowing that she’s got some few choice words to say but wouldn’t bother calling you back. She’s probably too busy having to coordinate with family already in town and family that’s arriving since your home is the host location this time.
It’s not long after you’ve thrown so many more pairs of underwear than days you’re spending away that you decide now is a good stopping point. All that’s left is to pack the necessities that you’re still using for now, which can be done up until the point you leave. You’re sitting in a more open space, wanting to be away from the mess of your barracks for the time being.
“Heading home soon?”
You turn and find Gaz has entered the space, giving you an easy smile and nod of his head. You slump a little more in your seat, as if his company has made you even more relaxed in the cushions. He leans against the back of the couch and stares down at you with that smile of his. You note the beanie he dons on today instead of his usual hat. Make sense, though. It’s a lot colder inside than it usually is, most likely because more people are gone which means no reason to have the heating on so high.
“Yeah, I’m off to visit Price first before making the drive home though.”
“You’re driving?” he asks, a little perplexed given that you complained about not having snow tires a while ago.
“Didn’t want to go home so early. My family keeps nagging me because I’m wasting away my years single when I should’ve been married with three kids by now.”
“I thought you wanted two,” he grins teasingly, having remembered this conversation where you had said if you were to ever have kids at all… then two would be the perfect number. And the conversation stemmed from a dream you were taking care of two mini you’s, exact replicas of you just mini sized, and were trying to figure out how to get into the Epcot ball that was supposedly filled with even more mini you’s.
You let out a sarcastic chuckle and another sigh. “What about you?”
“Personally, I think two is also a good number.”
“I meant when are you going home, dumbass?” You chuck a pillow at him and he catches it with ease. He throws it back down on you and it lands on your head and musses up your hair so some gets in your face. You can’t see the way he pauses and shrugs because you’re busy moving the pillow and fixing your hair. Not realizing he’s opened his mouth to speak, you go on to continue. “I bet your family’s not as bad as mine for the holidays. I’m gonna have to be sat next at the kids table again and talk with my twelve-year-old cousin who likes to brag at how they a boyfriend and I don’t.”
Gaz ponders for a moment and you look up to him pursing his lips. “What if…” he trails off, looking conflicted with what he’s about to say next.
You arch a brow at him. “What if…?”
He hums in thought again, still trying to gauge if he should make his suggestion or not. Gaz looks into your eyes and for a moment you get lost in them trying to decipher whatever he could possibly be thinking about. “I mean, how would you not get sat at the kids table?”
“Uh, well, there’s not enough seats for one. But, also, it’s because they treat me like the designated babysitter since I’m like the solo chaperone.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
“Where are you getting at with this?” It seems like he’s gone from that mist of overthinking and now Gaz is full of confidence. He sounds like he usually does when he has a plan that he knows is going to be successful.
“Humor me.” He holds up his hands as if to put you at ease, but the rising suspicion in you is not making itself pretty evident on your face. “What if… for the holidays… it’s time to spruce things up!”
He looks pleased with himself. Too pleased. “Was that a Christmas pun?”
“C’mon, that was a good one! I have a solution for you. By the sounds of it, you’re in dire need of assistance. This is snow laughing matter!”
You groan, tired of the way he’s beating around the bush. You rub at your face and smack his hand that rests on the couch and he retracts it with a pout. “Gaz! Out with it, just tell me!”
“Someone’s got a resting grinch face,” he mumbles. At the glare you give him, he clears his throat and gives you an amused smile. “How about I go with you for the holidays?”
“Like spend time with me like I am Price? Sure, where’s home again? So I can plot it on the map and arrange my travel schedule fine. I’m okay prolonging staying with my family for a couple more days if you wanted to spend time with me.” You start thinking of the itinerary and suppose that missing out on the family Christmas card pictures is fine since you’re always booted to the far right since all the couples take up the space in between.
“No, like, I mean go with you. To spend time with you and your family.” His grin falters a little bit as the nervousness of his proposal comes back to him. He’d be inhuman not to with the way you’re deadpanning at him as you try to figure out what he means. He answers your unspoken question with a phrase that leads to a million more questions. “I can pretend to be your boyfriend to save you from your relatives.”
You think on it for a moment. What a proposal… would it be such a great idea? I mean, Gaz is a great guy and a reliable teammate to you. He’s one of the very few you’d trust with your life and all your secrets. But how would you pull it off? How would your family react? How would you act once the holidays are over?
