#AM I OUT OF MY HEAD WHEN YOURE NOT AROUND | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pearlywritings · 3 days ago

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Sometimes the name doesn't matter

synopsis: sometimes it matters that you are his wife. PART 3

pairings: Childe, Neuvillette, Pantalone, Wriothesley x fem!reader (separately)

tw: fluff, established relationship (married/engaged/mated), secret relationship, immortal reader in Neuvi's part

word count: 6.1k+ words

a/n: part 1 and part 2 can be read here!

Childe

Spurred by the whistles and a whip of a coachman three fine white horses are trotting along the snow-covered road, dragging a big sleigh. Made of the sturdiest wood and painted in red and gold, the construction is effortlessly sliding on ice crust, almost lulling you under all those warm blankets and furs Ajax has thrown over your half-sitting half-lying bodies. You are glad to have this instead of jolting in a carriage (not like it’ll even be able to ride through all this snow), sure to have an aching arse even under the thick sheepskin coat, and instead of whatever machinery your lover could’ve gotten his hands onto due to his position - otherwise it wouldn’t have been so romantic.

Resting your head onto his shoulder you sigh blissfully, puffing out a small cloud of warm air. The fluffy-looking firs, tall pines and naked larches are flashing past in a magical gleam of snow-covered branches; you think you see two grayish squirrels chasing one another on a tree on your left.

“Oh, little minxes. A couple of seconds later and that snow could’ve ended up on our heads.”

You giggle at the young man’s comment, taking your gloved hand out of the sable muff and reaching to adjust the hat with earflaps (which he once again refused to tie under his chin) on his head. Before you can retrieve, a bigger hand clad in mitten wraps around yours and brings it to the chapped pale lips. As if spellbound you watch him press a tender kiss just where your ring finger joins the palm - right where the engagement ring is hidden under the thick material.

Now it’s hard to tell if your cheeks are rosy from cold or the swirling emotions.

“A little bit more and we will be in Morepesok,” he says softly, deep pools of his blue eyes staring back at you adoringly. “I can’t wait to share the news with ma, pa, sisters and brothers…”

You know he’s written them a letter right after you said ‘yes” to him, too excited to wait. So excited in fact, that he couldn’t sit still in expectation for the response, so he solicited an impromptu week-long vacation with the help of Pulcinella, and here you are, on your merry way to his home village.

“I can’t wait for that too,” you smile, leaning up to peck his nose, eliciting the same smile from him. “But I worry a little - will they be happy for us? I mean, that it’s me who you are going to marry?”

“Absolutely!” He nods enthusiastically and you have to readjust his hat again. “They all love you very much, I promise you. And if I am being completely honest, mom and Tonia did keep asking me when I intended to make you my wife during the last couple of times we visited.”

“Wait, really? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was already planning a proposal at the time - didn’t want to spoil it by accidentally letting my tongue loose.”

It’s hard to believe that this man is one of the Tsaritsa’s Harbingers. Childe is surprisingly good at separating his work and off work behavior, turning into a completely normal, maybe just a tiny bit unhinged, young man as soon as his family is involved. You know he’s built this facade to keep them and you away from harm, but you also know it comes from the heart as well.

“Then I can only hope we can bring the female members of your family to the capital soon - I want them to participate in the wedding dress shopping.”

You are immediately gathered into a tight embrace and your laughter is smothered by the fur on his collar. Yes, he is the Eleventh Harbinger, Tartaglia, Tsaritas’s soldier, Childe… But in moments like this he is just Ajax. Your Ajax.

His parents’ house meets you both with the quiet creak of the gates, the barking of two big fluffy malamutes outside, the clink of the horseshoe against the wood on top of the front door, the warmth of a well-heated inside and a bit taller than the last time you saw him Teucer, who runs full speed at his big brother, practically tackling him.

“Big brother is home, big brother is home!”

Ajax joyously laughs, somehow managing to take off his coat and dropping it to the colorful carpet at the front door before hoisting the exclaiming boy into his arms. Kicking off your felt boots to step from the anteroom, you watch with a smile as he squeals when your lover presses his cold cheek to the warm smaller one, squirming in the strong arms.

Not a minute later more of his siblings appear, closely followed by their mom - freckled, with her ginger with gray hair tied in a thick braid and an apron thrown over her green dress, the woman smiles brightly and, letting her children surround their brother, walks to you with arms spread, ready to embrace you.

“Mother, my clothes might be cold,” you try to warn her, but she doesn’t listen, hugging you anyway.

“As if it can affect me! Oh, I’m so happy to see you, my dear. How was your trip? Are you tired, hungry? I’m almost done with lunch, and in the meantime I can ask my husband to throw in the firewood and heat the bathhouse for you two.

“It’s very kind of you,” you smile, wrapping your arms to give her a hug in return. “But I think we’ll wash up in the evening - I really doubt Ajax’s sibling will let him go in the following couple of hours.”

Before she can say anything, a tall, wide man appears from the other room. His beard and hair are gingerly brown with gray too, thick brows naturally furrowed. By the rosy cheeks, the remnants of snowflakes melting on his hair and the choice of clothing you guess he’s just returned to the house through the back door - probably after chopping wood.

Upon lowering his gaze to you, his facial features smooth out.

“If it isn’t my son and a dear soon-to-be daughter-in-law!” His gruff voice booms across the house, immediately redirecting everyone’s attention to you and making you blush. “I knew Ajax was too impatient and would rather come to visit and bring his fiance along than wait for a response letter.”

As he moves to greet you properly and help with discarding the outer clothes, you notice your gingerhead whispering something to his siblings, to which they giggle and throw glances at you. Catching the gaze of your lover, you lift an eyebrow, as if asking ‘should I be concerned?”. But he only shakes his head with a smile and ushers everyone to the dining room.

However, the curiosity is getting better of you, as throughout the evening you keep catching the glances, watch Tonia whispering something to her mom, and the woman giving Ajax a ‘really?’ kind of look, but with a fond smile, and then his dad slapping his back with a boisterous laugh, saying something along the lines ‘I was the same way with your mom too’.

So you confront him once you are left alone in the room.

“Hey, foxy, what’s going on?”

“Hm?” He lowers the blanket that he’s just tucked inside the duvet cover and reaches for the sheets. “What do you mean, bunny?”

“Whatever you’ve been doing,” you put one of the pillows down and reach out for the other as well as the pillowcase.

“And what’s that ‘whatever’ I’ve been doing?” You don’t miss the sly smile finding its way onto his face. You huff.

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

The man hums, tucking the edges of the sheet between the mattress and the bed.

“Nothing you should worry about. I just asked them all to practice a little.”

“Practice?’ Cocking your head, you throw both pillows onto the bed. “Wait, did you start planning something for the wedding?”

“Not quite. Rather for after it.”

Confused, but intrigued, you step closer when your lover sits down and beckons you, being dragged into his lap a second later. Blue eyes look at you in an unspoken fascination, as he leans forward to place a kiss to the corner of your mouth, prompting you to loosely wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“Since we are getting married, I deduced that it would be only right for my family to call you my wife. Thus I asked them to get acquaintanced with the term, so they could start doing it as soon as we are pronounced husband and wife.”

You blink at him once, twice. After the third time you exhale, shaking your head, but the lift of your lips doesn’t go unnoticed by your fiance.

“I should’ve known you’d pull something like this, I am not even surprised, let alone mad. But they could just keep addressing me by my name. Plus your siblings already call me ‘big sister’ and your parents made me an honor of acknowledging me as the ‘daughter’. It won’t change much.”

“But it will!” He pouts and you can’t resist the urge to pinch his cheek. “You will be my wife and I want everyone to help me show it! Does it bother you though?”

Looking into those uncharacteristically begging eyes, you really can’t deny him his little antics. Not like you were going to in the first place.

“No, no, I don’t mind, love. Honestly, it's very sweet how excited you are. Makes me look forward to it.”

“Yeah?” Look at him, smiling like a satisfied cat, who's had too much sour cream for its own good. His embrace tightens on you a little.

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence passes as Ajax enjoys the many kisses you pepper to his face, squeezing his eyes shut, grinning, boyishly eager for more.

“Do you think I should ask the whole village to do the same?”

“Ajax, no.”

Nuevillette

“Mother, do you mind helping me a little? I can’t reach over there…

“I’d be delighted, my dear.”

Neuvillette watches with a fond look as you put the tea cup down and stand up to walk closer to Verenata and assist her with whatever the potion maker needs. Your figure is ethereal, clad in the finest fabrics, flowing with every step and gently dropping as you crouch gracefully to hoist the melusine in your arms. From above the rim of his silver goblet the Hydro Dragon can't tear his eyes from the way one of your many “daughters” wraps an arm around your neck and reaches up, while the corner of your lips, which he can see from his position at the table, is turned upwards.

“Mother is so kind and patient,” Laume says just a step away from Neuvillette’s chair. When the man turns his head to look at her, there is Flo standing too.

“Yes, and she is so beautiful,” the other melusine sighs, clasping her hands together. “And she always brings us such nice and comfortable clothes…”

“Monsieur Neuvillette married a wonderful woman,” a couple more melusines nearby agree and there is a warm and fuzzy feeling takes place in the Judex’s chest.

Marriage… Such a beautiful concept humans came up with to validate the union of two. It begins with the wedding - a day full of happy tears and blissful smiles, shared vows to be together in sickness and in health, sweet claims of love and promises of joyful life ahead. Then this very life begins and for beings like you and your husband it’s a long, but welcome trip.

You’ve been claimed by each other for quite some time before the more ‘mortal appropriate’ ritual, and the melusines - the wonderful creatures Neuvillette once took under his wing - were aware and happy for your relationship. And it was actually their idea to hold a wedding too, once Sigewinne naturally asked how the two of you planned to introduce your bond in civil words to humans.

And it was their initiative to start calling you “mother”. With your actions you quickly became one for them anyway, and the girls actively sought your company when it was possible. Thus, such tea parties at the Merusea Village as today are a common occurrence (besides, you always welcome them because it's a great opportunity to dig your husband out of the pile of responsibilities he tends to bury himself under).

However, lately Neuvillette started noticing that when he heard the word leave the girls’ mouths, a strange feeling began rising in his chest. Even though not quite familiar with the concept of jealousy, the Judex was sure it was not the case - he loved when the melusines called you that. So, he could not really put his finger on why the action caused such an indescribable reaction.

He decided to observe. On his walks throughout the city, the man seeked the sights of parents with children to attentively listen and watch while leisurely passing by or stopping at the shopping booths to linger on the scene. He was quick to note that the interactions were hardly different from the ones between you and the girls - kids would call for their mothers in all the same tones: when happy, when asking for help, when seeking comfort and many other typical occurrences he’d seen a handful of times before.

What really caught Neuvillette’s eye was the way the parents behaved. And soon his focus shifted to the married couples instead. As reserved as the nobles seemed to appear, the ones in love still managed to slip a murmured ‘my dear’, or ‘beloved’ or ‘my sweet [Name]’ in their speech. All the things the Hydro Dragon was all too used to call you too, relishing in the image of your loving smile and joyfully crinkling eyes as you responded in kind.

But it is like a waterfall pours on him when a week later, after that tea party where he once again sunk deep in thought, a keen pointy ear makes out a simple word in the crowd.

"Wife"

Male’s heart flutters. The understanding quickly dawns on him, even more so when his eyes find the couple on the other side of the road, - it was no simple term to introduce the partner to the third party. No, the tenderly spoken word was used by that man to address his lover, to softly draw her attention to him, to remind her he is happy she is holding such a position in his life…

At least that’s what kind of puzzle pieces together in Neuvillette’s head. The couple is long gone, yet he is still standing there, hand resting on the handle of his cane and eyes staring into space.

He starts to remember all the sweet names he called you, each and every one stored in his memory with the heart-warming images of your reactions. There are all kinds of those: my love, my pearl, lizzy (affectionate from ‘lizard’; you used to tell him that dragons are just big lizards and it kinda stuck), kisses-stealer, fairy-tail nymph… The man is surprisingly creative with his words when it comes to you.

Sure, he calls you his mate, quite often too, but to his chagrin it has never occurred to him that he could call you ‘his wife’ too! It’s so simple, so absurdly logical, yet it took him weeks to figure out.

Humans are truly fascinating.

When Neuvillette returns to his office in the Palais Mermonia you are already there, lazing on a sofa with a bunch of papers, in which your husband guesses the script of probably another upcoming play of Furina. And judging by the more than a half pages turned you’ve been waiting for him for a while.

When the door closes and the cane disappears in the myriad of sparkling bubbles, you lift your gaze, and a smile immediately lights up your lovely features.

”Neuvi,” You speak softly, getting on your feet and leaving the script behind, “I hoped we’d depart on the afternoon stroll together. So imagine my disappointment when Sedene told me you had left just ten minutes ago! Oh, I knew I’d be late if Lady Furina had kept me for another minute, yet I still hoped I’d be on time…”

As you are approaching him, the Judex remembers the melusine’s words upon arrival: “Mother waits inside”. This makes all his previous thoughts resurface, and when he meets you half-way and reaches for both your hands to place a kiss to the back of each, Neuvillette has half a mind to try out his new discovery.

“Our Archon enjoys your company a lot, and, knowing you, you are not really mad,” you roll your eyes playfully, tiptoeing to peck the tip of his nose, murmuring a quiet ‘hush, let me be a tiny bit indignant’. “And I’d be honored to keep you company for the evening stroll,” and then, after a little pause of hesitation, he adds, “wife.”

He watches as the previously present smile on your face grows even bigger, but after a couple of seconds starts to fade slowly, eyes squinting a little bit to stare at him in hardly-concealed curiosity.

“What was that?”

“What was what, dear wife?”

“This!” As if to emphasize your words you point your finger to his mouth, and it’s Neuvillette’s lips’ turn to curl in a small smile.

“It’s something I hoped to discuss with you,” his gloved fingertips soothingly brush over your knuckles and soon your hand is clasped into his, as the man leads you both back to the sofa. “You see,” he starts when you sit down, “I am fascinated with the notion hidden behind the word ‘mother’ the melusines like to call you. That’s who you are for them both in reality and in terms. I’ve made some observations, and figured that sometimes humans in marriage also use the…familial terms to address one another. It seemed lovely to me and I wanted to try it out with you. What do you think?”

You hum in thought, replaying in your head the way Neuvillette spoke to you twice. It is hard to explain, but you somehow immediately see the appeal and understand why your lover got hooked on it. Seems lovely indeed. You wonder, what if you…

“Will you tell me more about those observations on our evening stroll, husband? Ooh, it does sound wonderful!”

