#if it looks rushed it's cause the game crashed and I felt exactly like doing that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nylibrty · 4 months ago

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wus good / curious ⸝ ⸝ ⸝ b.stewart

「pairing」 breanna stewart x rival!reader

「summary」 getting stuck in an elevator with your rival ends in unexpected ways

「cw」 smut. a lot of yap, semi-public sex, choking(??), hate sex

「notes」 elevator fic.. rushed ending my bad...

you were already in a bad mood. it was a blowout game, 98-72, your rival team winning. so when you walked down the long concrete hallways of barclays and saw the only elevator quickly closing, the anger inside you only bubbled.

from your distance, you could only make out the figure of a tall person standing in the elevator. "hey! wait—hold the door!" you shouted, picking up your pace as you approached the doors.

relief washed over you as you saw a hand poke through the closing doors to open them once more. that relief was quickly taken away from you as you saw just who exactly opened the door.

"you've got to be kidding me." you groaned under your breath.

breanna stewart—your career long rival—was standing there, a smug smirk coming across her face as she watched you walk in. "not too hurt after that loss, right?" she grinned, raising her eyebrow.

your sour mood returned just as fast as it left, thanking god you were only forced to stand so close to her for the short elevator ride. "shut up, stewart." you retort, forcing yourself into the furthest corner from her.

she let out a breathy laugh, returning to looking at whatever was on her phone.

the ride was going smoothly, you were practically counting down the seconds until you could get the hell out of this elevator and catch a cab to your hotel. the storm outside raged on, it scared you slightly, but you could never show fear to something so silly in front of your rival.

the one that you fucking despised.

the elevator shook slightly, causing breanna's head to shoot up. It abruptly stopped with a loud bang and the shaking of the elevator cab. then it went pitch black, only being slightly illuminated by the emergency light in the corner, it was small and only glowed blue.

"oh you've got to be fucking kidding me right now." you sighed, a little louder than you wanted, breanna took a step closer to you.

"no way you're scared right now," she laughed.

"how are you not?!" you let your head fall back against the metal walls of the small elevator.

"it's just the storm, it happens all the time." she shrugs, tapping the red emergency call button. but to her dismay, it didn't make the beeping noise it normally did. she gulped, fumbling her phone into her pants pocket to attempt to hit the button again. but once again, nothing happened.

"do something!" you shouted at her.

"what the fuck do you want me to do? i pressed the button!"

"i don't know, stewart! just fucking fix it so i don't have to be here with you anymore," you groaned, desperate to get out of this tiny elevator.

she scoffed, crossing her arms and stalking towards you. "how is this my fault? its not my fault your team lost."

"no, actually, it is your fault we lost. you blocked me like 50 times," you argued back. as much as you were angry at her, you couldn't help but clench your thighs together. her impossibly calm demeanor and the soft blue light glowing on her made her stupidly attractive.

"you shouldn't be so easy to block." she laughed, raising her eyebrows slightly at you.

you groaned again, only getting more annoyed by her cockiness. "i fucking hate you stew—"

and before you could finish your sentence, you felt her lips crash against yours, her slim hand finding your hair. she pulled away from you, light blue eyes looking into yours, "is this okay?" she asked, her hand still laced in your hair.

"please, stewart," you whined, your hands running down her body, attempting to grab wherever you could. before you knew it, her lips were smashing into yours once more. she overwhelmed your senses. she tasted like something was so uniquely breanna, but also of vanilla and citrus. she smelled overwhelmingly like men's cologne, almost intoxicatingly so. one of her hands planted firmly on your ass, squeezing it slightly while the other tugged your hair.

you two sat there for a moment, fully immersed in one another. breanna pulled away, out of breath, "if you're loud, i'll stop." she said firmly, her hand traveling down to the button of your jeans. with ease, she popped the button open and slid the zipper down. you whimpered at the feeling of her long, cold fingers dipping into your panties and swiping through your folds.