Fuck it. “Okay, let’s do it.”
Gaz grins so wide that his energy is starting to rub off on you. You mirror his smile and sit up against the couch more comfortable. “Great! Snow time like the present, I always say.”
He doesn’t always say that, but you can’t stop the endeared look you give him while smacking him with a pillow again. “First things first, no more bad Christmas puns.”
“Ouch,” Gaz laughs when you put on a fake grimace. “Looks like those were a miss…tletoe.” He gets hit with the pillow once more.
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rebelfell · 1 month
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Yeah, they won't leave my brain... 18+, MDNI
older!fem!Harrington!reader x eddie munson
cont’d from here
So it turns out he's not the gardener.
He is, technically, in the sense that he's your nephew's best friend who mows the lawn and does other yard work during the summer in exchange for extra cash and pool access.
Fine. Whatever. Good to know.
Far more importantly—he's an asshole.
Because he easily could have told you who he was when you were running him off like a stray dog. And he does, eventually, admit to that and apologize…later, when he comes into the kitchen and you two exchange a few terse words, hissed under your breath so Steve won't overhear. Until you finally mellow into a civil, albeit begrudging, tolerance. He's just a kid, after all.
Except he doesn't seem like a kid, though, when you’re stretched up on your tip-toes trying to get down a mixing bowl. And before you’ve asked, or before you tell him not to bother, he's at your side. He slots into place behind you, his hips just shy of grinding into your ass as he brings the bowl down and holds it in front of you, his arms circling your body as he waits for you to take hold.
Of the bowl, that is.
A shiver actually runs up your spine you as you cup the bottom, hands resting under his, your thumbs grazing his pinkies, static buzzing. And when he steps away, you can see how his reach made the hem of his shirt ride up to reveal the deep cut of a v-muscle and a faint patch of hair that swirls just below his navel and trails down underneath the band of his boxers.
And your neck nearly snaps from the force with which you jerk your head up when you realize way too late that you're basically staring directly at his crotch. And you're so, so sure you're going to find him making that shit-eating grin of his when you look up. But you don't. Because he hasn't even noticed. Because he is (just as blatantly, if not moreso) looking down your shirt.
His eyes and yours meet on pure instinct, and you're closer to him than you've ever been before, trapped staring into his eyes that feel as dark and vast as space. As though they could swallow you up and you would just drift off in them forever.
No. No. Absolutely not.
You clear your throat and turn away, carrying the bowl to the stove. "Dinner in twenty," you tell him.
Flat. Passive. No emotion. Not so much as a waver in your voice to be up for misinterpretation. And he just stands there staring at you, studying your back, the imperceptible rise and fall of your shoulders. Searching, wondering...
Did you feel that too?
But you keep your head down. You keep your eyes glued to the salad you're making. You keep your breathing even, feeling like it’s performance art, until you hear the steady tink of the chain on his wallet with every step he takes out of the kitchen to relay your message to Steve.
Stupid, you call yourself. Stupid, silly, absurd—
There’s no end to the disparaging words that fill your head. Because you've done a lot of dumb things in your life (too many to even count) but there's no way you're adding this to that list.
It doesn't matter if he's twenty-four. It doesn’t matter if he’s the one who keeps showing up and smiling at you and looking at you like that. And it doesn’t matter if you’re separated and that your ring has been off for so long now there’s not even an impression of it on your skin anymore.
And aside from all that, this is all just a joke anyway. Isn’t it? Because why else would he be talking like to you like he did or smiling at you like he did if it wasn’t for a gag?
Except...suddenly, he's just hanging around the house all the time.
He starts showing up in the mornings asking for Steve, even though he knows Steve sleeps in until at least ten—eleven or noon if he had a date the night before. No problem, he smirks. I’ll wait.
And he breezes through the door, walking past you like he owns the place and parking himself at the kitchen table while you make your breakfast. And he just...stares at you. Until his staring turns to talk. It’s mostly innocent, occasionally toeing the line into impropriety. But you’re quick to correct the course if it does.
You talk about music because you’ve always got some playing. And that leads in to talk about his band, and him asking if you’ve ever been to the Hideout. Which makes you laugh, because you’ve probably been thrown out of the Hideout more times than he’s even been in it.
But he doesn’t need to know all that.