Mark him stunned, but for a moment Judex grows speechless. The violet depths of his eyes swirl with adoration as you clap your hands gleefully, and he knows, that from now on your everyday routine will never be the same

“With pleasure, wife.”

Pantalone

Dancing snowflakes are slowly descending in their tender waltz and are gleaming like the tiniest of gems in the streetlights’, enveloping the already magical winter capital of the Cryo region in a solemn atmosphere. The white cover of the ground is crunching with every step of a passerby and every wheel rotation of the fancy-looking carriages, while the street is a jumble of fur coats and heavy military overcoats, finally breathing life into the afternoon-quiet city.

It’s a wonderful evening, too marvelous to spend it at home, too enchanting to miss the new ballet at the Bolshoy Theater, the true accumulation of the Tsaritsa’ nation’s nobility and intelligentsia. The wonder of Snezhnayan architecture is both the place to rest and enjoy the purest form of art and home to many gossip circulating in society. Some fresh and just hours old, some ancient and undying, like the topic of the Ninth Harbinger’s lovers.

Lord Pantalone is well-known and often-praised for his contribution to the Snezhnaya’s economy, along with extending the Fatui influence all across the Teyvat. But also he is quite famous for the women he appears in public with. It’s always someone new, it’s never the same one as before. Different shapes, different hair, different style - it is impossible to guess the raven-haired man’s tastes. However everybody knew - the Harbinger never entertained the company of the ladies who made attempts to catch his attention. Those ladies themselves say as much.

The Regrator’s companions never open their mouths, never utter a word - at least not when there are people around. There has never been a single name, never a remembered face - all women wear the mask covering the upper half of it, concealing the identity of yet another lucky choice of the rich man.

Never the same woman - always the same mask.

This evening does not disappoint the gathered crowd - lifting their gazes, directing attention to the Harbinger’s personal box, they once again see the notorious mask. The long fringe of wine-red hair is coquettishly framing the ever-lasting piece of leather, similarly flaming lips are tugged in a haughty smile - as if the young lady doesn’t realize that once the night is over, she’s going to be discarded like many others before her. The dress according to the latest fashion trends and the beautiful garnet necklace do not surprise the audience anymore - even known for his love for replacements, Lord Pantalone dresses his partners royally.

The man himself has chosen yet another black costume, with a dark burgundy shirt hidden underneath and bird-shaped garnet brooch on the left side of his chest. Multiple beautiful rings catch the light when he lifts his gloved hand to adjust diamond-shaped glasses, before turning his head and addressing something to his tonight’s escort. She boisterously laughs, saying something in response, but even if attendants tried to strain their ears, they wouldn’t hear anything so far away. Even harder it gets when the third ring of the bell echoes across the theater chamber and both the Harbinger and the woman are forgotten, until the performance is over.

So no one sees when the ring-decorated hand reaches for a smaller female one, fingers sliding under the chintz-covered palm, thumb immediately reaching to tug on the hem of the glove, so the thin cool lips could press against the small patch of bared skin. A glimpse of a smile is what Pantalone gets when you glance at him with amusement playing on your lips.

Always the same mask, never the same woman, huh?

Pride has long slithered into your heart, yet it still lifts its snake-like head every time your act of decisiveness succeeds, happily hissing. Every time it’s a test of your skills, a gamble with the eyes of ones around you, and every time you hit the jackpot, leaving the people guessing, staying the only one in possession of the banker despite the speculations.

As long as Her Majesty Tsaritsa is aware of your existence and the place you occupy next to Pantalone, you are free to do anything you want with his reputation relationship-wise. And he allows it, because should you desire the whole world - he’ll throw it to your feet like the cheapest trinket. One would say it’s because he is prideful too - he knows it’s because he loves his wife.

Loves to the point of entertaining the masquerades she stages whenever the two of you need to appear in public. It plays wonderfully into his possessive nature and desire to keep his precious beautiful wife to himself and helps with the enemies - “changing the ladies” minimizes the chances of putting at risk his one and only. Not like many know of you in the first place.

It’s a win-win arrangement for you as well - there is still an opportunity to cling to his arm, to use his expensive cologne, to play with the rings on his fingers and sneakily make out in a dark corner where no one can see. To be tugged into his lap in the carriage on the way back to his mansion, to have his long fingers undo the strings of the mask, and once the piece of leather falls onto the floor, have the palms slide down the sides of your neck, swiftly fiddling with the heavy necklace, only to let it be, the caress the shoulders, pushing the sleeves down…

…to leave them at the elbows and grab your arms to push your back into his chest as the warm lips press to the juncture between the neck and the shoulder.

And what if you’ve lost your name in the process of this disguising? Having been an actress a long time ago made you used to it. But isn’t it fun to come up with the new ideas for your next performance? Your husband gifts you way too many dresses and jewelry sets - you must find use to all of them! He now has to simply spend a bit more on the wigs and makeup to fit each combination of fabric and gems.

“Did my wife have a pleasant evening?” The velvet voice of the man behind you caresses the ear and you meet his gaze in the full-size mirror in front of you. Amethyst eyes sparkle in the bedroom light and you smile coquettishly, red lips stretching seductively.

“Did she? How could I know?” You tease, reaching to your back to undo the corset, just to be stopped by his hands, fingers digging into the dozens of strings. “And don’t you know, Mr Harbinger, that it’s very offending for the woman, when the man speaks about another lady in her presence?”

“Oh, I wasn’t aware,” he muses, tugging a bit harsher on the ties and making you gasp, “that my dear wife can be jealous of herself.”

“When you know her poorly. Tsk-tsk, what a bad husband you are.”

Pantalone laughs behind you, shaking his head at your untrue words, and you reach to your head to remove the fiery wig. By the time Pantalone is done with your corset, you are done letting your naturally beautiful locks down, sighing in relief from both the released ribcage and hair roots.

The dress, having lost its vital support on your body, falls to the ground next to the wig and quickly becomes forgotten as you two step away from the mirror.

Your husband is still mostly clothed, having only eased out of his coat and unbuttoned the jacket, so you busy your hands with tugging the black article off and then reaching for the gleaming tiny buttons on the shirt. Your figures bask in the warm light of the room as you continue undressing the man - your eyes concentrated on the expensive fabrics, his - on the lovely expression of your face.

“But if you must know,” Pantalone raises his brow, when you look up at him, a much sincere and tender smile lighting up your visage, “your wife loved the evening very much.”

And that’s everything he’s ever wanted to hear. Fingers tangle in your hair, you harshly inhale, and his lips are on yours. Lipstick is smudging, your fingers accidentally catch the silver chain, and his glasses get slightly askew, but it doesn’t matter. His wife loved another thing he’s done for her. The banker’s day has ended in a great profit.

Wriothesley

Fortress of Meropide is a huge metal labyrinth of floors and corridors, where noise is never-ending even in the late hours of the night. The metal box which is the Duke’s office however, is constructed to mute the annoying sounds or else the one inside would have a very hard time concentrating.

Usually, even the ruckus happening outside and the clanking of the heavy machines underneath can’t sway Wriothesley’s attention if he has his mind set on doing the paperwork, even something as boring as bills. Today, however, the man has caught himself multiple times glancing at the clock he’s hung up a couple of years ago - there is no way to tell the time all the way down underwater, true, but it serves him a greater purpose. It helps him count hours and minutes before you arrive.

Tuesdays and Thursdays are the days when you take a half of the day off to come down to the Fortress to meet up with your husband. You both quickly realized that traveling back and forth together in either of the directions (fortress or home in the city) would be way too inconvenient. So, you improvise by visiting him throughout the week a couple of times and then he comes home to properly spend the weekend, having learnt to delegate his responsibilities to the most trustworthy guards. So far you’ve been extremely pleased with the arrangement, and the Fortress’s crew have learnt your face by heart to not cause you any obstacles in reaching your beloved’s office.

Today, nevertheless, something must’ve gone wrong. Pale blue eyes are practically drilling the minute hand of the previously mentioned clock, watching it moving further and further from the tiny 10-minute bar, which should’ve marked your appearance at the top of his stairs. And he gets it, everything could’ve happened, something as trivial as the queue at the pastry shop that might’ve gotten longer today, but when the delay surpasses the half-hour mark, the warden puts his fountain pen down and follows it by the creak of the chair legs on the metal floor.

As he descends down the stairs - each clunking under the heavy soles of his boots - a fleeting thought of you stopping by at the medical bay first is immediately brushed aside - his office is right on the path of entering the Fortress’s main body, and you love your husband too much to let him sulk in his longing.

When he pushes the colossal doors open, eyes instantly start searching the area ahead of him. However, nothing unusual is spotted - two guards are standing at the front of his abode, not even flinching at the unpleasant scraping noise the metal makes; a couple of inmates are walking past them, bowing their heads right as they see the appearing the figure of their warden - Wriothesley simply nods and sends them off with a flicker of his hand; then there is Monglane’s desk with its irreplaceable owner. And no trace of his beloved wife.

Closing the doors behind him, Wriothesley comes up to the guards, inquiring if they’ve happened to see you. Getting a negative response, he hums and starts walking forward, to the corridor leading to the elevator, not bothering with asking the very same questions to Monglane.

With every passing minute, especially while waiting for the elevator, the man starts realizing how impatient he is growing, if the tapping of his foot and crossed arms are not an indicator enough. Even with just one day apart, he’s missed you so awfully much, your adoring smile, your soft voice and cute little giggles, that he feels rightfully robbed since you are not yet in his embrace, showering his face with kisses and then whining pretentiously because he’s forgotten to shave once again. Sometimes you swear he is not a big bad wolf, but a mean huge hedgehog.

He almost stomps inside the cabin the second its doors slide open and pushes the button to the reddening of his fingertip. It is a long trip up to the next level, and he admits he’s tugged on his leather straps wrapped around his arms a couple of times, but Archons, how little it all matters, when, exiting the elevator, he finally hears such a familiar voice. Your voice.

Your husband’s legs carry him like they obtained a mind of their own, following the full of amusement lilt he knows can belong only to you, just to come to a halt next to the wooden boxes piled up on the side of the path.

He can see you, quite clearly, adorned in a cute pair of pants and a shirt, shoulders covered in a crocheted shawl - always ready for the cool air of the Fortress, yet looking so comfy, that Wriothesley can't help but desire to tackle you to the sofa in his office and cuddle this instant. And he would've done just that, if the conversation you've been having didn't catch his attention.

“No, it's wrong again. It's not Britney, it's Brytnneigh.

“But you are saying the same thing!"

"No, it is not B-r-i-t-n-e-y. It's B-r-y-t-n-n-e-i-g-h."

"Slower, please."

In the second voice the warden easily guesses a new guard that has just been employed a couple of days ago. He remembers signing the papers his weekend substitute brought him on Monday. Wriothesley also remembers how the man swore that he’d passed on to the newbie all the information and training he needed to know. But, it appears, he forgot to mention the most important thing…

“Did you make sure to write my name with two N’s?” Your voice is laced with hardly concealed mirth, and, though he can’t see the face of the guard talking to you, your husband is sure the poor young man looks quite miserable.

“Yes, mademoiselle, I did.”

“Wonderful, but it’s ‘madame’, I am a married woman after all. But no worries, I am flattered you think I look so young,” Wriothesley shakes his head with a silent chuckle. He adores you so much, but maybe it really is time to stop your little play of a new inmate, or else he’ll surely have to call for Sigewinne to check on the poor guard.

“And your last name, madame?”

“I am Brytnneigh Deirdrophnea de Troistêtesloup. Do you want me to spell it for you, dear?”

Yes, he really should stop you.

Before you can open your mouth again, you see in your peripheral vision a figure moving. Upon turning your head slightly, you are graced with the sight of your beloved husband, walking towards you with a quirked thick brow, and crossed arms. All you can do is sheepishly smile, waving at him.

“O-oh! Duke Wriothesley, Sir!” The guard behind the registration desk immediately jumps to his feet, squaring his shoulders and saluting at the arrival of his superior.

“At ease, young man,” Wriothesley nods, stepping even closer, practically invading your personal space, icy blue eyes looking at you unblinkingly. “What is going on here?”

“Nothing much, Mr Warden,” your eyes crinkle in the corners, a sight so infectious, that the man’s lips turn into a small smile. “Just a cute old me, ending up in the Fortress for Archon knows what time.”

“M-madame!” The guard exclaims rather loudly, that even your husband turns to look at him. “Even if it's not your first stay here, you shouldn’t be taking liberties with the Duke!”

“No, no, it’s alright,” Wriothesley raises his hand. “She is no longer your headache-”

“Hey!” You elbow his side to the bewilderment of the guard. In his shock he doesn’t even reach for his weapon.

“-I will personally escort this troublemaker inside. And cross out that abominable name out, would you? It’s not her name.”

“It’s not..?” Now Wriothesley really sympathizes with the guy, he looks utterly lost.

“It’s not. But,” a big scarred hand gently cups you under the chin and turns your head more properly towards the guard, “be sure to remember this adorable face very well for the next time. You’ll need that to let her in and out.”

“...out?”

“Yes, indeed. This woman is my wife.”

As the elevator doors slide close and the cabin starts moving down, you turn to Wriothesley and throw your arms around his wide frame, face burying into his chest.

“Are you proud of me for coming up with such a long and difficult name in a single thought?”

“Oh, for sure,” strong arms circle your waist and chapped lips press to the top of your head, “I bet you would be hard-to-catch if you were a criminal. But why did you decide to play such a prank on a poor man?”

“Well… I just wanted to see his face when he found out that I am the wife of the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide himself. Another reason is that there was no guard who knew my face and I doubt he would’ve believed my word. I just got creative with the way of making him summon someone else. You simply got here before anything could happen. Plus, it’s good to keep them on their toes with a job like that. Besides, I did apologize and praise him for his patience.”

At that Wriothesley just sighs and then chuckles, raising one of his hands and threading his fingers through your hair, pressing your head even closer to his chest. He is not even feeling iffy about the lost half an hour of your time together anymore. Because you gave him an opportunity to introduce you as his wife once again.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #childe x reader #childe x fem!reader #tartaglia x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x fem!reader #pantalone x reader #pantalone x fem!reader #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x fem!reader #childe #tartaglia #neuvillette #pantalone #wriothesley #genshin impact fluff

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shouyuus · 1 day ago

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VI FROM ARCANE WITH PILLOWPRINCESS READER?!?! PLEASEEE ILL TAKE ANYTHING DUDEEE 🙏🙏🙏🙏

send me vi thirsts and i'll give u my hand in marriage

yes bc i feel like she'd love this lowkey midkey AND highkey bc vi's love language is def like 50/50 acts of service and physical touch and she'd love the fact that you trust her so much w/ ur pleasure, the fact that she gets to have this control, and you're always so obedient for her, always asks for permission -- the first time she'd gotten you to the edge and you'd sunk your fingers into her hair, thrashing beneath her, but still forcing yourself to look up at her with your big, watery eyes, asking --

"p-please v-vi -- can -- can i?"

she knew that she was done for like done for, the way she knew if she said no, you'd listen. the thought had made her head feel woozy, so much so that her fingers had almost paused inside you, and you'd keened, thighs squeezing around her wrist bc you were so, so close.