"somebody's excited, hm?" she teased, feeling how impossibly wet you were. you turned your head away, letting it fall gently back against the metal wall. her hand found your chin, cupping it lightly and moving your head to look at her once more.

"keep your eyes on me." her fingers dipped into your soaked cunt, sliding in easily. you struggled to hold back the moan that was forming in your throat, letting it slip. her free hand was brought up to your face, two fingers pressing on your lips, begging for entrance. you parted your lips slightly, surprised to feel her pointer and middle finger press down on your tongue.

she raised her eyebrow, "what did i say about being quiet?" you attempted to come up with a response, but were unable to say anything back due to her fingers in your mouth. she slipped them further into your mouth, causing you to gag slightly.

the pace of her fingers inside you sped up while her thumb circled tightly across your clit. you struggled to moan around her fingers, successfully keeping you quiet. she leaned into you, and you felt her hot breath against your ear while her fingers kept up a relentless pace. her other hand was snugly against your mouth, fingers deep in the back of your mouth which only added to the arousal.

a part of you hated that you were giving yourself to your rival so damn easily, but the other part knew that this was coming sooner than later. you two could feel the sexual tension every time you had a game, and you were sure as hell everybody else could, too.

you could feel your orgasm quickly approaching, her fingers moved impossibly fast, and you weren't gonna last much longer. your fingers weaved in her hair, tugging slightly. to your surprise, a small moan left her throat when you did that. you grinned at that, tugging again but harder and recieving an even louder moan in the process.

"i thou—fuck—thought i was the one who was supposed to be quiet." you grinned, still teasing her even if shes knuckle deep inside you.

"shut up," she thrusted her fingers faster into you, throwing you off the edge and head first into your orgasm. your nails clawed down her white tank top as you rode out the climax.

"doin' so good for me babygirl," she mumbled against your ear, not letting up on her pace.

as if the elevator knew, the red emergency button began to beep rapidly. breanna removed her fingers, licking them clean before walking over to the set of buttons.

"are you just gonna pretend like that didn't happen?" you frowned.

"do you still want to be in this damn elevator?"

she made a good point. while she talked to the responder through the small speaker, you stood and watched her. maybe the feelings you had towards her weren't only anger and hatred.

after what felt like forever, the cab began moving again, and you two were being pulled out of the elevator by two firefighters.

"do you wanna.. uhm, come home with me?" she asked sheepishly.

#breanna stewart #breanna stewart x reader #wnba #wbb #wnba smut

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lykaonimagines · 3 years ago

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Inked Hearts- Stephen Strange x Reader

Paring: Stephen Strange x Sorcerer F!Reader

Word Count: 3,282

Description: After five years apart, Stephen and Y/N are finally reunited and realize how deep their love for one another runs.

“I’m always coming back, you can bet on that. You’re the only place I call home.” - Only Place I Call Home by Every Avenue.

“These words you should always remember, to you, my heart I surrender.” - My Heart I Surrender by I Prevail.

Other Things: Established relationship. Post-End Game (Like immediately after). Slightly angsty but mostly loving and fluff.

Warnings: Some swearing. Suggestive in parts, but not smut. Tattoos? (Not sure if that needs to be a warning haha)

Masterlist

Stumbling from the battlefield wreckage of the Avenger compound through a portal into their bedroom, the two sorcerers stare at one another silently, the weight of the last five years finally crashing down on them.

His lover’s eyes look exhausted and dull, lacking the usual brightness in them from before The Snap. Her face littered with scars, new and old. Many he had never seen. The stress of his time gone more than evident on her features. Worn, tired, and broken she manages to smile at him as his chest aches. He caused this. His absence. His plan.

“I can’t really believe this is real,” she comments, shifting in her stance to lift a leg up and tug off her boot, swapping to the other to do the same. “It feels like you’re a dream, or figment of my mind that will disappear when I turn around. Five fucking years Stephen…”

Sending his cloak away from him, Stephen tentatively takes a step forward while offering his arms to her, “Well, I’m home now.”

Y/N rushes into his arms immediately, face buried against his neck as she lets out a choked sob. Holding her tightly to his body, he presses kisses to her hair and whispers soft assurances.

