#idk what's going on really I want to call it burn out but it's been lasting longer than it should and I feel god awful about my work atm

[luv4kozume]

⏳ 𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 — MATT STURNIOLO

PersonalTrainer!Matt x Fem!Reader

Contains: Swearing, slow burn, hella praise, teasing/flirting, pet names (baby, good girl), dry humping, fingering, doggy, stomach bulge, public(ish) sex, unprotected sex, cum-shot (lol idk what to call this). Semi-proof read!

Synopsis: A story in which you and your personal trainer, Matt have some underlying attraction and sexual tension during your session. What happens when neither of you can fight back the temptation anymore?

Word Count: 5,103

a/n: HEY GUYS!!! I know I disappeared from here for a week or so but I’m back now!! I hope this smutty Matt fic makes up for my absence??

*:･ﾟ✧ 💌 *:･ﾟ✧

The sun rays crept through your window that sat right above your kitchen sink, your headphones resting at your neck as you opened your fridge door. You hummed, grabbing onto various different fruits.

You spun around on your heels, closing the door back with your hip before placing them on the kitchen counter. You glanced over at the clock to make sure that you were still making good time as you tossed the already diced pineapples and mangoes into the blender. You added a couple more things before blending it all together. Once satisfied by the thickness of the smoothie and the slight pink tint to it, you slowly poured it into your cup.

Recently, you had really gotten into fitness. It had been on your bucket list for quite some time and you're finally taking it into action. You had even taken it as far as hiring a personal trainer to help keep you motivated. Although, you sometimes wondered if he was the sole purpose as to why you kept going to the gym in the first place.

Over time, you had developed this little crush on him. Your stomach flipped every time the two of you were alone together during sessions. He had this thing where he loved praising you, obviously you assumed the man was just doing his job but sometimes it felt so much more than that.

However, you never planned to act on this assumption. The last thing you wanted was for there to be some awkward tension between the two of you because you were confusing his kindness for flirting. So you decided to keep those thoughts of attraction to yourself. Besides, it was just an innocent crush.

*ೃ༄

The glass door squeaked a bit as you pushed it open, the gym was empty and a musk scent filled the room. There were full length mirrors scattered just about everywhere, along with many machines used for exercise.

Some of them intimidated you, since you were only just a beginner. But Matt never made you feel pressured in your progress and always reassured you to go at your own pace.

He had a kind and gentle demeanor about him that always made you feel safe whenever he was around. You couldn’t help but wonder if he remained that way in the bedroom as well, your heart raced at just the thought of his praise in that context.

He hadn’t noticed you right away when you made it through the doors until it slammed shut behind you.

He sat across the room, hunched over on a bench. His thighs spreading apart as his arms draped over his lap and his phone rested in his hand. A silver chain shining just past his collarbone, which was fully visible due to his black tank that complimented the grey sweatpants he had on— that hung dangerously low at his hips.

“Hey.” He finally spoke, raising his head up with a smile as you walked closer towards him. “You ready for today?”

You sat on the bench next to him as he switched off his phone and placed it in the pocket of his sweats.

“Yes.” You say nearly out of breath, you could hear your pulse in your ears as he locked his eyes with yours. He made you terribly nervous and you hadn’t had the slightest idea why, especially since nothing has even happened yet.

You could’ve swore that you saw his eyes flicker down to your thighs before going back up to your face. Surely it was an accident, but another part of you hoped otherwise.

“Have you been practicing your form?” He smirked.

You cringed slightly at his question, knowing exactly what he was referring to. The main reason why you wanted to started working out was to build more muscle in your legs and core, but what you didn’t realize was just how intense those exercises can be.

One of those not even being a full exercise at all and just a “simple” warm up instead. The thought of even doing a plank right now made your stomach churn with dread.

“Yeah, of course.” You lie right through your teeth, hoping he doesn’t pick up on it.

“You sure?” Matt teased, getting up from the bench and walking towards the center of the gym. “Wanna come prove that to me?”

“Sure.” You reply in nearly a whisper as Matt adjusted one of the memory foam mats on the floor. This made it easier for your joins to withstand the stretches.

You knelt down, getting on your palms and knees. You could feel his gaze burning into the back of your silhouette, like he was trying to undress you with his eyes. You tried your best to brush off that giddy feeling that rushed through you, getting flustered at just the mere thought of Matt thinking of you in that way.

You let out a shaky exhale as you lowered your head, dropping your chin down into your chest as you supported your weight with your arms and toes. Matt's clothes rustled in your ears as he knelt down to get in front you, playfully tsking at the way your body trembled in this position.

“Firstly,” He begins at a soft whisper. His slender fingers trailing down to raise your face up by your chin, forcing your eyes to lock with his. “You gotta keep your head up.”

“Whoops.” You shyly reply, quickly averting away from his stare. He hummed at your obedience. You shivered under the warmth of his hands as they slithered down your spine past your black sports bra. Moving himself to kneel by your side.

Luckily for you, he couldn't see your rosy cheeks in this warmup— and they certainly were not heated up because of the plank. A nearly inaudible whimper like noise accidentally slipped out of you as one of his hands rested at the small of your back. The other pressing against your abdomen, gently readjusting your form.

“You gotta keep your core up like this to strength it.” He instructs, keeping that tender hold on your bottom half.

Your heart felt like it was pumping a mile a minute, feeling his fingertips resting right at the waistband of your leggings. His large hands against your body made you feel things that you just should not for your personal trainer. You wanted so desperately for his hands to travel lower, yanking away at your clothes and to finally touch you in the most intimate of places.

Finally, you cleared your throat before adjusting yourself in his strong hold before uttering a meek, “Like this?”

His hands moved just the slightest at the new position you were in. Grinning in approval, so proud of how you were doing.

“Yeah, just like that. Hold it right there.” He coaxed, his thumbs now tracing gentle circles against your clothes, earning yet another one of the cute noises from you that you prayed he didn't hear.

While you were down below trying your best to keep any other sounds from slipping out he was taking full advantage of the view. His wandering gaze getting an eyeful of the way your leggings wrapped around the plump shape of your ass and thighs. He nearly groaned at the sight, but  suppressed the urge as he didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable. But you were just so tempting.

Matt chose the worst day possible to wear grey sweatpants. He looked away for a bit, taking in a deep breath to compose himself. Filling his mind with gross images to keep lewd thoughts of you out— because he knew the longer he'd stare he'd definitely wouldn't be able to hide his erection around you.

Once he felt confident enough to keep his burning desires in the back of his mind, his eyes dropped back down to your figure.

However, that's when he made a pleasant discovery. A sly grin pulling at his lips when he noticed the slightest imprint your panties made against your leggings— he was convinced you were trying to kill him.

Only to take a closer look and realize that you weren’t wearing just any regular pair, but a skimpy thong instead. The sudden realization of knowing that you were wearing a thong right now had a cluster of inappropriate thoughts running through his head, clouding his better judgment.

You weren't a woman that he should flirt with. And you were definitely not a woman he should have sex with. You were one of his regular clients and it was going to be a real struggle for him to fight back this temptation to keep everything strictly professional between you two.

“You think you can keep it up a little longer?” Matt asked, his sweet words rolling off his tongue like silk.

“Yeah.” Is all you could muster up, trying not to break your concentration with his suggestive words, only for it be obliterated by what he decided to say next.

“Good girl, you're doing so well.” He coaxed, holding onto you for a little bit before finally retracting his hands, the warmth of them suddenly disappearing.

He continued feeding you with heartwarming praises that made you wonder if he knew the impact his words had over you.

It felt like ages had passed before he finally approved of your time, letting you rest up on your knees. Your chest heaved as you caught your breath, making your breasts protrude out slightly, threatening to spill out of your bra with each deep inhale you took.

You could see him struggling to keep his eyes on yours as he spoke to you, causing a flushed smile to spread on your face.

“What did you want to focus on today?” He began to ask, desperate to cut through the growing sexual tension in the room. “Arms or legs?”

“Uhh.. legs mostly.” You reply, your voice still a bit shaky as your shifted your weight on your heels. You shot him another smile, feeling brave enough to add a hint of flirtation in your tone, “But I wanna switch it up and do arms first today.”

“Yeah, we can totally do that.” He replies, standing up. He holds out his hand for you to grab onto, your fingers slid into his palm as he pulled you up from the floor. He guided you over to one of the machinery, “We can start off with pull-ups.”

*ೃ༄

The soles of your sneakers sank down into the plush mat on the ground as you take in another deep breath, trying your best to regain focus on the task at hand.

The pull-ups themselves wasn’t the issue. The only dilemma you could think of was that Matt’s hands would have to be on your waist. But even so, was that truly an issue?

“Ready?” Matt asked, his hands hovering just over your hipbones, waiting for your approval to touch.

“Yes.” You reply, peering over your shoulder to face him. Only to quickly avert your eyes when you accidentally looked at him for a bit too long.

Another convincing smile spread on his face, loving how flustered you’d get when the two of you made eye contact. He thought it was just the cutest thing and even more so knowing that you’d say otherwise.

Your breath hitched in your throat as his warm palms pressed onto your waist, his fingers gently wrapping around your figure as he lifted you up with ease.

“We can just do five for today, okay?” He huffed out, remaining exceptionally calm considering that your ass was pressing right against his chest.

“Okay.” You muttered in embarrassment. Your clammy hands wrapped around the steel pole. The muscles in your biceps flexing at the slightest as Matt assisted you with each pull-up.

Your cheeks flushed with that same rosy hue as before when he continued praising you. Each sugar-coated word sent butterflies right to your stomach and down to your core, making you subconsciously squirm in his hands. Which only encouraged him to say even more sweet things to you.

“Just one more, okay? Doing so good.” Matt groaned against you, lifting you up one last time before gently bringing back down on your feet.

You spun around on your heels, a smile on your face as small beads of sweat started to form at your forehead.

“I told you I was getting better.” You reply with a cocky tone, your hands rested at your hips.

“Yeah, well that’s because you’ve got the best trainer.” He joked, crossing his arms just below his chest.

“I already knew that.” You laugh.

“Mhm, I bet you did.” He replied, licking his lips before bringing them up into a smirk. “Wanna test those legs out too?”

“What? More squats?” You complain, those were the bulk of your sessions and you quickly grew tired of them. There had to be some other way to build muscle in your legs.

“I mean that is the best way for you, but if you want to try something new, I’m down.” He shrugged, looking around at the machinery.

His eyes locked on one of the leg press machines against the wall before bringing his gaze back to you. A perplexed expression written all over your poor face which only made him chuckle.

“Wanna give it a go?” He asked, pointing over at it.

“I can try.” You reply, walking over towards the leg press, Matt following close behind you.

Your fingertips grazed over the material of the equipment, your heart pounding in your chest— terrified of making a fool of yourself in front of Matt.

“Maybe you should get on first.” You say turning around to face him, giving him the most convincing smile.

“Why is that?” He asked, tilting his head to the side, his hands now buried in his pockets.

“So I can see how it’s properly done.” You reply, taking a step closer towards him. “You are the best trainer after all.”

The last words rolled right off your tongue with ease, now suddenly flipping the whole praising charade on him— which turned him on far more than he’d like to admit.

A slight red tint flushed over his cheeks, dropping his head down to hide that bashful smile of his.

“Leg presses aren’t really my thing.” He replied shortly after, bringing his flustered face back up, his eyes piercing right through yours. A stare so obviously filled with desire, it nearly made your knees go weak.

“Then what is your thing?” You ask.

“You’re gonna laugh.” Matt replied, trying to contain his own laughter.

“I swear I won’t.” You reply, an undeniable smile spreading on your face. “Just tell me.”

“Promise?” He asked.

“Promise.” You reply.

“Come here.” He replied, nodding his head over as he guided towards the dumbbells. Another black, memory foam mat spread across the cool gym floor, the plush material squishing beneath your sneakers.

His back faced you as he pointed down at the rack of assorted dumbbells, the order going from lightest to heaviest. He mumbled a few syllables under his breath that you couldn’t quite make out.

“What was that?” You teased, coming up closer to him to stand next to his side.

“Dumbbell hip thrusts are more my thing.” He replied, watching his words quickly contort your face into a flustered mess.

Before you could give him a proper response, his feet were already dragging against the floor. Your stomach flipped as he grabbed onto the heaviest weight— lifting it up from the rack as if it were a feather.

You anxiously fiddled around with your fingers, your clammy hand trembling within the other as you watched Matt place the weight on his lap. His shaggy strands of hair falling right over his forehead, peering up at you every now and then through his dark lashes. A smug grin plastered across his face— he knew exactly what he was doing.

His large palms wrapped around the rough, black material of the dumbbell. His entire hand covering up the ‘80’ that was imprinted on each side.

A few undeniable groans slipped out from him as he began the exercise, his teeth grinding against one another and his cheeks slowly filled up with a light red tint. His biceps flexed at the slightest but the main attraction was his groin— the way he gradually thrusted his pelvis up towards the ceiling had your heart fluttering in your chest.

Suddenly the air felt too thick to properly draw in, your lungs felt like they were ready to collapse at any moment.

All you could do was focus on the way Matt’s hips moved up and down in such a taunting manner.

A suggestive and lewd manner.

He moved in a way that had you subconsciously wishing that you were the one sitting on his lap instead— that he was thrusting up into you.

The tension in the room only continued to build up around you, consuming your thoughts and causing your body to react in a way that you know you shouldn’t. But you the temptation only grew stronger by the second.

You opened your mouth to speak, but thankfully you were cut off my his words.

“Is that enough proof for ya?” Matt asked, the same smirk still on his face as he finally gave his lower half a rest.

You watched as his fingers wrapped around the silver bar of the dumbbell, swinging it off his lap and gently placed it down by his side. The weights sinking down into the soft mat.

Tiny beads of sweat formed at his hairline as he looked up at you. His fingers combing through his hair as he waited for your answer.

“No.” You hum in a melodic tone, earning a chuckle from him.

“Well, I don’t know what else to do.” He playfully shrugged, “I don’t have anything else to lift.”

Feeling brave, you decided to finally put yourself out there. After today, it would be more painful if you hadn’t tried to make a move in a situation like this. Besides, what was the worst that he could say?

“I bet you can’t lift me.” You teased.

“Are you joking?” His smile growing from ear to ear, “I most definitely can.”

“I don’t know, Matt…” You reply. “You seemed to be struggling with that dumbbell just now.”

“I know you’re bullshitting, now.” He huffed out.

You knew what you were doing with your choice of words, knowing that he wasn’t the type of man to back down from a challenge.

Obviously, you and Matt both knew he had this in the bag. The real challenge, however, was keeping that strict wall of professionalism still in tact.

“Get your ass over here.” His words tumbling out as he pat his hand on his lap, beckoning you over to come sit. To which you gladly comply.

Your shoes squished into the memory foam down below, swinging one of your legs over him. Your dainty fingers pressed down into his shoulders for support as you slowly lowered yourself to straddle him.

A breathy laugh fell out from him once you finally took your seat, your core resting dangerously close towards his member.

So much for professionalism.

“Sorry.” You say, shooting him an awkward smile.

Your hips rocked against him, trying to get in a comfortable seating. It took every fiber in Matt’s being to not give into the primal-like urges that had been festering up inside him the moment you walked through those doors.

You, on the other hand, were painfully oblivious of the fact. Each slow and sensual movement of your hips had him mesmerized. He knew he should hold his tongue and knew even better to not touch you in this setting.

He opened his mouth to speak, giving a weak attempt to tell you that this probably wasn’t the brightest idea and maybe you should get off. But he was suddenly cut off to release a low and suggestive grunt.

You nearly whimpered when you felt his strong hands shooting up to grip your hips, locking you down in place to prevent you from brushing up against his dick again.

You looked up at him with pleading doe-like eyes. A stare so innocent yet so seductive, you looked so fuckable on his lap like this— and he just simply could not contain the desire he had for you any longer.

His gaze flickered down to your sleek figure, tracing hypnotic circles into your hips with his thumbs. You swallowed thickly when his eyes pierced back up into your own, anxiously anticipating what he was going to say or do next.

“Can I…” Matt mumbled out before clearing his throat. “Can I kiss you?”

You feverishly nodded in response, afraid of how needy you’d sound if you had used your voice instead. He hesitated at first, analyzing every minor change in your expression. He wanted to be completely sure that you wanted, no needed, this as much as he did.

Your desirous eyes were a dead give away, confirming that the attraction was mutual. Finally, he pressed his lips on yours— being sure to remain at a soft and slow pace to test the waters. It felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders now that the sexual tension had finally been severed.

His lips curled up into a pleaser smile as he pulled your body in closer to his own. Your arms draped around his neck, deepening the kiss as you tilted your head to the side. His nostrils flared against you as he took in a deep inhale, not wanting to pull away from your lips.

Suddenly the kiss morphed into something much more heated and passionate. His lips weren’t on you in a “one-night-stand” kind of way. No, he kissed you like he had nothing else to lose; like you were the only thing that mattered. All that underlying attraction he kept tucked away from you had finally been set free and he made sure to show that with his actions. He had been yearning for you.

Both of his hands slithered past your hips, grabbing a handful of your ass. Shamelessly pulling you back and forth so that you could feel how hard he was for you.

You pulled away from the kiss in attempt to catch your breath, only to be cut off by a sharp gasp when Matt began peppering wet kisses along your neck and collarbone. Your teeth tugged at your bottom lip, a trail of soft whimpers spewing out from you as he continued. All while his fingertips traveled up around your waist to toy with the waistband of your leggings.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” Matt slurred out, finally pulling away from your throat. “Can I take these off?”

“Yes.” You whispered.

His fingers looped inside your bottoms, quickly pulling away at the fabric and discarding it onto the floor next to both of you. He groans at the sight of the black strings of your thong pinching into the plush curves of your hips.

Two strong arms wrapped around your waist, swiftly flipping the two of you over so that Matt was on top of you now. Your thighs naturally parted, allowing for his hips to rest in between them.

He taunts you with more kisses, this time being more like petty pecks against your lips. You whined against him, your fingers tugging at the hem of his tank.

Luckily he caught the hint, laughing a bit to himself before raising up. He threw his shirt down to join your leggings, his hair now a bit disheveled and his silver chain dangling around his throat as he lowered himself back down.

The warmth of his hands sent butterflies in your stomach, slowly inching them up your ribcage to finally take off your bra. He slid the small piece of clothing over your head and tossed it away, giving you more kisses against your throat.

You shuddered, feeling his breath fanning against your hot skin. His large hands scooping up both of your tits, fondling them ever so softly. You whimpered, wrapping your shaky fingers around his wrists.

“Doing okay?” Matt asked sweetly, locking his eyes with yours.

“Mhm.” You hum, your brows knitted together and cheeks all flushed out.

“Good.” He smirked, his eyes flickering down. Slowly running his hands along your figure. “You’re so pretty, baby. Gonna let me me see more? Let me make you feel good?”

“Yes..” You whined with a nod, the tip of his nose grazing against yours. Your lips parted slightly when you felt the pads of his fingers on your clit, giving you a teasing stroke through your panties.

“Yeah? Bet you’ll be so good for me, hm?” He hummed, that conniving smirk never leaving his face. You squirmed under his touch, all you could do was give him another nod in agreement.

Your eyes darted down, watching him stretch the material of your thong. Slowly pulling the fabric over to the side.

“Hold this for me?” He coaxed, keeping a hold on the clothing before your fingers took his place.

Your lips pouted out sheepishly, your eyes never leaving the movements he made with his hands. One of them holding on the back your knee, slowly parting your legs further apart.

You let out a shaky breath, your fingers trembling as they struggled to maintain a strong grip on your panties.

“You’ve been wanting this too, huh?” He cooed, his fingers moving away from your clit and traveling down to your entrance. Being sure to lather them up with your arousal before slipping them inside.

“Fuck.” You gasped, feeling both of them push inside you. You tried to shy away from his eyes but he only forced your focus back on him, smashing his lips back into yours.

He picked up the speed of his fingers, expertly curling them up to find that sweet spot of yours. Your legs trembled in his hold and around his hips, now struggling to kiss him back.

The squelching of your arousal was an alluring symphony to his ears. Being sure to savor every moment he could with your sweet, velvety walls hugging around him so nice.

A devious chuckle slipped out from him when he realized his fingers were the cause of you struggling to kiss him back. You whined out in frustration when you felt him slowly dragging them out.

“C’mon, don’t pout.” He tsked, grabbing ahold of your hips, slowly gesturing you to flip over. “Turn around for me, baby.”

You huff out a shaky sigh as you slowly turned around. Your knees now sinking down into the memory foam below and your elbows resting on one of the dark, firm gym blocks Matt had scattered around the place.

You nestled your flustered face in between your arms, a rush of excitement washed over you as you heard Matt’s clothes rustle behind you. He tugged at the drawstring around his waist, finally freeing his dick from his stuffy clothes.

Goosebumps coated your skin once you felt the soft touch of Matt’s hand against you. Pulling at the string of your panties, making sure they were far back enough for him to fit. You shuddered underneath him, shyly anticipating his next move.

His free hand wrapped around the base of his cock, fighting the urge to pump himself dry.

“So pretty and wet for me, baby..” He spoke in nearly a whisper, dragging his tip along your slick folds. A pinkish tint decorating his cheeks as he continued, “Gonna let me fill you up, yeah?”

Your teeth tugged back on your bottom lip, furrowing your brows together as he gently pushed himself inside you. Your eyes fluttered closed as he bottomed out.

“Matt.. oh fuck..” You whined, already feeling his tip brushing up against that same spot as before.

Both of his hands were now hugging around your waist, watching himself pull out only to slam right back into you. You sweet cries filling up his ears and the way your ass bounced with each thrust only encouraged him to give you more. Curious to find out how many other sounds he could pull out of you.

He continued rocking his pelvis into you, being sure to keep that sweet, slow pace as before. But you made it incredibly difficult for him to do so, he wondered if you had been doing it on purpose.

The way your pussy sucked him back in each time he’d pull out made him want to pin you to the floor and show who truly had the upper hand.

“Shit.” He cursed, the grip around your hips tightening.

His necklace dangled over your back as he hovered over you. Pressing sloppy kisses down your spine, causing you to shiver.

“You feel so fucking good.” He groaned against you, slowly pumping himself further inside. He continued pouring more sweet nothings in your ear, leaving you putty in his hands.

His hands slid from your waist up to your chest, grabbing ahold of your bouncing tits. His lips now aligned with your ear, his breath fanning against you as he whispered.

“That’s my sweet girl, taking me so well.” He began, one of his hands snaking it’s way down to your stomach. You cried out once he pressed his hand against you, loving the way he could feel his dick protruding through you.

“You feel that, baby?” He huffed out, you could hear the smile in his voice. “Feel how deep I am?”

“Matty.. I- I’m gonna..” You moaned, dropping your head towards your chest. Your body moving in uncontrollable waves in his hands as you quickly approached your orgasm.

“Come on, cum for me.” Matt groaned, feeling his own high creeping up on him. “I know you can. Want it all over my dick, baby, come on.”

His words alone were enough to send you over the edge. You let out a broken whimper as you released over him, his thrusts letting up slightly as he continued fucking you through your orgasm.

You whined from the newfound sensitivity, not knowing how much more you could take. Luckily, he wasn’t too far behind you.

He pulled out of you with a groan, his hand going straight to his dick. Sliding his hand along his throbbing length until thick, warm stripes of white coated your back.

A spew of curses slipped out from before he hovered back down to press a few kisses into your flushed cheeks. You whined, turning your face towards him to press your lips against his.

“I’ll grab a towel, okay?” He whispered. “You did so good, like always.”

📃 — taglist!

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[sanguineterrain]

Jason is definitely the type to go feral over his best friend he hasn't seen in years. Hear me out: he's alive again, and not only that, but he's huge. Strong. People are afraid of him. So the reader is in town, walking the streets, and they meet again, maybe when he protects them as Hood. And reader is ecstatic to see Jason again of course and he's the same but also, all he can think is minemineminemine and I WANT YOU. mans is down horrendous for his sweet best friend that he missed and he's been in love with them for so long and now that he has them, he's not giving them up

idk if this was a prompt but i got inspired <3 thanks for stopping by anon

jason todd x gn!reader. feral jason i guess, but really soft jason. jason who yearns to be yours. jason who'd do anything for it, even if it meant one sided devotion... and also, jason who is loved by you. 1.2k words

****

"I don't understand why you can't come to my apartment."

"I told you why." Jason's posture is rigid but his tone is gentle. Because he has told you why he won't enter your home. Multiple times. Doesn't mean you don't challenge it every time you meet him on a random rooftop.

"It would be fine, Jay," you say. "I trust you."

"I know. But I don't trust everybody else," he says, words crackling through his modulator. That had frightened you at first; in fact, everything about a newly-resurrected Jason Todd had frightened you. From his height to the guns, you'd been sure that night in Gotham would be your last.

But then it had become clear that cheated death aside, nothing could kill his heart.

"You haven't visited in a while," you say.

You don't mean for it to sound accusatory.

"I know," Jason says. "Been busy. The Bats..."

And you knew. You knew the second you found out that Jason was alive that it would be like this, that he wouldn't be completely yours. He wasn't yours when he was Robin either, perhaps even less so.

And what's wrong with that? You have no right to ask him to be yours. To give you more.

But the recent distance has frightened you. Maybe it's for safety's sake, but your selfish heart wishes that he'd drop that for once.

Then again, there's always that dread in your stomach that perhaps Jason Todd doesn't love you the way you love him. And perhaps he never will.

"Well, I wish you'd call," you say.

This is wrong. You shouldn't be picking fights. Jason doesn't go dark out of cruelty, only necessity.

Jason sighs. "I can't. 'M sorry."

You cross your arms. It's chilly tonight.

"Do you even want to see me?"

He tilts his head. Dangerous.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want to intrude," you say. "You're busy and all the stuff with B, I don't—I mean, I wouldn't hold it against you if you—"

Jason takes two long strides and closes the distance. You swallow the rest of your sentence as he backs you up against the brick exterior of an abandoned apartment. Your heart picks up. You're not afraid; the fear went long ago. You're just... something. You're something about Jason.

The last time you two hugged was after Willis' death. You'd wanted to wrap him in his cape, thought maybe that would make everything feel as small as he'd been.

Now, a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier, Jason clearly does not need a cape. Right?

He takes off his helmet, lets it hang on his hand. His other hand is by your head. You lean back, let your neck go on display. Jason doesn't miss the movement.

"What're you doing, Jay?" you ask levelly.