"holy shit -- yeah, sweetness -- fuck, yeah, come for me --"

and it's not like she doesn't know how much you like it when she manhandles you a bit; she likes it too, she likes it alot actually, how she can jerk you down the length of the bed, press your knees up all the way to your shoulders, wrap her fingers around your neck, or just hold you down and kiss you till you're shaking apart beneath her.

she likes too that all she has to do is say the word, and you'd drop to your knees for her, pliant and willing, your lips falling open for her fingers or her cunt, how you'd make these happy little mewling noises when buried between her legs, so long as she got a hand on your head, a thumb rubbing your cheek.

"do you... do you ever wish i'd do more... stuff?" you ask one day, crinkling your nose, frowning absently down at vi's hair as you braid the longer bits into a single plait, only to tug it loose and do it all over again.

vi glances over her shoulder, "more... stuff?"

"yeah like... be more active when we're, y'know --"

vi laughs, tugging you into her lap, "if you're asking if i'm happy with our sex life, sweetness, the answer is yes, very."

you sigh, nodding even as you tuck your nose into her curve of her neck.

"okay. just asking."

she runs her thumbs against your skin, drawing circles into your waist.

"why? are you happy with it?"

you nod so hard that you almost topple out of her arms, but she catches you, grinning. "yeah! of course i am!"

"then, what's the problem, princess?"

"nothing! just..."

"c'mon pretty, spit it out," she takes your chin between a thumb and forefinger, giving your face a tiny shake. your breath hitches; satisfaction unfurls in vi's chest.

"i saw something online about -- how being too passive isn't a good thing and --"

"ooookay, i'm gonna cut you off right there --" she hoists you up, twisting you around so you're straddling her lap, your face now parallel to hers. she loves the way you're so easy to read, loves that you don't hide your attraction to her, how all she has to do is twitch her lips and you're already gasping.

"open your mouth for me, pretty girl," she says, and you do, your mouth dropping open as she swipes a thumb along your bottom lip before pushing it forward till it's resting on your tongue. you whine softly, hips shifting, but you hold still till she nods her head, "go on, suck."

you close your lips immediately, your tongue laving at the pad of her thumb. she lets out a clipped groan, watching. a few seconds later, she pulls it out with a light pop, grinning as she tracks the slick finger down your chin, tracing up the line of your jaw till she's got her hand cupping the back of your neck.

"that feel very passive to you?"

your lashes flutter, confusion gathering in your eyes before you lick your lips, blush, and give your head a tiny shake. she smiles.

"good answer. so? are we good now, princess?"

"yeah. we are."

"good!" she gives you a quick kiss, patting your hip, "what'dyou want for dinner? i'm thinkin'... it's been a while since we've been to jericho's."

you pout, "what about that other place we've been talking about?"

"what on the wharfside docks?"

"yeah...?"

vi rolls her eyes, even as she sits up and motions for you to get up. you jump up with a bright smile. she sighs, folding her arms.

"go get dressed. ugh, passive -- dunno what you were thinkin' when you asked me that princess."

#⛈ monsoon season #♨ steamy #i think the epitome of any kind of love for vi would be surrender -- you to her and vice versa her to you #vi x reader #arcane x reader #vi smut #arcane smut #vi x you #arcane x you #vi x reader smut #arcane x reader smut #arcane #lesbian #not me secretly working out my own insecurities in this fucking fic HAHA. goodbye.#for those of u who HAVENT read the entire arcane/lol wiki (at least the pages pertaining to piltover and zaun) like an insane person #the wharfside docks r a location in piltover close to the sungates lol #AGAIN. tell me why this was way more fluff than smut LOL

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syggwolf · 7 hours ago

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Not to hijack this post or anything, and I'm gonna share some seriously depressing stuff here, along with talk of injuries and blood, just as a warning, but I can easily pinpoint the (And I cannot stress this enough.) SINGLE most traumatic thing that ever happened to me in a long, long, long line of catastrophically traumatic things: It was a very specific incident of being told not to cry. And it wasn't like I wasn't already told not to cry already or anything because, you know, you have a dick, you're not allowed to cry past the age of six and all that. And I was about thirteen so, way beyond that point. But this time, I mean, it was sort of a big deal. You see, unfortunately for me, a very heavy falling object had split my forehead open, and the amount of blood pouring down my face had convinced me that I was pretty for sure probably maybe going to die. Also it really hurt. But because I went into shock, I started laughing instead. I want to stress: the laughing was a panic reaction, not conscious, nor on purpose. Then I proceeded to leave an unbroken trail of blood all the way up to the front door of my house, about a half a block away. All the other kids fled as soon as it happened, except for one; another boy who was a friend of mine, only slightly older than me, who walked with me up to my house and came inside. Well, my mom shrieked and put an icepack on it, which, if you've never had burning cold shoved against exposed skull, it kinda really hurts even more than getting your skull exposed in the first place. And so I'm sitting there on the couch next to my friend, who's still staring in horror at my head and the blood all over my face. By this point I have definitely stopped laughing or doing much of anything, and the sheer amount of "I am so fucked." is starting to sink in because they are calling a fucking ambulance. My dad is sitting there, yelling at my friend to explain what the fuck happened and my friend gets to the part where I started laughing and my dad looks at me, and no bullshit, at this exact moment, there's a spike of pain from my head, and I'm miserable and it's sinking in that I'm going to the fucking HOSPITAL in an AMBULANCE and I am definitely in trouble. (Which is another fun thing that happens in an abusive household. Imagine thinking you're in trouble for getting hurt. Spoilers, I did in fact get yelled at, excessively. My intelligence, character, moral fiber, strength, and foresight were all called into question.) So right there, with all of that hitting at once and my father staring straight at me, my chest hitches and I fuck up and I let out a voice cracking little whimper. My father looked at me with an absolutely haunting combination of anger, disappointment, and some kind of disgust, and he said in this very rough, clipped tone that was more threat than anything else, "Don't you dare. You will NOT cry." And that broke something inside of me that to this day I've never been able to fix. If the role of a "man" was not to cry even under circumstances as extreme as that, than I clearly was broken in some way and I would endeavor to never cry again. And even Now? I simply cannot cry until I fully and completely lose control of every aspect of myself and snap, and even then it never lasts longer than a few moments. I can't make noise while I'm doing it either. It's a silent affair that can only happen in the most extreme circumstances when I am alone. His reasoning for saying that to me? For looking at his wounded child, blood covered face and pain and misery and all, and saying those words? He wanted the story to get around the neighborhood that I laughed at having my head split open because he thought it would make me look cool and really badass. He literally told me that to my face a few hours later, and said it was for my own good because none of the kids would fuck with me if I looked manly. He also chewed me out for possibly ruining it for having the gall to break while my friend was still next to me. The patriarchy is fucking evil and must be destroyed.

Everyone is so weird about people who cry easily. Fellas, is it evil and manipulative to *checks notes* have an involuntary stress response?

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fawnsflowerbed · 3 days ago

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Reposting because the first time TUMBLR DIDNT INCLUDE ME IN THE TAGS!!!!

I HAD A LONG DAY SO IM WRITING A SMUT DRABBLE OF DEATH ISLAND LEON MINORS DNI I AM FERAL RIGHT NOW!

I’m thinking about Death island Leon again, I NEED to take that older man’s dick!!!

Need him to scrunch his eyes and groan from his chest when you take him down your throat, stabilising a hand against the kitchen island. Morning head, your mouth wrapped tight around his dick. He’s lazily lulling his head back, gripping at the marble with white knuckles, his other hand gently fisted in your hair or supporting your chin. “Nice and deep, darlin’. There you go. Atta’ girl.”

Need him pinning your arms behind your back, crossed, for him to hold as he pounds into your wet cunt. Bent over the marble countertops, grunting and panting and groaning. He is SUCH a groaner!!!! I can’t explain it but he’s just so UGHHHHH!!! And he’s such a close contact fucker!

He’s balls deep inside you, leaning over your whole body with his own broad frame, thick and bulked against you. Or when he’s pounding your pussy as you sit on the counter instead, weak legs thrown over his forearms so he can grip your hips and just go to fucking TOWN. Gritting his teeth, furrowing his eyebrows with a low moan of “Jesus Christ, baby,” when you clench and pulse around his cock. And he’s tugging you close, twisting your legs in whichever way he can toss them to basically cuddlehump your cunt full, getting as close as possible, licking into your mouth and kissing you with so much passion. He’ll jump you on any surface he can, he can’t help it. He finally has the time to just think with his dick after all these years :((

Like we’re talking eating you out as you’re getting ready for bed. Bent over the bathroom basin, ass out, pussy dripping as he licks broad stripes and quick flicking teases. Using his big thick hands, watch still on, to keep you nice and spread for him. And he chuckles like an asshole when you can’t focus, the sound vibrating against your sensitive clit so you whine. “Keep going, sweetheart.” He mutters into the tender flesh. “Don’t mind me.”

He loves you so much and it makes him such a sleezy bastard :((( those thick hairy arms and the stubble of his chin rubbing against your throat, palming and groping your ass when he can, lazily grinding his hardening cock against the plush of your lower back. He just takes any chance he can to be close to you, intimate, to get you all to himself. He just can’t resist you and that perfect pussy :(

Like my work? Consider supporting me with a commission or buying me boba! :D

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avatar-anna · 2 days ago

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this is the second part of my exrry in italy oneshot! you can read that here

Three days had passed and Harry hadn't left your tiny apartment.

He kept saying he should probably leave, and you insisted there were things you had to do, but neither of you actually made it past the threshold of your door. No one said goodbye, or even bothered to shrug back into clothes. For three days, you ate, drank, and slept with Harry.

"You're making it hard to leave," he murmured, his voice low and content as you placed tiny kisses on his neck, his collarbone, his jaw, anywhere you could reach, really. It was how you used to wake Harry up when you were together, and when morning number four rolled around, you couldn't help yourself but lean across the bed and kiss his soft, sun kissed skin.

At first, you kept up the pretense of being unattached, of sleeping with Harry merely because you knew each other well enough physically. "This doesn't mean we're back together," you'd both whisper, or something to that effect, before blurring the lines of your non relationship once more.

"You're not making it any easier to kick you to the curb," you mumbled, one hand reaching up to caress his stubbly cheek. The fine, short hair that seemed to grow in the last few days.

Harry smelled good, like he usually did with a mix of the soap in your shower. It messed with your head in a way that was dangerous, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

So he didn't leave (again), and you didn't tell him to go(again). You and Harry stayed in bed for most of the day, only bothering to get up when hunger was too apparent to ignore. You managed to whip something up from the meager groceries you had, not having gone to the market recently, and sat with Harry at the little dining table by the kitchen. The balcony would've been a much nicer spot, as it looked out over the neighborhood square you stayed in, but it was too public, too many keen eyes would've spotted Harry immediately.

"Part of me wishes I hadn't seen you at all," Harry confessed later in the day. You were back in bed after a brief stint in the kitchen where you tried to make pancakes, which promptly turned into kissing and licking pancake batter off Harry as he did the same to you on the kitchen counter, pancakes no longer a priority.

You knew he hadn't meant it to hurt you, but the words sent a pang through your chest, so different from the heat and fireworks and butterflies you usually got from him. Everything was so different now. It was hard to face how much had changed, especially now that Harry was in bed beside you. "I know."

"It's easier to pretend when I can't see you," he said softly, his hand never once stopping as it tracked through your hair, nor did your hand stop tracing patterns in his chest.

"Pretend?"

Harry blew out a large sigh before sitting up in your bed, his arms stretching high above his head. There were hickeys littered all over his body, one on his hip revealing itself as the bedsheet fell and settled just below his waist. You found yourself transfixed by your ex's body, the one you still loved so much the idea of him leaving made your heart hurt.

"Do you still love me?" Harry asked out of the blue.

The question shocked you, but only because you thought the last three days would've made it obvious. You certainly didn't have to ask him how he felt. "Yes."

"That makes it easier too. In a selfish way, I guess," he said, not once meeting your eye. "Knowing you're in as much pain as I am."

Unexpected tears welled in your eyes. You never wanted to hurt Harry. He'd been right to say it was easier to imagine him happy and healthy post break up if you didn't see or hear from him. It was easier to move on if you convinced yourselves that you were better off without each other.

"Harry—"

"I miss you, Y/n," he said, his voice trembling slightly. Harry wouldn't meet your eye, which made all of this so much worse. "I know why we broke up, and I've done everything short of sleeping with someone else to try and move on, but I just—Tell me you're struggling as much as I am. Tell me you don't sleep as well as you used to because I'm not there. Or don't. Tell me this has all just been sex to you so I know there's an end to this—this—"

"Misery?" you finished for him. "I wish I could. I don't know if I'll ever be the same again, honestly."

"Then why—"

"Don't ask why. Please. Not when you know the answer."

It wasn't like you and Harry woke up one day and stopped loving each other. Everything about your relationship had been nothing short of perfect from the very beginning.

Until it wasn't.

"No one has to know this time," Harry said. His tone had taken on a desperate edge, almost making you turn away from him so you wouldn't have to face it, do this all over again. "We can—We can keep this a secret. It'll be just us."

It will never be just us, you thought miserably. "People already know, H."

At the look of confusion on his face, you reached for your phone. You showed him the slew of articles that had already been written. Pictures of you and Harry walking through Rome together three days ago, each one picking you apart or depicting you as the villain in Harry's life.

"I know that's why you're still here. You're waiting for the storm to blow over," you said, unable to meet his eye.

"That's not—After everything I just said, you really think that's why I stayed?" he asked. You'd turned away from him, but you felt his hand on your shoulder, the kiss to your temple as he leaned in close.

"I wish I was the kind of person who didn't care what anyone thought, that I could simply exist in this relationship and not let anyone else in, but—but I'm not. I can't."

"You. Are. Enough," Harry murmured, pressing each word into your skin with a kiss. You closed your eyes, tears leaking from the corners as he curled himself around your body. One leg slid between yours, and you selfishly pulled him closer as he continued to murmur in your ear.

You fell asleep in your ex's arms, the weight of his body on yours more comforting than any blanket. When you woke up, Harry was there, but he wasn't wrapped around you anymore. He sat at the edge of your bed, wearing clothes for the first time since he'd set foot in your apartment.

"You're leaving?" you asked, voice scratchy with sleep.