“I thought you were really gone,” she whispers a few minutes after her sobs subside, still snuggling into his embrace. “I felt like I lost part of myself.”

Stephen’s heart breaks at her words, his hand gently rubbing her back, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what exactly?”

“Not being able to tell you. Being selfish and allowing myself those last minutes in your arms. Being gone for five years. Not being here for you. You having to step up and take my place. Everything.”

“I can’t be angry with you,” she replies softly. “How can I? You did what you had to do to save the universe. My own issues kind of pale in comparison to half the population of the universe disappearing.”

“What you suffered is important to me. It was the only way we could be like this again… but I still caused you pain.”

“As I said, I knew the risks of being with you. Sacrifice for the greater good in the grand scheme of things and all that.”

“I’m going to spend every day making it up to you,” he mumbles into her hair.

“Don’t make promises we both know you can’t keep.”

Pulling back, he looks down at her tear-stained face, words caught in his throat.

“Stephen I don’t love you despite you being the one trying to keep everyone safe and making sacrifices to do that. I love you because that’s part of you. You could have stood by if you wanted, but you didn’t. You did everything you could to save as many people as you could, even if it meant losing years of your own life. I said I’d be your partner, knowing exactly who you are and what you do. And I continued being your partner, watching the Sanctum and handling threats. Because that’s who we are.”

He looks down at her mystified, her words seemingly tumbling around in his head. She had all right to be angry. To hate him. To hate their life together. Yet there she stood, holding every piece together when he couldn’t. Staring back at him with that still loving gaze.

“Close your eyes,” he whispers, leaning forward to press feather-light kisses to each of her eyelids after they flutter shut. His lips kiss a path down her nose and across her cheek. Then the lightest of brushes on the edge of her mouth as her breathing gets heavier.

“I love you, every part, every minute, every day, and every year,” he continues as he backs them toward the bed. Her legs hit the edge and he carefully hoists her up on to the mattress. “My heart belongs to you, and only you for eternity.”

Groaning at his words and touches, she squirms under him, “This sounds like a spell Stephen.”

He chuckles and his fingertips brush against her jaw, “More like a promise.”

He proceeds to trail his kisses sloppily down her neck and collarbone, just slow enough to pull his favorite sounds from her lips. His hands reaching for the hem of her shirt, his lips leaving her skin just long enough for it to pass between them.

It had been too long.

Continuing his progress down, he pauses as he notices unfamiliar ink under his nose. Leaning back to take a better look, his heart clenches.

SVS. His initials in a simple heart frame. Inked permanently in her skin, right above her own heart. Another line of text sits above it stating simply, “You’re the only place I call home.”

Reaching out, he runs his fingertips across the letters slowly before his gaze flickers to her eyes that had opened and were now studying him. “When did you get this?” he asks, coughing abruptly to hide the way his voice nearly cracked on the words.

“Three years ago,” she admits, watching his fingertips trace the ink. “After two years… I realized I needed to accept that you might not come back. There was still a part of me that wanted to believe you had some kind of plan, that you didn’t think losing half the population was a win. But I also knew it meant other things had to happen. I don’t know. It hit me on the two year anniversary of The Snap that you really weren’t going to just walk in the door suddenly. I wanted you with me somehow.”

Stephen nods slowly, still not quite believing the letters in front of him.

“When I got back from Titan, I had your… ashes on me,” she says looking past him at the wall. “Since well, you know. I couldn’t just wash them down the drain. Sort of shook them all off into a container until I got you an urn. When I decided to get the tattoo, commemorative tattoos were really big as you’d imagine. So I took some of the ashes to go in the ink.”

His fingers freeze on her skin, and his eyes drift up to meet hers, “Wait… this ink… has my ashes in it?”

Y/N nods sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck in embarrassment, “I mean… it was a big thing and I wanted you with me and it seemed like a positive way to think about it instead of returning here covered in them and-”

His lips suddenly press to hers, cutting off the stream of words. His eyes drifting shut as he desperately moves them in rhythm with hers.