Maybe he thinks you don't notice this distance but you do. You don't want to push him to talk about it, because as upsetting as it is, you're still strangers to each other.

You are and you're not. He died and he didn't. You grieved and you didn't. You burn and... you burn.

But you're tired of being and not being. You won't let him keep you in emotional purgatory. If he's done with you, he should just say so.

"If you don't want to meet anymore," you start, and let the words hang in the air.

"I—" he starts, then swallows. He tosses his helmet to the side. He doesn't touch you, just hovers inches away. Jason smells like lilac and gun smoke.

"I don't think you understand... my devotion," he says, voice low. "How much power you have over me."

Your eyes widen. "Wh—"

His green eyes reflect the streetlight like a cat's. The sight stops you short. Jason Todd is hot metal on a knife's edge, and it would do you well to remember that.

His hands curl into fists. He shakes his head.

"Sorry," he whispers like a prayer. "Not tryna scare you." His chest rises and falls rapidly. "'M I scarin' ya, sweetheart? Tell me and I'll go home, shake it off. Wait forever. I can be good. Won't want what I don't deserve."

"I'm not scared," you say, and it's the most sure you've ever been. "Not scared of you, Jay."

He breathes a laugh, like he can't quite believe you. His breath is warm on your neck.

"You'd be the first," he says. "The only one."

This, you believe. This, you have wondered some nights, knowing that even Batman isn't sure what to do with a son who lives with death on his shoulder.

"You don't have to devote yourself to me," you say, because that makes you pause. Who are you to be his god?

Jason laughs again, strong and sure. He sinks to his knees in front of you. His white streak glows in the light.

"You think it's a vice?" he asks. He rests a hand on your left thigh, testing. You lay your hand over his, so he holds your other thigh too.

He hums. "You do. You think you're holdin' me hostage."

Jason takes a shuddering breath and flattens his palms over your legs. Then he leans in and rests his cheek on your leg, nose near the apex of your thighs. Your belly flips.

"Let's make one thing clear. My devotion is my only redemption. 'S the only thing that makes me believe I'm not all rotted inside. Makes me behave. In this world and the next, I'm yours."

"I... Jason, you belong to yourself, not me. I don't—"

"You don't have to do anything. If it's too much, then I'll disappear. You can carry on."

You stroke the exposed side of his face. He looks up at you.

He is still. You have made him still.

"I'm yours too," you say.

He shakes his head. "You don't hafta—"

"Do you think being yours is a curse?" you ask, gaze sharp.

"Don't promise something for balance's sake," he rasps. "I'll be yours without you being mine."

Your heart is still. He has made it still.

"I'll keep coming back," Jason whispers, eyes wide. "If you're mine, I can't leave. Y'don't know what you're doing. Don't give yourself to me."

"I do. I'm yours."

His grip tightens around your legs. Jason shakes his head.

"Don't do it," he says into your thigh. "I shouldn't have anyone. I'm-I'm only meant to be yours. Nobody's mine."

But you know. You can slide your finger along his teeth and he'll wait with his mouth open. You can touch his edges and he'll turn his cheek so you won't nick your finger. He would sooner chew his own tongue.

"It's alright," you say, and kneel. You dirty your knees right alongside him. "It's okay, Jason. I know what I'm doing."

His breath hitches. Jason presses you into the brick, tucks his face into your neck. His arms wrap tightly around your waist.

"Sorry," he whispers frantically. "'M sorry. You can push me away. Sorry."

"I won't do that." You hold him and let him take you. "I know you're good. I thought—I thought you were pulling away, and I..."

"I was," he admits, muffled in your skin. "'M sorry. Was the only way I could think of to let you go. You deserve better. Couldn't think 'round you, honeylove. Knew it was a death sentence when I found out that you still lived in Gotham."

"It wasn't," you say. "Best thing that's ever happened to me."

Jason huffs. "You say that now, but..."

"No. I say it now and I'll say it again. Keep me, Jason. I'll keep you too."

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd imagine #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood fanfiction #batman fanfiction #dc fanfiction #jason todd x yn #jason todd x gender neutral reader #inbox #blurb

[ssahotchnerr]

okay so, I really don't like angst so I'll go with jealous!Hotch 🤭

Something like when Reader is at Jack's soccer game and Idk, a dad flirts with her? But when Jack sees that she's talking with someone who isn't Hotch, he calls her "mom" in front of the dad who's flirting with her, (bc he's jealous too 🤭) but Hotch hears him and he's kind of moved, but someone is flirting with his girl so he gets all jealous and starts like kissing her or something in front of the man? And the night they end up at his home, with Hotch showing her that she belongs to him 🤭

(feel free to change anything, don't worry, also, sorry for my bad english, it's not my first language 😭)

keeping score

🤭 minors dni cw; fem!reader, jack calls reader mom, unwanted advances, suggestiveness, allusions to sex, small praise, dominant!jealous!possessive aaron 🦋 wc; 1.5k

early saturday mornings - grass still slightly wet from the dew, the sun slowly rising higher into the sky (threatening a hot day), sat alongside a soccer field - you couldn't imagine another place you'd rather be.

as aaron was the coach, you spent majority of jack's game sitting alone. it was a small price to pay; you were more than happy to cheer on jack from the sidelines, and to check aaron out as much as you wanted.

but most importantly, attending his games made you feel like you were a part of the family. the hotchners were closed off and let very few people in, and so your attendance here only solidified your role in both their lives. that aaron planned on keeping you around, and that jack trusted you. your role in his life wasn't to someday replace his mom, but rather you were just another person who simply loved him. you loved him like he was your own, and he knew it.

"mornin'," a voice pulled you from your thoughts; a familiar face amongst the other parents on the team, but you didn't know him by name.

you offered a quick, friendly smile, "good morning."

he set up camp near you, setting his foldable chair down and getting settled a few feet away. you paid him no mind, resuming your attention to something more worthy of your focus, such as how attractive aaron looked in the jeans he was wearing. and the game, obviously.

however, you could feel him peering at you from time to time, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

ten minutes or so passed before he spoke again, "so, big soccer fan?"

your eyes followed jack, who was dribbling the soccer ball down the field. your heart swelled with pride as he successfully kicked it to a teammate, "not until recently."

"me too." he offered you a look that he probably thought was slick, while you kept your gaze straight forward. "i'm always looking to score, if you know what i mean."

his words instantly caused your cheeks to burn, along with your whole body. it was clear he was objectifying you, with no good intentions in mind.

you didn't bother replying. hopefully, that would be a clear indicator for him to leave, or to leave you alone.

but he still chose to linger. and while he wasn't speaking, in your peripheral you kept noticing his head turn, gazing in your direction. his eyes were nearly burning a hole into you.

"shit." he swore as he suddenly stood up, picking up and moving his chair even closer to yours, "the grass is eating away at my chair. must've been that damn rain last night."

it hadn't rained last night.

the unsettling feeling he was causing you only grew, but again you didn't dare to say anything. the uncomfortableness only eased when the whistle finally blew, signaling halftime. this meant a water break and a small snack for the kids, and it meant aaron and jack would soon be joining you for a moment.

as expected, jack hurried towards you as soon as one of the other moms distributed him his snack, but paused abruptly as he reached you, his eyes scanning between you and the man. a confused expression filled his face, his bottom lip sticking out into a pout. it was the same one he produced whenever aaron gave him the fifteen minute warning for bedtime.

"mom," jack inserted himself in between the two of you, a small package of fruit snacks in hand, "can you open these for me?"

you froze for a spilt second, touched and surprised. you've been a constant in both aaron and jack's lives for almost a year now. but that title, was a first.

"of course sweet pea," you coughed a bit to clear your throat, and to stop the tears from surfacing, opening it for him.

"you did good out there kiddo," the dad spoke again, flashing a smile.

your fists clenched at that one - you knew he was trying to impress you, and you hated how he had decided to use interacting with jack to his advantage.

just wait until you find how he's the coach's son.

while you were furious, jack ever so slightly rolled his eyes, such an annoyed expression almost humorous for a child his age, choosing to focus on his snack and leaning comfortably against your shoulder.

and a minute or two later, aaron joined.

as aaron approached, his face nearly pulled into the same expression as his son's as he analyzed the visual in front of him. only his was accompanied with a more hardened, possessive aggressiveness.

"hi sweetheart," aaron greeted you, leaning in to kiss you once you were on your feet. it wasn't a chaste peck either, but rather more showy. his fingers grasped onto the waistline of your pants, pulling you flush to him. "enjoying the game?"

you nodded, still recovering from the unexpected heated kiss, looking down at jack who also was glued to your side, offering protection of his very own. you gave him a smile, ruffling his hair gently, "i think we've got a soccer star on our hands."

"speaking of," aaron started, straightening his torso and squaring his shoulders, making him appear taller. "jack, why don't you join the others. they're taking turns aiming at the goal before the game resumes."

with a nod, and after handing you the empty wrapper, jack ran off to his teammates. aaron was still holding his menacing glare, but dropped the entire expression suddenly.

"how are you feeling?"

"feeling...?" your eyebrows quirked in confusion.

"you're not too sore today, aren't you?" his eyes darted behind you, a rather confident, fiery glint within them. "i wasn't holding back last night, was i?"

oh.

"and now that i'm thinking about it, i don't think you've ever been that loud either."

aaron had always been a stickler for pda; any displays were kept to quick kisses, hand holding, and any suggestive comments were kept to a murmur, meant for you and you only. even when you tagged along with him to bau outings, such as a bar on a saturday night, he held back. anything more was private, and aaron preferred it that way - him being the only one to witness you in such a vulnerable state, was something he took gratification in, and only added to his overall pleasure.

so this, was something else. he wasn't speaking loud enough for all to hear, just enough for the man in question. your back was towards him, so you had no idea how he was reacting to aaron's words.

"i'm fine." you managed, your body also reacting immediately.

aaron's lips found home behind your ear, again conscience of his volume - just loud enough. "good, because i'm not done with you yet."

aaron's hand slid up to the small of your back, but not without stopping on the curve of your ass first - again he wasn't subtle about it, making sure it was noticeable.

and it had to be working, for the man hadn't uttered a single word.

"and actually, sweetheart." another glare pointed behind you. "would you mind helping me at the bench for the rest of the game? i could use an extra set of hands."

"of course." you blurted out, complying without a second thought.

"good girl," he was heavy on the emphasis, patting your hip affectionately. "c'mon."

you were visually flustered as you leaned down to gather your belongings, especially when aaron's hand rested on the small of your back as you did so. your eyes lifted to the man, who was avoiding all eye contact, staring off into the field with a flushed face.

once you straightened up aaron took your hand, leading you away.

"thank you." you mumbled as your hand slid up his arm, giving his bicep a squeeze.

aaron's jaw clenched. "i fucking hated the way he was looking at you."

"you wouldn't like what he was saying either." you mumbled, causing aaron's nostrils to flare in anger. but to calm him, you changed the subject, heat filling your cheeks again, "and you."

a pleased, closed lip smile graced his face. "what about me?"

"what was all that?" you teased, stomach fluttering. you already knew the answer, but it was something you wanted to hear from him again. "i've never heard you, so..."

he chuckled softly, an almost embarrassing undertone to his words. "vocal?"

"yeah." you blurted out, blinking. "it was hot."

aaron shrugged, satisfied but still agitated. "he was devouring you, practically undressing you with his eyes."

"well, i don't think he'll be trying anything again."

"i know he won't," aaron's eyes darkened as his overly confident demeanor resurfaced, his lips pulling into a smirk as one of his fingers tapped your neck, "especially when he sees you next week. because you won't be covering up those marks."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x you

[toxicanonymity]

omg the way every inch makes me drool idk what u did to me i haven’t been the same since 😃 ur so talented i owe u my kidney for that fic alone ! would ever consider part two?? no pressure !!!

EVERY INCH 2

2200 words, m!ghostface x f!reader

follows Every Inch. NEXT: Every inch 3

SUMMARY: Last time you saw ghostface, he was unconscious from the car wreck and you had your way with him. Now, he's coming to take what's his. A/N: He's never unmasked so ANY Ghostface with a 🍆. Thank you so much for all the love on my first Ghostface fic. This was a "one shot fail" because of the engagement & enthusiasm so keep that in mind. night walks coded. WARNINGS: I8+ piv, noncon, ghostface calls himself daddy once, peeping tom, dirty talk, masturbation (both), knifeplay, hair pulling, manhandling, choking kinda, degradation, pet names (baby, sugar, nasty). NO USE OF Y/N. 

You've put Ghostface behind you, at least in terms of fearing for your life. He's finally left you alone. He must be too humiliated to face you after you restrained him and had your way with him in the car while he was passed out. You still look at the picture you took every day.  You'd like to get it printed and stick it on your bathroom mirror.  He looks so pathetic with his own mess all over his robe. But it's not just the humiliation you love to see. It's his cock. . .

Yeah, his cock.  You've thought about it more than a few times. He would've given you every inch. All you had to do was ask. And the video of him whimpering? You save that for special occasions. Like when you need to cum in a hurry. 

It's Friday night and you're lying in bed after getting home from seeing a movie.  You make sure your vibrator is charged before you start reading, but soon enough you get distracted.  You're looking at your video of Ghostface coming all over himself when a call pops up on the screen. No ringtone.  Your phone is still on silent from the theater.  

The restricted number still makes your heart jump even after such an empowering victory. But you rip the bandaid off and answer it on the first ring. "Hello?"

"So... how'd you like the movie?" the voice changer asks you. 

You panic and hang up, but when he calls right back, you answer again. "This isn't funny, whoever you are."

"You know it's me, baby. You feel it in your. . . pants."

"What do you want?"

"I asked how you liked the movie." 

Friday night. Lucky guess. You know he’s not going to let it go, so you might as well answer. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of acting aghast that he knows what you did tonight.  "Fine, I liked it. It was fun,” you say dismissively. 

"Picked a bad time to refill your drink. . .  Missed a great kill."

Your heart jumps. ". . .you were there?" The theater wasn't even that crowded. How could he go undetected? Surely you would have recognized something about a man you rode into oblivion. 

He's bemused. "What, you thought I was gone? Nowhere?”

"wishful thinking," you reply. 

Ghostface says, “Oh, we both know what you really wish for. . .”

You’re not even going to argue. 

“How was your date?" 

"How was yours with your hand?" You retort.

"You didn't look interested.” 

"What, are you gonna ask me out?" Your face heats up as you hear your own words.

"Not tonight. 'Cause you've got a date with that toy and my picture, don't ya?”

You freeze. 

He taunts, "Want a third wheel?"

You ask, "How long have you been watching me?"

"Never stopped, sugar." You feel like a fool for thinking he had. “I’ve just been a little. . . distracted.” 

You scoff. 

". . . Okay, did you call just to talk?"

"Wanted some audio with my visual this time."

"Pervert."

“oh I'm the pervert," he chides. Your face is burning up.

"You know, you’ve still got something of mine.”  His knife. You’ve hid it somewhere special.  “Keep comin’ for it. . .but don’t wanna interrupt you.”  

You look out your window, which faces the woods.  "Cause you put on a good show, baby." There’s never been a reason to close the curtains.  You preferred to see danger coming. Danger like him. A lot of good that’s done you. 

“You’re a creature of habit, aren’t you?” 

Are you that predictable?  

“Lucky for me,” he adds darkly.  His breathing becomes audible.  “Oh, you like this, don't you . . . knew ya would. . .  .  .Dripping already.” His voice is steady through the equalizer, but his speech pattern tells you his dick is hard. And god damn if he isn’t turning you on. 

“Dip a finger and show daddy how wet you are.” 

Before you know it, you're doing it. You don’t show him, but you curiously dip you fingers and pull apart the clear string of of your arousal

“Two fingers . . let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”  You lie there clenching your thighs together. 

“Ah, fuck it. Go ahead, turn it on,” he says but you don’t move. You clench your thighs together.  “Turn it on,” he repeats firmer, and something possesses you to turn your vibrator on. 

“Yeah, that’s it . . .”

You don’t even need the picture now, or the video, or your reading. But you don’t exactly want to let him make you come this fast. 

He sighs and says, “You’ve got a nice, juicy pussy." He spits, which the voice changer doesn’t process.

You close your eyes and recall what it felt like impaling yourself on his cock. 

"You don't have to say it," he reassures you menacingly. "I know I’ve got a nice cock.” 

He’s right about that.  You close your eyes as you touch yourself.  You’re too horny to think straight, but in the back of your mind, you try to tell yourself he killed your friends. He killed your friends. It doesn’t make you any less turned on. You sigh in shame at yourself. How does Ghostface have you wrapped around his finger?

“Oh, it’s only natural, baby. This cock’ll fuck you right up.” God, why does that turn you on? “In the guts and the head.” 

"Real shame I wasn’t awake.” He breathes heavily for a few seconds. "Coulda been even better for you.” 

You fail to suppress a moan as heat is bubbling in your core. 

“Yeah. . .Can’t stop thinkin' about this cock, can ya?” 

You turn up the intensity of your vibe. 

“Not everyday someone takes every inch of this.” He moans weakly then spits again. “Filthy girl.  Swallowed it right up.” 

“So tell me, sugar," his breathing is even heavier now. "How do you want it?”

“What if i don’t” you lie, then gasp at the tension in your core.

“Then why’d you take it,” he says with a bite and the heavy breathing stops. 

“Because,” you pant. “It was there.”

You’re getting close.  “How do you want me,” you self-loathingly ask. He doesn’t answer. You look at your phone and he’s gone. Shit. You open the video you took of him and as soon as you hear him whimper, your body jerks as the tension bursts inside you. As soon as you finish pulsing, the regret hits you like a tidal wave. So fucked up. Soooo disgusting.  You need a shower. 

—---

You take a long, hot shower, listening to music. You sigh, feeling a little better already. You turn off the water.

“Soaking wet. That’s how I want you.” You freeze and the only sound is the dripping water for a few seconds while the song changes.  

“Come on, you’re smarter than this.” The voice changer echoes through your bathroom and you almost fall over. “What’s next? Going down to the basement?”

You stand silently in the shower with your heartbeat echoing in your ears.  There’s nothing you can do.  You squat down, hugging your knees.  There’s no good option.   

The shower curtain slowly draws open and he looms above you.

“My turn, baby."  The glint of a knife–your own kitchen knife–catches your eye. He tilts his head slightly and observes you for a moment.  Then he pulls your hair and violently forces you to your feet. You begin to slip and he catches you, then manhandles you out of the tub and you whimper. You’re thrashing around wet and naked.  He drags you to the bathroom sink and puts you between him and the sink, both of you facing the mirror. He reaches out and wipes the mirror with his robe to make sure you can see. 

The sight is surreal. You’re completely nude with Ghostface up against you.  One gloved hand cups your breast while the other raises the knife.  He stays behind you and holds your own kitchen knife to your throat.  

He inhales audibly. “So clean and so filthy.”  

You elbow him in the gut. “Let go of me.” 

“Afraid not, baby. . .” The hand leaves your breast and slides lower.  He presses on your hip, bringing you tight against him. “Too late now.” His hips push forward and the massive shape of his hard cock makes you weak. 

He holds you still with just one of his big arms as you struggle.  “Coulda had it how ya wanted.” 

The unwelcome throb between your legs is spreading through your abdomen. 

“Now you’re gonna take it right here.”  He keeps you pinned to the counter, the arm with the knife holding you still while he lifts his robe and tugs his PJ pants down.  “You’ve put me behind you after all.”  He jerks you back against him, pulling you off the counter and holding you tight against his hard dick.  He lightly trails the tip of the knife down your cleavage and your stomach, dipping into your belly button on its way down to your mound. Then he holds it handle-up and teases your cunt with the flat of the knife as you watch in the mirror. The cold metal sends a shiver down your spine and you watch your nipples harden.

“Who are you?”

“Your favorite bad guy. Ask me a. . . harder one.” He grinds himself against you.

“What do you want?”

“To know what your insides feel like.” You suck in a deep breath and register the smell of weed as his cock twitches against your bare skin. “When I’m awake,” he adds. 

He pries your legs apart with his knee, then his glove brushes your inner thighs as he aligns his cock at your entrance. “Oh you’re ready ready,” he says. He notches himself with the thick head of his cock resting snug against your wet little hole, then he holds you tight and shoves himself into you with a sigh.  You have to try not to moan with the most welcome stretch. “Hell yeah,” the mask says into your ear. Thank God you’re so wet, because there is a lot of him. He pulls back, then slams into you, bottoming out with a grunt then another sigh. You watch your face in the mirror and try to wipe the enjoyment off it. 

The hand with the knife rests against your chest as he pounds you. “You’re lucky you’re so hot.” You want to memorize the feeling of his cock inside you so you can come to it later instead of giving him the satisfaction right now.  He pants as he thrusts into you harder.  “So. . .damn. . . hot.” You look down watching your breasts jiggle as he rails you. “I don’t think so. . . baby.” He grabs your chin and makes you look back up at the mirror. Your drooping eyelids give away how good you feel. 

“Take it like a bad girl.” He grunts and brutally fucks you in the way you’re afraid only he can. No, no, you shouldn’t be thinking thoughts like this. “A real bad girl.” A climax is gathering in your lower belly.  “Cock hungry little slut,” he bites and it makes you twitch. “This pussy’s mine now, you know.” 

He buries himself inside you for another minute and makes it rough. “Now or never baby," he pants. “Know you wanna come on this cock.” God, you do. “Do it now.”  He slams into you harder than ever and groans as he begins to pulse inside you.  You can’t stop it. The feeling of his climax trips you into your own.  Your needy cunt chokes his cock, milking him of an unfathomable load.  He fucks you through it and your body jerks into his imposing, robed form. His cum is in every crevice of your core.  You can’t help but moan and sigh.

“Good girl,” he says.

His cock slides out of you, leaving a void that slowly caves in on itself. He tucks it back into his pants. 

------

Ghostface forcibly positions your chin to take one last look in the mirror. Then he picks up your phone from the counter and forces you to swipe the camera on.  He points it at the mirror and says, “say cheese.” He tosses your phone back on the counter, then slams you chest-first into the back of the door with an impact. He holds the knife to the side of your neck and says, “you’re welcome.” He really smells like weed.

“Now where’s my knife.”

“I don’t have it,” you claim. 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“What’s so special about it?”

“It’s mine.” 

“The cops have it.” 

“No they don’t. Why are you lying?”

You’re not really sure. He presses the flat of the knife so hard against your throat you start to choke. “Okay,” you manage hoarsely. He lets you breathe.  You look behind him toward the toilet. 

He drags you by the elbow to the toilet. He opens the back of it and the knife is wrapped up in a grocery bag. “You watch too many movies,” he says. He pushes you out of the way, opens the door, and leaves. The song turns to Call Me by Blondie.

NEXT: PART 3

--------------------------

Please engage (reblog/comment)  if you want more of this <333 It might go a long way in motivation.

Yes this is my night walks coded ghostface but I think most people reading this don't know what night walks is lol.

Call Me:This Blog::Red Right Hand:Canon. But in this case it especially makes sense 🥹

@hearteyed-shawty had a song rec last time: I'm Yours by Isabel Derosa.

Slasher master list

@ghostslittlegf @sunflowerleii @igotmajordaddyissues @rileyquinn07

#ghostface x reader #ghostface smut #mickey altieri x reader #billy loomis x reader #ethan landry x reader #ghostface x you #slasher fanfiction #danny johnson x reader #cw noncon #slasher smut #tw noncon #ghostface #slasher fucker #toxicanonymity ☠️ #mickey altieri #ghostface ☠️

[revasserium]

Hey, can I request zoro x reader (established relationship) where the Strawhats end up going to reader’s home island (unknown to anyone in the group aside from reader), and the reader is super nervous and refuses to leave the boat, so the crew goes out and walk around and they find a missing/wanted poster of the reader and find out she’s a run away princess that needed to be. Later they coke to find out that reader ran away cause her parents and the servants mistreated and was about to marry her off to a violent prince

opla requests are: open

lips on every cross

opla!zoro; 5,989 words; fem!reader, semi-established?? relationship, posessive!zoro, strawhat!reader, no "y/n", reader gets kidnapped, fluff and angst, very brief! mentions of past familial abuse and trauma, nicknames ("Princess"), slow-ish burn???, more plot than not

summary: zoro has never thought himself a holy man. but he'd kiss every cross if it meant finding his way back to you.

a/n: idk why every opla fic i write is like... more plot than i bargained for but here we are. literally, this fic was just supposed to be "zoro calls the reader 'princess'".

01. when love arrives

(“Hey Princess —“)

The nickname starts, as almost all things do on the Going Merry, as a joke. And, as with most jokes made amongst the rag-tag crew, it sticks. He’d said it because he’s sure you’d mentioned your name once or twice already, but he’d been napping or eating and he didn’t feel like looking like an asshole right that moment.

The ribbon in your hair had caught the light in just the right way, pale pink satin — such a strange, soft color amidst the careening, careless ocean, and the word just… slipped.

“Why’dyou call her that?” Luffy asks, lounging back against the main mast as Zoro works through the umpteenth rep of single-armed pushups.

Zoro puffs out a breath and switches arms.

“Dunno. Seemed like it fit.”

Luffy slates you a long glance, blinking owlishly.

“Really? Eh — I guess… well, she is really pretty.”

Zoro only grunts, jumping up and stretching both arms over his head with a long, steady breath. His eyes flicker towards you as well, laughing with Nami on the foredeck, sipping on cocktails, Sanji probably simping somewhere nearby.

He thinks back to where they’d found you, hood pulled low over your eyes, the tell-tale signs of distress carved into every line of your body, from the curve of your spine to the bend of your shoulders.

Luffy hadn’t asked questions, so Zoro hadn’t either.

Curiosity, the fatal flaw that runs so sharp and obvious through the entirety of Luffy’s being, hasn’t always been rewarded well in Zoro’s experience. And he’s learned by now that “truth will out”, or so they say.

(“C’mon, Princess, I thought you said you could drink.”)

Caution, on the other hand, is Zoro’s oldest friend. You are cautious, if nothing else, and the first time he sees you relax in his presence, he wonders to himself if there’s a drug in this world strong enough to induce this feeling.

Later, he would learn that this is simply called falling in love.

He isn’t the only one who notices how you casually dip a silver fork or knife into every single drink before you take a sip, or that sometimes, you blurt out the word “no’ like a promise to yourself, and “sorry” like a plea for help.