"I'm supposed to go to Florence tomorrow," Harry said, bent over as he tied his shoes. "I've got a dozen messages on my phone asking where I am."

Something in Harry's voice sounded different, distant, just the way he sounded when you initially ran into him. It pulled at something in your heart, something that you'd been keeping at bay since you invited Harry into your apartment—the knowledge that this would eventually end.

"So you're—You were just going to leave? Without saying anything?"

You heard Harry sigh as he rested his head in his hands. "I thought it would be easier. Our last conversation seemed...final."

"I know, but—"

But what? Harry was right. This wasn't going anywhere. You told him you couldn't be in a relationship with him, and he was responding to that. You knew it was coming, but it didn't hurt any less now that the moment had finally come.

"You're right," you said eventually, sitting up in your bed. "We came here separately, of course you have plans. I'm sorry if I kept you."

"You didn't," Harry reassured. "There's nowhere I wanted to be the last few days, but we... we're broken up, and as much as I want to stay, I don't want to keep giving myself false hope."

Your fingers twitched, itching to reach out, to touch him, hold him. But he was right. As much as you loved this relationship limbo, that was all it was. Stringing you and Harry along would only hurt you more.

"I'm sorry," was all you could say. For too many things, none of which you could bring up without crying.

"Me too," Harry said.

Leaning across the bed, he kissed your forehead, then stood up. "One day you'll realize how extraordinary you are, and you wont care how people perceive you," he said, his thumb caressing your cheek. "And then you'll go and make someone the luckiest man in the world by giving yourself over to him completely. I'm just devastated it wasn't me."

You watched him go from the sanctuary of your bed, knowing the second he was out of sight you'd break down completely. The door closed with a soft clock, and even though you knew you shouldn't, you hurried over to your bedroom window, waiting anxiously to get one last glimpse of him.

Harry's lean figure appeared a couple minutes later, his head bent and shoulders slightly hunched, avoiding the few photographers who had been waiting for him to leave the building. You wanted him to turn around. You wanted to see his face one last time, a final farewell. But perhaps for his sake, he didn't, and you watched as he retreated down the street and turned down the road out of sight.

On your last day in Rome, you found a note he'd written.

Harry had hidden it in one of the pockets of his favorite of your sweaters, though you weren't exactly sure when. It wasn't very long, and the note itself was no more than a scrap of paper, one you'd nearly thrown out by accident. But you would've recognized his handwriting anywhere, and fond memories of notes you used to find among your things kept you from throwing away the folded paper and opening it instead.

Perhaps in another life. Unless you change your mind in this one, H.

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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littleprinces · 2 days ago

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Day 29: BWC

Dayeon x OC

Kinkvember Day 29

Dayeon, the lead vocalist of the popular K-pop girl group "Kep1er" was no stranger to the spotlight. With her captivating voice and stunning visuals, she had a massive fanbase worldwide. Today, however, she was not on stage but rather enjoying a quiet afternoon in a quaint café in Seoul. She was sipping her latte, watching the world outside through the window, when she noticed him. A tall, muscular American man with short blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. He was new to the city, and his eyes scanned the café with curiosity. Dayeon couldn't help but feel drawn to him.

"Excuse me," Dayeon said, standing up and walking toward him. "Are you new here?"

He turned to her, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Yes, I am. Just moved from New York. You're Dayeon, right? From Kep1er?"

Dayeon nodded, surprised. "Yes, that's me. And you are?"

"Jake," he introduced himself. "Nice to meet you, Dayeon."

A few days later, they met again at a local art gallery. Jake had a keen interest in art, and Dayeon found it fascinating to learn about his perspectives on various paintings and sculptures. As they strolled through the gallery, their hands brushed against each other, and Dayeon felt a spark.

"You have very soft hands," Jake commented, his voice low. "It's unusual for someone so famous to be so... touchable."

Dayeon smiled, her cheeks flushing slightly. "I'm glad you think so. Not many people get to see this side of me."

Their conversations grew deeper and more intimate over the following weeks. They shared stories, dreams, and fears. One evening, as they sat in Jake's apartment, Dayeon noticed the tension between them. She could see the desire in his eyes, and it mirrored her own feelings.

"Jake," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "I want you."

Jake leaned in, his lips meeting hers in a soft, gentle kiss. It deepened, their tongues exploring each other's mouths. Dayeon moaned softly, her hands running through his short blonde hair.

"You're so beautiful, Dayeon," Jake whispered against her lips. "I've been wanting to do this since the first moment I saw you."

Dayeon led him to the bedroom, her heart pounding with anticipation. She started undressing him, her fingers tracing the muscles of his chest. Jake, in turn, unzipped her dress, letting it fall to the floor. He took a step back to admire her in her lacy black bra and thong.

"God, you're perfect," he murmured, his eyes drinking her in.

Dayeon smiled, her confidence growing. "And you're so big," she said, her gaze dropping to his bulge.

Jake chuckled, stepping closer to her. "Is that right?"

Dayeon nodded, her fingers reaching for his belt. "Let me see."

She unbuckled his belt and pulled down his pants, revealing his large, thick cock. Dayeon gasped, her eyes widening. "Wow," she breathed. "That's big."

Jake laughed, his cock twitching in response to her words. "And you're about to find out just how big."

Dayeon knelt down, her hand wrapping around his shaft. She licked the tip, tasting the pre-cum that had gathered there. Jake groaned, his hands going to her hair.

"Fuck, Dayeon," he moaned. "That feels so good."

She took him into her mouth, her head bobbing up and down. Jake watched her, his breath coming in short gasps. "You look so hot doing that," he said, his voice strained. "But I want to fuck you. I want to feel your pussy around my cock."

Dayeon stood up, her lips glistening with his precum. "I want that too," she said, her voice husky.

Jake picked her up, carrying her to the bed. He laid her down, his body covering hers. He kissed her deeply, his hands roaming her body. He sucked on her neck, making her squirm with pleasure.

"You taste so good," he murmured against her skin.

He moved down her body, his tongue tracing her collarbone, her breasts. He took one nipple into his mouth, sucking and nibbling on it. Dayeon moaned, her hands gripping the sheets.

"Yes," she gasped. "More."

Jake moved to her other breast, giving it the same attention. He then continued his journey down her stomach, his fingers hooking into her thong and pulling it off. He spread her legs, his eyes taking in her glistening pussy.

"Beautiful," he said, his voice hoarse.

He leaned in, his tongue licking her from her entrance to her clit. Dayeon cried out, her hips bucking. Jake repeated the motion, his tongue circling her clit before dipping back into her pussy.

"Oh god, Jake," Dayeon moaned. "That feels so good."

Jake continued to lick and suck her, his fingers joining in. He slipped two fingers into her, curling them to hit her G-spot. Dayeon screamed, her orgasm crashing over her.

"Fuck, Jake," she panted. "I need your cock inside me."

Jake smiled, his cock throbbing with need. He positioned himself at her entrance, his cockhead nudging her. Dayeon bit her lip, her eyes meeting his.

"Are you ready for this, Dayeon?" Jake asked, his voice low.

Dayeon nodded, her breath hitching. "Yes," she said. "I'm ready."

Jake pushed into her, his cock stretching her. Dayeon moaned, her hands going to his hips. "Ouch, yes," she said. "You're so big."

Jake grinned, his cock pulsing inside her. "And you feel so tight."

He started moving, his cock sliding in and out of her. Dayeon met his thrusts, her body moving in sync with his. Their moans filled the room, their bodies slapping together.

"Yes, Jake," Dayeon panted. "Faster."

Jake complied, his pace quickening. He leaned down, his lips meeting hers. They kissed deeply, their tongues clashing. Dayeon's nails dug into his back, her body tensing.

"I'm close," she gasped.

"Me too," Jake groaned. "Come with me, Dayeon."

He thrust into her harder, faster. Dayeon screamed, her orgasm ripping through her. Jake followed, his cock pulsing inside her as he came.

"Fuck, Dayeon," he panted, his forehead resting on hers. "That was incredible."

They stayed like that for a moment, their bodies entwined. Then, Jake rolled off her, his cock slipping out of her. Dayeon smiled, her fingers tracing his chest.

"That was amazing," she said. "I want to do it again."

Jake laughed, his arms wrapping around her. "Any time you want, Dayeon. Any time you want."

#girl group smut #female idol smut #kpop x reader #kpop smut #kep1er smut #dayeon smut

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narnian-neverlander · 1 day ago

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What Could’ve Been [Viktor x GN!Reader]

Plot Summary: In which you find yourself in a world so similar yet so different to your own and are simply too tired of life knocking you down again and again to still play the selfless hero.

Word Count: 3,9k

Warnings: spoilers for Arcane Season 2, talk about character death and illness, suicidal thoughts, slightly suggestive at the end

A/N: I saw that alternate timeline and went ‘Ekko’s a stronger man than I am’ and went with that; actually wanted to write sth fluffy and happy, and this is wholesome-ish, but with some very bleak undertones so I might have to write some actual fluff to compensate. Also, the religious imagery wasn’t planned from the get go but it kinda happened and it is on brand for this man, I just decided to turn it on its head a little 🤷

“Interesting. When I told you about this last, you advised the exact opposite.”

You freeze mid movement, plate hovering an inch or so over the table you were setting. “Well I… I suppose I’ve changed my mind.”

The soft tap of a cane against the floor alerts you to him crossing the room, appearing in your peripheral as you put down the porcelain with shaky fingers. “A rather… hm, siginificant change in such a short time, wouldn’t you agree? Not to mention you acted like I was telling you for the first time.” He doesn’t receive an answer, so he keeps going. “I’ve had a theory for a while. I don’t believe I’ve told you about it, because really, it’s only a pipe dream at this point, but entertaining for the duller moments nonetheless: alternate timelines. The possibility of several different realities, all co-existing with each other simultaneously. Some would call the mere idea preposterous, I’m fully aware, but then again, how would we know for certain? How could we know? Unless one or more of said timelines happened to… overlap.” The silence that follows is deafening and heavy; a precursor of what’s to come. “You’re not originally from this world, are you?”

While he knows this is a conversation that needs to be had, the way you curl into yourself and seem to wither and grow small before his eyes makes him wish he could take it all back. He tries to catch your gaze, but you purposely avoid his as you drag yourself over to the couch. Body heavy and tired, you all but slump down into worn cushions, blankly staring into space as you weakly reply with “No. I’m not.”

He doesn’t move, nor does he speak, cause while he’d been expecting your answer to a degree, now that it’s out in the open he’s… unsure what to even do with it. It isn’t a worry for long, though, as you continue speaking, slow and weary. Like you had been expecting, dreading, this moment just as much as him.

“It wasn’t a… conscious choice. To come here, I mean. It was an accident really, I didn’t even know what had happened at first.” A weak chuckle. “This was a shock to me as much as it must’ve been for you.”

And what a shock it had been for you. To have been standing with your friends in the bowels of the Hexgates one minute and to wake up in an unfamiliar bed the next. Dizzily traipsing through a space that had felt familiar yet foreign all at once; pictures and mementos from times you couldn’t remember staring at you from every surface. And to have had Viktor come through the door, bag of baked goods under one arm, to find you in the living room of what should’ve been your home, looking every bit as lost as you felt. It had been a miracle you’d stayed standing then and there, with the way he’d looked: same lanky figure supported by a cane, same messy chestnut locks, same two beauty marks against the pale skin of his sharp face, same concern in his honey colored irises when he took in your state. But no dark circles borderlining bruises under his eyes, no hollowed, sunken in cheeks, no blood on his lips to betray another attack. And no Hexcore devouring him whole. Your downfall had come in the form of slender fingers gingerly wrapping around your forearm to try and steady you; a silent question and a gentle offer of help. One of those fingers wearing the very same ring you usually kept on a chain around your neck, because you’d always been too busy or too in your own head to just ask him. To offer him your heart, your life, your everything, if only he wanted it. Always too terrified of rejection, of losing him to his illness; too scared of fucking something until it was too late. And when your hand had come up in search for said necklace, a nervous habit that had developed at some point, and you’d found a matching ring on your own finger instead, you’d finally dissolved into a wailing, sobbing mess against his chest, never wanting to let go again.

And what a shock it had been for him. To have talked to you, not twenty minutes prior, an exchange of sleepy, lazy kisses and quiet murmurs, telling you he’d go get breakfast and be right back, watching as you’d curled back up under the blankets with a content sigh. To come through the door, expecting you still in bed and instead finding you in the middle of your living room, looking utterly lost and misplaced in your own home, an almost manic look in your eyes, staring at him like you’d seen a ghost. He’d approached you, carefully, like one would a wild caged animal, and then a simple touch of his had sent you into a meltdown. And at an absolute loss, he’d simply held you. Let you cry yourself to utter exhaustion in his arms, the both of you a heap on the floor, propped up against the back of the sofa. When you had finally, finally calmed down, you’d played it off as the aftershocks of a nightmare. The kind that makes you believe they’re real and keeps you trapped in them for what could feel like a lifetime. And Gods you’d looked like you had aged a lifetime while he was gone. And ever since that night you’d been… different. Getting lost in your own head more often than not. Suffering from nightmares almost every night. Migraines and something akin to epileptic seizures every once in a good while. He had let it go on, assuring you that if you needed anything he would be there for you, and in the following months, you’d seemed to settle and things had gone back to normal. Relatively. But it had been the memory loss that had made him suspicious. Or more so the fact that while some things remained, others seemed to have happened differently for you and some had never happened at all. Never having been able to leave well enough alone, he’d started digging for explanations. And now, at the end of his research, his most impossible theory proven right - he’s yet again at a loss of what to do. How to help you.

“I didn’t know how I got here, much less how to get back. From what I do understand about all of this, and it ain’t much, the thing that sent me to this world doesn’t even exist here. So at first I didn’t have much of a choice but to just… live. To pretend like everything was normal and I belonged here. But eventually I realized that even if I got the chance to go back, I didn’t want to. I wanted to be selfish, I wanted—“ Your voice cracks, thick with emotion and he watches your head drop forward like a doll’s whose strings have been cut, eyes downcast at your trembling hands. “I wanted to be happy again. And for once in my damn life I wanted it to last. It just never fucking lasts…”

Stride over to you and hold you tight, kiss you and tell you that everything would be alright, that you would figure this out together, like always. That’s what he should be doing. Every bone in his body tells him to, but just like so many other times in the past, his oh so brilliant mind prevents him. Tells him that there is no ‘together, like always’ because the person in front of him isn’t the person he’s known his whole life. Isn’t the person he married. Everything’s an ugly mess and he doesn’t mean for his next words to come across as cruel, doesn’t perceive them that way; blissfully unaware of the implications, he’s simply, truly curious.