Swiping his tongue over her lip and sliding his hands down to grab her hips, he smiles into the kiss as a breathy sound leaves her body.

“Stephen…” her glossy eyes stare back up at him with want as he leans back.

“We should shower first darling,” he mumbles before pressing a kiss to the center of her throat, pulling a sharp hiss from her.

“You couldn’t have started with that,” she groans and reaches up to card her fingers through his hair. “You had to wait until I’m worked up Stephen?”

“It just occurred to me I’ve spent the last five years as ash, and we both just came off a bloody dirty battlefield,” he answers, pulling her hands from his hair and pulling her up with him as he slides off the bed.

“I suppose I can agree… but Strange,” she grips his arm to pull him closer and growl in his ear. “I’ve waited years, we’re making use of that big shower.”

Turning his head to nip at her earlobe, he sends a shiver down her spine, “I was expecting nothing less.”

In the weeks following his return, Strange spent most of his time around the sanctum. Most of that time he spent attached to Y/N in some form, the two of them hating to be separated for long. But the world continued on, and they had tasks to take care of.

The most recent being a request, or maybe order, from Wong to clean the sanctum that had been partially neglected in his absence and her grief. And that’s how Stephen found himself in his office sorting through five years of un-filed paperwork.

Even with half the universe gone, Y/N had seemed to have her work cut out for her. Flicking papers this way and that toward their correct filing cabinets, Stephen pauses as he uncovers an envelope with his name on the front. Just ‘Stephen’, no postage or address of any kind.

Opening the envelope he pulls out folded paper and flips it open, stopping for a moment when he recognizes the handwriting and the date at the top of the page. A letter to him from Y/N seemingly just months before he returned. Smoothing out the folds in the paper, he starts to read.

“Stephen,

I know this is dumb. Writing you a letter again. Knowing you’ll never read it. But it’s been five years today since that bastard tore you away from me. I still spend hours thinking about what I could have done different, how it could have been different. But I know you wouldn’t have allowed it.

I dream of you every night. And for a moment it’s pure bliss. Wrapped in your arms, drunk on your lips. Your brilliant blue-green eyes full of life and love staring back into my own. And for that moment I’m lost in the ecstasy of you. Then as quickly as it came, you fade into dust in my arms and I scream for you. Chanting your name like a damn incantation until I wake up alone in our bed, heart racing, desperately searching the sheets for you. All to be smacked with reality once again. That you’re gone.

They say year after year the hurt will lessen, that the memories will fade. Then tell me why I still hear your voice as I walk the halls. Still feel your grip on my hips like your hands never left. And see your face in every crowd I pass on these busy streets. Then I look for you, and you’re not there.

I don’t think I can ever truly let go of you Stephen. I don’t want the memories to fade. Most nights I want to lose myself in my dreams, delaying the inevitable end and waking to a reality without you.

Wong says the spirit can prevail after death sometimes. At times even appearing to you when in astral form. I search for you each day and find nothing, but it gives me comfort that maybe you’re there. He says he thinks you would hang around to protect me, that it’s just your nature. And maybe you have. Maybe you can see me sitting at your desk, in your big important sorcerer chair of the ancients as I write this to you.

If you do see me, I hope I make you proud. One of the only things that keeps me going is knowing I can’t disappoint you. I can’t let you down. And that maybe one day, somehow I’ll stumble onto an answer. There’s been whispers of ideas from the Avengers. Though they all scattered to the wind after the death of Thanos. Maybe they’ll finally have found the answer. And if they have, I’ll throw my all into it. This is where I’m supposed to say it’s for the greater good, that I’ll try my hardest to save half the universe, because it’s the noble and right thing to do.

But fuck that. I do it for you. I’d scour this universe and face any danger just to hold you one more time. Maybe that makes me a bad sorcerer, maybe it makes me a bad super hero. Maybe it makes me a terrible person. Though I can’t bring myself to care anymore. Though you know me. I say I don’t care, but if there’s a scream from outside in the next five minutes, I’ll be out there in seconds.