And he sleeps over an awful lot. Steve says it’s because his uncle works nights and Eddie would never admit this, but he gets lonely. Plus, they’ve got nothing but spare rooms, so who does it hurt?But that doesn’t explain why he feels the need to strut around the house in nothing but a pair of his sweatpants slung low on his narrow hips, or stand in the kitchen drinking milk from the carton with such fervor it dribbles down his tattooed chest.
And when you clear your throat behind him, your foot tapping on the tiled floor as your eyes burn a hole in the side of his face, he just lazily turns his head and offers it to you with a cheeky smile.
And it just keeps going on like that for weeks. You keep thinking he has to get bored soon, he has to be ready to move on, he has to be getting tired of acting like he's actually…
You can't even finish that thought.
It's one that’s too ludicrous to entertain, the idea someone like him would actually waste a moment of his summer on you. And yet…he’s still there.
He’s there in the mornings when you two have breakfast and listen to records. And he’s there in the afternoons when he mows the lawn or takes a dip in the pool, always winking at you and asking if you wanna cool off. And he’s there after dinner in the evening, sitting right next to you on the couch as you, he and Steve watch a movie.
And one time, he’s there in the middle of the night. When you can’t sleep and you slip outside to get some air only to find him sitting with his feet propped up on the patio table and a joint between his lips that he’s just lit.
And you do probably the last thing either of you expect when you pull out the chair next to him and hold our your fingers in a silent request.
He passes it to you, a ribbon of smoke curling in the air as it leaves his lips. You both puff on it a few times, listening to the crickets and the chh chh chh of neighboring sprinklers going off.
You talk the way you always do, the way that now feels almost natural. You ask him about Hawkins High, and lament about how little has changed when he tells you which teachers were still kicking around when he graduated.
“What were you like back then?” he asks you, sounding somehow like he really, truly wants to know. Like he cares.
"I was a lot like you, actually," you tell him with a wry and knowing smile as you bring the joint to your lips. "A little stubborn, a little headstrong...a little bit of a shit head."
Eddie chuckles darkly as he leans in.
He's close now. Close enough you can smell the pack of Camels in his pocket and the little spritz of cologne he’s wearing that dances in your nose. Close enough you can hear the wet sound his lips make as he pulls the bottom one behind his teeth before he answers you with a wicked grin.
“Trust me, sweetheart…there's nothing shitty about my head.”
The words make your breath catch. His eyes shine and even in the darkness there’s no way to mistake what he’s thinking about. You shake your head, trying to clear the fog that filled it. And you mutter to yourself as you stub out the joint and place it in the ashtray, avoiding his gaze.
“I should get to bed.”
You stand abruptly, unsteady on legs that shake. And you nearly stumble until Eddie jumps to his feet and catches you, cradling you against him. His nose touches yours, slippery with sweat from the balmy summer air. His breath hits your lips, hot and heavy as you pant into one another.
His eyes start to flutter closed…
“Eddie, you’ve got to stop,” you gasp, no longer in control of your heart rate. “I—we can’t do this.”
He blinks back at you, his doe eyes as big as the full moon overhead. And you half expect him to laugh in your face: Do what? you imagine him cackling. You think I really want some crypt-keeper who can’t even keep her marriage together? You think I would want you?
Except he doesn’t say anything of the sort. He just shakes his head, his face filled with concern, the tiniest little pinch in his brow appearing as he whispers, softer than the crickets.
“Why not?”
And there’s no answer you can give him.
All you can do is slip out of his arms, avoiding his gaze as you retreat, heading back to your room to try and sleep—practically impossible with his words spinning in your head and your skin burning everywhere he touched you.
For almost a week after, you don’t see him.
A few times, you catch sight of his van sitting in the driveway as Steve runs out the door, calling out to you that he’s headed to the lake or the movies or the mall. But that’s it.
Good, you tell yourself. This is what you wanted. This is the best way to stay out of trouble. This is how you should have handled it from the start.
When he does return, it’s only as moral support for Steve when he comes to ask you for a favor. Because it’s gonna be his birthday soon and he wants to throw a party. And he swears, swears, swears it won’t get out of control. So you think, avoiding Eddie’s gaze as much as he’s avoiding yours as he hovers beside his friend, his hands behind his back as he cranes his neck to look anywhere but at you. Finally, you nod.