And he’s spent long enough being a hunter to know what being hunted looks like. So he doesn’t ask, and you don’t answer, and somehow, you still manage to make yourself a home in the dark caverns of his chest, curling up there till he can’t count his heartbeats without it sounding like the shadow of your name on the midnight wind.

02. a study of light and dark

The drinking game starts off innocently enough (and don’t they always), but it takes half a round for the questions and subsequent answers to devolve into loud laughter and debauchery, delirium and debasement.

“Alright, alright —“ Sanji holds up a hand, tossing back his shot to raucous cheers, “worst thing you’ve done in a closet. Go —“

Zoro rolls his eyes and takes the shot, foregoing his answer. Nami simply grins, catlike, swirling her own drink around her glass.

“In your wildest dreams, cook,” she says before taking her shot as well. Sanji lets out a contemplative whistle, followed by a good-natured wink.

“Define worst, cause… I mean, I’ve puked in like… most of them back in Syrup Village,” Usopp says. Sanji only chuckles, shrugging.

“We’ll take it, we’ll take it.”

Luffy hums, frowning for a second before smacking a fist into his open palm, grinning, “I took a nap!”

Everyone laughs, helpless and buoyed up by the casual effervescence of a night like this — when the moon is dark and the stars are bright and thin wisps of silver clouds mar the sky like tendrils of lost daydreams, caught on the wrong side of sunset.

When the laughter settles down, everyone turns to you.

You purse your lips, feeling the weight of your answer pressing down on the tip of your tongue — I hid. And I waited. And I tried not to listen.

As the silence stretches on, Zoro leans forward and uncrosses his arms, reaching out to nudge a full shot glass towards you.

“Times up, Princess — drink,” and though there’s nothing soft or even forgiving in his voice, but you feel yourself relax as everyone boos and you take your shot.

The heat of Zoro’s gaze only lingers on your skin for a moment longer before he leans back again, that familiar almost-grin tugging lazily at his lips as he turns half-lidded eyes towards the rest of his crew.

(“Talk to me, Princess.”)

When you find him later, fumbling in the dark of the hallway just outside his room, you kiss him without saying “thank you” and he doesn’t question it when, pressed beneath him on the rough linen of his sheets, you ask to keep the lights on.

03. etymology

Princess — it’s a nice word, Zoro muses to himself. The light pop of the ‘p’ rolling into the warm, round ‘r’, thinning out into the sensual layering of the double ‘s’s, till you’re left with nothing but a hiss, a shadow, a memory.

It’s a regal word; a pretty word. Though its origins might be anything but.

From the Latin primus “first” and cept “catcher”, or so Robin had told him over the pages of an ancient book he hadn’t bothered to ask the name of, because Princes and Kings have always obtained their powers through taking, and never asking. Reaping, and never sowing.

Zoro thinks then that this, too, is a form conquest — you over him. The totality of your power stunning to behold, if only because he has to let you take it in the first place. And he does so willingly.

He wonders if you, too, are as multifaceted as his nickname for you — delicacy and desire wrapped around a darker something, lace laid over a knife’s unforgiving edge.

The first time he dares to kiss you, he feels you kissing him back, the sharp canines of your teeth catching on his lower lip, drawing out a soft grunt from him. You’d paused, and then you’d bitten down harder just to hear him gasp into your mouth.

He knew then, without ever having to ask, that you are.

04. tip of the iceberg

It is winter when they arrive — but then again, it is always winter here. Here, the cold runs so deep it drives frost crystals into the marrow of your bones. Here, the wind howls like a wounded animal and the night falls with a savage, carnal vengeance, all black velvet and a blood-tinted moon.

Here, the snow storms turn living, breathing heroes into song lyrics and poetry rhymes.

You inhale a single breath before turning and heading back below deck.

Zoro frowns, and at a single look from Luffy, he follows you beneath, only to find you rummaging around the kitchen, tugging a bottle of moonshine out from under the sink.

“Whoa,” Zoro says, reaching out to stop you from uncorking the bottle, an eyebrow raised. He doesn’t miss the way you shiver, “bit early, isn’t it?”

“Bit rich, coming from you,” you snap, eyes sharp, voice stinging.

Zoro only cocks his other eyebrow in tandem and pulls the bottle from your hands before turning and grabbing two glasses from the cupboard. He takes his time filling them both with ice, and then pouring a finger into each glass.

You don’t meet his eyes as you reach out for your glass, but he catches your wrist.

“A drink for an answer,” he says.

You pause, your lips pressed into a thin, white line. And he knows it’s unfair, to turn this game around on you, because he can tell from the hard set of your shoulders that this is so much more than a drinking game but if this is what it takes to get the truth — then so be it.

“Fine,” you say, glancing away, voice clipped.

You move to take a sip, but Zoro pushes down your hand again.

“No lying.”

You scoff, narrowing your eyes, “Obviously.”

He eases off, picking up his own glass and clinking it against yours before taking a light swig, “You know this place.”

This time, you’re the one who turns around with a cocked brow.

“Got a question in there somewhere?”

Zoro’s lips twitch, “Yes, or no.”

You sigh, tapping a finger against the edge of your cup, “Yes.”

Zoro hums, “Your turn.”

You chew on your lips before taking a sip, “Why do you care so much?”

Zoro ticks his tongue against his teeth, “Stupid question. Next.”

You huff, “That’s not how this game goes.”

Zoro swirls his glass before setting it down on the counter with a loud clack, “Because I care about you.”

You pause with your own drink halfway to your mouth and look up. Zoro doesn’t shy away from meeting your gaze and for a moment, time statics to a halt around you.

Then, Zoro sighs, unclenching his jaw as he attempts a lopsided smile.

“Hey, talk to me,” he reaches out to trail a finger along the high of your cheekbones, up to the shell of your ear.

The ��please’ hangs silent in the air between you; the ‘Princess’ is implied.

And for the first time, he thinks he sees you flinch. He makes to pull back but you tug his hand forward, pressing your cheek against his palm.

“This island,” you say, finally, the tremor in your voice like a hairline fracture snaking through a porcelain vase, “it’s… well, it used to be… my home.”

05. the secret history

It is the most beautiful place any of them have ever been.

The castle is made entirely of ice, the cold winter sun refracting the light into a million and one unseen colors. Giant ice-carved sculptures dot the crystal-flower gardens, and it takes them all a few minutes to realize that the gorgeous, delicate blooms are made of glass, blown and shaped to mirror real-life snowflakes — each unique, glittering, and eternal.

“Dude… how long do you think all this took to make?” Usopp asks, his head turning as if on a swivel, his jaw hinging off his face in awe.

Robin sighs, “Too long, perhaps.”

Zoro stays quiet, and beside him, so does Nami.

You’d insisted on staying back, to guard the ship, you’d said. But the space you usually fill in the group hangs solid in the air, a gaping hole of lack when there should be none.

Luffy hums and he marches out in front of them, ever the dubious, fearless leader. Though most of the crew has now come to terms with the fact that “courage” and “sheer bull-headedness” are often two sides of the same coin for him.

It’s Sanji who pauses first, causing Chopper to ram into the back of his knees.

“Ouch! What’dyou do that f —”

“Look,” Sanji says, pointing at a poster pasted to the slick outer wall of the castle gates.

And they do, leaning in, crowding too close. Zoro grunts as Chopper jumps and scrambles up his back to peer over his shoulder at the face plastered on the dew-soaked poster, the words LOST PRINCESS: 120,000,000 FOR ANY INFORMATION THAT LEADS TO HER WHEREABOUTS printed in giant, familiar block letters along the bottom.

Beside him, Zoro can feel Nami swallowing. Hard.

“A hundred and twenty million berry…” she murmurs, her breath going shallow as they all stare, dumbfounded at the poster of what is unmistakably you.

You, with your exquisite features schooled into something like solemnity, your usually wind-swept hair twisted up into a tight braid across the crown of your head, a diadem of ice-white silver and light-cut jewels jutting up from your severe updo like so many broken teeth, sharp and unforgiving as stalagmites.

If none of them had known, it’d be impossible to reconcile you with this cold, distant portrait, your eyes rendered lifeless and dull by the depthless black ink.

Luffy, however, only blinks and turns to stare at Zoro.

“Did you know?”

“What?”

Luffy continues to stare, “When I asked why you always call her ‘Princess’.”

Zoro sighs, turning his eyes back to the WANTED poster before shaking his head.

“No. Like I said… I thought it just… fit.”

06. eternal day

Zoro is itching to get back to the ship. There’s a fish-line sliver of worry tugging at the place behind his chest where his heart should be, and he knows implicitly that something is wrong.

“Don’t worry, she can take care of herself!” Luffy says, smiling bright, his confidence unwavering.

“No Luffy, Zoro’s right — someone should be with her. What if —” and here, Nami glances at Zoro before turning her attention back to Luffy, “— she might need the backup,” is what she finally settles with. And to Zoro’s great relief, Luffy agrees.

And then, to everyone’s horror, off in the distance, your voice rises over the wind in a blood-curdling scream.

07. endless night

By the time Zoro makes it back to the ship, you are already gone.

08. torn asunder

Gone, gone, gone. The word echoes like an ill-fated alarm bell, ringing through Zoro’s entire body as he catapults himself through the ship, slamming open every door, checking every nook, corner, and crevice. Signs of a struggle, that much is clear, scuffs on the freshly waxed planks of the aft deck, nail marks along the railings, and —

Zoro’s breath freezes in his chest.

A smear of blood that drips over the side of the ship, trailing down the ladder.

A flash of pale pink catches his eye.

Your satin hair ribbon lies abandoned on the wharfs’ boardwalk, the faintest splatter of red soaking its ends.

He picks it up between gentle fingers and tucks it deep into his pocket.

His vision blurs red as he thinks about the things your captors might’ve done to you before dragging you off. He’s seen you fight and it wouldn’t have been easy to bring you down.

And by the time the rest of the crew reach him, he’s already sprinting back towards the castle, his jaw set, his teeth gritted.

It takes the combined effort of Sanji, Luffy, and Robin to stop him from charging through the castle gates and tearing the whole place down.

“Runnin’ round like a headless chicken’s not gonna do her any good, mate,” Sanji says, a smoke already caught between his teeth. A pre-fight ritual of his.

Zoro jerks his arm out of Sanji’s grasp, stalking down the street with a huff.

Robin strolls after him, somehow keeping pace, looking unhurried as Zoro tamps down the blind urge to slash the entire island in half.

“We’ll find her,” Robin says, her voice level, even as her sharp eyes scan the white-specked horizon, the usually amused half-twist of her lips laid flat by worry, “and she’s stronger than you think.”

At this, Zoro whips around, “I know —” but he bites down the venom threatening to surge up the back of his throat with a sigh. Robin doesn’t flinch, and Zoro attempts a steadying breath before repeating himself in a slightly softer tone, “I know… I’m just…”

Robin nods, and Zoro is thankful that he doesn’t have to finish his sentence.

09. the tower and the throne

The cold greets you like a scorned lover— a spiteful, savage mistress. Tendrils of frost creep along the walls of your old bedroom to caress your cheeks. You shiver and wrap your arms around yourself, sitting on familiar satin sheets.

“Dinner is soon, darling,” your mother’s cool voice calls from outside your bedroom door, “and make yourself presentable — we’ve got guests.”

The sadistic lilt of her voice as she says the word ‘guests’ makes you jerk your head up, staring at the door as if you might be able to bore through the thick wood with nothing but your eyes. And, almost as if she can feel you staring, you hear your mother’s cold, tinkling laughter.

“Hurry now… I had your favorite dress put out for you. It should still fit — and we don’t want to keep them… waiting.”

The slow, sanguine pause before her last word makes you want to rip out your hair and scream into the wind till your voice gives out.

Instead, you push yourself up and reach for the dress laid out at the foot of your bed with shaking fingers.

The dress fits you like a second skin, the delicate lace trim barely sweeping the floor as you adjust the bodice, grimacing at your reflection in the large, floor-length mirror. It is as if the last ten months had never happened, as if you’d never escaped this terrifying hellscape of a winter wonderland. As if you’d simply dreamed every single sun-filled afternoon, every star-strewn night spent laughing and singing amongst your new-found crew.

Here, in the fragile glass reflection, you are once again a girl trapped behind her own ribcage, with a destiny carved into stone and ice, with no hope of summer in sight. You take a long breath and tighten the ribbons of your dress.

You are still and silent as the maid slips in through the door after a single knock and begins to twist up your hair. Tighter and tighter, till it sets your teeth on edge. When she pins the crown in place, it takes everything inside you not to fall apart, to shatter at the weight, the sight of it sitting on your head. You swallow as the maid dips her head and backs out of the room with a murmured dinner is served, Princess.

For the first time, you wince openly at her words.

10. waiting for the rain

The hall is just how you remembered it, huge and cavernous, gaping like the empty maw of some petrified monster, the ceiling hanging with so many cold, sparkling chandeliers, ice-carved statues jutting up from the floors like teeth.

You’re marched in like a show animal, the great marble doors swinging open before you as you step forward and feel your breath freeze in your chest.

There, strung up on a massive statue of some long-forgotten saint, is Zoro, cuts and bruises marring his already scarred and puckered torso. But he smirks as he sees you come in, his eyes bright as he spits a mouthful of blood onto the seemingly endless white floors. Around him, the rest of your crew sits, tied and slumped over in chairs like so many sleeping mannequins.

“Hey there, Princess. Just in time for dinner.”

You nearly wince at the raspiness in his voice, the faint trickle of blood that leaks out the corner of his mouth.

“Silence,” your father’s voice echoes out from the high-backed chair at the head of the ludicrously long table. You don’t have to see to know his face is as smooth as just-applied plaster. But Zoro only has eyes for you — and he continues to talk as if he hadn’t been interrupted.

“If you’d told us we’d be welcomed like this, we might’ve packed differently.”

You bite down on your bottom lip so hard you almost taste the metallic tang of blood.

“Our daughter has always been a skillful liar — though it’s a habit we tried to… rid her of in her youth. The lesson never seemed to have stuck.” Your mother this time. And now, you can see the muscle ticking in Zoro’s jaw as he scoffs.

“Really? And here I always thought she was shit at lying.”

You swallow down a whimper as the maid wordlessly leads you to the far end of the table, where Zoro is still tied. You drop into the seat between a snoring Luffy and an eerily still Nami, and it’s all you can do not to turn around and retch onto the silk embroidered rug.

“Be that as it may…” your mother’s voice drops a few degrees — an admirable feat, as her voice is usually just on the other side of frigid, “it’s bad luck to kill on the eve of a royal wedding.”

At this, Zoro’s head snaps around and you shrink back in your chair, your eyes fixed on your fists, clenched in your lap.

“Mother,” you grind out, finally forcing your head up so as to meet her piercing, blizzard-bright gaze, “I’ve told you, I’ve no intention of getting married. At least not to the mongrel you’ve decided to set me up with.”

You spit out the last sentence, trying to remember all the snark, all the confidence that’d built up inside you over the past weeks and months. Away from this dreaded castle and on the sun-soaked bow of the Going Merry, it was the first time you’d begun to discover who you are — the things you liked, the ways of life that you yearned for.

Your father slams a hand on the table at the same moment that Zoro lets out a bark of laughter.

“Insolence!”

“Damn, Princess — you never told me you could bite.”

And, to your horror and perhaps deep-seated pleasure, a blush works its way into your cheeks at Zoro’s words. Your eyes snap towards him, catching his gaze as he smirks at you. And even though his shirt is slashed, his sword hilts hanging woefully empty at this hip, his hands twisted painfully behind him on the statue, he still manages an easy, condescending air.

You seize at this tiny tendril of normalcy as you force a wane smile.

“I might be persuaded to do more than that… if you ask nicely.”

Zoro’s snicker is drowned out by your mother’s sharp gasp. But you don’t look away, holding Zoro’s gaze for as long as you dare — in it, you find an entire abyss of barely concealed rage (and is that… amusement?), his entire body straining against the shackles that hold him. Then, his eyes slip from you to a point just over your shoulder.

It’s then that you realize: Luffy’s not snoring anymore.

11. to reap and to sow

You’re never quite certain of how the Merry’s crew seems to always just wriggle out of frankly gruesome and untimely deaths, but here you are, racing for the docks like your lives depended on it. Because, well, it kind of does.

“Remind me —” you shout between pants, one hand clutched firmly in Zoro’s, the other doing its best to lift the ridiculous dinner dress they’d put you in — a confection of lace and tulle, the bodice laced with pale pink satin ribbon, “how the hell did you guys manage to trick my parents into thinking you’d eaten the spiked food?”

Sanji flashes you a toothy grin, “Ah love… you know how it is — ask us no questions, and we’ll tell you no lies!”

Luffy, however, whoops as he launches himself from a pair of solid brick buildings, catapulting himself over your sprinting crew.

“We just — pretended to eat! I mean — I did kinda actually eat a bit — but — it wasn’t that bad!”

You resist the urge to pinch your nose bridge at the nonchalance with which Luffy is talking about consuming poisoned food, but you’ve only got two hands and both are equally occupied at the moment. You settle for an exasperated sigh.

“That was — really stupid! — What if — they’d — poisoned the food — with something — other than — sleeping medicine?!” you ask, forcing air into your lungs as finally, you all round the bend onto the bustling pier, the Going Merry’s unmistakable shape silhouetted against the misty horizon.

“We can talk when — we’re all back — on the ship!” Nami calls as she sprints passed you, reaching out a hand for Luffy, who’s elongated arm grabs her and slings her onto the deck of the ship. You barely have a second to breathe before Zoro’s arm loops around your waist and you’re being pulled tight into his side.

His breath is hot against your collarbone as he smirks, “Hold on tight, Princess.”

It’s all you can do to listen as you’re suddenly whipped through the air like a doll on a drunken marionette’s string. A bright peal of Luffy-tinted laughter later, you thud onto the deck of the Going Merry, the breath knocked clean from your lungs as the world spins and spins. You’d expected to hit solid wood, or maybe even the railing or the mast but —

Zoro groans beneath you, and it takes you a long second to realize that he’d cushioned your fall, your bodies pressed chest to chest, hip to hip, your arms still wrapped around his shoulders, his still steady around your waist.

“O-oh! Sorry —” you try to pull away but Zoro’s grip on you only tightens.

You freeze as he blinks up at you, eyes slightly narrowed.

“Crown’s crooked,” Zoro finally says, that tell-tale smirk twisting the edge of his lips as his gaze flickers upwards. Your hand jumps to the crown, somehow still clipped into your now disheveled hair, lopping to one side as the braids start to come loose. You purse your lips.

“I never liked it anyway…” You make to tug it out but Zoro reaches up to right it, though he lets his hand linger as he falls along the side of your face.

“Nah, looks good on you.” His voice is so low, and suddenly, air is such a language that you’re certain you’d forgotten how to speak. Slowly, he pushes up till you’re both sitting, you still pressed against him and him still pressed against you. Distantly, you can hear shouting, Usopp’s voice raised high over the wind as the Merry careens out of port and towards the open sea.

But strangely, no one makes to pull you away from him, or him from you.

“I should’ve told you guys…” you say, eyes casting down as you rest your palms against his chest. Beneath it, you can feel his heart — pounding, pounding, pounding. There’s a light sheen of sweat glimmering on his honeyed skin as you swallow, looking back up even as he chuckles.

“Sure, but we should’ve asked.”

You bite your lips, “I think you did.”

Zoro grins, shrugging as he helps you up, somehow managing to keep his arm slipped around your waist.

“Well. Should’ve asked better, then.”

12. lost stars

It takes you a while to tell them the story — the real story, the whole story. And there’s drinking involved, but it’s mostly just you clutching at your half-filled glass, Zoro’s knee pressed comfortingly against yours, even though his eyes are closed, his head leaned back, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

You tell them about the dark underbelly of royalty that everyone knows but no one wants to talk about — the blood and teeth beneath the silk and silver. You tell them about being raised a bargaining chip, of being sold and promised like a prized heifer on auction day.

You tell them about the moonless nights when the only thing you had to keep you company was the cold, about the “lessons” your mother would teach you, about how the maids would be instructed to hide the bruises just so, about the Prince who you were set to marry and the rumors that plagued his castle —

“They say that he’d take the prettiest girls from the surrounding town as his maids and that none of them ever walked out of his castle again,” you say. The moonshine burns on its way down your throat as you finish your drink.

Wordlessly, Zoro reaches over to pluck the glass from your hand and set it on the table. It’s only then that you realize your fingers are white and trembling.

“Did he hurt you?”

Zoro’s voice is not loud, but everyone turns to look at him. You shake your head, clasping your hands in your lap.

“No. I only ever… met him once, at a dinner party. It was after that that I… ran away.”

Zoro hums, leaning back again, “Good.”

Across the room, Sanji blows out a series of smoke rings and frowns.

“Were you about to offer to hunt him down?” Robin asks, sounding amused.

Zoro shrugs, “Wouldn’t have offered — would’ve just done it.”

“He sounds like the kinda guy we should hunt down anyway, no?” Luffy asks, cocking his head as he looks back at you, “I mean, I’m glad he never hurt you but… he’s still hurting people!”

“Luffy’s got a point,” Sanji says, stubbing out his cigarette.

“For once, I agree with Sanji,” Nami says.

There’s a light squabble during which Sanji makes an aggrieved noise and Nami rolls her eyes, and then everyone is laughing and chatting and more drinks are being poured. Next to you, Zoro reaches out to wrap his arm around your waist again. It’s something he’s been doing more lately, and you can’t honestly say that you mind it much at all.

“We don’t have to,” he says, leaning forward, almost as if to brush his lips by your ear, “if… if you don’t want to.”

You shiver at the base rumble of his voice, at the way his eyes are so warm and full of some uncertain promise.

“No, I… I do want to. It’s just…”

Zoro’s fingers trace small, absent-minded circles into the skin of your waist and you fight down another shiver.

“I don’t plan on letting you get kidnapped again, Princess.”

Your gaze snaps up to meet Zoro’s, and there’s a faint smile kissing the line of his lips. And suddenly, the lightness of his touch doesn’t feel so thoughtless as heat curls out from the place where his palm meets your skin, radiating out till you’re breathless with it.

“Oh?”

“Never liked people trying to take what’s mine.”

And the dark possessiveness with which he says mine leaves little room for interpretation, even as you lick your lips and try to think of something witty to say.

“I don’t remember agreeing to be yours.”

It’s the best you can come up with; Zoro’s only response is a soft, contemplative grunt.

“What’s that saying? ‘Actions speak louder than words’?” he flashes you a satisfied grin as you narrow your eyes at him, swatting at his chest as he laughs.

“I meant it though,” he says, a moment later, as the rest of the crew all chatter around you, “about calling it off if you don’t want to. But…” he reaches up a free hand to tug a strand of your hair free from the ponytail it’s tied up in.

“Figured you might sleep better at night knowing he’s gone.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t been aware you were holding, your whole body softening as you lean into him, pressing your palms to his chest as he looks at you.

“Yeah… I think I might. And… like you said… it’s not like I’m gonna get kidnapped again.”

You smile, letting your eyes flicker down to Zoro’s lips. His smile is pleased and just a little jagged as he tugs you up by the hand and the pair of you slip from the room.

Above deck, the sun is setting, and the warm, slanted light casts the entire ship in a glaze of gold that looks almost gilded. You lean against the railings, closing your eyes and letting the warmth of the sun seep into your skin, chasing away the chill that’d been lingering at your fingertips since you’d all made your spectacular escape from your home island.

You feel rather than hear Zoro join you. You take your time breathing in the salty tang of the humid sea air before opening your eyes and slating him a side-long look.

“Thank you,” you say.

“For what?”

“For coming after me.”

Zoro scoffs, turning away from the roiling waves to lean back against the railings, his head cocked as he looks you over.

“Like I said… I don’t like it when people try to take what’s mine.”

But this time, you laugh, nodding, “So you’ve said. But still… thanks.”

“Hn.”

Zoro closes his eyes, seemingly enjoying the last vestiges of the setting sun as it sinks ever-lower along the horizon. Then, he opens one eye to peer at you.

“Though I’ve been meaning to ask —”

“Hm?”

“What’s this about doing more than biting… if asked about it nicely enough?”

You try to duck your head but Zoro catches your chin in his fingers.

“I — I just… knew it would piss off my mother if she —”

“Mm, sounded like more than that to me.”

Your breath hitches as Zoro’s thumb traces a rough line along your bottom lip.

“How about… I show you?” and the offer is barely out of your mouth before Zoro is kissing you, his mouth seeking out yours with a soft groan that betrays all the lightness in his touch as he trails his free hand down your arm to pull hard at your waist.

And it’s not the first time you’ve kissed. It’s not even the first time a kiss with Zoro has become more than just a kiss, though you’d always been careful before to make sure that he knew (though thinking back, it might’ve just been an ill-fated attempt at lying to yourself) that the pleasure shared between bodies was just that — pleasure and bodies.

But this — this kiss becomes, and becomes.

It becomes breath and heartbeats, pleasure and heat. It becomes truth and promises and the tantalizing taste of fairy-tale endings.

“Z-Zoro…”

“Yes Princess?”

You hiss as his teeth grazes along your pulse point and your fingers fist in his hair.

“Y’know…” your voice comes out as nothing more than a soft pant as Zoro tugs you over to one of the reclining chairs beneath the orange trees and pulls you over his hips, “I’ve never liked being called that but…”

“But?” his thumbs inch beneath the material of your shirt, circling your hipbones as he smirks up at you.

“I don’t mind it when it’s you.”

Zoro’s grin goes wide and wolfish. Above him, the first stars spark into being as the sun finally sinks beyond the far horizon. For a second, his smile softens as he reaches up to toy with the end of the pale pink ribbon in your hair. Then, he gives it a single, solid tug, and your hair falls open around your shoulders, tumbling down in waves.

Zoro leans up to press a light kiss to the blood-stained satin before letting it flutter off in the wind, twisting into the rapidly darkening night.

“Good… cause I ain’t about to let anyone else call you that either.”

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece live action #one piece scenarios #opla zoro #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #x reader #opla #one piece netflix #opla zoro x reader #one piece live action x you #one piece live action x reader #roronoa zoro fluff #one piece fluff #roronoa zoro imagines #roronoa zoro scenarios #floofy floof floof #angst mcgee #scheduled post

[uglyducklingofthe2000s]

For the shy-series maybe one where lando proposes.🤭

Love is Exactly What We have - LN (Shy Series)

I've been building my way up to this. It was inevitable that it'd happen at some point. PS this pink Drew hoodie on him has a choke hold on me. But I do have to ask, do I make this like the final part? Kind like a perfect ending to the series, that they're cementing their relationship and will have a future together? Or are you guys still wanting more? Let me know in the replies or send in more requests :)

Also ngl I teared up a little writing this. Not saying you will too, but idk this one really got the emotions going.