Maybe I’ll never see you again, and I’ll grow old here in this sanctum. Until time or enemy catches up to me. Then I can only hope to be reunited with you again. The only one I ever have or ever will love. Because you’re the only place I call home, Stephen Vincent Strange.

Your Love, Y/N.”

Finishing reading the letter, Stephen wipes quickly as the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. Twisting it in between his fingers, he quickly comes up with a plan.

Pulling over a ceramic pot, he drops the letter in and snaps to set it on fire. Within seconds its ash, and he pours it into a small counter before quickly portaling out of the house on a mission.

Maybe he hadn’t completely thought this through, he cringes after the second time of Y/N putting her hand on his sore chest. Trying to smile through the pain, he knows he does a poor job.

And an even poorer job of hiding it in general. He never slept with a shirt. He always wanted to shower with her. She was getting suspicious of the number of times he’d magic-ed his clothing change and rushed off to Kamar-Taj the last few days.

“Ok that’s it,” Y/N finally snaps, pulling Stephen closer to her by his shirt. “You’re hurt and hiding it, I know it. Off with the shirt.”

“It’s nothing darling,” he tries to lie, flashing her his most charming smile.

“Charm doesn’t work when I’m worried about your health Strange. Shirt. Off.”

Sighing in defeat, he finally pulls his shirt from his body, smiling at the small gasp from Y/N.

“Is that… a tattoo?” she asks as she leans in for a closer look, her mouth snapping shut as she reads it. “You got this for me?”

“I was hoping to give it a few more days to heal before you saw it,” he admits sheepishly, looking down at the ink.

A matching heart to her own ink, but with her own initials in it. And a line of text above it proclaiming, “To you, my heart I surrender.”

“I-I don’t know what to say,” Y/N mumbles in awe, fighting back the tears that start to drip down her cheeks.

“Hey, hey, it’s meant to be a happy thing, not sad,” he coos, pulling her into his embrace. “My love for you.”

“I love it,” she says with a sniffle, fingers running along the open skin near the tattoo. “What prompted this surprise?”

“I found your letter.”

“Letter?”

“The one you wrote to me a few months ago.”

“Oh… that was probably a depressing read.”

“Hard to read yes, but also the single most heartfelt and lovely thing I’ve ever read as well. And that’s why I burned it and put it in the ink.”

“You put ashes from that letter in your tattoo ink?”

“If yours has some of me in it, mine needed something of you. Besides, it sounds more mystic and magical when you say it that way.”

“I’d commend your flair for the dramatics, but I’m the one that started this trend so I can’t,” she smiles, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips.

“Oh wait, there is more. Something I found in a tome at Kamar-Taj,” he says motioning for her to remove her shirt as well.

“You learned something at Kamar-Taj that involves me removing my shirt? Should I be jealous?” she teases as she removes the fabric.

“Previously I would have said a little jealousy is good,” he mutters as he steps in closer to her, running his hand down her bare arm. “But I don’t think devotion is something we’re struggling with, darling. So it’s just wasted time. I’ve also just branded myself with the initials of a Master of the Mystic Arts, I don’t think my charm or wit is enough for someone to risk your wrath.”

“Fair point Strange. Besides, I trust you, I’m just teasing,” she smiles up at him. “Now show me this trick of yours.”

“It’s simple really,” he comments as he quickly moves his hands and she feels a warmth on her chest. As he lowers his hands, he looks at her with a satisfied smirk. “Perfect.”

“I spoke too soon,” she laughs as she looks down at the orange glow coming from her tattoo. “You’ve brought the dramatics afterall.”

“Well if you don’t like it…” he begins as he raises his hands.

Quickly grabbing his hands in her own, she pulls him closer instead, “I never said that. Though I think yours should match.”

“It will,” he nods, rubbing his thumb along her knuckles. “Once it’s healed and not aching every time it’s touched.”

“Have you been keeping it clean Doctor?” she asks leaning in to take a better look. “Because it looks like you aren’t doing the proper after care there.”