“Everyone has a DD. No one underage. Nobody comes upstairs and if anyone vomits you two—”You motion at him and Eddie, “clean it up.”
Steve and you shake on it. Done and done.
The night of the party, you spend the evening upstairs as promised. Steve keeps his word and only a select group of friends are invited. Enough to make it a good turnout, but not so many that it’s a rager. They keep the music at a moderate level and the loudest thing you hear up in your room is Steve and his best friend Robin, who cheer every time they win a round of pong.
Still, you pass the time as best you can and your curiosity only gets the better of you once. Once, you stand at your window that overlooks the backyard. Once, you allow yourself to peek through the blinds and scan the party.
Once and only once, do you look for Eddie.
You find him at the fire pit, talking to a girl who’s sidled up next to him, pushing her perky tits in his face. She’s pretty in that way all girls his age are—with everything on them pointing up and nothing that sags. No bags under their eyes or extra flab on their arms. No silver slivers in their hair.
He seems distant as he talks to her, barely taking his eyes off the flames that flicker before him. She drapes a lithe arm across his shoulder and leans in close to whisper something in his ear.
Whatever it is she says, Eddie seems un-phased. Or maybe that’s just you trying to make yourself feel better with your gut twisted into knots. You flee from the window, mad at yourself for even looking, and bury yourself back in your book.
Then, no more than ten minutes later, a soft creak of footsteps on the stairs has you tossing it to the side and climbing out of bed.
"Upstairs is off limits—"
The hallway is dark except for the light that comes from your room as you crack open your bedroom door. The gash of amber casts directly across Eddie's face as he pauses and drops his hand that was already raised to knock.
"Hey," he says.
And you never knew three letters could sound so loaded. You pull your robe closed a little tighter.
"What's the matter? Is something wrong?"
His head bobs, all non-committal as he takes a careful step nearer. Missed you, he wants to say.
"Just...got bored,” he says instead. You snort.
"You didn't look all that bored to me."
That smirk creeps across his lips at that and you can practically see how his ego inflates, his chest puffing up with pride, eyes sparking with intrigue.
"You checking up on me?"
He asks and the smirk turns into a full-on grin, one that flashes his teeth, bared like an animal’s. Which one of you is the predator again?
"No," you bite back, the word sharp and barbed. Also a lie. "I was just making sure you guys aren't completely wrecking my sister's house."
"You sure?" he asks lowly, taking another step closer. "You don't wish you were down there with me? Keeping me in line?”
He leans against the wall, tilting his head towards you. You can smell the fire pit on him. It’s stronger and more potent than anything else. The beer on his breath. His cologne. The body spray of that girl who was hanging all over him.
"Positive," you say, forcing yourself to control your trembling and yet unable to stop the audible gulp that leaves your throat.
“Ohhh,” Eddie smiles. “So you just wanted me up here with you, then? Is that it?”
You wish it wasn't so easy for him to draw you in. You wish you had enough self-control to send him away. You wish you weren’t wondering what his lips taste like or what you’d actually do if he leaned in to kiss you right now…
And like he can read your mind, he’s moving in. His lips catch the corner of your mouth like he’s daring you to turn your chin the mere millimeters required to really kiss him. There’s stubble on his jaw, too short for you to see, but you can feel how it rasps against your cheek.
Your hand comes up and it lands in the center of his chest, but you're not stopping him or pushing him away. If anything, you're leaning on it as your body is swaying towards him.
"You shouldn't be up here," you groan softly, the words meant to remind yourself as much as him. "You should go back downstairs."
His hair rustles as he shakes his head. "No," he says firmly. "I don't give a shit about anybody downstairs. I wanna be right here."
The calloused pads of his fingers tug at the silk tie of your robe. He pulls it open and you let it hang, making no attempt to hide your sleep clothes.
He sinks to his knees right there in the hallway, his gaze never leaving yours as his mouth meets your breast. His lips surround your nipple, his wet tongue swirling and sliding over the stiffening bud until his spit has soaked through the thin material of your camisole. The very same one you had on the first day you saw him.
"Please," he says over and over, with his eyes rounded and his voice hushed, "Please, please, please." And your thoughts are just an echo of his words, almost begging with yourself the same way he’s begging with you.
Please give in. Please let him hold you...touch you...taste you. Please have him show you how you deserve to be pleased.
Fuck it.