“What would you do if you were to go back home?”

An inelegant snort leaves you and you wipe the back of your hand over your eyes in a desperate and vain attempt to stop the tears from flowing.

23 seconds.

You were counting, just to give you something to occupy your spiraling mind with, really.

23 seconds.

That’s how long it had taken him to no longer refer to this world, this apartment, him as your home. To prioritize whatever might be going in your other life. And you know it’s not fair, to be this upset with him, this version of him that you’ve been deceiving from the start; even though he has never wronged you. But you can’t help it. Guilt and regret would soon be all you’d have left again, so might as well leave him with some, too.

“Well… if I hadn’t gotten sucked into this mess, I would’ve killed myself by now. I guess I’d be getting back to that.”

The breath that escapes him sounds like you actually just sucker punched him in the gut and immediately makes you feel terrible about how casual and bitter you’d made it sound, but he’d wanted the truth and that was it. Limbs heavy und unsteady, you rise from your position on the couch and make your way over to the front door. “I’ll go take a walk or… you know, go do… whatever. Give you some space, time to think.” Your hand’s already on the door handle, but you pause and somehow find it in yourself to turn around and at least give him the courtesy of looking at him for what you’re about to say. “For what it’s worth, I never meant to let it go this far. It just became so… easy to pretend like things had always been like this. You made it easy. And while I’m sorry that I lied to you, tricked you, intentional or not, I got the chance to fall in love with you all over again. And I could never be sorry about that.”

You’re fairly certain you’ve never seen him move as fast as he does now and before you know it, you’re wrapped in a hug almost too tight, his cane landing on the carpeted floor next to you with a dull thump. “You cannot say things like that and expect me to just let you walk out of that door, I-“

Readjusting his hold on you, he cradles your head against his shoulder and loops his other arm around your middle, continuing in a hushed, gentle tone. “I can’t bear the thought of harm befalling you. Even worse, you harming yourself. In any timeline. Please, just stay. No matter what might happen in the future, just… stay with me. Right here.”

He means for it to be reassuring, comforting, loving, you know that. It’s not his fault that it has the exact opposite effect.

Wincing, a new wave of tears springs to your eyes and you remove yourself from his hold, but can’t bring yourself to let go completely; hands now linked between the two of you. “Viktor, I stole the body and life of a person you actually love. I don’t want you to force yourself to try and love me out of pity.”

“And why are you so certain that’s what this is?!” It surprises you, how genuinely upset he sounds, and a gasp is forced out of your throat when he wrenches his hands out of your grasp and his palms find your face, to force your gaze onto him and keep it there, wether you want to or not. The expression he’s wearing almost scares you; thick brows furrowed in anger and lips curled back in what could nearly be a snarl, but as soon as gold eyes find yours, red and puffy and so very desperate and grieving, whatever fire seemed to have been burning him up inside goes out all at once.

His shoulders drop and he rests his forehead against yours with a sigh, warm breath fanning over your face. “I’m sorry, moje láska, please forgive me. I’m not angry with you, I just… I can not comprehend why you are so ready and willing to accept rejection, but will not even entertain the possibility that loving you comes as easy to me as your affections for me do to you. Why can you love every version of me, but I’m not allowed the same with every version of you?” He watches you blink owlishly, your mouth opening and closing several times and he’s not sure wether it’s endearing or heartbreaking, how clear it is that this possibility never even crossed your mind. “You act like this entire situation only penalizes me, when in reality, I’m not actually your Viktor, either, am I?”

He expects this to help, to give you a new perspective. To make it clear to you that you are both the same; you are not a villain in his story. And there is a smile on your lips, but it’s so small and sad that his stomach drops at the sight. “No, you’re not. You couldn’t be. My Viktor is gone.”

And all of a sudden, it makes so much sense. How sometimes you’d stare at him with the most haunted look in your eyes, like he was a dead man walking, ready to collapse at any given moment. How you’d grow frantic when he came back late from the academy. How you’d insisted on tagging along on the most mundane of tasks, always under the guise of wanting to spend more time with him, but really just keeping a close eye on him at all times. Though he suspects the former to be true; the chance to spend even a few more precious hours with a loved one you’d thought lost, who wouldn’t jump at that chance?

His world would simply seize spinning if you were no longer in it, he can’t even begin to imagine how you feel. How tormenting it must’ve been to see him everyday, a second chance dangling right in front of you, but never certain if you were to wake up back in a world where he was gone.

You’re in his arms again in a heartbeat, one hand carding through your hair, the other rubbing soothing patterns into your back; whispering sweet little nothings into your ear as you bury your face into the crook of his neck and sob. All so much like the day you arrived and saw him for the first time, and yet… softer. More intimate.

You stay like this until your bawling dies down to whimpers and sniffles at which point he gingerly coaxes you to look at him.

“Miláček, listen to me. As it stands now, you have no way of going back to your original world.” He doesn’t call it your home anymore, you notice. “You did not ask for this, you did not choose this; you had it thrust upon you while going through enough pain and grief you considered taking your own life. For the love of everything, you needn’t feel guilty for wanting to use this chance to find happiness again. And you shouldn’t feel guilty if you continue to do so.” Still sniffling you gently caress his face, thumbs running over his chiseled cheekbones and heart stuttering when he leans into your touch. But then you catch sight of the ring on your finger again.

“I’m not… I’m not the person you married, Vik.” Unknowingly, you parrot his own thoughts back to him, but surprisingly enough, he finds he doesn’t much care anymore. He’s flabbergasted how he could ever even doubt for a second that it would matter which timeline you were originally from. Because it’s still you. Damn it all, it’s still you. “Maybe so. But I’ve seen the same kindness in you in those past few months that I’ve always known. The same wit. The same ambition and passion. All the things that made me love you in the first place. You said this gave you the chance to fall in love with me again; would you allow me the chance to do the same?”

The truth is, while you want to try and build a life here, you feel guilty. Guilty about the friends you left fighting a war. Guilty about taking over the life and joy of someone else, even if they are a different version of you. Guilty about forcing the man you love into a relationship with a person he technically doesn’t even know. All these months, you’d only ever reciprocated his affections, never initiated them, had barely let him touch you at all, because you’d always felt like somehow you were coercing him into cheating on someone he actually loved. But here he is now, telling you that he wants you, this version of you, all of you. Could you really do it? Leave behind everything and everyone you’ve ever known, for a chance at happiness, a fresh start? You had no guarantee that things would go smoothly in this universe either, after all. Wouldn’t you just be playing pretend for the rest of your life?

“So what, we’ll just… pretend like it’s the first time then?” you ask, a quiet breathless laugh accompanying your question. He shrugs and smiles at you. “Something like that. Falling in love with you again and again and again? I could imagine a worse fate.”

So could you. Much, much worse, in fact.

Your expression shifts somewhat without you even realizing and he immediately recognizes that he must’ve triggered some form of painful memory. He places tiny little kisses all over your face, murmuring apologies all the while and when you sigh in contentment it finally dawns on him that this is very much the first time you’ve let yourself enjoy being close with him since you got here. He doesn’t blame you; the moral dilemma that was forced on you would put anyone on edge and make them anxious about what they could allow themselves to experience without some form of consequences. He would prove to you that there would be none, he’d make sure of that; singlehandedly destroy them if they did decide to raise their ugly heads. That you didn’t always need to give and give and ask for nothing in return. That you could take what you wanted and not be punished for it. You’d taught him that after all.

“Moje světlo…?”

Gods have mercy on your soul, you never could say no to him when he used those damn pet names on you.

You crash your lips to his, desperate and practically starved; in direct contrast to all the sweet promises and gentle reassurances you just shared, there’s nothing romantic about it. It’s all tongues and teeth and absolutely filthy and it’s exactly what you need right now. Your back makes contact with the door you’d been oh so insistent on walking out of not even fifteen minutes ago, that thought now the furthest thing from your mind as his hands are already under your shirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Your head falls back against the worn wood with a thump as his lips find your neck, leaving marks and bruises for everyone to see and maybe the moan that escapes your throat with a broken version of his name coupled with how weak your knees already feel could’ve been embarrassing, but you don’t have it in yourself to care; it feels like it’s been years since he last kissed you like this. Touched you like this. The whine of protest as he pulls back is cut short when he drops to his knees in front of you, hands on your hips to keep you in place and placing on last kiss on your stomach before he puts some distance between you both, not more than a few inches really, but still too much for your liking. One hand goes to cover his own, while the other cups his face, trying to tug him closer again, but he refuses. Brows knitting together in confusion and frustration, you’re about to ask him what he thinks he’s doing, but he beats you to it.

“I won’t go further unless you tell me you want this.” You almost laugh, because he can not be serious. How much more obvious could you be? Your own body is doing half the talking for you, really. But of course that’s not exactly what he means. “I want you to admit to me, and more importantly to yourself, that you want this life. I want you to realize that it is perfectly alright for you to be selfish every now and again.”

His words trigger a memory from long ago, when you’d found him passed out on the desk in the lab one too many times. After you’d been done yelling at him, you’d told him that he couldn’t just always give and give and give until there was barely anything left of himself. That it was okay to be a little selfish and take things for himself every once in a while.

Take your own advice, liar.

A voice somewhere in the back of your head purrs bewitchingly and it’s right. You are still lying. Not to him though - to yourself. Telling yourself that you feel guilty for wanting to stay here, when in reality that’s how you should be feeling. But the truth, the real truth, is that you’re scared.

Scared of how little you actually care. About the friends you left fighting a war. About taking over the life and joy of someone else, even if they are a different version of you. About forcing the man you love into a relationship with a person he technically doesn’t even know. You haven’t truly cared about any of it from the get go; always too self righteous to admit it to yourself, though.

Practiced fingers slip from his cheek to the hair at the nape his neck and pull; he goes along willingly this time, head forced back and his eyes lock onto yours, right as fresh, hot tears start to travel down your face. But you’re done grieving; you are livid, plain and simple. “I want this…” you breathe out, so quiet he almost misses it. You don’t stay quiet, though, you can’t anymore, and your voice rises in volume with every sentence spoken. “I want to stay. I want a life with you. All blissful boredom and domesticity. It’s all I ever wanted. Why…? Why was even that too much to ask?!”

He doesn’t have the answer, but he does have the solution, delivered with a slight turn of his head and a kiss to your wrist.

“It wasn’t. It isn’t.”

Breaths heavy and irregular, you simply take in the sight of him: all disheveled hair and kiss swollen lips, pretty blush all the way down to his neck, eyes dark and pupils blown wide, only a thin ring of gold left, looking at you so longingly, on his knees for you and you alone; like a worshipper ready to commit any atrocity for the sake and love of their god.

“You can take what you want, anděl. No one will punish you for it. I won’t let them.”

Angel. Oh, the irony. Irony turned certainty. Certainty turned reality.

So take you would. And you wouldn’t bother looking back at the things you’d left behind.

#arcane viktor x reader #hurt/comfort #arcane #gender neutral reader #viktor x reader #arcane x reader #arcane imagine #viktor arcane #league of legends #arcane season 2 #pretend like it's the first time

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sweetshuga · 15 hours ago

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𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝑺𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 ✰ 𝑰𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒆

───~𓆩♡𓆪~───

𝒃𝒇!𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕! Warming his dick in you after experimenting with snow. "Fu—ck, y’feel so good, so fuckin’ warm."

𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒂. @issysh3ll... Her asks inspires me everyday. «𝑰𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅»

𝒘𝒄. 𝟫𝟧𝟩

𝒑𝒔𝒂. English is not my first language! A little bonus since I accidentally posted Smutmas before I was supposed to<3 𝑴𝑫𝑵𝑰

Matt woke up earlier than usual, groaning softly as he stretched his limbs before carefully disentangling himself from your sleeping form. He stood up and immediately walked to the window above his bed. Lifting the curtains up slightly to see the weather and his eyes lit up, it was snowing. His mind pinged with an idea—his painfully stiff morning wood dragging his mind into the gutter.

He grumbled a complaint under his breath about his dick being too insatiable before slipping on an oversized white jumper that hid his arousal. Ready to go out and get some snow from outside to do his little experiment he just thought of.

The moment he stepped outside a shiver ran down his spine from the cool breeze, "fuck, why’s it so fucking cold outside?" He mumbled as he briskly walked towards his car where there was a thin sheet of snow covering the roof. He carefully extracted a small amount of snow into a plastic bag before walking back inside, letting out a shuddering breath.

"Hm? You’re up early, and is that snow?" Nick laughed in amusement as he walked towards Matt, "I can’t believe you went out at 5 am just to get snow in a plastic bag, what’re you even gonna do with that? Don’t tell me you’re gonna rub—" Matt punched Nick’s arm, making him let out a loud noise.

"Ow motherfucker! What was that for?" "Why are you awake?" Nick raised his eyebrows, "why am I awake? Well, someone has to edit the fucking videos, and I didn’t wake up, I just didn’t sleep." Matt shook his head slightly, a laugh escaping him despite himself, making Nick’s annoyed expression falter and morph into a grin.

𓆩♡𓆪

Matt finally managed to get back to his room, exhaling softly as he closed the door behind himself. He walked away from the door and towards the bed, checking if you were still sleeping before he walked to his gaming chair. Plopping down on it, he looked at the bag of snow that still somehow hadn’t melted yet—much to his excitement. He quickly pulled down his pants, letting out a low groan as he palmed his painfully hard erection.

He tugged his jumper over his head and shrugged it off, leaving him in a black tank top, and his pj flannel pants down mid-thigh. His red briefs had a blotch of precum soaking the front, and he was quick to pull his briefs down slightly, letting his hefty length spring free. "Fuck," he rasped as he swiped his thumb over his tip, collecting the steadily leaking precum before spreading some of it around his shaft.

Matt couldn’t resist giving himself a few pumps, letting out a series of muffled moans as he did so. He reluctantly let go of himself – his length twitching from the loss of friction – and took the bag of snow. He knew it was nearly impossible to put the snow flake by flake on his tip, but he wanted to try anyway—his curiosity clouding his common sense.

𓆩♡𓆪

"Fuck this," he groaned aloud, tossing the bag of slushy of snow onto his desk. His tip was cold, slightly red and swollen from not getting relief, and he could feel himself shuddering. Suddenly, he felt a gentle hand carding through his hair. "What’re you doing baby..." Your voice trailed off when you looked down at his lap – his cock standing at attention – before taking your gaze back to his face which now had a pink-ish hue to it. All sleep, that lingered, vanished into thin air, an undeniable heat pooling in your panties from the erotic scene.