Taking y/n on a skiing trip was intentionally hilarious because Lando knows she hates the cold even more than him. He doesn't like being cold, but he can tolerate cold weather so long as he's properly dressed.

Y/n, however, usually gets pouting and latches onto Lando for a source of warmth. So of course he insisted they go skiing. But also, he wanted to give her a new experience for a big life event.

She's already cuddled up on his lap just on the flight over. With Max and Pietra there. Though unbeknownst to y/n they've actually got a big role in why they're there. She hasn't really spoken

"Have you even been skiing baby?" Lando asks already knowing the answer, but really just trying to reassure himself that he's giving her a new experience.

"No. I'm going to stay inside and sip hot chocolate." Y/n teases since she's already promised him that she'll take part in whatever he says they should do. She's more than happy to let him take the lead in deciding what they do.

"You're going to love it once we've got you properly dressed for it."

"It's a good thing I trust you."

"It is, isn't it?" Lando hums then gently stroking a thumb down her cheek, his finger tracing her jaw before he leans down to kiss her. "This trip would suck without you."

Y/n just remains quiet, kissing herself from doing anything but smiling at him fondly. An expression he hopes to be receiver of for the rest of his life.

-

"Aww...look at poor y/n. She's freezing." Max cooes to y/n as they walk toward the airport from the jet. Her hand linked to Lando's as he tries to snap some pictures with his camera.

"Are you making a vlog?" Y/n frowns in confusion since she thought this was just a trip for them all.

"Just a little one." Lando assures her earning a small nod before he shoots Max a look to put the camera away.

They get to the Hilton hotel where Lando gets the VIP treatment as always and they're placed in the best and biggest suite.

"Ah, no you can't just hide in the bed." Lando laughs when y/n immediately worms her way under the bed covers trying to embrace the warmth. "Come on."

"No...It's so cosy." Y/n whines as he literally pulls her back out from under the covers only to find her grinning as she is revealed. "Alright, what are we doing first?"

"Dinner. We just need to eat." Lando smiles leaning down and kissing her. "Max and P have other plans. So it's just for us."

"That sounds pretty nice to me." Y/n hums as he leans down and kissing her, deepening the kiss and lingering slightly before he pulls her up with him. "What can we get to eat?"

"There's a restaurant not far from here. Do you want to change or should we just keep going with what we're wearing?" Lando asks making y/n look down before he scoops her face up, forcing her to look at him again. "You look beautiful. I just want to make sure you feel like you're dressed warm enough."

Y/n's face burns in his hold since she always gets embarrassed when he catches her being insecure then calls her out on it. The man knows her better than she knows herself these day and she is never that certain how she is meant to feel about it. Most of the time, she just ends up flushed and is completely endeared by his effort to always make her feel reassured.

"I love you." Lando states quickly kissing her yet again.

"I love you too." She whispers before shifting. "I'll just put on that new scarf you bought for the trip."

"Ok, no problem." Lando nods then moving back. "Well, let's get ourselves fed. Then I promise we can just get ourselves back here for the night."

Despite bringing Max and Pietra, Lando does actually want some time alone with y/n. So dinner just for them is an easy way to kick start the whole trip with some actual romance. Even if in reality that is the whole point of the trip.

-

Using Pietra three days into the trip to take y/n to a spa, Lando finally gets to make sure that Max knows the plans for the proposal. He got the blessing from her family, he made sure his own family would be happy to really have her officially part of the Norris name and he made sure his friends were all supportive. Not that any of it would've stopped him, but it's nice to have the support of those who mean the most to him.

"They're on their way...are you ready?" Max asks looking at Lando who has dressed himself in a suit and made sure everything is as perfect as it could possibly be.

The proposal is in a private venue. No audience. Max and Pietra won't be there. Max is just there to help set up all the cameras, Pietra is just there to make sure that y/n finds the right room and actually walks in.

"I've been ready of this since I first saw her at that party." Lando nods letting a shiver of excitement ripple down his body. "Thanks for helping me with this, I'll be repaying you when the day comes that you're ready."

"Let's just focus on you and the love of your life." Max chuckles then brushing Lando's suit down. "I'm so happy for you man and you're doing this the perfect way for the two of you. Just the two of you with no interference or spectators."

Lando doesn't need the boost of confidence. He's almost certain this will go off without a hitch, him and y/n are just made for each other. He knows it and he's confident that y/n knows it. The proposal was always just a case of when not if.

Though he has a feeling that y/n thought they'd make it past the year mark for him to gain the confidence or find the time to get it all together.

"Ok, they're here. I'm going to disappear. Text us when we can come back in." Max states making Lando adjust checking his suit is straightened out and sorted. "You look good. Curls are curling, suit is suiting and uncontrollable smile is smiling."

Lando grins before Max gives him a final nod and leaves the room.

Then he waits.

A few minutes passing before he hears Petra's voice and vaguely picks up on the sound of her saying for y/n to go ahead and she'll catch up because the boys are waiting for them.

The soft brushing sound of the door opening onto the carpet is heard and Lando's heart thumps in his chest seeing y/n dressed up for what she thought was going to be a double date.

(Y/n's outfit below)

She looks sort of cold, and Lando has to restrain himself from rushing over to hug her.

Though he might have to pull her the rest of the way into the room when her eyes land on him and she seems to freeze.

"Come here, baby. you can't stay in the door way for this." Lando chuckles softly. Very much aware that this moment is being captured on camera forever from several angles. He holds out his hand, hoping to use some invisible force to pull her forward.

By some miracle it works but he can see there's already a gleam in her eye, shiny with building tears. When her hand links to his and he looks at her for a moment, there's already a stray tear that he wipes away.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asks, wanting to give her the option to say no without having to fully reject him after the question.

"No."

He was confident but that has clicked everything into the perfect future like he always dreamed for them.

With that, Lando gets down on one knee, keeping hold of her hand and pulling the ring box from his pocket with a grin that he can't tone down.

"Y/n y/l/n, I knew you were going to be something special in my life since the moment I saw you. I knew I wanted you as someone who stays in my life forever from the moment I first heard your voice. Would you do me the honour of becoming my fiancé and, hopefully not too long from now, my wife?" Lando asks making her nod, and that's enough.

For Lando, he knows no words mean just as much as words for y/n. Her quiet nature makes her so easy to love for Lando that a wordless answer is all he needs to slide the perfectly sized ring onto her finger and stand in the smoothest fashion that leads directly into a kiss.

In fact it leads directly into several kisses. Neither wanting the moment to end. Really they'd both love to relive this moment forever and remain in the private little bubble of their world.

Not that it will be bad when the news breaks, but Lando will get heads over the questions because the media and fans care about his personal life and his love life. They care about every little detail they can get about y/n, and more specifically the relationship.

Sure, no one was probably predicting a proposal so early in the relationship. But equally it might not come as such a surprise.

For now. This is for them. It's only for them and not even the other people who know about it are included in this moment.

#f1 #fanfic #formula 1 #lando #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando x reader #norris #lando norris one shot #formula one #mclaren #lando norris fanfic #ln4 x reader #ln4 fic #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff #ln4 #mclaren formula 1 #mclaren f1

[callmemickey]

Pepsi Cola

synopsis: Simon is on his break, but that doesn’t mean you stop working. After a full two weeks of mandatory overtime to complete a project, you were exhausted, absolutely beat. Simon’s been home for a few weeks and was starting to feel guilty. Watching you come home so tired you pass out on the couch? It was frustrating seeing you so drained. Well… it’s Friday night, and you’re sooo exhausted, love - why don’t you lie down and let Simon help you relax?

content: afab, porn w a plot, smut (GET YA PUSSY ATE!!!, fingering, overstim), not fluff?per se but he loves u.

word count: ~3.6k I think idk

notes: Title named after Cola by Lana Del Rey hayyyy iykyk

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Your keys felt so heavy in your hand as you attempted to fish them out of your deep, cluttered purse. They were tangled on something, and with an infuriated grunt, you yanked terribly hard, jerking them violently out of the thralls of your corded headphones. You really needed to switch to wireless. You fumbled them momentarily in your hand, trying to find your house key as the small porch light was your only guide, the sky dark like navy ink. “Fuck,” you mumbled, finally finding the key and opening the front door.

Soft, warm lights lit up the entryway, beckoning you to enter the fortress of comfort, an escape from the throes of responsibilities and existing. A groan left your lips as you closed the heavy door and locked it. The house smelled delicious like a home cooked meal, reminding you that Simon saved you dinner for when you came home. Your stomach growled, eager. “I’m home.” Your voice was loud and filled with fatigue as you called out to your fiancé, always making sure to signal that it was you and not someone breaking in.

You’ll never forget when you tried to surprise him one time. When you got into the living room, presumably as quiet as the dead, he had grabbed you and flipped you onto the couch. “You’re lucky I knew that was you. Wanna know what’d I do if you were a thieving little mouse?” You said yes, and later told him you’ll need to break in more often as he was putting his shirt back on, his back covered with red hot stripes from your fresh manicure.

You walked down the hallway, kicking off your high heels, shuffling towards the living room, your pantyhose helping you glide across the hardwood floors as lifting your feet felt nigh impossible. Simon, ever attentive, met you in the hallway before you could even get into the living room. “Ah, love, you must be exhausted.” His tone was soft, calming, and understanding. The energy that poured from you was prickly and sharp at best, cannibalistic at worst, because while he wanted to generously touch your arm, he was worried for his.

Your purse dropped unceremoniously from your shoulder and onto the floor as you trudged over to the couch. “This week has been terrible,” you grumbled as you plopped chest first onto the cushions, “so much overtime to get a project done for the shareholders. As if it’s my fault that budgets were cut.” Your voice was muffled in the fabric.

The couch sunk by your feet as you felt Simon’s hand gingerly begin to rub your toes, arches, and heels. His thumbs gently but firmly pressing into the swollen, tired flesh of your foot elicited a moan of relief from you. “C’mon, Y/N, why don’t you go wash up? I have your dinner in the oven - I’ll get it started. Let’s go.” His voice was still delicate, supportive.

Simon ushered you up and you sighed, giving a small nod in agreement.

You went into the bathroom and stripped off your clothes. You knew what you were getting into when you were promoted to senior marketing manager, but recently you wished you had better foresight. You turned on the shower, hoping that the hotter the water, the more likely it will boil and burn off any trace of this week happening. As you washed your hair and body, you thanked whatever god allowed for Hell Week to be over. When you felt you were thoroughly cleansed from files, papers, and way too many sticky notes, you ended your shower, wanting to forget the sound of telephones ringing and keyboards clacking.

With a towel wrapped around your body and hair, you stepped out of the bathroom and sighed, the hot, fragrant steam spilling over into the cool bedroom, licking the air. You took the towel off of your head, gently squeezing water out of your hair as you walked to the dresser. You opened your underwear drawer with your hand, humming at your options.

“Feelin’ better?” Simon’s voice purred from the doorway. You looked over and saw him leaning against the doorway, arms crossed - and they briefly rippled with a flex, as if he were holding back. You did a double take, glancing from his feet up at his face. His eyes were half-lidded and a small half smirk sat on his lips. You knew that look. He was ravenous.

“Yeah. Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” You asked before attempting to divert your attention back to the drawer.

“Like what?” He uncrossed his arms, strolling over to you, towering high above. You looked up at Simon’s face.

“Like that!” You couldn’t help but giggle as he buried his face against your neck, sniffing your smooth skin, inhaling the floral scent of your body wash so deep, letting it etch in his memory like carving stone.

He molded his body against yours, hands gripping deeply at your waist, fingers pressed into the plush towel. Your hands reached to wrap around his neck. His warm lips began to leave deep, hot trails against your skin, causing you to sigh in satisfaction. Simon kept your bodies tight together, lips trailing up to your ear. He nibbled at your earlobe, sucking gently at the flesh before biting at the shell, creating a surge of pleasure to pool in your core. You whimpered, hips bucking against his jeans. Your chest heaved in shallow sighs while he continued teasing you, breathing hot puffs against your ear, letting goose bumps sweep across your skin.

“Let me take care of you.” His voice was a hot whisper, and what he gave to you was not a suggestion, but a demand.

“Mmm, you don’t have to baby,” you purred softly, a tame deferment, placidly defying him.

You tested the waters and he called your bluff. He squeezed at your waist, a little firmer than you thought he would. His voice was a low growl, “Take off your towel and lie on the bed.”

Your body began to hum on the same frequency as his, his jeans becoming incredibly firm against your stomach. Simon pulled away, his half-lidded eyes darkening as they swirled with an insatiable drive. Your breath hitched in your chest, your stomach flipping as your cunt twitched in need.

You paused for too long. A hand left your waist and came down hard on your ass and gripped the fat flesh. You yelped more so at the sudden action than the sting. “And what do you say?” He asked, and your arousal caused you to feel your cheeks flush hot.

Your chest heaved. “Yes, sir.” Your voice was quiet, and he smiled.

“Thas my good girl, so god damn beautiful and smart. Go on then, let me see those gorgeous tits.” He moved his hands away from your ass and waist.

Your stomach flipped again, but you obliged, loosening the towel and letting it fall to the floor. Simon took a deep inhale, exhaling sharply as he eyed your body, and right now he looked like he desperately needed to sink his cock into you, but that wasn’t really part of his plan tonight.

He inhaled one more time, blinking himself back to reality as he gave your ass pleasant tap with just enough force to get it to jiggle. “Fuckin’ hell, Y/N, get your arse on that bed now.” He was at the point of fully commanding you around, but you were okay with that, and you would do anything he ever asked of you. Anything for your wonderful fiancé.

“Yes, sir.” You said coyly, causing his lips to twitch back into a smirk. You felt yourself melt a little while you walked over to the bed, plopping down on the edge.

Simon walked over to you, so unbelievably tall while you were sitting down. Heat pooled down to your stomach when you glanced down at his jeans. You looked back up at him, licking your bottom lip absentmindedly. He smiled, sighing. “Not tonight, love.” He scolded lovingly.

“Later?” You asked.

He paused, thinking for a moment before nodding. “Later,” he agreed, letting you win - which caused you to smile mischievously.

Simon leaned down to you, grabbing you by your waist and tossing you up higher onto the bed. You yelped with a smile, giggling as you fell down on your back, bouncing softly on the down blanket. Simon’s lips came down against yours, giving you little to no time to adjust. His hands, gentle on the naked flesh of your waist, whispered ghostly touches up your sides before eventually cupping your breasts. Your moans were lost in his mouth as his fingers squeezed and rubbed at your nipples, your hands finding themselves lost in his hair. You squeezed his hips with your thighs, your cunt swollen, begging and weeping for his abuse.

He moved his lips down to your neck, kissing, sucking, and gently biting you. Simon moved a hand from your breast and used it as leverage next to your head while the other hand slid down your front, tickling your sensitive skin, roaming over your stomach and mound. His fingers dipped down between your folds, pressing into your wet heat. You let out a pathetic whimper at the contact alone, raising it into a moan as his fingers rubbed slow circles against your clit.

“Ah, yeah? You like that, Y/N?” He purred against your neck before pulling away to see your reaction. You bit your lower lip and nodded feverishly at him, eyebrows furrowed. Simon smiled, your wet hair sticking to your face, providing a cool relief to the heat that swarmed your body like a furnace.

“Ye-yeah, yes- yes, sir,” you managed to gasp out. His smile turned into a smirk as he felt your cunt twitching. As if answering your unspoken prayers, his two digits dipped and pushed into your needy hole. A gasp was ripped from you, jaw dropping slightly at the sudden filling of your cunt.

“God, already so wet - my girl has the best fucking pussy.” He gave a small thrust, causing you to moan gently and buck your hips. “Oh, the things I’d do just to have my cock buried in you,” he growled before gently pumping his fingers.

Your tits bounced as his digits softly fucked into you, fingers curling up and rocking your hips, pressing into that spot that had your eyes rolling back. Your grip left his hair and soon grasped desperately onto his back, causing him to groan while your nails dug at him. “Ha, ah, harder,” you gasped as your hips bucked against his hand.

Simon smiled. “Yeah? You wanna cum on my fingers, don’tcha baby?” He asked, your cunt twitching embarrassingly at his words.

“Yes- yes, sir, please!” You whined.

“Hold on, love,” he sighed before rocking his fingers into you at an ungodly pace.

Your voice raised pitch before becoming lost in your throat, your head thrown back and eyes gone. All that filled the room was the sounds of your juices squelching against his fast moving digits. The silence was soon cut, moans finally finding their way out of you. Your fingernails dragged frantically at his back, as if you were fighting to stay grounded. Your cunt constricted harshly around his fingers, trapping him.

Your orgasm ripped through you, your hips bucked against his fingers and your thighs squeezed at his hips. Like a cool tidal wave poured over you, a chill ran down your back as your body surged with pleasure, leaving you crying out Simon’s name. He chuckled softly with a gentle voice, “Ahhh, thas my good girl, huh?” His voice was like a warm blanket of clouds, helping you down from your dizzying high. He pulled his fingers out and gave a small slap to your pussy, causing you to whine and your hips to stutter as he teased the tender flesh.

“Jesus, Simon,” you whimpered, your head still swimming in the aftershocks of pleasure.

He chuckled at your reaction while planting kisses down your neck and collarbone, stopping at your breasts to lope a nipple into his mouth. You let out a throaty groan as his teeth pulled at the sensitive, hardened bud. Your nails that raked at his back moved back up to his hair, the pads of your fingers pressing firmly into his scalp as his locks slid and tightened betweens your digits. The sensation had him sighing against your mounds.

He released your breast from his mouth, his teeth squeezing at your nipple before fully letting go, causing you to let out a small yelp. Simon began to kiss down your chest and the expanse of your stomach. He placed deep kisses at your hips before heading towards the simmering heat of your cunt - sticky, wet, and begging. He looped his arm under your thigh, hand holding your hip to keep you in place.

Simon’s lips pressed against your swollen clit, causing you to gasp harshly. His tongue, flat and hot, slid up your folds, extracting a long moan from you, and in response he moaned. “I’ve been waiting all night for this,” he hummed against your cunt, the vibrations of his voice driving straight to your core.

You groaned, your hips grinding against him in response which caused him to chuckle against you. “O-oh God, Simon!” You cried at the overwhelming stimulation, your legs shaking at his persistence as he buried his mouth into your cunt.

Simon lapped at you hungrily like a man dehydrated, drinking at your sloppy pussy as if he’d never be able to go back down on you again. It was gluttony and pure greed. He had commented before about how he hopes his manner of passing is drowning while you straddle his face. You laughed and said maybe one day! He didn’t think your joking demeanor was appropriate, and how he meant every word with serious intent. Whenever he’s being deployed on a mission, he always assures you he won’t die, because you’re the only one that could take him out. Of course, you didn’t truly understand the depth of his conviction.

Simon’s teeth gently nibbled and helped to create a suction around your clit, his dampened fingers once again finding your hole and pushing in. You let out a loud moan, your hips driving against his face, his nose pressing onto your mound as he did everything he could to keep you two attached, connected. He moved his head to match with your movements, keeping his mouth glued flat to your pussy, and any attempt to pull yourself away from him would prove futile.

Your fiancé has a wonderfully keen gift of being a giver. He was always so incredibly selfless with you, which could get almost aggravating as he was certain on making sure that your needs were met first. This attitude carried over to the bedroom. He could give you fifty orgasms and beg to give you fifty more while never even taking his shirt off.

What he loves, besides bringing you pleasure you’ve never experienced before, is seeing you lost in passion. Watching your face twist as he stretches you with an additional finger, your eyes rolling back as he hits that sweet spot, your hips grinding as you chase after your orgasm, your back arching and legs shaking as the euphoria and bliss crash over and through you. Simon got off by simply being the source of your arousal, and he savored unraveling you thread by thread before you’re bare before him.

That’s what he loved.

Your pleasure brimmed to the top, the lip, before finally pouring over. Your hands gripped tight at his scalp, legs tightened around his head as your back arched, head thrown back. Your cunt tightened deliciously around his pumping digits, his tongue still swirling around your clit as he rode out your orgasm. “F-Fuck, Simon!” You cried, moaning loudly, still holding onto him as the high came to slow, but he didn’t stop.

He continued to pump and lap at your clit, causing you to squeal in overstimulation, legs beginning to shake as a concoction of pleasure and pain pulsed through your core with every pass of his tongue. “I can’t- ah! Simon, please!” You sobbed, begging him to stop. A harsh groan left you, your body trying to shake him away as he kept his mouth to you. It wasn’t fair - it was too much. You were starting to burnout, your body sore and barely able to keep up. Regardless of your exhaustion, another orgasm was in the horizon, slowly reaching it’s peak before ultimately falling into a frenzied bliss.

“You gonna cum again, baby?” Simon mumbled against your sex, the vibrations causing you to groan roughly as your hands moved from his head to the sheets, grasping them with a white-knuckled grip, back arched impossibly high as you tried to wriggle away. You nodded frantically at his question, your body squirming and tossing with no ability to stop or control it as he pushed you to your limits.

You never doubt that Simon can bring you another orgasm in quick succession - he’s proven that true multiple times, almost every time, especially now. Your poor clit, though, was bullied and battered, the bundle of nerves crying out in both pain and pleasure. But it was a slave to Simon. Even during the loneliest of nights, months in bed by yourself, you could never make yourself feel how he makes you feel. It was maddening, and frankly unfair, but it made the intimate times with him all the more exhilarating and mind numbing. What makes it better is that no one but Simon has been able to bring you into such a state of ecstasy.

Simon’s free hand, still wrapped around your thigh and holding onto your hip, held you so tightly in place he pinched at your skin. You were going to bruise there, you knew, but you didn’t really care. Even though it was like edged like a razor, your release was fast approaching with no stops. You panted heavily, loudly, your body involuntarily writhing as the pleasure tipped you over the scale. His tongue dragged hot and firm against your clit, his fingers still thrusting and rubbing the spongy spot inside your cunt as the muscle enclosed and clamped around him, unforgiving.

“Oh, God!” You cried loudly, tears pricking at your eyes as you used a hand to cover your face.

Your orgasm came fast and sharp. His onslaught was staggering and unrelenting, and it brought an end that was piercing, sudden. A scream was ripped from you as the pleasure came like a heavy punch, borderline painful. It was a surge of electricity that ripped through your core, shocking your nerves and forcing your body to briefly tense… but it all dissipated almost immediately. Your mind and body crashed.

Your back collapsed onto the bed and Simon’s fingers slid out of your clenching cunt, his mouth pulling away from your swollen, angry clit. A moan of relief fell out of your mouth as Simon crawled atop you, a hand pushing the hair out of your face as he planted his lips onto yours, kissing you deeply and fully. Your juices had coated his lips in abundance, and you tasted yourself as his tongue slipped into your mouth. His tongue was slick, and he made sure that you entire mouth was coated with yourself.

He pulled back, allowing you the space to sit up, delirious, face hot and wet from sweat. Simon stifled a laughter behind a tightly pursed mouth. “What.” Your tone strained with trying to demand an answer, but it was hoarse from your yelling and crying.

He shook his head, his eyes fluttering. “Your hair, love.”

Your hands shakily went to your hair, feeling it messy and sticking up at odd angles. “Ah.” You nodded, trying to run your fingers through to flatten it out.

Simon preemptively got up to the bathroom and came out with a brush, taking a seat behind you as he silently began brushing out your hair, starting at the ends. You two took the moment quietly, slowly, and embraced just being in each other’s presence. The session was hot and heavy, and having Simon nearby, gently brushing out your vicious knots, was soothing on your frazzled nerves, like aloe on a sunburn. “You feelin’ good, babe?” He asked in a quiet tone.

You hummed. “Yeah, but that last one was really intense.” You commented, eyebrows briefly furrowed as the third orgasm continued to make your body shudder. His hands suddenly wrapped deep in your hair at the base of your scalp, and with a gentle tug, he pulled your head back to look at him, causing you to gasp quickly.

“Were you able to handle it?” His brown eyes bore into you, and you gave a restrained nod, almost forgetting that his hand was keeping your head steady.

Your voice was meek and small, “Yes, sir.”

Simon smiled, kissing your forehead. “That’s my girl,” he purred, gingerly releasing your head and putting the brush on the nightstand. He gave you a kiss on the top of your head as he stood up, commenting about checking on dinner.

You noticed his cock was rock solid in his jeans, pressing and straining against the denim so tight it must’ve hurt. God, you wanted to return the favor more than you could possibly put into words. He noticed your gaze and his hand cupped your jaw, tilting your head upwards so your eyes met his.

“Later, like we agreed.” His voice was low, firm, and painfully arousing. Literally. Your clit throbbed with both the need to be doted on and to also be left alone for a long, long time. “Get dressed. I’ll be in the kitchen.” With that, Simon left you to your own devices in the bedroom.

You got up out of bed, inhaling sharply through your nose at the feeling of your beaten cunt being squeezed between your legs. You hobbled to the dresser, resuming your original task. Underwear. Grabbing a random pair, along with pajama shorts and a shirt, you found yourself comfortable and ready for the night, making sure to slide on your robe so you didn’t get chilly.

The evening progressed. You sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, eating your dinner while Simon sat on the couch behind you, running his fingers through your hair, lazily braiding your locks as a movie played on the television. Your lovely fiancé also made sure you were planted on the softest, fluffiest pillow he could find. When you were finished, he made you sit on the couch while he cleaned up, coming back just to delicately massage your feet. It was tender, romantic, thoughtful. Simon wasn’t a very… physically affectionate partner, so these moments when he just wanted to be with you, to touch you, well, you really tried to get as much as you could.

When he was finished, his hands slid up your smooth calves towards your thighs, beckoning you to cuddle closer - to which you did. You hopped across the couch where the back of your legs were draped over his thighs, nestling your body in close to his, letting him wrap his large arm around your shoulders to keep you close. Oh, you couldn’t even put into words how peaceful being wrapped up in his arms made you feel. Warm, secure, safe. His other hand sat on your thigh, his veins and tendons prominent, titillating, twisting around his forearms, making the black ink of his tattoo dance. What was even hotter was seeing these veins and tendons flex and and tighten as his hands gripped the sheets or headboard as he fucked you to nirvana, until nothing but prayers and begging for God spilled and tumbled from your mouth in an indistinguishable slur.