His curls twisted in your grasp, you drag him to his feet and bring his lips to yours to feast on his mouth. Both of you moaning, pawing at the other as you stumble backwards, bringing him with you into the bedroom—finally taking what you want.
Because if you’re going to hell, it might as well be in first class.
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akicult · 1 year
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contains…established relationship. fem!reader. mutual masturbation. virgin!reader. college au. no curses / sorcerers. reformed player!geto <3. messy making out. cum shot. lovesick!geto (i’m serious). praise. so much fluff. not proofread.
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your boyfriend is just so hot.
you have eyes, you have common sense, you have a brain. you’re not oblivious to the stares he gets, and the late-night messages he receives that he’s never once responded to.
you’re fully aware of the countless girls who talk bad about you, whining about how a man such as geto could possibly settle down with a prude like you, and how he’s likely getting what he doesn’t get from you somewhere else.
it doesn’t matter, however.
you know he’s not like that anymore. in fact, he’s far from it.
he’s wrapped around your finger, so whipped you’re practically walking him on a leash at all times. he’s so obviously infatuated with you—that’s why people talk.
he’s in love with you—point blank. he’s incredibly infatuated with his beautiful girlfriend, oblivious to the girls who wantonly text him despite his experiences because, in his mind—if he’s in love, so is everyone else!
the thing is, though, geto has no idea just how similar you two are.
he knows that obviously you love him too, and there is a reason you’re still dating him. but he doesn’t know the entire extent to how much you love him. how much you long for him.
he doesn’t know the nights he’s away, you spend with your thoughts wavering and your mind all foggy.
he doesn’t know you spend your nights apart the same way he does—flushed, aching, and desperate for a release.
it’s not like you haven’t given him any reason to believe you’re sexually attracted to him—you let him know just how handsome he looks all the time. but due to your abstinence, he doesn’t let the compliment spread too far.
he keeps his hands clean, until he can dirty them when you’re apart.
he’s probably a little dense for not realizing you’re just as desperate as he is—there’s just the matter of you being emotionally—or physically, for that matter—ready for such a change in your life.
and if he’s being honest, he doesn’t mind the waiting. there’s a newfound want he’s gained. it’s not the want to get his dick wet, it’s a want to please you.
to make you feel good, to see just what makes your head spin—not his.
you’ve known it from the start that geto suguru will be the man who takes your virginity. but now wasn’t the time—despite how needy your body was reacting to him.
“you’re so—god—annoying,” you pant, lips moving sloppily against his, knuckles growing white from the grip you held on his large t-shirt.
he snickers against your mouth, hand wrapped tightly around your lower waist to keep you pressed below him. you taste so sweet, like the soft serve you were innocently licking just minutes ago that he had absentmindedly asked if he could have a taste of.
it resulted in you childishly eating the rest of the ice cream, claiming there was “no more” he could have. you were giggling about the mess you made, before he assured you there was definitely a way he could still have some.
despite how cold your lips were, he held you tight against his chest, palm cupping your cheek and making a mess out of you desperately.
he’s so painfully good at kissing you. at getting a rise out of you. if you weren’t so scared of the intimacy sex endures, you’d for sure have already done it with him. countless times at that.
he just made you so needy.
“ya should’ve let me have a bite, sweetheart.” he teases, nearly stealing every ounce of your breath and nibbling on your cheeks.
despite the cold sweet was (somehow) still lingering on your tongue, you could feel the sheen of sweat accumulating on your forehead.
he guides his open-mouthed kisses to your neck, wantonly nibbling and sucking on your skin he’s grown to find was sensitive, letting your head topple back while he does so.
your legs were loose where they wrapped around his waist.
“suguru—“ you breathe, mind racing a mile a minute.
he takes a moment to respond, allowing your back to arch and a short whimper part your lips before he pulls away to admire the small purple hickey he charitably made. “what, baby?” he hums, grinning down at his work before leaning back in to pair it with another one.
“what do you do when you get like…really horny?”
he pauses, cutting his new lovebite short before he’s leaning over you again, and this time looking at you in your eyes.
he slides his thumb across your swollen lower lip, fighting a smirk.
“i masturbate.” he says assuringly.
your breaths were still even—still quick. your chest rose each time you inhaled until you exhaled, and the taste on your tongue was a mixture of two things—the ice cream, and your boyfriend.