Stephen blinks at her slowly, mouth agape, “I can keep a tattoo clean, I have a Ph.D in medicine Y/N.”

“Has it started peeling at all yet?”

“Yes.”

“Are you still using the ointment, just washing, or what?”

“Just washing it.”

“When it peels you switch to a gentle lotion, I’ll let you borrow some, it’ll help,” she nods as she pats the center of his chest.

“Since when did you become an expert on tattoos hm?” he asks with a raised brow.

“Since I didn’t want to have to tell anyone you gave me an infection. Being it’s your ashes and all,” she grins, taking a step back and toward their bathroom.

“You would,” he mutters, sliding up behind her to wrap his arms around her waist.

“How about you go get comfy and I’ll come back with the lotion… and maybe I’ll even rub it in for you,” she says, chuckling as he shudders at her hips pressing back into him.

“Just on the tattoo?” he whispers in her ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down her spine.

“I could be persuaded to do a bit more,” she remarks, bringing her hand up grip the back of his hair as he lets out a hiss. “That is, if you’re a good boy and go wait on the bed for me.”

“Consider me an excellent boy then,” he says as he detangles himself from her and crosses the room to throw himself onto the large bed. “But you’ve got two minutes to grab that and get your ass back in here, or I’m coming in for you.”

Crossing over into their bathroom, Y/N digs out the bottle she was looking for and briefly looks up in the mirror. A smile plastered across her face and her hair a mess, it’s the first time she’s seen herself actually look happy in… who even knows.

Clutching the bottle to her chest, she slips back into their bedroom and leans against the doorframe as she observes her sorcerer.

His frame draped casually across the bed, his hands moving quickly as he forms various shapes with his magic in the air above him. The soft glow of the magic lighting up his handsome features as he goes. After a few moments his head turns toward her, his loving gaze holding her still in the moment as a lazy smile spreads across his face and the magic dissipates, his hand reaching out inviting her onto the bed.

Five years was a long time. But it was worth every second.

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nctsworld · 4 years ago

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completely floored

✩ jeno x reader | best friends to lovers | fluff | smut | 1.5k

SUMMARY | who knew gaming on the floor like you two used to could change everything between you and your best friend? WARNINGS | smut, floor s*x, oral s*x (m receiving) RATING | mature PROMPT | staring at each other’s lips for a moment before giving in REQ BY | anonymous

AUTHOR’S NOTE | bless up for the boring jalapeno teasers to give me inspo and i’ve been wanting to write jeno for a long time so hehe i also haven’t played uno in forever sorry if there’s anything off

In Jeno’s basement rental suite, you two are sitting comfortably near each other on his carpeted floor, playing Halo together with your backs leaning against his worn-down sofa.

“You doing okay?” Jeno asks with care, glancing over at your side of the TV screen where you’re blatantly struggling to stay alive from the onslaught of enemies. His gaze then falls on you for a second.

“Yep, doing great,” you singsong, sarcasm laced in your tone. He catches sight of you sticking out your tongue in frustration.

Jeno’s not sure why the expression from you comes off more cute to him than usual. He smiles to himself in amusement and turns his attention back to the game.

It’s been about six months since you’ve last hung out one on one with him. Third year of university has been busy for both of you, but you’ve managed to find some free time now that finals were finally over this semester.

And it feels exactly like old times from high school when you two used to sit on the floor at his parents’ house, gaming until the sun rose.

But things have definitely changed since then.

Like how gorgeous Jeno has gotten.

When you unsurprisingly die and have to wait to respawn until Jeno plows through the current batch of enemies, you waste your time in noticing his chiseled jaw line, the sexiness in his confident grin, and the raw attractiveness that exudes from him.

You shake your thoughts away, attributing them to how you probably just missed hanging out with him, along with the fact that you’ve been single for way too long.

After a couple more rounds of Halo, Uno replaces it as the next game of choice. Still on the floor, you’re now facing each other. About a few feet apart from you, Jeno has a leg pulled nearby to his chest, his arm resting on his raised knee. On the flipside, you’re sitting with lax legs bent onto their sides, parallel to the carpet.