"Matt, what—" he cut you off with a quick mumble that sounded something like "It’s fine, i’ll deal with it myself". You chuckled softly, "you sure?" He gulped audibly, his resolve crumbling bit by bit. "I mean... I don’t wanna burden you, you don’t have to—" he paused and sighed—knowing his hands couldn’t compare to your warm pussy. "I take it back, please, sweetheart?" You smiled and pulled him up and towards the bed.

He stumbled slightly due to his pants and briefs around his thighs, but made it to the bed nonetheless and plopped on it, his erection bobbing obscenely. You chuckled before tapping his thighs, "c’mon, up." He immediately lifted himself up just enough for you to pull his pants and briefs further down, letting it pool at his ankles and shimmied out of your own underwear before straddling his lap.

He hissed in a breath when he felt your warmth on his much cooler skin. "Fuck, baby, hold on—" he let out a shaky moan when you teased his tip against your already slippery slit. He felt his need increase tenfold, the sensation of your warm and wet pussy against his poor sensitive tip proving to be too much for him, and in an instant you were laying under him with wide eyes from the sudden change in positions.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, gripping your hips tightly before suddenly plunging deep inside without any warning. The coolness of the head of his cock against your much warmer insides sent tingles down your spine. "Oh fuck, Matt," you moaned, your head thrown back against the pillow and eyes shut tightly to prevent it from rolling back. Your hands flew out to clutch onto his forearms when he started to move.

"Fu—ck, y’feel so good, so fuckin’ warm." He groaned, his hand coming up to cover your mouth, "shh—sweets, we’re not alone—mffh, you know." He didn’t wait for a reply and instead started to increase his pace. Making sure to hit all the right spots. He knew everything about you—and your pretty little cunt, after all.

𓆩♡𓆪

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @strnilolover @mattsfavoritestar @sophand4n4 @tpwktahlz @lilyyliloo @slut4angstt @pvssychicken @poolover123 @loud-sturniolos @inlovewchrissturniolo @sagesturns @chrisstopherfilmed @billiesbabya @h3arts4nat @moosegirl96 @sofiaaguilaxx @sturniolo-fann @goingtojohnkramershouseee @sturniolosluttt @chrislilcumslvt @mattsninja @bilssturns @sturnioloszn @slvtf0rchr1s @knowingnothingnoel @shadowthesim @brookheartsmatt @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @m00nl1ghts1vt @strnlslut @ribread03 @hearts4werka @larallott @ivysturnss @chrisfavoritewhore @peiivnao @sturniolokaulitz @diasturnsth

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natlovesls2 · 3 days ago

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It Isn't Over

Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚warnings: small amount of angst, minimal swearing, no use of y/n, short and honestly not that good

*ੈ✩‧₊˚word count: 900

*ੈ✩‧₊˚summary: Lando regrets the everything that has happened between you. Part two to this: part one

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚

Lando had silently hoped your Instagram stories only served to make him jealous. Perhaps you simply wanted to show him what he had lost– of course that had been nothing but wishful thinking, having heard from a mutual friend that you were indeed seeing some guy. He stood at the door of your apartment, hand slightly raised as he debated whether he should knock or not.

“Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to knock?” the sound of your voice shaking him out of his thoughts.

He hadn’t seen you in months, you looked as radiant as ever, “I miss you,” he blurted out, voice slightly shaky as he reached a hand out towards you,“I made a mistake, a big one, I know I did. I lie awake every night thinking about it.”

He noticed your hesitance, he wasn’t a complete idiot when it came to reading people despite what you thought of him. “Why don’t you come in, have something to drink,” you sighed, digging through your purse, attempting to find your keys.

“Thank you,” he said softly, watching as you opened the door to your apartment, letting him in and closing the door behind you. He scanned the living room for any sign of your moving on, perhaps a coat left by your new lover or a picture of a sentimental moment hanging on the wall, but he found none. Instead he was greeted by the same living room he had come to know during the duration of your complicated friendship.

“I guess we have a lot to talk about,” you led him to your kitchen, hand shaking as you poured him a glass of water, “do you want anything else to drink?” he shook his head, taking a sip of water.

“I don’t know where to start,” he admits, nervously running a hand through his hair. He was nervous, something he had never been around you. Lando had always been a confident person, especially around you, this was new. “Are you seeing anyone?” he asks.

“What?” you were confused by the sudden question, it hadn’t been what you expected him to say, far from it. There wasn’t anything that could have come out of his mouth that would have been expected but this was certainly one of the least possible things you would expect. In fact, maybe, an apology would have been more appropriate than whatever he intended with that question.

“I think I’m in love with you, and if you’re seeing someone then it complicates things. I saw that guy on your instagram– but that doesn’t change how I feel,” he rambled out a confession, burying his face in his hands, tugging at his hair.

“You think?”

“I am, I am so in love with you. And I made the worst mistake of my life, I know that. I just need another chance,” he said, desperately pleading with you, his tone the most serious you had ever heard from him. It hurt you, it hurt to know that it had taken him years to realize this. His eyes never leaving your face, hoping to find any sort of reaction that would reveal that your feelings for him hadn’t changed despite his foul treatment.

“Lando…” you started. He hated the way you said his name, how soft your voice still sounded despite the evident pain. “You hurt me in many ways. It was as if you saw me as less than human, just something to satisfy whatever needs you had,” you felt tears start to well up in your eyes, it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep calm. “And now you show up at my front door claiming to be in love with me? I find it all hard to believe.”

You remember one night that had been particularly hurtful– the night of your birthday. Lando had called you earlier that day, inviting himself over to your apartment. You had wishfully thought that he had remembered your birthday, despite the fact that he had yet to acknowledge it. When he had finally arrived that night you were not greeted with the words “Happy Birthday”. Instead he pushed his way into your home, kissing you and whispering against your skin about how much he needed you. It wasn’t until a week later that he had even noticed that your birthday had passed. So to say that you couldn’t believe Lando had truly changed was an understatement, but even so, you couldn’t bring yourself to forget about your feelings towards him.

“I’m not asking you to believe me. I'm asking you to give me another chance– an opportunity to prove to you that what I feel for you is real, that I truly do love you,” Lando took a step closer, his hand reaching out to brush away a stubborn tear that had made its way past the threshold of your eyes.

“One chance,” you whispered, letting your forehead rest against his.

“So you’re not seeing that guy you’ve been posting on your Instagram?”

“He’s my cousin,” you said with a small teary laugh, placing a kiss on his nose.

And maybe things would be different than they had been before. Maybe this time he wouldn’t ditch you at events for models who made you insecure or forget your birthday. This time he wouldn’t make you hate the way you looked. But only time would tell.

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Note: I had a lot I wanted to do for this but lost motivation and I didn't want to just scrap the whole fic so... yeah, I know its shit but I've had a rough month. Anyway, I just wanted to give the original a happy ending. My Decemeber shorts will be better (I hope), peace out

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hsunrry · 2 days ago

Text

date night // one shot

harry styles x fem!reader

summary: based on this request.

|| masterlist ||

words: ~2k

warnings: smut18+, angst, praise, unprotected sex, creampie

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“you know how important this meeting was for me.” you said coldly from passenger seat. your arms were crossed over your chest. he sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair.

“i know, i know, i’m sorry, okay?” he apologised, his voice laced with frustration. “something came up, i couldn’t just drop this.”

“always the same, Harry.” you shook your head. his eyes narrowed slightly, his voice taking on defensive tone.

“and what’s that supposed to mean? that i can’t do anything right in your eyes?” he looked at you briefly before his eyes went back to the road.

“no, that’s there’s always an excuse.” you mumbled. your body language was closed off to him. “it’s just that i was reminding you about it for two months and you still were almost an hour late.”

“i heard you, okay?” his grip tightened on the steering wheel. “you reminded me every single day. but real life happens sometimes and i had to deal with something urgent. i promised i’d make it up to you.” he glanced over at you.

“what was that urgent then?” you asked. “what was that important?”

“my manager called, there was a…” he sighed. “problem with my upcoming tour schedule that only i could handle. it wasn’t something i could ignore or delegate.” he paused for a second. “look, i get that i messed up.” you bite inside of your cheek, looking out of the car window. his frustration boiled over when you gave him silent treatment. “you know what? you always do this.”

“do what?” you asked, not looking at him. he gestured broadly, his hand sweeping across the interior of the car.

“you always stay quiet. always keep everything bottle up inside. ant then you just… shut down. like a switch flipped and you’re no longer there.” his voice was low.

“because i’m frustrated, what am i supposed to do?” you asked coldly. his expression darkened.

“yell at me then! storm off! do something other than just sitting there looking pissed off!” he yelled, his knuckled white from gripping steering wheel so tightly.

“pull over.” without a word, he pulled over to the side of the road, putting the car in parking mode.

“what now?” he turned to face you fully, his eyes blazing with frustration. you unbuckled your seatbelt, getting out of the car and going into the direction of the house. he quickly got out of the car as well, following you. “where do you think you’re going?” he called after you, his voice laced with irritation. he quickened his pace to catch up to you.

“i’m going home myself.” you said, your arms crossed on your chest from anger and cold air. he grabbed your arm, stopping you.

“walking home yourself? it’s a 15-minute drive, you’re not going anywhere!” he shouted, his face red in anger. “get back in the car!” he demanded, trying to tug you back towards the vehicle.

“no!” you snapped, feeling his arms wrapping around your thighs, lifting you up and bending you over his shoulder. “Harry!”

“if you’re not going to act like an adult about this, then i’ll treat you like a child. now be quiet, before i spank your ass.” he carried you to the car, talking through gritted teeth.

“you wouldn’t dare.” you mumbled. he smirked, giving your bottom hard smack, the sound echoing through the night air. he opened backseat doors, tossing you inside. he quickly gets to the driver’s seat, starting the car. he glanced at you in rearview mirror only to see you pouting back there.

“now, are you going to behave yourself or do i need to come back there and remind you who’s in charge?” he was gripping the steering wheel, ready to drive.

“fuck off.” you mumbled, watching him turning off the engine and walking out of the car. he sat in the backseat, pulling you astride his lap. “what are you doing?”

“i’m giving you a timeout, little one.” he placed his hands on your thighs, going up and down gently, almost soothingly. “now, can we talk normally?” you shrugged at his words. his hands slid up higher on your thighs as he held your gaze intensively. “i miss you when you’re like this.” he admitted softly, one hand moving up to cup your cheek. “i miss hearing your voice, seeing your smile…” he traced his thumb across your bottom lip.

“what are you expecting when i’m mad at you?” you asked, looking into his eyes this whole time. he sighed.

“for you to talk to me, not ignore me or mumble under your breath.” he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. “for you to, i don’t know, yell at me, but not giving me silent treatment.”

“i’m just upset you were so late. you promised me you’ll be there no matter what. i was talking about this meeting for two months.” you said quietly. his expression softened with guilt.

“i know, love. i’m sorry i broke my promise.” he ran his hand through your hair. “this problem with schedule was last minute, but that’s not an excuse. i should have been there on time.” he leaned his forehead against yours. you closed your eyes, biting inside of your cheek. he knew it was a sign that you were very upset. he hated every second of it, he hated making you mad. “look at me, please.” he asked softly, his voice gentler with every word. when you opened your eyes to look at him, he noticed tears welling up in them and his heart sank at the sight. he gently wiped away the tears that escaped your eyes with his thumb. “baby…” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. you sniffed. he held you tighter against his chest, one hand cradling the back of your head. “don’t cry, please. you know i hate seeing you cry…” he kissed the top of your head, running soothing circles on your back. “i know i fucked up, i’m so sorry…” you nuzzled your face into his neck. his arms tightened around you when he felt your warm breath against his neck. after few seconds his hands moved to cup both sides of your face, tilting it up to look at him. “listen to me, i’m so fucking sorry.” his thumbs brushed away the remaining tears. you nodded quietly. his voice was gentle, but serious. “i need to know you forgive me. i don’t like when we’re not talking. it drives me mad, knowing you’re disappointed in me.” he stroked your hair, waiting for your response.

“it’s not that i’m disappointed in you, i’m just sad that you promised me to be there.” you said quietly. his expression was soft, but intense.

“i know… and that makes it worse. your sadness hurts more than anything else could. i fucked up something special to you…” he paused, his hands still tenderly framing your face. “i’m so sorry lovie, really.” you nodded again. he sighed, pulling you closer and pressing his forehead to yours again. “tell me what to do to make this right.” his hands moved to your waist, holding you close.

“just be there next time.” you sighed quietly. he looked at you intently, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. he needed to know you were serious about giving him another chance to not mess up again.

“you can count on it. next time, i’ll be there early.” he nodded solemnly. you managed a quiet ‘okay’ in response. he watched you carefully, waiting for any sign that you were truly over this argument. he didn’t wanted to push his luck, but he also didn’t wanted you to be silently upset. he decided to test the waters a little. “you really not mad at me anymore?”

“i’m not.” you shook your head slightly. he raised his eyebrow sceptically, tilting his head to the side. he pulled you even closer.

“you sure? you’re not giving me the cold shoulder or anything?” he asked, searching your face for any hint of residual anger. you chuckled softly, shaking your head again. his face lit up with relief and joy as he heard your laugh. he pulled you into tight hug, burying his face in your neck. “i missed you.” he murmured, placing gentle kisses along your neck and jaw.

“mhm.” you hummed against his neck. he held you tightly, savouring the feeling. after a moment he pulled out slightly, to look at you.

“you know, i was thinking…” he started.

“about what?” he smiled softly at your question, his hands resting on your waist.

“about making it up to you.” he said, his eyes filled with determination. he leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. “starting with this.”

“i’m reminding you that we’re in the car.” you chuckled softly. he grinned, his hands moving to either side of your face.

“and i’m reminding you that we’re very much alone right now, with tinted windows.” his thumb gently stroked your cheek. when you smiled, he closed the distance between you two, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to your lips. it was a sweet, tender kiss, filled with all the love and apology. “i’m sorry.” he whispered against your lips.

“mhm.” you hummed into his mouth, feeling his hands lifting your dress up, exposing your legs and ass. he deepened the kiss, his hands splayed out on your thighs. he broke the kiss to trial soft kisses on your neck. he unbuckled his belt with deft movements, his hands then moving to unzip his pants. he lifted his hips slightly to push it down along with his boxers, freeing himself. he looked up at you, his voice low and husky.

“come here, love.” you lifted your hips up, moving your panties to the side and lowering yourself at him. he let out a low groan, his hands gripping your hips tightly. he leaned back in the seat, his eyes never leaving yours as you started to move. “fuck, you feel amazing.” he breathed, his hands guiding your hips as you rode him slowly. he leaned forward, claiming your mouth in another passionate kiss. “right there.” he moaned when you started to move faster, his teeth nipping at your lower lip. “that’s perfect…” he broke the kiss to pant, his head falling back against the headrest. his hands roamed up your stomach to your waist, his touch gentle yet

firm. “faster.” he urged, his hips bucking up to meet yours. “look at me, baby.” and you did, moving faster. his eyes locked with yours, dark with desire and love. his breath became ragged as he watched you move on top of him, his hands back on your hips. “beautiful.” he whispered, leaning forward to capture your lips in another intense kiss. “i love you.”