“and, do you think of me?” you ask.
he’s never told you—mainly because he was always kind of afraid you’d be upset by the fact that he does, indeed.
which, certainly you’d have the right to feel upset. he’s nearly violating your privacy—but then again, he can’t really control his subconscious. it’s not his fault he goes into autopilot as soon as he’s alone with his hand, and the thoughts of his pretty little girlfriend.
he lets out a short laugh, leaking with nervousness, while his eyes waver with maintaining contact.
“well, i mean—“
“because i think of you.” you interrupt, pulling your lower lip between your teeth. your gaze falls to his—how glossy and plump they look.
his eyes widen.
“really?” he can’t help but wonder, and that smirk he was fighting had won.
“all the time. every time.” you whine, your knuckles tightening their hold on his shirt.
he could gape, but the sly grin on his face was overpowering. he loved hearing you say that.
“i do too—every time.” he confesses, sliding his tongue across his lips.
he notes the small specks glowing in your eyes, and how your irises grow just a little.
“what do you think about?”
he smiles down at you, raking his mind for every thought he’s had of you—and there were many. he knows just what he thinks about, every single time.
he doesn’t want to walk on eggshells anymore, not after knowing you think of him the same.
“pleasing you. just how you’d react if i did certain things. how you’d sound, look, taste, feel. everything.” he says honestly, sliding his thumb across your cheek.
you couldn’t deny the heat that spread to your face, and just how dryer your throat has gotten. but more specifically, just how dizzy your head had grown.
“what about you? what do you think about?” he asks before you can say anything in response.
you lick your lips, a small chuckle leaving to fan his cheek. “what it’d be like. how you’d feel, and make me feel.” you murmur, flattening your hand against his chest.
he couldn’t deny the way his ego—already overflowing—grew at your words. he knows about his large sexual history, and how people think of him, but this confession instantly made it to the top of his list. he might never forget it. especially since it’s you admitting it.
he can’t help but grin at the image, because he knows he’d make your first time worth your while. worth all of the time he’s patiently waited—and how much longer he’ll wait ahead.
you sigh, gliding your hands up his chest to link around his neck.
“god—i just want to do it. get it over with. you make me crazy,” you admit, chuckling quietly while keeping your gaze set on his lips. “but i can’t yet. i just—i don’t know why. i just can’t.”
he smiles, sliding his palm down the side of your face, brushing short pieces of hair from your eyes before he cups your cheek.
“and i’d never ask you to. i’m happy with waiting, my love. just being in the same room is enough.” he reassures, and despite deep down knowing this, you couldn’t help the feeling of a weight being lifted from your chest.
you swallow nervously, trying your best to ignore your hands which were growing weak and your stomach which was starting to tighten due to a lack of friction your core has been craving for a few minutes now.
“and—but i’m just so horny right now. i’m so—i need you.” you whine, your breaths picking up and chest heaving against his.
he lets his hand that was tight around your waist loosen a little, cupping your waist and looking at you deeply. he almost groans at your words, something he’s never heard come out of your lips.
“what do you want me to do?” he asks, lowering to press a deep kiss to the opposite cheek he was holding, and then another one to your jaw.
you chew on your lower lip, clearly contemplating something in your mind with the way your eyebrows furrow and your gaze wavers. your body was flushed, hot and sticky underneath your clothes—combining with his weight and warmth over you.
you carefully press your hand against his shoulder, using small force until he gets the message and confusingly lifts himself from you, crawling back onto the cushion of the couch that wasn’t occupied.
“i, just—“ you begin to stutter, your sparkling eyes flickering with a certain want—a need—that geto has never seen before and he feels himself swell in his sweats.
“i want you…to, just—“ you trail off again, sliding your pink tongue across your plump lips and he finds himself staring.
that is, until your knees that were previously pressed together slowly begin to separate, and his eyes subconsciously fall to your hand that is weaseling it’s way down your clothed body.
his eyes instinctively widen, watching your dainty and nimble fingers disappear between your shorts and underwear, and the moment your lips part and you gasp ever-so-quietly—he feels his body light on fire.
oh god, you were touching yourself.
right in front of him.
he feels like he might go crazy, the way your head tips back to dangle over the armrest, and the way your chest heaves as your hand picks up its pace.
he wonders why you tilted your head back. is it just a reflex, is that how you always react? or is it to hide your face which is undoubtedly on fire, and avoid eye contact with the man who’s nearly about to short circuit in front of you?
a little part of you is probably embarrassed. but why pay attention to that right now when he makes you act like this? when he gets you so worked up?