“Why so nice tonight?” You asked him in a quiet voice, looking up at him while resting your head against his chest.

Without hesitation, he looked down at you. “Do I need a reason?” Your stomach fluttered, heat spreading to your face. You shook your head. “You’ve been stressed and working late this week. Least I could do,” he explained regardless and shrugged, rubbing the fresh stubble on his jaw.

Simon’s been back for a month, and you’ve been so busy you feel like you’ve barely seen him. He gets up extremely early to see you before work, make you breakfast and coffee, and prepare your lunch. All day he makes sure the house is clean and chores are done, opting to even overhaul the landscaping in the front yard - something you’ve been too busy to do. At night, he always waits for you to come home, dinner ready if you haven’t eaten. He makes sure you’re showered and taken care of before starting the whole routine again in the morning. You didn’t necessarily feel less than or that you’re lacking in the relationship, but it was infuriating not being able to take care of your fiancé while he has worked tirelessly to keep the world from blowing up.

But that wasn’t wholly true, was it? Sure, you felt that way, having openly admitted your insecurities to him, but Simon has always been genuine and adamant in letting you know that you’re doing so much more when you don’t have to. While he loves that you’re on your corporate grind, he’s made it clear that if you told him you never wanted to lift your hand again, you wouldn’t. Of course, with weeks, and honestly, months like these, you get closer and closer to considering to take him up on his offer. Then you could be that sweet, doting housewife, eager for her husband to come home from war.

“So,” you started, grabbing his attention and warm gaze, “is it later yet?”

#ouch my puthy! #cod mw2 #ghost smut #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you

[prettyboykatsuki]

warm-ups | gojo + nsfw + inspection

✮ tags ; afab + gn!reader (they are wearing a skirt / panties) but no gendered language, established relationship / power imbalance (they're dating but gojo is their superior) , teasing, humiliation, pussy inspection, praise, petnames (sweet thing, baby), fingering + penetration, creampies 18+

✮ wc ; 1.9k

✮ a/n ; i swear on my entire fucking life i did not rig this one at all KJSDF. the wheels just decided i promise this on my life.

idk if the writing reflects what i experienced trying to write this but . good fucking lord. good lord.

"Let me see,"

Embarrassing. Humiliation is making your face burn hot as Gojo stares at you. He's smiling, of course he is - a lazy grin, head tilted slightly to one side. His teeth peek out, sharp incisors and even sharper canines like a light in the dim light of an empty classroom.

"Satoru," You reason, hands fidgeting on the hem of your skirt with a sigh "We're in the—"

"I want to see," He's not asking, so much as telling. Your heart races. You squirm. Earlier, when he called and asked for you to wear something cute - you thought it'd be some of his typical flirting. You decided to appease him. Not particularly hoping he would make any advances on you. It wasn't something you thought to justify to yourself.

It struck you as odd when he asked about it. The husk of his voice as he leaned in behind you and told you good before waltzing off back to his lesson. The whole day he'd done nothing else out of ordinary. Made his usual jokes and stupid, unserious flirtatious advances.

And then you were alone. The building is empty, and you're supposed to be planning practical lessons for the first years. Gojo cornered you here and sat with you in silence for a little while, eyes following your curves and edges before stopping to look at you.

He wanted to see what you wore. But it wasn't like usual. Something was different, obviously - he'd been thinking about something else and like usual opted not to tell you about it. You're sure he won't even if you ask.

It's a trustfall with him - always testing you to see if you'll give him blind faith. You think he likes seeing you flounder more than he's concerned about your loyalty.

You can't get a read on him.

"You're really—"

"Let me see," He says again, not as playful. You swallow thick. It's your fault for indulging him so much "I want to know what you picked."

You go to take it off and Gojo shakes his head.

"Flip your skirt up,"

"You can't be serious."

He looks at you. Reprimanding. He's very serious. You swallow around something in your throat again, turning your head. Focusing your attention on anything else. The open window that gives view to the darkness outside. If anyone came right now they'd see this. You decide to close your eyes after all.

Wordlessly, you grab the end of your skirt and flip it up. Holding the material just over your thighs - to give visibility to the sheer, delicate material underneath. A brief silence is followed with echoey footsteps. Intentional. He's letting his weight hit the ground each time he does it.

You know he stops when you feel him looming over you. Before you can get a worse in edge-wise, he drops down. Squats until his face is at level with your pussy.

But he doesn't touch you. You can feel his breath distantly, and you're too afraid to look. But he's careful not to touch you. When you do feel his hand, it's brushing against your ankle. Fingers playing with the frill of your socks.

"Spread your legs a little."

"But—"

The air changes. You clip your mouth shut and listen, sneakers squeaking along the tile as you spread yourself. Standing at shoulder width, making yourself more clear to view.

"Good," He says, like it needs no explanation "I like when you listen to me."

You don't reply. You just sit, and wait - heart hammering so hard against your chest like you've run a mile.

You count the seconds but the numbers feel muddled after you count up to three hundred. A little over five minutes before he moves again. He touches the palm of his hand against your knee, planing them up the tops of your thigh. A barely there movement. Goosebumps cover every single inch of you. He hums, arbitrarily running his fingers along your inner thigh but never quite committing.

You're almost too afraid to move. Not that he'd do anything bad. But you have no idea what he's doing in the first place. It's starting to make you sweat.

"These are pretty," He says, conversationally running his finger along the top seam where the bows are. Still not touching "They new?"

"U-uhm," Your fingers tighten around your skirt "Yes?"

"Mm," He tugs the waistband, letting it snap against your skin lightly "Were you thinking of me?"

"I thought you'd like them."

"I do. I like when you think of me."

You shudder.

"Were you thinking anything of it when you put them on this morning?"

"No," You answer truthfully.

"Really?" He answers back, genuine "Even in the afternoon,"

"I just wasn't thinking,"

"What a shame," He replies, soft and gentle. He runs fingers against the place where you thighs meet your legs. Still no direct touching. You feel yourself starting to get wet around where he isn't. "I was thinking of you all day."

"Oh," You mumble.

"Wanna know what I was thinking about?"

He doesn't give you a chance to answer.

"I was thinking about," A single finger, his middle finger, runs along the seam of your panties. A ghost of a touch that makes your knees weak "Giving you a nice, thorough inspection."

You can't think.

"I was thinking," He answers again, but this time he pushes and you gasp at the sudden contact "About what it might be like to watch you make a mess like this," Another press, a little harder, still not where you need "Get these nice and dirty,"

"Satoru," Your voice is high-pitched. A whine. A sound you didn't even know you could make.

"I was thinking," He repeats, removing his hand completely "How wet I could get you by telling you all the dirty, awful, nasty things I wanna do with you,"

"What a-are you?"

"It's not proper at all for a trusted grown-up hm? To be pulling up your skirt and showing off your sweet little cunt to your superior? There's windows. They'll see you,"

You can only repeat his name. "Satoru."

"Do you want them to see you?" He asks, hand gentle on your thigh. He trails up "Do you want them to see you bent over the desk while I fuck you? Or maybe you want to spread your legs more,"

You choke on your spit, trying to keep the noises in.

"Make you sit with your legs wide and fuck you with my fingers till you squirt all over the desk. Let everyone see how filthy you let me make you,"

That makes you open your eyes. Once squeezed shut, now wet with need. You turn slightly, looking down at him. He looks pleased by this, by your staring. He watches your face as he gathers the material covering your pussy, pulling it between your lips with enough friction that your knees nearly give out.

"It's good that these were so light," He offers "Didn't think you could get this wet over something like this."

Your lower lip is trembling.

He still doesn't take pity on you.

"You did well," He kisses your knee. It's the most you've gotten from him today "What should I give you hm?"

Your words feel slurred and your head feels completely heavy. "Make me cum. Please, I wanna—"

"Shhh," He coos, patting your leg "Sit up on the desk ,"

You listen, sitting up and far back enough to sit comfortable. Gojo positions you with your feet flat on the desk underneath you. He pulls your skirt up this time, guiding your arms around his neck as he pushes his hand into the waistband of your panties.

The sudden contact is deliciously overstimulating. You gasp and Gojo hums, pleased.

"So sweet," He praises, after you've finally lost all of your resolve - brain clouded with nothing but unadulterated desire. It's hard not to give into Gojo. He always makes it good for you in the end "And so wet. You'll leave a stain."

You sniffle "Satoru," You repeat. He laughs good-naturedly. It makes you huff.

"Right, right. Sorry,"

He doesn't make you wait. The feeling of Gojo's hand makes you gasp with your face buried in his neck. His fingers are thick, smooth skin cool to the touch like a balm on your ever growing heat. He starts with his middle finger, fucking into you slowly and even though it isn't enough to make you cum - it's enough to stimulate you. Already so worked up, so needy it's so good.

But he's not doing it to make you feel good. He's preparing you, wanting to give you something better.

"Gonna give you my cock," He mumbles against the crown of your head, free hand tucking your head to his chest "You're gonna cum all over it for me, okay?"

A pathetic uh-huh leaves your lips, dazed. He doesn't give you anything more after that. One finger without resistance prompts another, and he stops at three. You can feel yourself stretched. You've taken it before, more than once.

But this time feels different. Your stomach is tied in knots. Gojo pulls away from you slightly, enough to undo his pants and let his cock spring free. White hairs neat at the base, tip flushed red. He's so hard, he's throbbing against your thigh where you can feel him.

"Take me in, baby," He hums, pushing the round tip against your cunt before it catches. He lets himself in slowly "That's it,"

The intial stretch leaves your lungs feeling punched out. Already undone, nerves frayed and mind fuzzy - the soft stretch of your pussy accommodating his length leaves you shaking. Skin on skin, raw and desperate, he swears under his breath and throws his head back. His adams apple bobs slightly, smiling as he swallows.

"So good,"

He fucks himself deeper Lets you adjust to each inch, and waits to bottom out until it's comfortable. The brief moment of tension only drives your lust further out of control. You can feel every slight throb and twitch. It gives you a second to appreciate every vein and the slight curve. The deep angle he's hitting you.

Just when you think you can't lose it anymore, he maneuvers his hand between your bodies and uses his thumb on your clit. Every neuron fires at once as he rubs the abused bundle of nerves, achy and weeping between your legs.

Your fingers tighten in his shoulders and Satoru laughs. He starts to move like that, careful and practiced. He angles each thrust of his hips to time it with his fingers. All precision, all reward. He thumbs your needy clit and fucks his cock right against the sweetest, softest part inside of you. He knows it so well by now, it always remembers him.

"Cum on me, sweet thing. Just a little more."

You wrap your legs around Gojo's waist as all the tension in your body started to overflow. All your tight muscles, the hot feeling in your belly that flows and disperses through your whole body. Every sensation works in tandem in making you fall apart and all of it happens at Gojo's mercy.

"Oh, Satoru, oh,"

You cum so hard you see white in your vision. You can feel yourself pulse as Gojo fucks himself as deep into you can go. All the way in your stomach, up to your throat - it knocks all the wind out of you as your pussy pulses and holds and clings to Gojo's cock like it never ever wants it to leave.

Gojo follows you in the aftermath of your own orgasm.

A few more shallow thrust of hips before he pours his cum into you, thick white ropes making your belly feel even hotter.

You stay like that a minute, full and exhausted until Gojo pulls away to kiss you.

"Let's clean up," He offers, an apology without saying sorry "We'll finish up at home, hm? Okay?"

You nod.

"Kay."

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #writing tag #warm ups #do not talk to me. i wrote this with my dick in my hand. jesus christ

[bettymylove]

hello! I really love your work and I was thinking if you could write a one-shot of theo inspired by the song " Open Arms by SZA ". but somehow make it a good ending? idk 😓 ( like a slow burn or something ) reader had to let theo go but theo is kind of begging..? for reader to stay in his life and so on! idk if I explained it good enough but you can search up the song and take a look at the lyrics, you'll see what topic I'm going for!

thank you if your write this! you're an amazingg writer ‼️

never leaving

pairing: theo nott x reader

content: your insecurities push you to break your friendship with Theo, only to realize you were wrong all along.

a/n: hope this matches your expectations, I'm sorry if it didn't<33 (also I feel like I'm apologizing in every a/n)

You could say that Theo took you in, he was the only person in your life that ever made you feel too comfortable. When you were on the train, he had befriended you and he never let his friendship falter.

Theo was everything, he was all you could ever need and it scared you how much you were dependent on him. You had never needed anyone, always doing everything by yourself but you could see that changing.

Friends weren't a usual sight in your life and Theo had changed that, but you still had your doubts and maybe that's why you had decided to tell him.

You always had a lingering feeling, that he was taking pity on you because who would willingly spend so much time with you, call themselves your best friend, he had no reason to do it.

You spotted Theo in the hallway along with Mattheo and Enzo. The former two were smoking, and Theo's eyes met yours, and he immediately threw down his cigarette, crushing it using the sole of his shoe.

His eyes stayed on you while yours diverted here and there, ashamed to even meet his gaze. You wanted to be with him, but he was ruining his life for you, he was way too enamored and you wanted to help him.

You reached the group and scrunched your nose at the nicotine smell, Theo noticed this and dragged you away. Why does he have to be sweet and make this harder? you thought.

"Theo, I-" You questioned yourself, he was the only person who knew you but it would be too selfish to make him stay, so you continued, "I don't think we should be friends anymore"

Maybe friends wasn't the right word to describe you two, you weren't dating but he never dated anyone else and it's not like you could. You always hoped it was because he harbored some feelings for you but that had been a foolish fantasy.

"Y/n, I'm sorry sweetheart, I won't ever smoke again, I mean this was the first time in weeks, I really am trying" what? he thought this was about him smoking?

"No, Theo it's not about that." you simply stated trying to make him understand about you suddenly pulling away. He stared at you, his mouth opening and closing as if he wanted to say something but really could find the words.

"You can't do this, you cannot wake up on a random day and decide to remove me from your life as if I'm a pawn in your chess board" he was almost yelling, Theo had never yelled at you nor had he ever gotten angry at you, it was always you being mad and him picking up on it.

You remembered a scenario from second year and how different times had gotten now, you had changed and him not so much but you guess it was for his better.

"Where's y/n?" The twelve year old Theodore Nott asked his friend and said friend just shrugged in response before saying, "She hasn't been talking to anyone."

You're mad, he knew you were you always shut everyone out when you were, falling silent and Theo knew just how to better your mood and so he headed in your direction.

Your flashback stopped when you saw a tear fall from his eyes, you had never seen Theo cry either, only once and that too not intentionally. He was showing every emotion of his and you stood there unable to think, mumbling a sorry before leaving him stranded in that hallway.

Theo was shocked, hurt, angry and was feeling all these emotions at once. He had known you for six years and you had left him in six minutes. He loved you and you couldn't see it.

He knocked on your door for the fifteenth time, and you finally opened it. Your eyes were red and puffed up, you were crying.

"Why are you doing this?" He asked in a small voice unlike the one he used in the hallway, he was scared to lose you.

"You don't need to take anymore pity on me, Theo, go live your life" you said with a sniffle in the end and your statement had only made him more confused.

Pity? he had never taken pity on you, and it hurt himself that you believed that nonsense. "You can't replace me y/n, I'm forever, no matter what."

You so wanted to believe him, you so wanted to be in his arms right now, you so wanted him to stop as he was doing right now but you just couldn't.

"I'm sorry Theo, but I have to" Those were last words to him before you shut the door and Theo couldn't sleep that night.

It had been 2 months, 18 days of you ignoring him and he thought he might go mad, you were driving him crazy, you not being there was so much worse than he had anticipated.

It was late in the night when he spotted you leaning against a railing, breathing hard, and when he got a bit closer he noticed you were crying.

He went to stand beside you, you flinched but then sort of relaxed when you noticed who it was. You laid your head in your hands and started crying even harder and without missing a beat or saying something spiteful, Theo took you in his arms.

It was much later that you realized that you could not live without him, he was your Theo. Your tears wet his shirt but he didn't seem to mind, he never seemed to mind.

"You won't leave again, would you?" He asked as if he knew you were coming back and he was right. "You could try, but this time I won't let you."

You smiled at him, god he was the only person in the world who would never make you feel bad about what you did, and you realise it was only your insecurities holding you back from him.

He kissed your forehead lovingly and hugged you even tighter, "I love you" he whispered, half hoping you didn't hear him, but you did.

#harry potter #slytherin #draco malfoy #theo nott #enzo berkshire #theo nott fic #theo nott x reader #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x you #theodore nott #theo nott imagine #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott fic #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott scenarios #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theo nott one shot

[milktei]

Hold me Tight

Kamisato Ayato x fem!wife!Reader

Genre: Arranged Marriage au, idk if it can be called a slow burn but that’s what I’m calling it, fluff, smidge of angst.

Warnings: unconventional relationship, Reader is described to have long hair that is brushed through. not edited

Requests: Open

a/n: another one out! :o Had to indulge myself a little bit before getting back to requests. arranged marriage au’s are my guilty pleasure and i just felt like writing for genshin again. Hair brushing and physical affection is also just such a big thing for me I had to write it. So if it isn’t obvious i wrote this mostly for selfish reasons and that is the reason why it may be sort of all over the place lol. I hope it’s enjoyable either way!

A hug is all you longed for really. For someone to wrap warm arms around you and let you completely melt into them.

Being married it should be an easy ask

How unfortunate it is for you that your husband wants nothing to do with you.

Although the more you thought about it, perhaps that wasn’t entirely true. He did agree to the marriage hadn’t he?

He was the head of his clan, the Yashiro commissioner. Throughout the entirety of the process of arranging your marriage, Kamisato Ayato had every right, and more than enough chances to stop it from going through.

He had nothing to lose if he decided he wasn’t ready for marriage, which was an excuse many citizens of Inazuma had heard over the years.

He really had nothing to gain from it either.

It confused you from the day the elders of your clan elatedly told you that by some insane amount of luck, the Kamisato Ayato had accepted “your” marriage proposal that had been sent in as almost an obligation.

There was no harm in trying and you were now living proof of that.

Why you? out of all the suitors he definitely had, he had chosen you. While your clan was one of the head producers of tea leaves in the country, you still couldn’t wrap your mind around his acceptance, it was not like the Kamisato’s needed the tea, they could have afforded it anyways.

There was no political gain for him either as he was already a tri-commissioner, you weren’t even in line to become heir! Your uncle was the head of the clan and your cousins would follow in his footsteps.

The gossip about you flew all over inazuma like a storm cloud, and you heard it all, people weren’t always subtle in their curiosity or distaste in you after all.

Some of the talk was harsh and negative, and yet you couldn’t help but partially agree with what some people were saying about you.

You were a nobody as far as nobility went. The only reason you could think of as to why Ayato chose you, was likely to reduce the amount of mail that he got, as the marriage proposals had virtually stopped after your wedding. Aside from some particularly desperate people.

Perhaps you really were the best candidate for him. You weren’t a prominent figure in the public eye, you weren’t after the Kamisato’s fame and fortune, and you weren’t the type of person to fawn over your husband 24/7 and demand he shower you in riches and attention.

Although you almost wish that you were. Maybe then you wouldn’t be longing for a hug as badly as you currently were.

While it was true that being married to Ayato meant that you had nearly everything you could ask for at your fingertips, and that it was rare for you to be denied anything—not like you asked for much anyways—the one thing you could not ask for, was your husband’s affection. How ironic. the one person you spewed rehearsed vows to about being his rock and what not, was the one person you could not get an ounce of love or affection from.

Of course you had never really had the chance to try at this point, as despite being married for 6 months already, you can count the amount of times you had a full conversation with the man on one hand.

“I hope that you can find it in you to excuse my lord. He is a very busy man.” Thoma had told you the day you had moved in and your husband was no where to be seen. The look he gave you the mixture of empathy and a wince.

That was the day reality set in. He looked at you kindly on the day you got married. Soft smiles graced both of your features during the ceremony, and you two spoke amicably during the extravagant reception. But this was an arranged marriage, a contract more than a relationship, and you both had duties to fulfill.

A smile that had been drilled into you since your etiquette classes from your youth crossed your face “There’s no need to worry about me Thoma, I understand.”

So you had to learn to get used to being alone in an estate bustling with people. You opened your wedding gifts alone, sorted them accordingly and even sent out an astonishing amount of individual thank you cards to all the guests you had at your wedding.

You often ate alone, save for the times Ayaka and Thoma had time to accompany you. Aside from being reached out to for second opinions or approval you weren’t given a formal job on the estate. Instead you were given an allowance, and were free to spend your days doing whatever you wanted, so long as the Kamisato name was protected.

Yes that was another thing you had to get used to, “Kamisato y/n”, “My lady Kamisato.” Hearing the latter was especially hard, that title felt as if it was reserved only for your sister-in-law, she definitely represented it with more grace than you thought you were ever capable of.

The name and all the responsibilities it came with weighed down on your shoulders unlike anything you had every experienced prior, and here you pushed against it alone. Forced to go through the transition into married life without the other half of the partnership to support you.

That led you to your predicament now. You were coming to the realization that you were horribly touch starved.

It was even worse on cold windy days, or when it rained. All it did was remind you about how your late parents would use those days to curl up with you, a warm blanket, and a book to laze the day away and wish for nicer weather the next so that you could go out on a picnic.

you longed for those days of warmth and love again. Your family had been quite affectionate with one another. While Ayaka would come and spend time with you, treating you like an older sibling. Nothing could reach the craving deep within you.

You sighed to yourself as you walked through the streets of Inazuma, ignoring the whispers of people who passed and recognized who you were.

Or rather who you were married to.

“My lady Kamisato!” greeted the Yae publishing house worker. “You’ve come at a great time, the new volume of your favourite series has just released.”

The worker handed you the book in question and you couldn’t help the excitement that rose within you as you quickly flipped through “I was hoping that I’d be able to pick something up today. I’ve been needing more things to do when the weather doesn’t permit me to go outside. Any other recommendations?”

The worker smiled at you sweetly and handed you another book “Surely Lord Ayato, is able to keep you from getting too bored at the estate my lady?”

Your smile faltered ever so slightly, you couldn’t let it drop in front of the worker, the last thing you wanted was for anymore rumours to spread. You pretended to read the synopsis of the book that was handed to you. “Yes of course, but there are still times where he is not available. My husband is a very busy man.”

My husband, you didn’t think you would ever get used to referring to him as that. He felt like nothing more than a stranger who’s house you happened to live in, who you shared a family name with, who would grace you with a soft smile and a nod as you passed each other at the estate each making your ways to your separate rooms.

A gust of wind blew through the streets and both you and the worker shivered. You looked at the sky and frowned at the dark clouds rolling in, you flinched as a singular rain drop landed on your cheek.

The worker also looked up “it really is rainy season isn’t it?” they looked to you “I would recommend you head home soon my lady, looks like it’s gonna come down any minute now and you’ve got a long walk back to the Kamisato estate”

You sighed, “what a shame, I was hoping to run a couple more errands today.” you payed for both books and placed them into your bag with a smile “thank you for the advice I’ll head out now.”

You walked away from the shop in the direction of the estate, waving behind you as the worker told you to stay safe.

———

Perhaps you should have stayed in town.

You come to this realization as you’re halfway to the estate. Komore tea house would have been much nicer than the weather you were experiencing currently.

The singular raindrop you had felt earlier had slowly progressed into a little more than a drizzle and you groaned to yourself as your clothing grew heavier as it absorbed more and more water.

You should have grabbed your umbrella

It was practically pouring by the time you had gotten to the estate, the trees of Chinju forest providing surprisingly little shelter against the rain.

Quickly, you rushed under the cover of the roof of the estate and sighed in relief once you weren’t being pelted by water. You looked down at you clothes and cringed at the water dripping from the fabric and your hair onto the dark wood

Wringing out what you could beforehand, you opened the front doors of the estate as quietly as you could, albeit in vain as Thoma and your husband were having a discussion right at the entrance.

Both men turned to look at you as the door closed and you could only stare back awkwardly as the sound of water dripping from you clothes and hair, along with your shivering filled the room.

Thoma was the first to break the silence and began fussing over you not unlike a mother hen.

“My lady you’re soaking wet! You’re going to get sick! I’ll have the maids draw a bath for you. Please allow me to grab your belongings. I’ll have tea ready for you once you’re done.

Before you knew it, you were standing in your bathroom with a steaming tub waiting for you. Still bewildered at what had transpired moments before.

Still, Thoma and his efforts were never unwelcome as the bath was exactly what you needed.

You took your time in the bath, taking in the scent of the flowers and oils put in by the maids, appreciating how well the water warmed your once cold body.

Once finished, you were quick to dry off and get dressed, still towel drying your hair as you entered your room.

As promised, Thoma had left a tea set on the table in your room with a container holding tea leaves, knowing you liked to brew it yourself.

The only thing out of place was an extra tea cup.

As if on cue, the door to your room was gently slid open and your jaw nearly dropped at the sight of pale blue hair.

“My lord!” you greeted, the words leaving you mouth before you could even try to stop them.

Ayato paused as the two of you made eye contact, it was almost as if he was surprised himself that you were in your own room.

Ayato was the first to regain his composure after clearing his throat. “Majority of my plans for today have been cancelled due to the weather, I was hoping you could allow me to join you for a bit.”

Your head was spinning, not able to wrap itself around the fact that your husband was in your room and actively trying to spend time with you.

“Of course if that’s how you wish to spend your free time my lord.” you stammered, part of you still believing that this was some sort of dream.

A small shiver ran down your spine and you were reminded of the damp hair that ran down your back. You looked to the vanity in your room and then back at your husband.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I would like to fix my hair situation beforehand.”

“Of course y/n there’s no need to worry, it’s just me.”

That was precisely why you were panicking on the inside at that moment. It was only the man who was so busy, that his presence in the house on a daily basis resembled that of a gust of wind.

You sat down at you vanity and picked up one of your combs, beginning the task of untangling the mess you had created both in the rain and bath.

You nearly groaned out loud to yourself, you had kept your hair long to be able to use the multitude of flamboyant hair accessories you had acquired, but brushing it had always been your least favourite part of the entire process.

A awkward cough caused you to look at the man in your room.

“if you are comfortable with it…I could help you brush your hair.”

You stared in shock at the man in front of you. His face was genuine but you could tell by the reddening of his ears that he was flustered, the most you had ever seen from him.

The combination of being a witness to such a rare site and the fact that you were still in shock that he was there in the first place, had you speaking without much thought.

“That would be very helpful my lord, thank you.”