“i love you too.” you gasped into the kiss. he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you tightly as he thrust up into you, the car rocking slightly with the motion. he swallowed your moans with his mouth, his heart racing in his chest. he felt himself getting close, his body tensing.

“i’m so close, baby.” he gasped into the kiss.

“me too.” you responded. he felt your body tense around him. he tightened his hold on you, one hand moving to tangle in your hair as he thrusts deeper. “you can’t come inside me, we don’t have anything to clean me up, i’ll suck you off.” his eyes darkened at your suggestion.

“no fucking way, baby, i’m filling this pussy up.” his cock twitched inside you. “i’ll clean you up with my mouth.” he grunted when you started moving faster, moaning at his words. his hips were moving erratically as he chased his release. he felt his orgasm building, his balls tightening. you cried out, clenching around him when you finished. “fuck, i’m coming!” he moaned, burying his face in your neck as he came hard, filling you with his hot seeds. he panted heavily, his body shaking with aftershocks. he pulled back to look at you, a lazy smile on his face. “i love you.”

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dreamscapeee222 · 3 days ago

Text

You're super affectionate

BTS x reader

Masterlist

Seokjin

Seokjin pretends to be overwhelmed by all the attention, dramatically sighing every time you hug him or rest your head on his shoulder. “Ah, I’m too handsome to handle this level of affection!” he jokes, but his soft smile gives him away.

When you shower him with compliments, he cheekily responds with, “Well, I am Worldwide Handsome, so it’s only natural,” but you can tell he loves hearing you say it.

If you grab his face and squish his cheeks, he’ll act annoyed, but later, he’ll sneak a kiss on your forehead, showing he secretly adores how affectionate you are.

Yoongi

Yoongi’s not always the touchiest person, but he melts when you’re extra affectionate. He might grumble about you clinging to him, but he never pushes you away. “You’re lucky I love you,” he mutters, though the way he pulls you closer says otherwise.

If you’re constantly holding his hand or playing with his fingers, he just sits there, letting you do whatever you want, occasionally squeezing your hand back to let you know he appreciates it.

When you cuddle up to him out of nowhere, he’ll act unfazed, but his eyes soften as he wraps an arm around you and mumbles, “Stay there for a bit.”

Hoseok

Hobi thrives on your affection. The more love you give, the more he lights up, like he’s running on pure sunshine and cuddles.

If you run up to hug him randomly, he picks you up and spins you around, laughing at how cute you are. “Ah, I love this!” he exclaims, showering you with kisses in return.

He matches your energy and then some—your affection turns into a full-blown cuddle fest where he insists on peppering your face with kisses. “You’re my little ray of happiness,” he says, his smile brighter than ever.

Namjoon

Namjoon tries to act cool about it, but your affection turns him into a flustered mess. When you cling to his arm or rest your head on his shoulder, he stumbles over his words and blushes furiously.

He loves how you’re always touching his face or fixing his hair, even if he pretends to roll his eyes. “Do I look better now?” he teases, secretly hoping you’ll keep doing it.

If you insist on hugging him every few minutes, he’ll chuckle softly and pull you close, resting his chin on your head. “You’re so soft,” he says, his voice full of fondness.

Jimin

Jimin lives for your affection. He adores every hug, kiss, and compliment you throw his way, and he makes sure you know it.

When you’re extra clingy, he just giggles and hugs you tighter, swaying side to side like he never wants to let go. “You’re the sweetest thing,” he coos, pressing kisses all over your face.

He’s so used to your touch that he reaches for you automatically, whether it’s holding your hand, pulling you into his lap, or resting his head on your shoulder. “I think I need you to be this affectionate all the time,” he teases.

Taehyung

Taehyung matches your affection tenfold. If you cuddle up to him, he wraps you in a bear hug so tight you can barely breathe. “You’re mine now,” he says with a mischievous grin.

He loves when you play with his hair or trace patterns on his hand. “This feels nice,” he murmurs, leaning into your touch like a content puppy.

If you kiss his cheek or his forehead, he’ll dramatically whine until you kiss him properly, pouting until you give in. “That’s better,” he says, smirking like he’s won some grand prize.

Jungkook

Jungkook pretends to be shy at first, but he secretly loves it when you’re super affectionate. He turns bright red when you hug him out of nowhere, mumbling, “What are you doing?” even though he’s hugging you back just as tightly.

If you pepper his face with kisses, he bursts into giggles, trying to hide his face in your shoulder. “Stop, you’re making me blush!” he says, but he doesn’t mean it at all.

Your constant touch makes him clingy too—before you know it, he’s the one cuddling up to you, resting his head on your lap or pulling you into his arms. “You started this,” he teases, “so now you’re stuck with me.”

Requests may be sent through the ask box. Only SFW.

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p-taryn-dactyl · 1 day ago

Text

masked hearts

part i

a/n: hi! this is my first time writing for ambessa so please be kind lmao. i also know very little about LoL lore :) this is kinda an AU where the Medarda family is together word count: 2.5k warning(s): none (yet); well no real warnings, reader has a crush and is not very smooth; very awkward; you're a lesbian; unedited 😭

prompt: ambessa holds a ball to find a partner for her son but what happens when you're the one to catch her eye?

Your kingdom was one of splendor and beauty, the hills ripe with settlements, the trees fruitful and the air crisp. It wasn't a mystery why the Medarda clan claimed this small portion of the world for themselves, as your kingdom sat on a pivital route for trade. The mystery however, was why the head of the Medarda's, Ambessa, chose this place to be the homeland of her son's future spouse. The flyers went up around the center of the capitol first, the paper of expensive quality and the ink shimmering with gold.

It was an invitation to a ball. One of masks and hidden identities.

The Medarda's, while they've never been accused of not caring about physical appearance, put wit above all. It was fitting that the son of a warlord would first fall for the mind before the body. However, as the whispers got around the kingdom, people realized there wasn't a class specified to attend. Everyone, rich and poor, was invited to attempt to become a Medarda-by-law.

You, however, weren't as excited as your sisters and cousins. You watched as they danced around your shop, holding up different fabrics and colors, trying to see which one would make their dress stand out to Kino. Laughing, you wiped down the counter, your eyes trained on your register, imagining it bursting with gold after your town had finished sending in their requests for their gowns and masks.

"Y/N, have you decided what you're going to wear?" One of your cousins, Laina, appeared behind the counter, her young hands stabilizing her as she stood on her toes, "Mama says I can go if I finish my chores the week before!"

You gave her a soft smile, flicking your slightly damp rag at her and laughing when she recoiled with an unamused glare.

"I don't think I am going to attend, but I can personally make your dress!"

Laina's face fell but her eyes still had a sparkle from your request.

"Why not?" She pouted, crossing her arms once she managed to pull herself up to sit on your freshly cleaned counter, "And would you make me a mask too?"

Sighing, you threw your rag into the bucket of water at your feet, ignoring the splash against your boots. You could always finish cleaning later. Leaning with your back agaisnt the counter, you mimicked her pose, crossing your arms and pouting out your lower lip.

"Masks are for potential suitors of Kino, maybe if he's still looking for a partner in a decade I'll make you one," Laina opened her mouth as if to interupt, to say she wasn't too young even though her tenth birthday had only just passed two days before. You held up a finger, stopping her words before they left her mouth, "And...I'm not one for the company of men, you know that. A large party, loud and boisterous, sounds fun but with my luck I would be the one to catch the wandering eye of Kino Medarda."

Laina nodded, albeit a little dissapointed. She played with a strand of hair falling in front of her eyes.

"Would you think about coming? With me? Mom and Dad aren't going, they want to have a quiet night in and Alana will be too busy trying to become a princess."

You laughed loudly, causing the customers of the shop and your family members to look at you. You covered your mouth with a hand, nodding at the customers apologetically. Pursing your lips, you scoffed humorously as Laina gave you one of her sad eyes expressions, one she knew you couldn't say no to. Rolling your eyes, you ruffled Laina's hair with a defeated smile.

"Alright fine, but you'll have to convince your mother to send me a basket full of honey buns afterward," Laina clapped in excitement, nodding in agreement. She fixed her eyes on you, taking a scrap of dark red fabric from her pocket and holding it up against your face.

"This should be for your dress."

Taking the fabric from Laina, you felt it between your fingers and sighed. What did you get yourself into.

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

In a few measley hours you would find yourself within the walls of the Medarda castle, built from stone from the most coveted quarry in your kingdom. At the right time of day, you swore you could see it shining brighter than a star upon the hill which it sat. Laina was a bundle of energy and was currently bouncing around the apartment above your family's shop. She was talking so fast, excitement blurring her words together so much so you couldn't even distinguish what she was saying, so you only nodded along to her words as you examined your dress one last time. Laina had long been dressed and now all her movement made you worried she would wrinkle or tear the precious fabric.

Your dress, one that matched the dark red Laina had chosen for your mask, layed across your lap, subject to your wandering eyes as you looked for any imperfections. While you didn't exactly want to catch anyone important eyes, you didn't want to be seen in a less than perfect gown.

"Put it on! We have to leave soon if we want to make it for the opening of the gates!" Laina excalimed, clapping her hands together as she twirled, her light green dress floating around her like petals in the wind. You smiled, gesturing towards the door with your head.

"Well, I'll need someone to guard the door while I change. I don't want anyone bursting in here while I'm in my unspeakables." You held your head up haughtily like your grandmother, mimicking her accent and pretending to clutch your pearls at the mention of your underwear. Laina covered her mouth as she giggled, nodding as she ran out to stand by your door, only pausing right before she shut it.

"If you need help, you'll ask right?"

You saw in her eyes the desperation of being a helper, a feeling you knew too well. You nodded at her then waved your hand, beckoning her to shut the door. At the click, you sighed, looking back at your gown, starting to feel the uncomfortable feeling of anxiety roaring in your stomach and up your throat. Damn Laina's puppy dog eyes. Now, instead of sitting in bed with a book and a hot cup of tea, you were going to dance in front of one of the most powerful family's in Runeterra. With your luck you would face plant right in front of Kino, or worse, his mother. At the thought of Ambessa, your mind grew conflicted. Sure, you had a healthy fear of the woman who was shrouded in tales of blood, but you remembered the first time you saw the matriarch after the Medarda's had claimed your kingdom for themselves. It was like a schoolgirl's crush on a teacher, you knew it would never go anywhere but yet, even after all the years, you still dreamed of the strong hands and scarred face which had been burned into your mind the second you swore her eyes landed on you in the crowd.

Shaking your head, you snapped yourself out of your senseless dreaming. Being attracted to women wasn't an issue, it never had been, but being attracted to that woman could only bring you strife as you compared all future partners to her. Standing up, you shedded your clothing, standing only in your slip and stockings tied up at your knee. Taking a deep breath, you slid the dress on, each part brushing against your skin in soft silk. Once it was on, all that was left was to tighten the corset. You brushed your hands down, smoothing down the fabric before calling for Laina, knowing you could tighten it yourself. Laina burst into the room, her eyes widening as she gasped.

"Y/N, you're so beautiful! I knew that color would be pretty on you!"

You felt your face flush from the compliments, not used to the attention. Laina pulled up a stool to stand on as she started tightening the your dress.

"Ah! Ok, if you want me to dance with you, you're going to have to let me breathe."

Laina chuckled sheepishly, loosing the ribbons slightly.

"Sorry! I think you're done!"

You nodded, moving to hold yourself up against the wall as you slipped on your shoes, dreading a night spent soley wearing heels. You grabbed your mask and held out your hand to Laina, bowing playfully.

"I believe it's time for us to depart, my lady."

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

The night was young yet you already were desperate for the strike of midnight, the time you and Laina had agreed upon leaving. Speaking of Laina, she had made a few friends with the other young children attending the ball, sitting in a corner with them as they played games, their laughter hidden by the music. At the front of the giant room sat Mel Medarda and her consort, Jayce Talis. They were holding hands as they watched the dancers, leaving you to wonder when they would join the party. Kino was already weaving his way through the room, dancing with many but seemingly connecting with none. And Ambessa, your breath caught in your throat as your eyes seemingly met hers, was making her way into the crowd, her mask one of gold and war. You looked away frantically, returning your attention to the table of food in front of you. After a few moments, you felt yourself relax, yet that was short lived. You felt a presence behind you and suddenly, you were very aware that you were the only one at the table and not on the dance floor. Which felt like the universe was just shitting you at this point. You picked up a berry, inspecting it as if that would make the imposing woman standing behind you not be standing behind you.

It didn't work.

Slowly, you turned around, heart beating in your ears drowning out the music. You didn't realize how close she was, causing you to jump slightly and bump into the table. For a second, you just stared at each other before Ambessa moved. You tensed, before you realized she had grabbed a pastry from the platter that had been knocked off center. She took a bite, keeping her eyes trained on you before she spoke. You just kept mentally pinching yourself, trying to force yourself out of this embarassing nightmare.

"Is that all you're going to have, Little One?" Her voice sent shivers down your spine as you processed what she had said, her head nodding to the berry still clutched in between your fingers, it's juices staining your fingertips.

"Oh! Uh, no? I'll have," you didn't want to look away from the tall woman, fearing that would be a sign of disrespect, so you tried to remember what food had been spread out, "bread? Yes, bread, I like bread." Your eyes widened as you spoke, now mentally punching yourself for the dumb response. Bread? Now come on. Part of you was grateful for the mask covering part of your face, hiding what was sure to be a horrendous blush.

Ambessa's mouth quirked into a smirk, taking a slight step towards you before angling her body so she could gesture her arm towards the sea of people.

"This whole night you've stayed by the table, or near that corner of children, never once even attempting to join the festivites," she turned her attention back to you, slightly cocking her head to the side, "Is this party boring you? Is my son?" You registered the humorous tone mixed with the protectiveness of a mother.

Quickly you shook your head, hand clenching the berry in your hand, bursting the fruit. You tried to start explaining yourself but the feeling of juice sticking to your skin made you uncomfortable. You still felt frozen by Ambessa's presence so you did what felt right in the moment, however pausing as you realized you had started licking your hand infront of the matriarch of war. In your embarassment, you didn't notice how Ambessa's eyes followed the actions of your tongue and fingers like a wolf hunting prey. Like a rubber band snapping, you realized you hadn't answered her question.

"I'm not bored! This is a beautiful procession and whoever catches your son's eye will be lucky."