“nghh—” you whimper, and geto’s hand moved all on his own. he wraps his hand around his length through his sweats, his eyes lidding when looks at you.
“fuck,” he moans your name, half-trying to get your attention and half-subconsciously just talking. your teeth nibble on your bottom lip when you lower your chin, fragile gaze growing a little more confident when you see just what you’re also doing to him.
when you get to see how you make him feel every time he sees you. he’s never been driven so insane.
your eyes fall to his hand, watching him pump himself through his clothing just like you were doing, before your gaze meets his.
“kiss me.” you mutter, a little more commanding then intended but hey—who’s he to deny?
he surges forward, his free hand cupping and sliding towards the back of your neck as his lips connect to yours.
and it’s so messy. so sloppy, he can immediately taste your saliva. your tongue, so soft and slippery, and there’s moans pushing from your lips while you continue to touch yourself. he makes a silent effort to press himself against you—and the groan he lets out from the feel of your hand rubbing your clit against the back of his nearly makes you laugh around his lips.
“c-can i—do it too?” he stutters, mumbling into your mouth.
you could melt.
“yes—sugu, yeah,” you pant, nodding your head which unlatches your lips. your eyebrows pinch together as the pad of your finger presses against your clit, feeling your wetness soak through your thin pair of underwear.
geto groans, sloppily fumbling with the waistband of his sweatpants before he moves to pull them down his legs.
he hovers over you again, hand continuing to palm himself through his thin boxers. he keeps his eyes on yours, watching how the grow a little heavier, and your head rolls to the side to rest your cheek against the cushion.
your hand has picked up its pace, and even though he’d never ask—he wishes he knew exactly what you were doing to yourself because whatever it was makes your chest heave, and another desperate whimper push through your lips and fill the steamy, thick air.
“s’it feel good?“ he sighs, dipping his fingers into his boxers to officially give himself some skin-to-skin contact.
you nod, whimpering. “mm, yeah—i’m s’wet.” you moan, fluttering your eyes closed as you sigh.
his head hurts. he’s aching to know just how wet you are. he’s dying to know how it feels.
but he’s a patient man. in fact, just hearing the way you touch yourself is enough.
his cock is throbbing, it almost hurts to grab when he frees himself from his thin restraint, and pumps his hand quickly along his length.
you open your eyes to peek when he lets out a stifled whimper.
your eyes widen at what you see—and not just because his dick is the first real one you’ve ever seen, but because of how large he was.
his hand was so much bigger then yours, and he couldn’t even fit the size of himself.
his angry red tip, throbbing and leaking. he’s so long, and there’s a pretty pale vein running alongside his length that makes you suck in a breath. you wonder how it’d feel inside you.
he didn’t see the way your eyes widen, only the way your hand seemingly picked up speed below your shorts and he slides his tongue along his lower lip.
“y-you’re—“ you whisper, your eyes moving to trail up his physique you’ve already seen a handful of times, until they meet his gaze. “you’re so big.”
he can feel stars in his eyes, his length twitching immediately, while the compliment puffs up in his chest. he wants to reach out, kiss you all over, make it apparent that his lips were against your skin to anyone who’d be nearby.
“yeah?” he chuckles, rubbing his thumb across his slit. you marvel in the quiet whimper that he involuntarily lets out, watching his lips purse together before his foggy gaze meets yours again.
you nod, but before you could say anything you quietly stifle a moan when your fingers roll over your clit in a particular way, causing your breath to hitch and your head to fall back once again.
geto thinks he can watch you forever, with the way your breaths grow staggered, and your clothed chest heaves when you inhale. his vision grows dizzy when he sees the way your eyebrows pinch, and the way you desperately press your teeth into your lower lip to muffle your quiet whimpers and moans.
he wants the image to be burned into his brain forever—because god, this is what you look like when you’re touching yourself. this is what you look like when you’re alone in your bedroom, thinking of him just like he does to you.
he almost feels embarrassed when he can feel the all-too-familiar build up in his lower stomach.
his eyes roll when he lets out a low groan, subconsciously leaning forward and pressing his free hand to the armrest beside you.