The surprise on his face was visible You could only hope that your whirlwind of emotions wasn’t as obvious.

Still, not one to go back on his word, Ayato gently took the comb from your outstretched hand and began to work. His powerful presence behind you almost causing you to curl in on yourself.

He was gentle, his hands warm as they followed your comb, a warm feeling spread throughout you chest as he so carefully detangled your hair, taking his time.

You hoped that he wouldn’t be able notice through your reflection just how flustered you were at this moment. Your face was hot, your breathing was slightly rapid and you couldn’t find it in yourself to look up at the mirror in fear that your eyes would connect.

Yet this moment felt so intimate, so tender and domestic. You could almost believe that you two were much closer than you really were.

A soft chuckle broke you from your thoughts.

“This brings me back.” Ayato sighed wistfully, “when we were younger, Ayaka would let me do this for her. Though she seemed less than impressed when I would try different styles on her. I wonder if she would trust me with her hair again after all this time.”

You smiled down at your fidgeting hands “I’m sure she would if you promised no more experiments my lord.”

Ayato hummed in contemplation “I suppose you may be right, but at the same time maybe I won’t need to ask her if I already have yours within reach.” He leaned closer to your ear, “After all, am I wrong to assume that you are enjoying this my dear wife?”

Your face felt like it was on fire, you had never heard him call you that to your face before. You could feel the smug smile that was currently gracing his features as he leaned back and continued his actions.

“Well?” He urged after a moment

“No you are not wrong to assume that my lord.” You managed to stammer out. Your hands clenched into fists in your lap as you forced yourself to say the truth, knowing well that he would be able to see through any lie.

He sighed. “Please y/n I think we’re at a point where we can drop the formalities.”

Your eyes widened at his words and you spoke the first thing that came to mind.

“Are we really?”

His hand that was holding the brush froze mid stroke, the room was suddenly filled with a chilled silence and you cringed at the amount of malice an anger that you managed to fit into one simple question.

This was no way to talk to the man you were married to.

“Forgive me my… Ayato. I did not mean to sound so harsh I just-“

“No no there’s no need to apologize.” ayato assured. He raked a hand through your hair and chuckled bitterly, “I supposed it is my fault that you feel this way about our…situation

You opened your mouth to protest but nothing came out. What he said wasn’t a lie to make you feel better for snapping at him. It was entirely the truth and you were grateful that he understood where you were coming from.

“Finished.” He stated softly before placing the comb back on your vanity. “I hope that I haven’t worn out my welcome.”

You paused for a moment, thinking about the situation you found yourself in, while wanting to get yourself out of the awkward moment, you knew that a chance to spend time with him again would be rare.

“You haven’t, don’t worry,” you stated as you slowly rose from your seat. Still refusing to look up at him you gestured to the low table where the tea set sat, “Please have a seat, I’ll brew the tea for us.”

It was quiet as you worked, the only sounds in the room being the clink of tea set, and the crinkle of tatami mats. You thanked Thoma in your mind when you saw that he had prepared leaves that were better steeped in lower temperatures, as the water had cooled down since he first boiled it.

“We’ll have to wait a couple minutes.” You said as you closed the lid of the teapot. Ayato nodded and an awkward silence filled the room.

“I don’t want to use me being busy as an excuse.” Ayato suddenly blurted out.

You finally look up at him in surprise “Pardon?”

Ayato cleared his throat “My apologies. It’s just that I know that everyone has been using me being busy to excuse me for being absent in this relationship. While I know that lin its simplest terms, what we have between us is a contract, part of me still hoped that I would be able to get to know you well and we could be much more than strangers. There are many times where I could have put my work aside and spent more time with you, but I for some reason I never found myself taking those opportunities.”

He looked almost guilty as he continued. “Now here I am, months later knowing next to nothing about you, and on top of that I expected you to be comfortable with speaking casually around me when we have barely even spoken before.

You pondered to yourself as you poured tea into his cup “Well if it makes you feel any better,” you poured more into your own “I also know next to nothing about you.”

“Unfortunately that only seems to add salt to the wounds my dear.” Ayato grumbled.

Your eyes widened at the pet name and you quickly lifted your teacup to your face to hide your embarrassment.

Ayato followed suit and hummed in satisfaction as he drank. “Well I do know one thing now. My wife is excellent at brewing tea. It must run in your family’s genes.”

You waved him off “it’s just something that comes with experience, my uncle is the true master.”

“I also now know that my wife finds it hard to accept compliments.”

“Hey!”

Ayato smiled at you teasingly as you glared at him, though there was no anger behind it.

“Well now that’s unfair,” you stated “I should get to learn something about you now.”

Your husband raised an eyebrow, “well what would you like to know?”

You faltered for a moment, not expecting him to relent so easily, “well…” you stuttered, “what type of tea would you consider your favourite?”

“Really digging deep are we y/n?”

“I couldn’t think of something straight away!”

Despite the teasing, the questions continued, it was as if you were on a first date.

Except you were already living together and married.

One question was asked after the other. Ranging from you asking him about the daily life of a tri-commissioner, to him asking about the books you had bought earlier in the day.

It was only after Thoma had brought dinner to your room, that you had finally asked.

“So why me?”

Ayato’s chopsticks paused mid air “Why what?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, he was playing dumb.

“Why did Inazuma’s most desired bachelor, Yashiro commissioner, leader of the famed Shuumatsuban, and the man who brought the Kamisato Clan back to its former glory, the Kamisato Ayato. Decide that a nobody from a tea producing clan was the one you would want to spend the rest of you life with.”

Ayato looked at you in exasperation “You aren’t a nobody y/n there’s so much more to you.”

“We don’t need to get down to the specifics, don’t avoid the question!” You exclaimed, ignoring the pleased smile on his face as he took in your flustered state.

Ayato put a hand to his chin and hummed as if contemplating something grand. He took a moment to respond. “Would you believe me if I said that I found you to be a very interesting person y/n?”

You stared at him blankly.

“Don’t lie to me we didn’t even meet until the wedding.”

The smile that he sent you sent a chill down your spine “Well I suppose that’s true in a sense, but we have been in each other’s presence on multiple occasions.”

You couldn’t mask the your surprise, “we have?”

Ayato looked at you incredulously. “Surely you know how often the Yashiro commission requests supplies from your clan for the multiple events we host.”

You fiddled with your teacup “Well sure but that doesn’t mean that it was a guarantee that we bump into each other. I’m sure I would have remembered being in the presence of you of all people.”

Ayato shrugged, “Being in the public eye is much more my sisters domain. I tend to stick to the shadows during bigger festivals that I’m interested in. During one of these times… you caught my eye.”

Your eyes widened “I did?”

He looked bashful as he continued his story, you were sure that you were the first person to ever see him in this state.

“I always knew of you, as I often meet with your uncle for business. I don’t know if you know this but he often worries about you and tends to talk about you during these meetings.” Ayato hummed in contemplation. “Perhaps it was a tactic to make me say yes to the upcoming proposal”

You groaned in horror at the realization that the two men had been talking about you “I apologize for my uncles actions.”

Ayato waved dismissively “Thats not the point. At a festival is where I first saw you and was able to put a name to a face. What I didn’t expect was the fact that everything about you had fascinated me. The way you danced and had that kind of sparkle in you eyes as you wandered around in wonder. The way you kindly greeted everyone you met. I found myself looking for you at following festivals to see if that was always how you looked…it was.”

“So it was only my looks” you teased

he sighed exasperated “Of course not”

You laughed “I’m kidding. Keep going.”

“Then at one point I was due for a meeting at your estate with your uncle and I might have listened in on a deal you were striking with a business man. The confidence in your voice was obvious and the way you negotiated with grace and kindness, yet still with firmness, had me intrigued within the first couple seconds of me hearing it. My interest only grew when your meeting had concluded and I saw you step out. with an accomplished smile on your face”

You gaped at him, you very rarely took part in your family’s business deals, only helping with what your cousins or uncle were too busy to handle. For him to be there at that time on that day was truly a great coincidence.

“You really piqued my interest that day. Although it was not my first choice in ways to get closer to you, when I saw the proposal sent by your clan, everything seemed to fall into place.” Ayato laughed but his tone soon turned solemn.

“Unfortunately not everything worked out for me, because look at how things are going. I left you to fend for yourself against the public, we rarely see each other, and this is the longest we have ever spoken despite being married for months. I think I was just afraid of crossing any boundaries, after all this marriage is arranged and I had no idea as to how you felt about me.”

Without thinking you reached over the table and grabbed one of his hands in both of yours, touched by how vulnerable he was being with you, “I wouldn’t have agreed to the marriage so easily if I thought ill of you in any way, while I may not have known you, you also piqued my interest. I won’t lie I was- still am extremely shocked, but I saw nothing bad coming out of this marriage really. It started off slow but we’re talking now, and well, don’t you think we’ve made some great progress?”

He smiled endearingly at you, “yes, I am grateful for this opportunity and hope that we can continue on this path.”

You laughed, “now you’re making it sound like a business deal.”

After that, you and Ayato finished your dinner making pleasant conversation. The sun had long gone down when he made the call for the both of you to retire for the night.

He once again stood in the doorway of your room, only this time you were standing right in front of him.

“I’ll have a heavier workload tomorrow but I think I’ll be able to join you for dinner again.”

You smiled up at him “I would like that, please let me know if there’s anything I can help you with, I’m part of this clan too you know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you y/n.”

There was a pause and Ayato reluctantly continued. “Well I should take my leave for the night.”

As he turned, something seemed to overcome you, and you grabbed at his wrist,

“Ayato.”

He froze and turned to look at you curiously. you shyly looked away, “before you go. May I have a hug?”

He gave you a teasing smile, “this is all happening so fast, what will everyone think?”

“Oh please we’re already married.”

He laughed and his smile softened.

Without anymore words, Ayato opened his arms.

You couldn’t hold back the giddy smile that crossed your face and without hesitation you allowed yourself to melt into his embrace for the first time in what would become many.

A scent that was uniquely his filled your nose, and as you pressed against his chest you could feel and hear his heart pounding just as hard as yours. You nearly sighed in satisfaction as you wrapped your arms around his waist. A need you had been suppressing for months had finally been fulfilled. His hold was strong and comforting, his hold making you feel like you again.

Ayato chuckled to himself as his grip tightened, “well now I’ve found myself in a predicament.”

Still holding onto him, you turned your head to look up at him. “What is it?”

“I don’t want to let go.”

#genshin impact #kamisato ayato #kamisato ayato x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin x you #genshin x reader #ayato x reader #genshin ayato

[neonovember]

hiiii

could you write carmy x reader where she’s a high school friend and carmy always had a crush on her (but he thought she had a crush on mikey) ???? like maybe richie brings her up, and that she’s still in town and SINGLE and carmy gets red like a tomato and ??? richie makes her visit the beef and candy almost has a heart attack?? idk give me some in love carmen !!

pretty pleaseee and thank u

so I got this request and I immediately thought of swim by chase atlantic, and specifically the line that goes;

“I’ve been drowning for a minute, your body keeps pulling me in” 

And holy shit if that isn’t Carmen in his denial-in-love with a long time friend era, I don't know what is. Carmen tries too hard to forget you, but you've marked permanently, you've ruined him for anyone else so can you blame him for waiting for you all this time?

Seriously though this request was so good! I got a bit carried away and turned into a 2 part series that may or may not have drabbles added to the universe…I really hope this isn't just a load of word vomit you don't want to read lmao. I just love their dynamic so much, and also FRIDAY DINNERS AT THE BEEF IS CANON OKAY.

Golden Boy

part one of 2

warnings: miscommunication (i know i'm sorry), friends to lovers, carmen and the reader have horrible communication skills and don't know how to call, angst, anxiety

a/n: part two will be up hopefully tomorrow so look out! it may or may not include a smut scene 😈

p.s, listen to swim whilst reading this you'll thank me later

You sat hunched in the tight enclosure of the classroom desk chairs, the once loud conversations fluttering across the huddled groups of classmates and friends that stood against tables and chairs now coming to a standstill.

The air of anxious trepidation falls across the atmosphere of the damp classroom, the windows that had been opened to let the air in felt thin as you and the rest of the students you had known for half a decade waited for that familiar ring of the bell.

The bell that would solidify your last day in this classroom, in these run down halls, in the school you had first stumbled into anxious and oblivious at thirteen. 

Your heart ached at the nostalgia of it, and you can't bear to cast your gaze to your friends who had begun to sniffle, like they were holding back tears, the grandfather clock your geography teacher insisted on keeping ticked on as it always did, and whilst you had spent years burning holes through the glass, willing for it to go faster, your one dying wish is for the seconds to tick by in minutes. 

You weren’t ready, it ran straight through you, all this time leading up, from when you had first learnt your desire to pursue architecture till the moment you finished that last sentence on your final exams, you felt you would be filled with joy at the sound of your true departure into adulthood and college.

And yet, you felt like a kid again, learning how to ride a bicycle without the training wheels, trying to reach the fifth monkey bar, falling headfirst into the dirt ground of the field when you had thought you were more flexible then you truly were. 

You didn’t want to leave, you didn't want to leave this place, this place of memories and friends and people you knew and loved. And it was as if God was listening, cause the resounding echo of the school bell rang through the halls and it was as if he said ‘fuck you anyway’.

You gather the haphazard books and papers laying across your desk, you had purposefully delayed packing in order to waste as much time in this memory as possible, before adulthood would take it away and make it something of the past. You hear your friends calling your name, and you tell them to go ahead as you make your way to your teachers desk.

“Hey Mr Jefferson” You say to your teacher has begun to bid goodbye to the leaving students

Your teacher looks up at you with a tight smile, sadness washes over the wrinkles and creases of her features, her auburn hair falling in short waves at her shoulder and her olive lipstick wearing down. You have to swallow to stop the tears from dropping. Your Geography teacher, whilst not teaching Art, had been the catapult to realizing your fascination with Architecture and design. She had even helped tell your parents, who had been set on the idea of you going into Law or Medicine or anything other than creative arts. 

“You’ll do amazing, I believe it because I see how hard you try. Don’t look back at this place, leave with the door wide open and come back only when you want to design me a house” Your Teacher replies with a grin, and before you can reply shes shuffling through her drawers, before pulling out a sketchbook that has been aged and stained with use over the years.

“What’s this?” You ask, twisting the book in your hand, it was good quality, despite being old, it felt like an heirloom.

“It’s one of my sketchbooks I had during college, maybe some of my late night sketches fuelled by coffee and donuts might inspire you”

“I couldn't possible-”

“Yes you could, hell whatever you create will probably be 10 x greater than whatever is in there” Your teacher cuts you off with a chuckle, and you hug the notebook tight against your chest before hugging her goodbye.

You step into the familiar walls of your high school hallways, crowds of seniors running to find their friends and hug them for possibly the last time, test papers and report cards left trampled on the ground, it's chaos, but you love it and the sight almost pulls tears down your waterline.

You walk towards your locker, before you recognize the familiar wisps of blond curls catch your eyesight. Carmen.  You considered him one of your closest friends, bonding together over a love of game** and your equal hatred of your Period 4 Calculus teacher.

Carmen didn't have much when I came to be friends, and after he met you, it didn't really get to him anymore, he had you now, and you were more than enough. Over the years you had gotten close to every part of Carmen's life, Mickey, Richie, Sugar, they were all people you regarded as family.

But there was something unsaid between the both of you, it was like there was something beyond friendship, but the embers had just gathered and had left unignited.

He’s gathering his things from his locker, shoving them into a bag in that messy way he is, and he slams the locker with a jolt.

You're standing stationary in the middle of the hallway, classmates and other seniors running by you in confusion, your friends calling your name annoyed, but it's all muffled, it all doesn't matter because it's Carm and god your heart aches so bad. 

You see Carmen and he sees you, stopping a few meters away from you, and a moment of recognition washes over him as he gazes with those cerulean blues. There's grief in the way you look at each other, tears streaming down your cheek as you try to smile at him, realising this might be the last time you see him, forever, off to an Art school in New York, leaving him behind. You feel like your heart is being ripped from your chest and he shakes his head, his eyebrows scrunching up as he steps closer so that he’s only a whisper from you.

He brings his hand up, brushing a strand and tucking in behind your ear, eyes strained as he wipes your tears away painfully. He moves closer, so that his breath is against your neck and whispers

“Thought you told me you'd punch me in the stomach if I cried on the last day” Carmen whispers into your eyes with a grin that breaks through the tears that cause his eyes to swirl in colour's of waves.

His words make you laugh and cry at the same time, and you shake your head as you reach for his arm, and playfully hit your stomach with it. Carmen rests it against your waist, looking up to you in a pained expression, his eyes shift to the notebook grasped tight in your hands

“New sketchbook? That..doesn't look new” Carmen says, turning his head to examine the old book more closely.

“One of Mrs Jefferson’s, her sketches are..their fucking amazing” You sigh, running your hand across the folded spine of the sketch book.

“Thought teachers weren't meant to have favourites” Carmen shoots out, a playful grin on his lips

“Hmm, well they aren't supposed to tell you exactly” You banter with a giggle, you flick through the pages of the book, half drawn sketches in grey lead and ballpoint, Carmen tracing his fingers gently across the ingrained lines and shades.

“God you're something, you know that?” Carmen says, all of a sudden, and when you look up you realise he’s been staring at you the entire time.

“Bear..” You breathe out.

“I don't know how I'm going to-, I, it's all so much” You exhale, waving your arms around this place that has held so many memories, so much of your past kept in the creaks and cracks of plastered walls and lockers

“You're the only person in this goddamn place that's going to make something out of themselves, I bet my entire life on it Bug. You're going to do amazing, in that big city, you’re going to show em’' Carmen replies, grasping you against his touch tight. You look up at him, trying to memorise every dip and curve of his features, the curl of his hair that shone honey in the sun, those eyes that were always searching, and the small cut on his forehead where he fell off his skateboard that one summer evening.

“Don’t say goodbye”

“Okay” Your tongue feels like deadweight in your mouth. what if i never see you again?

“You say goodbye and it's the end. Just..don’t” I can't breathe carmy.

You can’t stop yourself from wrapping your arms around him, pressing your nose into his shirt to smell the scent of patchouli and cigarettes he always carried, you want to tell him to come with you, to pack an overnight bag and run with you forever, but the words don’t taste right when you try to speak and you see yourself letting him go, and turning away with a shaky step.

Turn back Carmen whispers, so softly that only the gods above and the wind around him can hear it

You feel an urge to turn back, it speaks to you from within, and before you can stop yourself, your neck cranes, turning your body to get one last look at your golden boy before time would take him forever. 

Time would age him into a memory forever.

Carmen feels this tension leave his shoulders at the same time his heart shatters, you will find each other again, even if it was in another universe, where you're sitting across from each other at the kitchen table, going over groceries together with the afternoon light casting its glow across you. He will find you, he will find you and he won’t let go this time. 

*

“Honestly Ma, it’s fine, I’ll get the movers to come in a little early”. You groan into the phone pressed to your ear, papers and unresolved bills are left scattered across your dining room table and you have this itch that's begun to turn chronic somewhere you can’t reach.

You take a moment to look around your apartment, now barren of furniture, and filled instead with boxes of badly organised stuff you've accumulated over the years. This place, albeit small, had been your home ever since you stepped out of the yellow cabbed taxi on your first day in New York, and whilst it wasn't pretty, you felt a pang of guilt leaving it all behind. These walls had seen you through it all, the late night study cram’s, the breakdowns, the accomplishments, the one night stands. You'd miss her, but maybe you were just a nostalgic person.

You’ve made a life in New York, but you felt misplaced, like pieces of yourselves were scattered across the states. Chicago kept a part of you, and it was only when you had gotten the chance to move back home, did it click. You missed your city. And you had cut your lease and emptied out the last of your savings without a second thought.

Now all that was left was tying up loose ends and making the trip down. It was funny, in a way. You had run to New York to pursue architecture, and it brought you back to the very same place you had left, there was a certain trepidation when you thought of Chicago, it held so much of your past, in its city streets and evergreen trees, and you don’t know if you were quite ready to face those memories again.

*

It still smelled the same. You itch your nose, sniffling against the blooming scent of cocoa and caramel from the Chicago roads, all this time, and all that you can tell is how it still smelt like maple leaves and chocolate. It was comforting, and it felt like the warm embrace of a childhood friend that had stayed sitting on the corner of your suburban street corner all this time.

“Thank you Mae, really, I got the call last minute in New York to come back here and if it weren't for you, I’d be moving back into my old bedroom at my parents” You reply, gratitude filling every word. It was true, your friend had swooped in the second you called, fixing you up with a lease and an apartment with her realtor links. She came in a clutch, and she had made you promise to never leave her again in exchange.

“Oh shush doll, of course. This is probably payment for all the times I’ve crashed at yours anyway” Mae winks, the bracelets on her wrist clinking against each other. She didn't look like a typical realtor, more like a bohemian solo-traveller with her filly skirts and auburn red hair.

“I’m not going to let a degree transform my entire wardrobe, my clothes are antiques, their heirlooms, they tell a story” 

She had told you once, one late night on the rooftop of your New York apartment, sipping cheap wine and passing a blunt between you both. You wish you had known yourself as much as she did then.

She had visited you a couple times in New York, coming up for work and spending the time at yours instead of spending thousands on an Airbnb, but it had been a while since you've seen her, and all of a sudden you remember how much you missed her laugh.

“I’ve got some time to spend before it’s all hand on deck” You reply, placing the last of your boxes onto the empty wooden floor of the living room.

“Oh yeah? Can’t believe you’re gonna design a whole building on Michigan Av’, your a fucking inspiration Bug” Mae sighs in adoration, and you giggle, the feeling of embarrassment filling you at the mention of your reason back home.

You never got used to the praise and adoration you received over the years, despite your many accolades and awards, you still felt like that hopelessly broke architect student giving up lunch to pay rent. You didn’t remember when things started to change. When did things start to change?

“You know, if you’ve got time, you should check out the Farmers Market near River North” Mae replies, whilst flicking through her phone

“The one on Division Street?” You reply, you had a faint memory of the long strip of stalls filled with fresh produce, food and the rest of the little trinkets that were sold since you were born on the pleated table cloth of sheltered booths.

“That’s the one, this guy named Samson? Makes the best fucking bearclaw in the entire United States. Tell him you're a friend of mine and he'll hook you up…you know since you can't afford it” Mae replies playfully, and you roll your eyes with a laugh.

“Yeah yeah, you hook up with him or something?” You poke back, Mae had the tendency to know everyone in Chicago, from the mailman to the old woman you’d see feeding the bids on a park bench.

“Yeah, actually I did. Not like you could relate, how long has it been, hm?” Mae replies, stepping forward to whisper down at your pants.

“I’m so sorry she hasn't been taking care of you. What are you, mummify her?” Mae looks up from her crouched position with a raised eyebrow.

“Ugh, you know I've been too busy to think about that. She’s gonna have to be patient” You reply, you don’t want to think about how long it has actually been, since you've had any type of release. But the tension has begun to weigh on your shoulders as time went on and you fear it might become something you can’t ignore.

You begin to move some boxes into your bedroom, thanks to your planning your large furniture such as your bed and coach, had been moved into the apartment before the rest of the things had got here, so at least you wouldn't be sleeping on a mattress on the floor. Changing into a pair of dark jeans and a short sleeve top, you loop an embroidered handbag onto your shoulder.

“So, you coming?” You call to Mae, who’s begun to fill your fridge with the groceries she's swung by with.

“Sure would Bug, but got a call to come in. I’ll come by again later this evening though?” Mae replies, with a grunt as she lifts the 2 litre bottle of milk onto one of the drive shelves.

“Yes please, I’m dying for a glass of wine”

“And a blunt” Mae replies, snickering at the way you roll your eyes at her.

Mae offers to drop you off, but you wave her off, telling her you wanted to see a little more of your hometown. You needed some fresh air that wasn't the coffee and smoke scent of the New York streets.

The walk to the Farmers market was a short one, but you felt like you were wading through a current. By the way the memories of your past began to resurface as you passed the streets and shops. Every corner holds a part of you, and you have to rush by your old school to stop the pang of pain that surprises you. You weren't an emotional person, but god it was almost as if you were hanging by a thread the second you touched down on Chicago. 

What was causing this? You felt like you were holding your breath as you stepped through the fallen autumn leaves marking the sidewalk, the gentle sun on your back, what were you waiting for?

You tear yourself from your thoughts momentarily when you catch the looming buildings that had been built on ions ago, the infrastructure of Chicago still enamoured you, in a way that couldn't be beaten by even New York’s impossible skyscrapers.

There was a charm to it, each of the buildings felt like you were stepping into a different decade, they had been the stepping stones to a lot of the infrastructure and architecture that spread into other cities. You felt like you were at the start of it all every time your eyes trailed across the facade and arcades of the century old stone buildings.

Without realising, you had finally made it to the Farmers Market, the constant stream of people coming in and out with boxes of produce or hauling wooden antiques with very audible grunts. You can’t stop the smile stretching your face as you step through the embroidered banner at the front of the street.

Despite the many different stalls and food around you, you don't feel overstimulated. This was your home, you felt like you belonged, like a name scratched into wet cement, remaining ingrained for years no matter the seasons that came. 

You go over the haphazard list of things you wanted to look for in your mind, but you're caught off guard by a stall that seemed to be huddled by patrons. You step towards it, and as people move aside you see the blooming flowers and carefully wrapped banquets in woven wooden baskets to the side of the stall. A short woman with light brown curls is standing at the front, taking down orders with a grin, whilst a rather tall man behind her makes quick work to wrap delicate orders into soft brown parchment paper tied with string. 

And all of a sudden the need to buy pink tulips becomes your first priority. The woman at the front looks familiar, but you can't quite put your finger on where you've seen her, but as you walk up to the front her face morphs into familiar as she looks up at you in surprise.

“As I live and breathe” She says your name with a screech and it's her voice that pulls her name to your mouth. Adeline, a close friend from senior year who’d taught you how to crochet and pick a lock.

“Bug? How've you been? What brings you back to town?” Ade replies after telling the man behind her your order without you even saying a thing. 

“Tulips, pink ones right?” Ade grins, and you have to let out a chuckle at how you haven't changed even a little.

“Got invited to join in designing a new building on Michigan Avenue, so I'll be back for a while-”

“Michigan Avenue? Holy shit Bug! You’re making moves, knew you always were special” Adeline replies with a gushing smile and you rush to reply with the same adoration

“Are you kidding, look at this line” You motion to the increasing line of people forming at Adeline's stall.