Ambessa nodded slightly, turning her head to watch as Kino twirled a woman in blue. When she looked back to you, her eyes held a question laced with genuine interest and humor.

"And if you catch his eye?"

Your own eyes widened as you wiped your hand on the napkin you had grabbed while her attention was on her son. Ambessa didn't miss the change in your expression, your mask not hiding the nervousness shining in your eyes. Instead of your original adorable fear of her presence, you now seemed to radiate anxiety. She raised an eyebrow, knowing you couldn't see it, waiting for your response.

"I," you started, your eyes darting to Laina, who was now watching you with a teasing look, knowing of your godawful crush on the woman standing in front of you, "I would be very flattered-"

"But?" There was a sense of anticipation in her interuption, her words no longer holding underlying steel.

"But I would have to respectfully decline," you looked down at your hands, starting to speak quickly, desperate to explain yourself as to not give the impression you thought yourself too good for a conqueror's son, "Not out of any thought of doing better of course, I doubt that could even be accomplished, however I believe Kino- I mean, your son, deserves to be with someone who can love him purely and with romantic intent. The best I could give would be a position of friendship." You stopped to take a breath, fully intending to continue your ramble until the gods themselves had to shut you up. But this plan was foiled by Ambessa's strong hand holding your chin, forcing you to look at her. Her eyes analysed you, surveying your face before going lower to look at your dress. You felt heat rise, or more heat, at her intense stare. Something in the stitching on your bodice made recognition flicker in Ambessa's eyes. Her hand moved from your chin down to your waist, encouragaing you to walk with her. She continued to talk as the two of you made your way to the center of the room, the crowd parting as they danced around you.

"Do you already have someone in your heart? A different boy perhaps?"

If you weren't feeling like you were in a dream, you would have realized Ambessa was fishing for something, an answer she needed.

"No, my lady, I do not. I," you cleared your throat, "I won't ever have a man claim my heart."

Ambessa's grip on your waist grew stronger as she pulled you to her chest, positioning you to dance. You gasped as you felt her lips brush against your ear as she swayed you to the rhythm of the music.

"And if I lay a claim?"

a/n: haha sorry for the sudden ending i'm evil at my core. this fic was to test the waters for writing for this absolute goddess of a woman and i do have part 2 ready to go if anyone is interested! i cannot say my thoughts on Ambessa (or Sevika for that matter) for i want to keep this authors note short and PG ;) thank you for reading!! i hope this wasn't shit.

#ambessa medarda #ambessa medarda x reader #ambessa x reader #arcane fanfic #ambessa arcane #ambessa x you #ambessa medarda x you

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ellecdc · 6 hours ago

Text

No Wine, Then

Sirius Black x fem!reader who thinks she's pregnant again [610 words]

A/N: one of the many talented artists I follow on IG posted a few sketches of this conversation between Ginny and Harry and it's been stuck in my head ever since so I just had to write it for Sirius <3

CW: reader + Sirius have an undisclosed number of kids already, at least one of them is a son, fluff

You’re not sure how long you’d been sitting in the tub of fragrant, bubbly water - sinking so deep that the only part of you not submerged was your face from your nose up - when you realised the house had finally fallen quiet.

Sirius had taken charge of everything tonight; dinner, cleaning up, and getting the kids to bed. You’re not sure what prompted it, seeing as the two of you worked as a pretty solid unit most nights, but when he was patting your hip and pressing a kiss to your temple telling you to go run a bath and that he’d take care of the rest, well…who were you to argue?

The door to your bathroom opened and exposed Sirius, still adorned in the white button up and pressed trousers he had worn to work this morning, though the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, the top five buttons were undone, and you’re pretty sure you could see a cheeky sauce shaped handprint slapped onto his arm.

He looked beautiful.

“I look like shite.” He argued when you said as much, though he was smiling as he moved to the sink and washed his hands.

“You look loved.” You countered, earning you a hum of acknowledgment from your husband.

“Well, that I am.” He agreed as he kneeled by the side of the tub, leaning over the edge to press a kiss to your lips, pressing ‘one more for the road’ before he was pulling back to look at you with soft eyes. “I was too lazy to check but I’m pretty sure I have a note taped to my back that says kick me, and I’m going to ask you not to.”

You let out a laugh as you lifted one of your hands to card through Sirius’ hair, having mostly fallen out of whatever bun he’d thrown it in. He closed his eyes with a pleased hum and leaned into your touch.

“Do I have to ask where your son learned that from?” You chuckled, causing Sirius to let out a groan as his brows furrowed.

“We need to find him new cousins; he’s not allowed to hang out with Harry anymore.” He offered simply.

You hummed noncommittally. “Do I have to ask where Harry learned that from?”

Sirius’ eyes opened as he scowled at you. “It was funnier when it was happening to James.” He complained, circling his hand around your wrist and pressing a kiss to your palm.

“What about you, Mrs. Black. Hm?” He digressed, though the both of you grimaced when you realised exactly who that name made you think of. “Can I get you anything? Some wine, perhaps?”

And you’re not exactly proud of the way it just came spilling out of you, but you would later blame it on the way you were sort of drunk off the warmth of the tub, the handsomeness of your husband, and the love you felt for the life you were living.

And maybe also on the fact that you had sort of lost count of how many times you've had this conversation with him at this point.

“I think I’m pregnant again.”

And Sirius - god love him - only let you know he’d heard you by the way his eyebrows jumped higher on his head in surprise.

“So, no wine, then.”

“I’d settle for a kiss, though.” You offered coyly, and Sirius didn’t hesitate reaching into the tub, wrapping his arms around your middle and pressing as good a kiss to your lips as he could around his megawatt smile.

“That I can do for you, love.” He murmured before pressing another kiss to a smile of your own.

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parkersbliss · 14 hours ago

Note

if you’re willing to, how about 141 reacting to you saying “no one will hear you scream”? i know they’d all play the biggest uno reverse card, especially gaz because he just has such a sweet face you wouldn’t expect it.

I am always willing to!!! anon thank you for blessing me with this. you're so right like don't threaten the military men who are masters of stealth, now that's asking for trouble...

pairing: task force 141 (ghost, gaz, price, soap) x reader

warnings: um, gaz threatening you? actually, all of them threatening you bc you threaten them

a/n: see me personally I would not mess with this. and certainly not price.

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for tf141!

SEE TIKTOK HERE

—

Gaz:

It was easy to convince Kyle to come out here. In fact, he didn’t even think twice when you asked to go out on a hike. He had grabbed a light jacket, laced up his boots, and was out the door. He was an outdoorsman, after all, and any time he could spend with you was well spent. You weren’t going to hear an argument out of his pretty mouth.

It’s nicer this time of the year. Not too hot and not too cold with the leaves changing into the sunset colors. Honestly, you were glad you had come out here, even if it was because you had other intentions than some fresh air.

You were lagging behind Kyle, his hand flexing and calling for yours. You jog to grab his when you notice, swinging them as you approach a viewpoint.

You can overlook the area below you, coming up on a small cliff that showcases the changing leaves and sun. There’s a slight breeze that ruffles your hair, making the tips of your ears a little cold.

“It’s so beautiful,” Kyle breathes, taking in the view.

You nod, gazing out at the leaves tumbling in the wind. Then, with a practiced ease, you say: “No one would hear you scream out here.”

Kyle steps back from the edge, whipping around to look at you. “What?”

“What?” You ask dumbly.

“Don’t “what” me.” He points a finger at you. “I heard that shit.”

You step toward him, feeling guilty when you see his face. “Kyky-” you call.

“Nope!” He grabs something from his pocket, pointing it at you.

You put your hands on your hips, scoffing and stepping back. “You brought a taser?”

“And I’m not afraid to use it.” He continues to point the weapon at you as you take steps back. You were messing with your boyfriend, but your boyfriend was not messing with you.

“Babe, it was a joke!” You protest.

He narrows his eyes. “Oh, not so funny now, huh? No one could hear you scream.”

“Kyle!” You hiss at that, his point made.“Please put the taser away.”

“Please don’t threaten me,” he retorts, but relents and slips the taser back into his pocket.

“Why do you even have that?”

Kyle shrugs. “You never know. As you just proved.”

“Oh my god,” You said, walking back over to him tentatively. Once you’re close enough, he grabs your waist pulling you to his side. “Don’t ever say that shit again,” he whispers.

You glance at the taser in his pocket. “Lesson learned.”

Kyle smiles, kissing your cheek. “Ice cream?”

Ghost:

You take a deep breath, letting the crisp autumn air fill your lungs. It’s cold, cutting through the skin of your throat, yet at the same time it’s comforting. It’s much better than the humidity-laced air of summer at least. Where each breath you took felt like you inhaled oven air.

Simon glances over at you, cocking his head to silently ask what you were doing.

“Just taking in the air,” You said. “’s nice.”

He hums an agreement, walking along the stream you two were hiking. A few birds were chirping, leaves crunching under your boots, and the sound of water running over rocks. It’s a quiet you’re not used to from being in the military. That still doesn’t stop the idea from forming in your head.

“No one would hear you scream out here,” You muse, falling in step beside Simon. You say it casually, not looking at him. You act as if you had just asked where he wanted to get dinner tonight.

Simon, of course, is aware of everything. He stops walking, turning to you at an agonizingly slow pace. “Excuse me?”

You shake your head. “Nothing.” And continue along the trail.

He doesn’t follow you. You can tell when his footsteps aren’t echoing yours, a little slower and more steady. Instead, they fall silent on deaf ears. You can’t hear anything and the hair on the back of your neck stands up at the sudden stillness of the forest.

“Simon?” You call, turning to face him. And of course, he’s gone. You curse under your breath, spinning around to find him. You walk back to where he was, checking around the trees and the bushes. You shouldn’t threaten a lieutenant, the master of infiltration nonetheless. You peek around another tree, trying to get a view of him when a hand grabs your shoulder. You scream, throwing the hand off your shoulder and raising your fists. You come face to face with your boyfriend and drop your hands.

Simon stares at you, a deadpan look on his face with arms crossed. “What was that about no one hearing me or, should I say you scream?”

You swat at him. “It was a joke.”

“Damn right, it was. You think you could take me?” He begins walking again, offering his hand to you. He was a true gentleman even after he pulled that stunt. You really needed to learn to keep your eyes on him.

You lace your fingers together, sighing. “No.”

Simon is content with the answer, placing a soft kiss on your temple. “Let’s finish this hike without any other threats, hm, sweetheart?"

“It was a joke.”

“Mine wasn’t.”

“Simon—!”

Soap:

Johnny took convincing to go out for a walk. He was more inclined to spend his days on the couch, relaxing next to you. Not some boring “walk for fresh air.” He would argue he’d already gone on plenty of walks while deployed.

You dragged him out anyway, saying it’ll be good for him to do one without worrying about being shot at.

So here you are, on a quiet trail in your local park, pointing at the various colored leaves and their unique shapes.

“This is stupid,” Johnny said, kicking at a pinecone on the ground and sending it flying.

You roll your eyes, squeezing his hand, which was intertwined with yours in his jacket pocket. “You could humor me a bit.”

“What good would that do?”

You huff. “I actually quite like it out here.”

“‘m sure you do, love.”

You tap your chin with your free hand. An idea forming in your head to spice things up a bit. Or at least raise the stakes for your walk. “Like, no one would hear you scream out here, you know?” A mischievous grin curls on your lips as you look at Johnny with innocence.

“What?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed. He knew what you said, just hadn’t quite processed the implications yet.

“I said, we can go get ice cream. As a peace offering.”

Johnny removes his hand from yours, taking a step back. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t want ice cream?”

He shakes his head. “Nope. I’m actually tired. Thinking we should head back now.”

You jut your bottom lip out, enjoying the slight panic on his face. “Already?”

He spins on his heels. “Yep! Right now. Let’s go. Back in public. With people.” He urges, walking away from you at a brisk pace.

You laugh to yourself, jogging after him. He glances at you over his shoulder, clearly paranoid and you feel a little bad about it. His pace quickens and within seconds, he’s out of your line of sight and you sigh. Damn him.

You exit the trail, and back into the regular park, squinting your eyes to spot your boyfriend. You can’t find him anyway, which is weird because his mohawk makes him unmissable.

A hand taps your shoulder and you jump.

“Oh, relax,” Johnny said, holding out an ice cream cone for you. “We’re out of the woods now. Everyone would hear you scream here.”

You take the ice cream from him, glaring at him and his smug look as he remixes your words against you. “Not funny.”

“Now imagine how I felt. Except I wouldn’t really have a problem if people heard.”

“We’re going home.”

Johnny laughs madly, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “That’s all I wanted.”

Price:

You stand at the end of your hike, overlooking the view beneath you. The cliff dips into a valley, scattered with red and orange trees, the telltale sign of the approaching cold. The sun sits high in the sky, blessing you with a little warmth as the clouds drift through the breeze.

Price stands next to you, hands on his hips like a proud dad after completing the hike. He pushes his sunglasses to sit on his forehead, taking a deep breath.

“We should do this more often,” he said.

“We should,” you agree, watching a pair of hawks circle and dive. “It’s so peaceful out here.”

“So quiet,” Price added.

You hum. “No one would hear you scream.”

You knew the risk of saying something like that to your boyfriend, but you couldn’t help it. A little challenge for him.

Price doesn’t hesitate, he takes a step back from you, putting considerable distance between the two of you. His eyes scan the trees, the valley below, the space behind you — he’s clearly checking for any threats.

You take a step toward him and he holds up his hand. “No. Empty your pockets.”

“What?” You asked with a laugh.

“You wanna say shit like that? Empty your pockets,” He said again.

You stare at him, and you can see the serious look on his face. Within the minute you had uttered that sentence, you already regretted it. Leave it to John Price to take everything so seriously. Even when it was his girlfriend who could never hurt him. You sigh, dropping your phone, wallet, keys, tissues, and everything else. You stare at him. “Happy?”

“Hands up.”

“John!”

“Not hearing you out, darling.”

You begrudgingly raise your hands as he steps towards you, patting you down and inspecting the things you’ve dropped. “It was a joke.”

“Am I laughing?” His hands come to rest on your shoulders, squeezing them slightly. “Believe me, darling. You wouldn’t be able to scream before I drop you.”

You spin around to face him, a shocked look on your face. He had gotten you there. Price wouldn’t be stupid enough to let you make any noise.

“It was a joke,” He mocks you, a sly grin on his face.

You purse your lips, grabbing your things off the ground. “Point made.” Price grabs the rest of your belongings, handing them to you with that sweet smile of his.

“C’mon, let’s hike back down. We can go to your favorite sandwich place.” He places a hand on your back, leading you off the cliff.

“As long as you don’t slip poison into it.”

“No promises.”

-- END --

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