“‘m close,” he whines, embarrassingly so because usually he could last much longer—but you made his will fly out the window.
you nod slowly, picking up your pace before a quiet sob of, “m-me too,” wobbles out of your throat.
his eyes warily open at your words. he needs to see your face when you cum. he peeks his gaze down to your hand, and it’s only then when he realizes—he’s actually about to cum.
“where should i—i dunno—“ he’s stuttering, panting while he speaks and he’s surprised it’s even intelligible.
but when you arch yourself a little more, bringing yourself closer into him and your eyes move to meet his—he thinks he might burst right then and there.
or was it when you silently use your other hand to raise your—his—shirt, securing it just under the mound of your breasts to reveal your soft, plump stomach and you look him dead in the eyes when you say, “here. do it on me.”
“what?” he breathes, eyes lidded.
you scoot in closer to him. “cum. on me.”
he doesn’t know exactly what it was that did it for him—the gesture, or your persistence? whatever it was, that was enough for his eyes to roll back and deep, low groan force it’s way out of his throat.
his dark tresses fall around his face, despite the way he kept it in a loose bun. his jaw breaks open, pinched eyebrows and lidded eyes molding across his features the same moment the pumping of his hand staggers.
you moan on your own, nearly grinning under your matching expression when your hand matches the speed of your breaths, and the warm splatter across your stomach is enough to make you finish.
“fuck,” he drawls, voice croaking and head dangling.
your body grows limp, head falling back onto the cushion of your couch. your breaths suddenly become very audible, both yours and geto’s matching as they slowly calm down.
although geto has had countless sexual experiences, this was by far the most intimate thing he has ever done.
he couldn’t stop himself when he leans in to cup your cheek, pressing your warm lips against his and stealing every ounce of breath you had left in your lungs.
your knee presses against his hip, caging him close and pressing his soft lips to yours. you let out a short moan, accepting his endearing kiss despite the fact that you were still trying to catch your breath.
“i love you,” he mumbles, peppering his kisses to your cheek. “y’didn’t have to do that…”
“well it wasn’t really for you.” you snort honestly, smoothing your fingers through his long dark hair. “i needed that.”
his stomach flips, his short kisses never faltering until he raises his chin to plant a longer one right on the middle of your forehead.
“let me get you a towel.” he sighs, using his weakened strength to lift himself off the couch, taking a turn down the hallway where he knew you kept your spare towels in the bathroom. he grabs a small wash cloth, dampening it quickly.
his cheeks were red and flushed, much like the rest of his skin. his forehead was sticky, long black strands sticking to his skin but he paid no mind.
you purse your lips, letting one of your legs lay across the cushions of the couch while the other props next to you, your eyes fall to the rather large, thick, white ropes of cum sitting on your bare stomach. you hardly stifle your chuckle.
something about tipping him over the edge like you did—it made your ego explode.
that’s never happened to you before.
he returns a mere few seconds later with a damp towel in his hand. you allow him to gently wipe it across your own sweaty and flushed skin, leant back against the armrest in peaceful silence.
his soft, smooth hands slide against your dampened stomach, gently pressing his thumb into the plush endearingly.
“are you feeling okay?” he asks, and when you make eye contact you don’t miss the way his pupils grow.
“why wouldn’t i be?”
he shrugs, but inevitably accepts the way your arms open and your knees part to make a slot for him to lay. he presses his face into your upper chest, cheek smushing.
“because you’ve never done anything like that. not with someone else, at least.” his voice comes out a soft mumble. “i just wanna make sure you’re really okay.”
he melts into your loving hold, your legs wrapping around his torso and fingers running through his hair.
“i really am. i love you, suguru—i promise, that was exactly what i needed.” you press a small kiss to the top of his head. “i want to do more, i really do. but—baby steps.”
he gives you a tight squeeze, raising his head to press his cheek into the crook of your neck fondly.
“take as long as you need, my love. i’d never ask you to.” and you know he’s being honest.
his eyes open to lock with yours when he raises his chin. “but i hope you know that if you let me take your virginity, i’m not going to let you just ‘get it over with’.”
you head lulls when you let out a short chuckle, relaying the quote in your head before your hand meets his warm cheek, and you lower your chin just a little to press a kiss to his pink lips.
“when,” you correct. “there’s no other man i’d want to experience my first time with then you, suguru.”
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sorry if this is so cheesy and corny and rushed ugh i haven’t posted in so long </3
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