“People love their flowers” Adeline replies with a shrug before you shake your head vehemently

“No, they love your flowers, and for good reason, look at these” You gush, pressing your face into the bundle of tulips that had been handed to you.

“They only look that good because Henry's so good at wrapping them” Adeline replies with a laugh, her eyes flicking to the brown haired man dressed in corduroy behind her. A look passes between them that tells you there was more than love between them.

“Henry huh?” You reply with a grin, and the man is quick to introduce himself, and you don’t ignore the cold press of an encrusted band on his ring finger as he shakes your hand with a soft smile.

And it's as if Adeline reads your mind and she slips her left hand in yours, looking up at you with a teary grin.

“Yes, yes I know, I should've called, and I’m so sorry-”

You press yourself against her, leaning over the stall to wrap your arms around her. You whisper words of congratulation, shutting down any words that hinted at you being mad at her.

It wasn't her fault, it should be you she's mad at, you hadn’t really made that much of an effort to keep in contact with your friends back at home, and the reality of it weighed on you heavy now, you had missed so many milestones of your loved ones, all to chase your own dreams in New York.

You felt like you were constantly playing catch up, and you couldn't lie when a strange feeling crept up at the thought of your friends moving on with life. You were so incredibly happy for Adeline, and you were even more elated when she had told you of the Wedding in April that you had to come to. 

But that didn't stop that same strange feeling of being behind everyone else, you had spent so long climbing the ladder to wear what you wear now, relationships and love weren't even a thought, you filled your nights with studying and drawing and the occasional fling, but nothing more. And now doubts had begun to creep in, had you missed out? 

Watching everyone around you get married and have kids whilst you were still drawing buildings in that same sketchbook your teacher had given you 8 years ago. You’re not looking as you walk past the many stalls of the Farmers market, and it is your thoughts again that causes you to accidentally stumble into the hard muscle of a man back. You feel yourself falling, before arm's reach out, grabbing you quickly to stop you from ending flat on your face. 

You breath out a sigh of relief, shaking a head at your clumsiness

“God, ‘m so sorry, I’ve just been in my head, I wasn’t looking where i was going-”

“Holy fuck” Your quick to spit an apologetic thanks, you haven't even looked up to see who you've dubbed into, and when the sound of surprise meets your ease you look up, only to be remain stone faced with your mouth left open.

“Richie?” You say, the shock of it is still in the air. You hadn't expected to see him in Chicago, or maybe you did and it was sooner than you thought.

“When did you get back? Holy shit, thought we wouldn't see you again” Richie replies with a smile

“Yeah uh, came down for some work for a little while. How, uh How are things” You reply with a squeak, you can’t bear to say what you're thinking and Richie nods, a look of acknowledgement in his face. Mickey’s death had shaken you, it had changed you in its own way, and you still grief him, it still hurts when Richie's face kinda falls and melts at the reminder of his best friend's death.

“After, uh, after Mickey, he had left the restaurant, you know, the Beef?” You nod in agreement, the hazy memory of the sandwich shop on the corner of Chicago's, busiest streets, you stomach rumbles at the thought of one of those sandwiches you'd down in less than a minute during your high school years.

“Yeah well, get this, he left it to Carmen. And honestly, I was hesitant at first, real hesitant, I love him, but god, he's a self centred ass coming in like he knew everything, spewing the bullshit CDC shit he learnt up in the big apple? He changed things, and you know how I feel about change, but he made it better, I can;t lie, and you better not tell him this, but the Beef actually..” Richie’s familiar rambles are muffled to your ears, the only thing you can hear is Carmen.

Everything zones out as you scrunch your eyebrows, wincing almost, at the pain and it shocks you, it shocks you how the very name of him still brings back those memories. You still hurt the same way you did the day you left him.

You must have looked out of it, as Richie shakes your shoulder, anchoring you back to the present, and you have to swallow back the bite of pain that bleeds through your chest.

“Did you hear what I said? The Beef’s holding a little family dinner tomorrow, shutting down the shop early, inviting only friends and family, it’ll be like a little reunion for you! You have to come” Richie replies, and you nod trying to seem present.

Carmen took over the Beef? He was in New York? What?

Your mind is scattered with the uproar of questions you have, the thought of Carmen, the memory of him is like a fresh wound. It un tethered and opens up a thread of thoughts and emotions you had thought you bottled up and threw deep into the ocean.

“You, you still talk to him right? Ya’ll were pretty close growing up, like fucking thieves attached to the hip if i can remember” Richie chuckles, fondly remembering the two of you.

You cough back, smiling up at him as you trying to reply coherently

“Yeah, uh sometimes you know” You lie

No. You haven't spoken to him since you left, and it feels like your tongue falls dead when you try to say his name again. You hadn't called and he hadn't picked up. Carmen told you not to say goodbye, but the truth was it had been the end of you even before you had both realised. 

You had spent years pretending like Carmen not calling you, not making an effort to see you after everything didn’t burn, but the reality of it had marked you in a way that felt eternal.

“So you're coming, yeah? You and Carmen can finally catch up” Richie replies with a smile, and look of something passes through his eyes before it leaves, and you have to smile back with a nod, like you and Carmen were still close, like you don't feel that he might turn you away or scream at you the second he saw you, like you weren't both irrevocably in love with each other.

Bear. You missed him, you are shocked by how much you do, you thought bottling up your memories and emotions about him and stuffing them so far back into your mind you forgot would actually change anything. There had always been this lingering thought, at the recesses of your mind, the last thing you imagined before you fell asleep, the feeling that filled you the second you came back to Chicago, it was all Carmen, it was all your golden boy.

And now you would have to see him, in less than a day you would  be in the same room as Carmen Berzatto, you don't want to say it, you don't want to speak it into acknowledgement but deep down, you wanted to see him again. 

Beyond it all, you both were bonded in friendship, sharing something you didn't even have with Adeline or Mae, and you had felt like a part of yourself was missing each day that went passed without hearing from him. Had he forgotten you? Had it been as hard for him to go on with life? He had been in New York for christ sake, he didn't even think to visit you, that thought alone made you want to run back home and never come out.

You couldn't bare the possibility of exposing yourself to such heartache, to the chance of being rejected by the very person who you forever longed for. You were always searching for him, looking through crowds to see the familiar curl of his brown hair, or the scent he carried, ears always leaning in, trying to see if it would catch his syrupy baritone voice.

The two of you were forever connected, like the roots of trees spanning miles under the Earth. The kind of companionship that transcended time and space, and god did you want to feel the sharp edge of his jaw between your hands.

You couldn't stop it now, Richie had opened something you kept locked and sunk for a reason, and now it felt like you would break if you didn't see Carmen. Even if it would break you, even if it was the one thing in this world that would destroy you, 

You had to see your golden boy.

#neonovember #neo writes #requests #request open #series #short series #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto fic #carmy #carmy the bear #carmy berzatti #carmy berzatto fix #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x fem!reader #carmen berzatto x fluff #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x angst #carmy x reader #carmy x fem!reader #carmy berzatto x fem!reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto masterlist #the bear #the bear fx #the bear season 2 #only 5 days left #i got carried away a little #richie jerimovich #carmen berzatto x highschool!friend

[aemondsvisenya]

Following on from girl dad!Aemond, would you be able to do some smutty headcanons about girl-dad!Aemond and wife!reader? Like idk maybe how he is during the pregnancies or something? Or maybe just Aemond x pregnant!reader headcanons, either is good

DON’T WORRY ANON, I GOT YOU 😉

Warnings: as per the request, reader is AFAB; pregnancy, smut, 18+, I haven’t used pronouns as such but Aemond does call reader “wife”. This is just a really long post of Aemond being horny about a pregnant wife lmao I’m so sorry

Another Warning: This post is VERY long, I got very carried away. Happy Holidays! 😃🎄

Note: I’ve carried over the daughters from this headcanons post about Aemond being a girl-dad 😌

🔥 Girl-Dad!Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader - Smutty Headcanons 🔥

Let it be known that Prince Aemond Targaryen absolutely 100% has a breeding kink. The idea of you swelling with his child, growing round with his seed, everyone seeing the evidence of your intimacy and knowing you’re his, drives him absolutely insane and turns him on so bad

At first he tries (poorly) to keep it to himself that he’s imagining it, but one night when you’re riding him hard, drinking in the sharp beautiful angles of his face and the sound of his moans as his cock stretches you, it accidentally slips out of his mouth in a moment where his usually perfect self control falters

“Fuck, (Y/N)… want to put a baby inside of you so bad-“

Immediately you both pause, and you look down at him in thought, considering this idea. Meanwhile he looks horrified that he allowed himself to let that thought out, as if expecting you to be disgusted. To his surprise, you merely smile and lean over him, adjusting your position before beginning to ride him vigorously once more. Your mouth dips down near to his ear as he gasps in pleasure, and your voice is husky; “do it, husband - fill me with your seed”

He cums so hard that night that neither of you would have been surprised if you’d had twins nine months later

No matter what position you two are doing, you can see the way his eye burns with desire as he nears his finish, his thrusts growing animalistic as he growls before emptying himself inside of you with a groan of your name. It doesn’t matter if it’s a hard and fast fuck or a night where he’s taking his time worshipping you, you can see that he’s thinking about it, that he’s wondering when you’ll be with child - it’s not the only thing he wants, of course, he could quite happily make love to you for the rest of his life with no children to show for it, but it’s something he considers

It’s not really a shock when you fall pregnant within the first year of your marriage, let’s be real - the two of you are definitely a passionate couple

The night that you tell Aemond you’re with child, he is in disbelief at first and merely stares at you as if expecting it to be a joke of some kind - but then he’s striding forwards, taking you in his arms and kissing you hard on the mouth. The smile on his face as his hand presses to your still-flat abdomen makes your heart melt because it’s a smile of pure joy, of pure happiness, and you know that it’s been so rare in his life that he experiences such a feeling

Aemond absolutely worships you in bed that night, and it doesn’t escape your notice that he takes the time to tenderly brush his lips over where your baby will be growing, the love he has for his unborn child already overwhelming

Unlike his brother, he absolutely does not pursue pleasure in brothels, especially not when his wife is pregnant - why would he waste coin going to such a place to be with a stranger when his beloved wife is right there, the evidence of their coupling there for all to see? He’s loyal and dutiful to you, and proves it over and over

As you begin to swell with your first child, you can see how conflicted your husband is; you can tell he wants to be passionate in bed with you, wants to fuck you hard because the sight of you and your growing belly is driving him wild, but you know that he doesn’t wish to hurt the child either. You reassure him because you know that no matter how rough he may be in bed with you, he would never truly hurt you or the baby

Aemond is uncertain for a mere five minutes more - all his worries fly rather quickly out the window when you push him against the pillows of the bed so he’s sitting up, plant yourself on his cock and begin to move erratically as you chase your pleasure on him. Safe to say, both of you enjoy yourselves from that point onwards

As the months progress, he’s rather smugly pleased when your hormones mean your sex drive goes up - you both benefit from this particular change, and he takes great pleasure in teasing orgasm after orgasm out of you and your sensitive body

Aemond is DEFINITELY pleased by how your body changes; stomach growing round, breasts growing larger… you sadly mention one night that you understand if he doesn’t find you attractive like this, and he fumbles with the ties of his clothes out of shock because are you serious?!?

“You… you don’t find me disgusting?” You ask tentatively, nervous to know the truth. Aemond’s eye shines up at you as he presses kisses down your stomach, trailing lower and lower. “My love,” he mutters, his voice gravelly as he reaches the apex between your thighs, “How can I be anything but in awe of you?” Any self-consciousness is, frankly, driven out of the window as his tongue slips inside of you, enjoying his favourite meal

You and your husband debate as you get closer to your delivery date as to what gender the child might be. One night, after a number of rounds of coital bliss, you discuss it again. You’re not sure, and you secretly expect that Aemond would like a son - however, when he trails a large hand over your abdomen, feeling the child kicking within, he hums before smiling. “I think she’ll be a girl.” You raise a brow and ask why; Aemond continues to smile, telling you he’s not sure why he thinks that - he just has a feeling.

You have to wonder if Helaena isn’t the only person in the family who can predict things because a few weeks later, you deliver a healthy baby girl. You watch as Aemond cradles her carefully in his arms, gazing at her in wonder - he is already captivated by her, by the tufts of white blonde on her head so like his own, by how tiny her fingers and toes are, by the warm weight of her. His Visenya, he thinks to himself with pride, the name you two agreed on for a girl.

It takes a few months before you’re able to have sex again, at least according to the maesters’ orders - but while you pout and grow agitated, Aemond never says a word or complains even once. He’s just so thrilled that not only is his daughter perfect and healthy, but you are too - he thanks the gods every day for it. He won’t deny that he’s rather pleased when you are able to be intimate together again though - he may be a Targaryen, closer to God, but he is still a man after all

Again, you have to wonder if he’ll even want to be intimate with you because your body has changed, there are marks from where your body grew to accommodate the life that grew there, and you’ve heard that some men are repulsed by these changes. Aemond, however, kisses ever scar, every stretch mark, every inch that shows where his daughter came from - it is a wonderful reminder, he thinks, and he loves you all the more for it

You don’t want to fall pregnant immediately after, you both agree it would be sensible to wait at least a year first, but you’re sure as hell not giving up sex; there are ways to prevent it, after all, and so it’s not too much of a surprise that soon enough you’re enjoying a healthy sex life again. It’s some time after Visenya’s first nameday when you agree you have another child.

You’d once heard some of your ladies remark that with each attempt to get pregnant that followed, the act soon became rather boring - but they couldn’t have been more wrong in your case. It’s almost as if your husband is more determined to impregnate you this time around, like he’s desperate to see you with child again, and it fuels your own fire; it’s almost amusing how many scratches litter Aemond’s back, the small marks from where you have bitten down on his shoulder in the heat of your climax, and your own body is almost bruised by the intensity of Aemond’s kisses

Unsurprisingly, it does not take long at all for you to fall pregnant again

With each pregnancy that follows, he is attentive at all times to your needs - especially the ones in the bedroom. It’s almost embarrassing how your body, filled with hormonal changes, reacts to feeling his hand on your waist, the feel of him spooning behind you in the night as he wraps an arm securely around your belly - but your dear husband, it seems, is more than up for the challenge of keeping up with your increase in libido.

Aemond surprises you one night near the delivery of your second babe; he’s watching in awe as you gently ride on his lap, his fingers clutching your hips tightly and throat bobbing with every clench you give around his cock. “Gevie…” He murmurs, and the sound of the High Valyrian on his tongue makes you clench around him even tighter. “Avy jorrāelan, ñuhys ābrazȳrys…” You are not fluent in the language, but you know enough to know what he is saying: “beautiful. I love you, my wife”, and your eyes shine. And then he shudders, eyes shifting to your round abdomen with awe as his voice trembles; “Nyke jaelagon ziry iksos nykeā tȳne hāedar”. You don’t know what he says, and soon both of your climaxes take over; it is only afterwards, as he pulls you into his arms, that you ask what he said. Aemond looks surprisingly sheepish as he rests a hand on your bump, closing his eyes. “Mmm… I said that I hope it is another girl. Just like our Visenya.”

The Gods must favour him tremendously because shortly afterwards you deliver a second daughter, this one named Daenys, after Daenys the Dreamer, and he is just as smitten with her as he is with his firstborn.

Even as you rest and recover from the delivery, you hear the whispers begin to creep around the keep; two girls and no sons? It sounds like an omen, you hear the servants whisper when they think you’re asleep, you are not doing your duty to the Prince at all. Despite the joy you feel at having two healthy girls, a part of you feels guilty for not having a son. Perhaps, you tell yourself, the next will be a boy - after all, having two healthy daughters should mean there’s no issue delivering healthy sons

During each pregnancy that follows, your husband remains just as attentive, just as dutiful, just loyal - and he never falters his duties as a father either. You love seeing him with Visenya and Daenys as you watch one summer afternoon, silently praying to yourself that this child will be a son if only to quiet the rumours circulating that you are not doing your duties, that it’s a sign you are the wrong wife for the Prince.

When your third daughter, Naerys, arrives that autumn, you and Aemond both cry tears of joy - but he doesn’t realise that some of yours are guilt for wishing your child had been a boy, guilt for wishing she had been different, even for one moment.

The whispers grow louder, rumours begin to spread that your husband tires of your bed. It’s difficult to be too sad about it, however, given that you know the truth - you’re almost certain that the noises coming out of the chambers you share have scandalised the guards and maids around the keep more than strictly necessary.

You fall pregnant a fourth time very quickly; you try not to grin at the raised eyebrows the maesters gave you when you came to them displaying early pregnancy symptoms a mere four months onwards from giving birth. When you tell Aemond, he’s bemused and smirks as he takes you to bed to celebrate the exciting news.

When Aemond holds Jaenara when she’s born, he shows her to his oldest two daughters while his third merely babbles on her mother’s lap; it’s difficult to miss the pride on his face as he looks at all four of his girls, at you, at his family.

“You’re not tired of me yet?” You ask a few months later as your husband rolls on top of you, his eye dilated as filled with undisguised lust. He chuckles as he strips you of your nightclothes, his fingers tweaking your nipples gently, “Never, dear wife.”

“At the rate we’re going,” you whisper later that night as his cock stirs in interest against your leg, despite the two of you having had two rounds already, “We’re going to have more children than the Old King himself.” Aemond let’s out a laugh, cupping your cheek to pull you in for a kiss; his words brush against your lips, just as your breath catches in your throat; “is that a challenge, my love?”

Your fifth pregnancy starts much as the others - and then it doesn’t. The amount of blood spotting your sheets is small, but Aemond doesn’t waste any time, fetching the maester to come himself. He hovers anxiously as you’re examined, snapping at anyone who dares ask if he’d rather wait outside, all of his focus on you. You’re both relieved when the maester says that you and the child are both fine - however, he hesitantly adds that you need to be careful during this pregnancy, as it seems to be higher risk.

Aemond truly tries being celibate, not wanting to harm the child - but you’re having none of that, and soon he can’t stand it either. He is gentler than usual when he touches you, careful to never over exert you, always allowing you to find your pleasure first before allowing himself his own. It’s different, but not in a terrible way.

“Aemond,” you murmur one morning, and he shifts against you from behind; his hand presses against your stomach, but he makes a noise to show he’s listening. “What if… what if we can’t have more after this?” For a minute he is silent, and you wonder if he’s fallen asleep again - but then he sighs, his breath hot against the back of your neck. “Then the Gods will have blessed us with five children - if it’s their will, then so be it.”

You truly just want the child to be healthy, you truly do, but part of you can’t help but consider that it might be a boy this time; if this is the last time, then a son would quiet the whispers, would calm the wagging tongues in the keep.

It is nearly Yule when little Saera arrives, small but otherwise perfectly healthy after a long delivery. Aemond kisses her head and then kisses yours, and then hers all over again, thanking the gods for blessing him with five perfect daughters and for keeping you safe.

Once your husband finds out what the whispers have said about you, about his girls, he’s furious and grows more possessive of you - not in a terrible way, but you don’t miss the way that his hand constantly lingers on the small of your back, how his eye watches you constantly when you are across the room, how a clear hunger burns within him when he sees you with the girls you both brought into the world.

It goes both ways; it’s undeniable that the sight of Aemond with the girls - whether it’s teaching them the language of their ancestors, reading to them, helping them in the training yard, teaching them how to ride their dragons - is a huge turn on. There’s something about the sight of him being a good dad that just turns you on so bad, and you often all but pounce on him as soon as you’re both alone.

Even if making more babies isn’t necessarily the goal, it’s undeniable that the act itself is hugely enjoyable to you both

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #girl dad aemond #ewan mitchell #blame Ewan for being hot as fuck idk #asks #aemond targaryen smut

[aliensunflower-fics]

My Recommended Fic List

So, I got this ask awhile ago, and since I have been re-reading a bunch of my old favorite fics as a way to cheer up after work I figured why not. This list will be long... and varied but mostly its older fics cuz idk there my favs. Now lets go:

Fashion Upgrade - By @soap-lady : Straight up one of my favorite fics ever, its fun, its creative, it never fails to make me laugh when I need something warm and wholesome after a bad day. Also go check out the rest of her stuff there's so much good okay like shes just a writing queen. Shes on AO3 I don't want to spoil you on her other stuff just GO experience it for yourself.

Ode To Decoy pt 1 / 2 / 3 - By @a-marlene-s : Ive always liked this short sweet little fic about Lila getting caught. Its Lila + class salt though so avoid if that's not your flavor.

EVERYTHING - By @unmaskedagain : They have salt, they have sugar, they have funny, they have crossovers. Like honestly they are a just a great writer with so much variety so go check out the masterlist I linked and I guarantee there will be something there you like.

@ravennm84 Is a writer on the saltier side but they have a wonderful selection of weird wacky tales from the salty but oh so well written Damning Evidence that sees Lila get caught in the best way to the 3 part Horror inspired Serafina other great fics from them include Marinettes Family Court Circus pt 1 / 2 and Of Moldy Bread and Cockroaches / Be Kind to Servers honestly its worth giving there blog a look.

@mochinek0 Is another writer with several beloved fics. They write a lot of Maribat and we love them for it. Ones to check out would be Blind Date / Bruce vs Gabriel just go check out there tag list of daminette for more.

Accidental Crime Boss Marinette - By @lady-literature : This is a wonderful idea and a wonderful little fic and I just... I just like it okay. Sadly I haven't read a lot of there other stuff... But I might after finishing this list considering how much I enjoy this one.

@nobodyfamousposts I love a LOT of there fics. They are one of the best when it comes to striking that sweet spot of calling out the show for some of its garbage while not getting so salty that you cant have fun lighthearted goodness. I have been looking for a masterlist of there work but cant find one so just go stalk there tags. I do recommend there Chloe's Lament Series 1 / 2 exploring how certain 'wishes' would backfire. Guardian Assistant Kevin is also a good one Miracle Queen Aftermath pt 1 / 2 / The 8 parter Burn the Witch series / The Wisdom Teeth Reveal / Kagami Vs The Wall of Faces / Resigning With Grace & Spite / I tried to give a lot of links cuz they have a lot of stuff

Kill Them With Kindness - By @luki-fanfic : Well written, good salt without going overboard. Just good vibes. I havent stalked there other stuff but if its anything like this fic its probably excellent quality.

Stephen Vladislav pt 1 / 2 - By @stormiclown : Adrien centered salt on the idea of finally giving Adrien his own proper rival. I like the idea of Adrien having a rival because its usually Marinette and this was just the right length to get those creative ideas flowing. Also just well written what more can you ask for.

Power Trip - By @storygirl000 : This was the first fic that made me go... Wait would it be more fun if Lila was actually competent? And that set me on the path to writing my own fics where Lila is more villainous and more capable. Its short, well written. Good.

Your Wish is My Command - By DemiGoddess28 on AO3 : A great 11 chapter fic looking into Lila's life if she were to win and get a miraculous wish. Its got sugary goodness for our protagonists and the class and salt for our dearest friend Lila.

LadyBugOut AU - By Miraculous-Content on AO3 : A 50 chapter fic made up of snippets and ideas. I found it really inspiring in many ways. I also love how it redeems Marinettes classmates showing how and why they were tricked but holding them accountable anyway its just... Good.

Juleka vs The Forces of the Universe - By goldenlaurelleaves on AO3 : For those of us not yet ready to accept the death of luka/mari we have this wonderful fic showing Juleka being the biggest wingman as she helps these idiots find there way together.

ChaoticNeutral on AO3 has there own Chloe's Lament fic as well as a Gabriel's Lament fic for people who need sweet salty of those two characters.

BroadwayCutie16 was Inspired by the person above and DemiGoddesses your wish is my command fic to write Lila's Lament fic going over Lilas failed wish. Honestly I always love these fics because there just so interesting and the way wishes can be taken and twisted is always a fascinating idea to me.

#WayneAngel - By Tired-Writing-Teach on AO3 : For us Maribat lovers. Its fun and lighthearted with some good gags and some light fluff.

Damian in Paris - By Lilliesandliveries on AO3 : A sweet Maribat series showing what would happen if Damian ran away from home and found himself in Paris and getting therapy.

How a Demon Commissions an Angel - By AlixAnonymous : Damian blackmails Marinette into letting him be her client so he can get his bros the best gifts, they end up becoming penpal buddies.

Mythomania - By LadyEnna_50 on AO3 : Proof that I dont hate Adrien or Mari/Adrien. In this fic Adrien's spine gets titanium plating and he sees just how bad Lila is hurting Marinette and does something about it.

The Contingency - By AbyssalGuardian on AO3 : SALT. Also Tim/Mari but even still I love the way this was written, the style, and some of the ideas just ugh love it. Its not for those who dont like salt so just avoid at your own discretion. Its about a chaotic Marinette done with her life running away to Gotham where she meets her true black cat, and gets her life back on track.

The String That Binds Us - By FaithAndATypeWriter on AO3 : Okay so is there any Mari/Bat fan who hasnt already heard of this one? Who cares its good, its cute, I love it. May the author be blessed with snacks.

The Great IKEA Game - By @batsandbugs : Okay again... I think every Mari/Bat fan has probably heard of this one already because its just that good and that popular. But who cares I am recommending it anyway. Don't read if your allergic to fun I guess.

If this list still doesn't somehow have enough salt for you then try @goggles-mcgee fics here is a link to there Masterlist. They are in a way a professional at salt and angst and they make you want to adopt Marinette and pop her in a blanket fort.

Honestly I could keep going but this list already feels so long for other great recs though I can link you to @jayphoenic who has some great Daminette Fic Recs and some Lila Salt Fic Recs!

Feel free to reblog this and add some links to stuff you would think I or others might like! Also lets just acknowledge how many talented authors the community has like wow.

#its just me #miraculous ladybug #not my fic #fic rec #lila salt #dc x mlb #daminette #kagaminette #adrienette #lukanette #ml salt #adrien salt

[bingbongsupremacy]

Baby

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: reader is able to get pregnant, pet names, argument, idk what else.

Summary: It's getting harder and harder to spend time with your husband and you have some really important news. (Pre-Outbreak)

*Not Proof Read* TLOU Masterlist

ABC List

*****

The room is silent, the only noise coming from our TV. Light bounces off of the walls, casting a small glow on the coffee table that moves.

I curl deeper into the couch, watching as the clock ticks by.

8:30....9:15....10:45....11:12...

Finally I hear keys jingling from the front door.

" You're still up? " Joel's voice is tired and raspy. He pulls off his boots, leaving them near the front door. " Is Sarah still up? "

I shake my head, rubbing my heavy eyes. " No. She's over at Gina's, down the street, for a sleepover. "

Joel wanders into the kitchen, pulling a can of beer out of the fridge. He takes a swig before heading towards the living room. For a moment, neither of us talks.

" You were supposed to be home at 6. " I glance over at the man. I take in his appearance. His eyes are dark from clear exhaustion. His shirt is covered in grime. It's obviously been a long day.

" I was. " He agrees, not saying anything more. He takes another sip of his beer. Condensation forms on the can, dripping down his hand.

His answer doesn't satisfy me. " Why weren't you? Why didn't you call? " I press.

This has been happening often. Every few days he stays out later than normal, most of the time, he 'forgets' to call.

Joel lets out a sigh, obvious frustration filling his expression. " I got caught up in my work. It wasn't supposed to go past 6, but stuff happens. You know that, babe. "

Irritation fills my body. " And you couldn't have bothered to, I don't know, check your watch and maybe call me? I was worried sick, Joel. I stayed up even though I have to be up at 6 for work tomorrow. " I push myself up, looking towards his face. Looking for something, something other than annoyance.

I was really hoping he'd be here at 6.

" I didn't ask you to do that. You could've gone to bed. Don't blame me for your decisions. I told you, I lost track of time. I don't have my phone on me when I'm working. " Joel's gaze meets mine.

Anger runs through my body. Usually I'm not this quick to anger but the hormones are driving me insane. The stress of unknowing along with Joel's careless attitude sends rage flowing through my body. " You really could give less of a shit about Sarah and me, huh? " I seethe, not thinking through my words.

Joel's eyes narrow. " What the fuck do you mean? " He starts getting defensive. " Of course I give a shit about you! I fucking work my ass off, for you two! " Joel's tone rises.

" Then why do you keep doing shit that makes us worry? " I exclaim. " You could have called at any point and it would've helped me feel better. I understand that you don't keep your phone on you while working, but is it really that hard to take a five minute break to call me? God-you need a break anyways! You'll fucking hurt yourself if you're constantly working. " My heart pounds. I stand up, trying to get some space between the man and I.

Joel stands up as well. His eyes burn into mine, sending a shiver of discomfort down my spine.

I hate when we get into arguments. My hormones and his exhaustion are mixing together to create a toxic cloud of anger and frustration.

" Like you'd even answer the fucking phone. " Joel rolls his eyes. " You've been so busy talking to your stupid fucking friends that it's nearly impossible to call you sometimes. "

He isn't wrong. I found out I was pregnant a few weeks ago, and I wanted-no I needed to tell someone. I wanted to make the announcement to Joel and Sarah important, something memorable. At the time, I just needed to tell someone else.

They've been there for me this entire time, helping me plan tonight. Helping me plan the dinner and gift for Joel.

A gift he never got to open and a dinner he never got to eat.

" Well I gotta talk to someone, Joel. You're never around anymore. " I snap.

" I'm working! " Joel lets out a breath.

" Your unbelievable. " I shake my head. I let out an angry laugh. " You know what, fuck this, Joel. You're not even listening to me. The point isn't that you're working late, it's that you don't bother to call home and tell me about it. I care about you, Joel. What-What if you got hurt? What if you got into a car crash or fucking died somehow? I'd have no idea because you don't bother to call me. All I want is one call, and that's too much to ask of you. " I push past the broad shouldered man. " Your dinner's in the fucking oven. It's your favorite. "

With that I storm upstairs, grateful Sarah wasn't here to witness the fight. I barely close the bedroom door before the tears start to flow.

Downstairs I hear Joel curse as he drops something on the ground. I lean against the door, doing my best to listen to the man below. His footsteps die off as he most likely settles onto the couch.

I just want him to call home.

_______

The next morning I leave before Joel wakes up. I send a quick text to Sarah, letting her know there's some food in the fridge.

My day seems to fly by. Piles of paperwork seem to disappear in minutes. Before I know it, it's time to head home.

An unsettled feeling wracks my stomach, surely not a good feeling for the baby. I'm still pissed at Joel. I just wish he understood where I'm coming from.

I unlock the front door and am immediately met with silence.

No one's home.

I let out a small sigh, walking towards the kitchen. My eyes widen in surprise when I spot Joel sitting at the kitchen table, a pair of small shoes in his hands.

He found the gift.

Of course he did, I left it on the dresser last night.

" Surprise. " I state while making my way to the fridge. " You're gonna be a daddy. Again. " My voice is unenthusiastic. Not the way I planned telling him at all.

" I'm so fucking sorry. " Joel blurts out. He runs his rough fingers over the small white laces, following the rhythm of the string. " I'm an asshole. "

" That you are. " I agree.

Joel finally looks up at me. His sad expression breaks my anger. Suddenly, I'm torn. Do I keep acting angry or do I feel bad for him?

" I deserve that. I-I shouldn't have yelled at you last night. Pregnant or not- You didn't deserve that. I took out my anger on you. I've...fuck I'll just tell you. I've been working late to try to make some extra money for us. I wanted to take you somewhere for our anniversary. "

I take a seat next to him, shock filling my body. I had no idea.

" You're right, I should've called you. That was a dick move. I...I don't know why I didn't. I guess I was just scared I'd be tired and I'll accidentally tell you something? It doesn't fucking matter now. "

" Oh Joel..."

He continues. " I'm sorry about dinner last night. I should've come home. " He finishes, finally setting the shoes down into the small gold box I put them in originally.

I don't say anything. I wrap my arms around the man, sinking my head into the crook of his warm neck. " Yes, you should've called, but I shouldn't have have been so aggressive. My emotions have just been all over the place. " My eyes begin to tear up. I feel a tightness in the back of my throat as I pull away from Joel. " I feel so much angrier than I usually do. "

Joel pulls me back into his embrace. " It's okay, honey. It's the baby. It's okay. " He tries to sooth me. " I love you so much, and I promise, I'm going to cut back my hours. "

" And you're gonna call, right? " I look up at him from my spot against his chest.

" Yes, I swear I'll call from now on. I have to, what if something happens to you and the baby. " He furrows his brows in worry. " I'll call you every hour. I promise. "

I let out a small laugh, wiping a tear away. " I think every few hours is okay, babe. "

" No every half hour. Who knows what could happen. Your office has steep stairs-we should see if the elevator there is fixed yet. " Joel mutters.

" Okay that might be a little overkill. " I crinkle my nose. " How about you just call when you're going to be late. Alright? "

" I can do that. "

#fanfiction #fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #joel the last of us #the last of us fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #the last of us x reader #the last of us fanfic #the last of us

[algea]

Ghoul School

prompt: you, Lucky, Phoebe, Trevor, and Lars go to investigate a spirit infested school, but ends badly for you.

Ummm basically enemies to lovers?? idrk tbh LOL

warnings: idk scary stuff? cussing! sexual tension! um you smoke 1 cigarette and thats it. GORE!!!!!!!

a/n: I’ve been thinking of this since I saw the movie…

*THIS IS A SUPER LONG STORY!!!*

“A school? Are you serious, Lars?” You mutter, running a hand down your face and sighing.

“I wish. What’s your grudge against a school anyway?” Lars said, cocking an eyebrow at you as he turned to look at you.

“Well I don’t know, maybe it’s the fact that kids still go there. It makes me sick how they have to experience that while being in an environment where it’s supposed to be safe and welcoming.” You explain, tapping your fingers nervously on your desk. Behind you, Lars sighed,

“Well that’s why we’re going innit? So stop worrying about it so much.” You snapped your head when heard the door open. In trudged a slime covered Trevor, Lucky, and Phoebe.

“Lars, I need your help with something!” Lucky called. Lars stood and strode to her, his eyes lingered on you for a little longer than they should’ve. Trevor had a proton pack on his back, which was slightly smoking from the interior.

"Piece of shit only fizzed when we tried to turn it on, know a way to fix it?" Trevor asked, gazing up at Lars. Lars' face was stone cold, probably because he had to deal with the dumb shit Trevor stirred up.

"First off, it's not a piece of shit. Second off, did you even try to figure it out?" Lars scoffed, eyebrows drawn together in a scowl.

"Give it to me, I'll see what I can do." He sighed, obviously not wanting to deal with him anymore. Trevor basically shoved the proton pack into Lars’ arms, which didn't waiver when he received it. Hot. You thought. Lars trudged to his station and set the proton pack down. He removed the protective covering, and coughed when smoke blasted in his face. You snickered, which earned an unimpressed glare from him. Lucky appeared beside you, ready to talk about what else you've come up with her to test.

"What is it?" She asked, tinkering with the item on the desk.

"You know how there's buckshot for a shotgun? I've figured out how to compress protons into little pellets and create a buckshot-type stream." You explained, showing her how it would work on a sheet of paper. You heard Lars muttering about something, though you brushed it off. You handed Lucky a few pellets, which contained about 12 rounds of buckshot each. She eagerly shot off into the test room, excited to try it out. With nothing else to do, you shuffled behind Lars, peering over his shoulder to watch his hands work efficiently. Lars really didn't know you were there, truly he didn't. So when he turned around to go get something from his desk, he jumped back.

"Good Christ you scared the shit out of me!" Lars exclaimed, putting a hand on his chest and letting out a big sigh. He shoved his glasses back up his face and ran a hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry! I just wanted to watch you work..." You trailed off, staring at the ground in embarrassment.

"Well maybe next time maybe fucking keep to yourself." He snapped, brushing past you, his hand grazing yours. You just stood there, hands clenched and cheeks burning in embarrassment. Phoebe stood next to you, putting a hand on your arm and whispering,

"It's ok, really, he doesn't mean it."

You couldn't help the tear that slithered down your cheek. Blinking away the rest of the tears, you muttered an 'excuse me' and walked outside of the lab. Taking a left, you headed through the doors to the cool breeze outside. Stuffing your hand in you pocket, your hand found purchase on the cig case you had. Sliding one out of it and grabbing your lighter, you lit the cig up and shoved the lighter back into your left pocket. You sat against the wall and pulled your knees to your chest. Hearing the doors open, you see Trevor walk out. He spots you and slides down the wall, sitting next to you.

"It's not your fault. It really isn't." Trevor offered, watching you let out a sigh, smoke going with it. You laugh, dragging a hand down your face.

"Listen, don't ever fall in love, man. Shit sucks." You sighed, resting your head against the cool brick. Trevor started to say something but the rest of the three burst through the doors. Lars was wearing his red jacket, walking towards the car. Lucky was carrying yours in her arm, right on the heels of Lars. He spotted you and Trevor sitting down against the wall. Trevor hopped up, offering you a kind hand. You took it, cigarette still in hand.

"Put that shit out." Lars commanded, crossing his arms. You glared at him before taking a long drag and blowing the smoke out. You dropped the rest on the ground, twisting your foot against it which successfully put it out.

"Happy?" You huffed, throwing your arms out in surrender. He just stared at you before pushing past you to get to the car. 'Bitch' You mutter under your breath. God he’s insufferable. Following them, you hopped into the passage seat. Lucky handed you your red jacket, which you put on before you buckled up. You zipped it up all the way burying your face in the collar. Lars watched you from his peripheral, drumming his fingers on the wheel.

“Are gonna stare or drive the goddamn car?” You snapped, turning to gaze at him. His hand tightened on the wheel and started to drive.

To say that Lars was a good driver was a pretty big overstatement. You were even lucky you made it to the school alive, much less in once piece.

“You are never ever driving again, Lars.” You said, stumbling out of the car as a wave of nausea hits you.

“Stuff it.” He replied, pushing up his broken glasses. You turned your gaze to the school, which stood ominously in the distance. You shivered, which didn’t go unnoticed by Lars. He took a small step closer to you, his hand ghosting the small of your back. You jumped slightly at his feather touch, but relished it. Lars flicked on your switch, making your proton pack hum with the familiar ‘whirring’ sound. You walked to the front steps, pushing open the two massive double wooden doors. You were blasted by a cold air, which you stumbled back from.

“S-shit.” You muttered, hands shaking ever so slightly. You reached for your flashlight, but froze when you saw a shadow figure dart through the darkness.

“Lars.” You whispered, a lump forming in your throat. Lars was off busy helping the others get their packs on, which meant you were the only one at the front. You felt something tugging you forward. You stumbled back into the school following the tugging sensation to a room downstairs.

Lars looked up, about to ask you something, when he noticed you were gone.

“Where the bloody hell did Y/N go?” He asked, looking around. His question was answered when he heard your frantic screams coming from inside of the building. They all looked at each other, then bolted to the building.

The building was absolutely freezing. That you were certain of. The frigid temperature fucked a little with your head, at least that’s what you can conclude. You found that being able to see in the dark was not your forte, which caused you to fall down a flight of stairs.

“OH FUCKING SHIT—!” You screech, tumbling down the stairs. You landed with your head cracking against the cold floor. Groaning, you tried to lift your head, but you felt like you were spinning like a top. You eventually stood, swaying slightly after. You blinked a few times, holding your head in your hands. In the corner of your eye, you could see another shadow figure. It was tall, tall enough to reach the ceiling. It started to approach you, but you let out a scream, starting to run back up the stairs. You felt a push, then you tumbled back down the stairs, smashing your head into the pavement again. You landed on your knee, successfully snapping the bone in your shin. You let out another bloodcurdling scream, spitting out blood in the process.

You felt lightheaded as blood spilled from your shin and lips, dribbling down your chin and neck. You were in too much pain to cry as you crumpled to the floor again. You heard all three of them yelling your name, but you couldn’t yell back. Instead, you pulled yourself across the floor, leaving a long streak of blood as you went. With as much effort as you could muster, you pulled yourself to the steps. It took everything for you to scream,

“LARS!!!”

Footsteps could be heard, which sounded like heavy boots clomping towards you. You clawed at the steps, trying to grip anything that you could to pull yourself up. The blond man appeared in the doorway, shining a flashlight down the stairwell. Lars hair was tousled, eyes wide. You make out how he was panting, as well as a horrified look painted across his face.

“oh my god.” Was all he said. He rushed down the stairwell to get you. You couldn’t make out much of anything, you kept fading in and out of consciousness. His hands, his strong and elegant hands held your face as he tried to keep you awake. Your breaths became labored again as you felt extreme pain rippling through your limbs. You let out another scream, which was muffled by Lars chest as he picked you up and started to rush you outside. One of his hands found purchase in your hair, gently stroking it with his thumb as he ran to the car.

Lars felt like it took years to make it to the hospital. His red jacket was drenched in your blood, but he couldn’t care less about what he looked like as he rushed you into the ER. Immediately after, you were rushed into a room, where you would reside for God knows how long. Lars sat next to Lucky, his face grim. He didn’t care how long he had to wait to see you again, just as long as he could see you. Lars stayed there all night, into the morning to be able to see you. When they told him that he could see you, he ran to your room as fast as he could. There you laid, eyes closed, face peaceful. When you heard the footsteps, you opened your eyes and found the blond man standing in your doorway.

“Bloody hell, I thought I’d never see you again.” Lars breathed as he approached your right side. Your hand lay limp on the top of the bedsheet. He brought up a chair and sat, taking your hand and lacing his fingers with yours.

“I was so scared that you were going to die, I couldn’t bear to see it.” He further explained. You smiled weakly and croaked,

“Are you being nice right now? That’s so unlike you Lars.”

Before you said anything else, Lars pressed a kiss to your lips. It wasn’t your ideal first kiss with him, but you relished the feeling.

“I didn’t save you because I thought it was the good thing to do, I saved you because I love you.” Lars whispered, his nose brushing yours.

“God I love you too, Lars.” You whispered back.

#ghostbusters frozen empire #ghostbusters x reader #ghostbusters #lars pinfield x reader #lars pinfield #james acaster #lars pinfield x you

[fandomwritingbit]

Sweet girl pt.3

dad's friend William Afton x (fem) virgin reader

synop: Reader goes over to William's to pick up where they left off. Pacing? Who's that?

pt.1 - here. pt.2 - here.

warnings: smut (oral and grinding? dry humping but not dry, idk what you call it), coercion, inappropriate relationship, age gap, generally creepy William.

A/n: Happy new year's! Thought I'd get something dirty out to prove I'm still alive and kicking, hope you enjoy! I have no idea if it's good because I hate everything I write at the moment lmao x.

On your walk home you see him before he sees you. The pang of excitement in your chest is so strong it winds you as the sensation travels down lower, settling in the part of you that screams for attention when William is around. You should keep your head down and slip unnoticed up the steps to your house, but the trouble is that you want to be noticed. You’ve been high on the memory of last time, desperate to feel it again. So you stop still, fiddling with the hem of your skirt and looking over your shoulder until eventually you pluck up the courage and cross the road.  

He’s doing something to his car, checking the tire pressure or something, still wearing his smart clothes from work. His head turns as you approach, the slow smile spreading across his face as he realises it’s little you, here to see him, has your head spinning already. 

“Hi…” You start, your voice tiny and uncertain.

“Hi?” He grins at you as he stands up, pressing the tip of his shoe into the tire and seeming satisfied with the result. “You come over here just to say that?” William looks you up and down, another pretty little skirt showing off your legs, you must be doing this on purpose. Still though, you coming to him and seeking him out is a good thing, progress towards you becoming his pet. 

You blink, hating that he almost instantly makes you feel like an idiot, especially given that you can’t seem to summon the faculties to prove otherwise. It’s pathetic how your face is flushed already as you struggle to figure out a response, why did you come over here? It’s stupid really, you’ve come to see him with the hope that, like last time, he’ll steal you away and corrupt you a little more. But you can’t exactly admit that. 

“Uhh. I don’t know why I came over… sorry.” Is the sentence you mutter just to try and end the awkward silence that was blooming as he waited expectantly, and you know it’s daft the second you say it. 

He laughs, which makes you feel doubly idiotic. “I’m only joking, sweetheart. You came over because you want to pick up where we left off the other day, right?” Your eyes go wide at his bluntness, shame doesn’t seem to be an emotion he’s ever come into contact with, instead it feels like you end up getting his share of it. 

As sweet as you look all embarrassed and hesitant, he lets you have some reprieve and changes the subject, “Are your parents expecting you home?” Now, as naïve as you are, you do know that that question actually means ‘are you free to disappear for a while?’, and it fills your stomach with butterflies.  

And again the tiny devil on your shoulder persuades you to go along with him. “No. No, they don’t know what I’m doing.” You dare to look him fully in the eye then and the intention in them has your core burning.

“Then you have to come in for a bit.” His hand rests on your lower back as he guides you towards his front door, already struggling with the urge to tear that skirt right off you. 

After getting inside, you look nervously over your shoulder to see him closing the door, that familiar excitement sizzling in your veins, and when he turns to see you looking all small and scared he can’t resist teasing you. “God, sweetheart, I can read you like a book. You’re nervous, huh?”

Rubbing your arm you avert your gaze, “I mean, yeah, a little.” The scoff from him shows that you’re not doing a great job of being convincing. It upsets you a bit that you can’t act all sexy and brave because you are lost in what to do, but you can tell that he likes that, and that feels very dirty. 

“Oh, you don’t don’t have to be.” He moves closer to you and you battle with yourself to not move away, you shouldn’t be doing this, you shouldn’t have done this before but you can’t help it. “I told you, we’re going to have fun.” He raises his eyebrows on the last word, and despite how overly sweet his tone is it does nothing to combat the intimidation of his bigger frame, now close enough that you swear you can feel his heat. His hand raises up to toy with the collar of your shirt, resting just above the curve of your breasts. 

The grazing touch is like ice on your skin, making goosebumps appear everywhere they’re able. “I just-” You blink in surprise at yourself talking, unsure when you decided to speak, “I don’t think I’m ready to uh… you know-” He does, in fact, know.

“Fuck?” He puts you out of your misery, the word crass enough to make your answer visible on your face. It sounds natural coming from him but you could have though of a million other ways to say it. “That’s what you’re scared of?” His hand moves up to tilt your chin to face him, his thumb resting over the plump of your bottom lip. “Listen, that’s not going to happen 'til you really want it. More than you clearly already do.” He was right, you do want it, you’re wet, your panties sticking to your core in a shamefully eager way.

You nod slightly in some form of acknowledgement but it’s cut short when he kisses you, the thought instantly evaporating from your head as he takes control of you. It’s that simple, his mouth on yours, his hand taking in the shape of your hips, that’s all it takes before you’re lost. You’ve been kissed before, had your share of grimy teenage make-out sessions, but this is insane, it gets more so when his tongue invades your mouth, stealing some pitiable noise from you. Instinctively you press against him, your hands tugging at the fabric of his shirt like you’re afraid he’ll stop. 

Pretty quickly his grip on your waist dips down, fingers slipping under the waistband of your skirt and beginning to pull it down, your hand stops him. He pulls away, “You gonna let me see you? Huh?” He’s asking but still touching you, the other hand plucking your shirt and lifting it from your skin, watching your expression. You bring your lip between your teeth, nervous but still able to hum some agreement. Your shirt soon comes over your head and the skirt slips from your feet, leaving you feeling very exposed under his gaze. 

He takes half a step back to take in the sight of you in your bra and panties, “Now, who are these for?” He asks, aroused-tinted mockery coating the words. You’re not sure what he’s talking about until he flicks the strap of your knickers lying over your hip. 

“What?” You flinch when the material pings back against your skin, the amusement in his eyes a little mean-spirited. “N-no one.” You manage to remember to respond, only making him grin. 

“No one? This skimpy little bra and panties, for no one?” You know he’s taking the piss but you can’t help but pout at the mockery, your brows furrowed when he moves, still chuckling, to kiss your neck. He’s slightly unshaven and the scruff against your skin has you squirming, your hand finding a natural place on the back of his head, fingers lacing and pulling when he bites an aching kiss right where your neck meets your shoulder. It’s the blazing kind of pain that only lasts a moment, but the pitiful moan from you would have anyone thinking otherwise. 

It’s that pretty sound from you that forces him to briefly lift you onto the long table just next to his front door, pulling your bra down to flick his tongue over your nipple whilst roughly grabbing the other. He feels a little bad for you when you whimper from his touch, remembering that he should be a bit nicer to you really, so he takes himself away from your tits, dropping down to his knees. You firmly press your legs together in response, but when his warm hands land high on your thighs, you let him slowly pull them apart, revealing the wet spot on your panties.

You watch him still biting your lip, anxious of what he was going to do. He smirks up at you and you’re so distracted by it that his sudden contact with your core makes you jump, he traces the shape of your pussy over your knickers, dragging over your clit and then up higher to catch the edge of the garment. You help him pull them down by lifting yourself from the table, shivering when he leans in close, his breath making your pussy clench. 

“You poor, pretty little thing.” He sniggers, just the sight of your cunt has precum leaking from his cock. You watch idiotic as he slowly drags his tongue over your pussy, the sensation completely foreign but something you instantly fall in love with, evident in the way you moan. He maps out the path from your entrance up to your clit with his tongue, giving himself something to think about later. This perfect untouched cunt, sweet as fucking honey all for him; the thought has him grabbing himself over his trousers, giving his cock some much needed attention, as he focuses his action on your clit. It’s like he knows exactly what you need, because he finds the right rhythm immediately, slowly circling your nerves in a way that has you writhing above him. 

He has to hold your thigh to keep you still, the mixed feeling of this intense stimulation and the dull rub of his facial hair could give you whiplash. You’d be so embarrassed to see yourself right now, pathetic moans and whimpers tumbling from your lips as you fall mercy to the insane building of pressure in your core. It’s like a flame on gasoline, a sudden, scorching need to cum that burns your legs all the way up to your chest. He grunts into your pussy, making you open your eyes for the first time in apparently ages, just to see him stroking his cock, turned on from making you dumb. 

“God, fucking look at you.” He stops his sucking of your clit to speak, leaving you hanging in such a devastating way you want to cry. “It’s very hard not to give this cunt what it fucking wants.” The sharp words have your walls clenching, only proving his point. Without warning he stands, still holding your legs open, and taps his cock against your core, the idea of him fucking you seems very real and very scary right now, especially with how big he looks. But you want it, you really fucking want him to do anything to you he wants, just as long as you can cum.  

The precum dripping from his head clings to your slick as he slides his cock down, digging delightfully against your clit before notching at your entrance, sharply glancing at your watery eyes. He’s a man of his word but fucking hell, he wants to feel that tight little hole around him. He grunt as he moves up again, sliding his cock through your folds, grinding it against your bundle of nerves and reigniting the climb to your peak.  

“Come here.” He mutters as he pushes you down slightly on the table, catching your legs and lifting them up to press your thighs together, holding both your ankles in a firm grip. He continues rutting against your cunt, your thighs creating a slick grip for him, almost as good as the real thing. Your too concerned with the rearing of your climax to think about how fucking lewd this is, this older man thrusting against your pussy and you’re enjoying it, it’s maddening. But you don’t really care, not when your walls flicker with waves of pleasure, squeezing around nothing as your legs begin to shake. You cum hard enough to lose your power of speech, instantly overstimulated by the continued pressure on your clit. 

When you cum he loses it, your wet heat and desperate hands grabbing what parts of him you can reach, needy for him, is intoxicating. You feel him move your legs apart again, letting them fall to his sides, taking hold of his dick and stroking it til he finishes. A gasp leaves your lips at the filthy sensation of his cum coating your pussy and lower abdomen, you can hardly believe it’s real and not the end scene of a dirty video. 

“God.” He groans, taping his cockhead against your pussy just to make you flinch. You just whine in response half in the odd sense of calm after tumbling over your peak, but half in self pity for the stickiness between your legs. You watch as he fixes himself, very aware that you're still slumped on the table but unwilling to move. 

“Come on.” William says through a smirk, you look a right state and he prides himself on his good work. “You'll have to get cleaned up.” He takes your arm and pulls you forward 'til you land on your feet, now very aware that your bra is clinging on for dear life and the rest of your clothes are in a heap on the floor. 

“I'll just grab my-” You start, indicating towards the pile, but he cuts you off. 

“You're in no rush, shower first. Worry about that later.” You probably would have protested but he guides you forward, turning a corner and entering a bathroom. 

“Thank you.” You say a little uncertainly. Yes, it's nice of him to show you where things are and let you get sorted before turfing you out; yet something about the glint in his eyes screams ulterior motive. He leaves you to it, all sorted with a towel, and disappears to make sure your panties end up in his pocket where they belong. 

Pt.4

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