The early rounds of Uno are peaceful, but as it progresses, playful competitiveness emerges. The game shifts drastically when Jeno suddenly plays a handful of draw four cards.

Your jaw swings open, shocked that he held onto so many for so long, and you complain about the unfairness of the situation. Smugly, Jeno shrugs and retorts back that’s simply how the game works.

Twisting your mouth to one side and squinting your eyes, you then drop your cards in a teasing state of anger and launch yourself towards him. Your best friend merely laughs as you attempt to punch him in the arm.

However, things take an unexpected turn. You lose balance and accidentally topple him down towards the carpet, your chest pressing atop of his.

Your faces are inches apart from one another. You’re both heavily breathing, practically inhaling the other’s air.

Each parties’ eyes flickers towards the other’s lips. Your gaze lingers longer than it should and you reprimand yourself because this is your best friend—your drop, dead gorgeous best friend who is looking at your lips with the same craving.

Chest to chest, your hearts race together, pounding against the other almost in sync. Carefully, with a gulp, Jeno gently palms your cheek. Your eyelids flutter to a close.

Lips meet and collide, and you lay your hands on the planes of his chest. You’ve always felt safe around Jeno, but you’ve never felt more safe with him than like this.

Soon enough, the kissing escalates, transforming into ones that drip of neediness and burning desire. Your touches dig deeper into each other. Throughout it, your shirt is thrown aside and you quickly attach yourself back onto him to help him rid of his layers.

Marking his body with a trail of hot kisses, you slowly make your descent towards his significantly hard desire. Seeing him shirtless is nothing new, but now that you have him up-close and all to yourself, you traverse his beauty without hurry.

Peeking up at him when you reach his abs, you see him looking right back with an intent, ravenous stare. Because you’re not used to it, you feel a tingle in your cheeks and brush some hair behind your ear as you continue your trek.

Once at your destination, you strip him of his jeans and brief-boxers. Gasping silently at the sight, his sizable cock springs out and slaps against his stomach. You lick your lips, wanting his length immediately in your mouth. Instead, you restrain yourself and leave feathery kisses upon it.

Jeno sighs at the minimal sensation, his erection twitching in yearning for more. His sighs melt, replaced by sharp gasps and the ruffling of eyebrows as you devour him whole. For what you can’t engulf with your mouth, you pump with your hand.

“God...” he pants, eyeing you closely with with his hands behind his head, bare arms flexing delectably. Saliva begins to pool around his base as you suck endlessly. He peels a hand away and runs his fingers through your hair. “You’re so beautiful.”

Coming up for air, you chuckle as you stroke him steadily. “You’re saying that ‘cause I just sucked you off.”

“No.” Jeno strongly disagrees, a stern glimmer obvious in his eye. Shaking his head, he rises onto his forearms and leans in right up to your face.

Your best friend whispers the following into your mouth as he rubs his thumb tenderly over your cheek—

“I’ve always thought you were beautiful.”

Another kiss, but this time, lips are crashing fiercely, like it’s the last time you’d ever kiss anybody. Jeno caresses your upper body and similarly, your hand continues to squeeze and jerk him off. Impatiently, you stand to hurriedly remove your bra and tug your bottoms off.

Jeno’s tongue drags along his lower jaw when you rush to your purse to grab a condom; he watches attentively at the perfect view of your ass.

You scuttle back and ease the rubber onto him, and within seconds, you’re sitting on his length. Once he’s completely inside, an acute throaty moan pierces the room and your head cranes back. You’ve never had anyone fill you up so full before, and yet, it doesn’t take much time to acclimatize to his girth.

Riding him, you bounce relentlessly with your weight on your knees and your hands graze his upper frame. You’re gone, blinded by ecstasy, but Jeno’s hazy look doesn’t stray from you.

His pretty fingers glide upward over your stomach, then over your breasts. At first, he thumbs your nipples to play with you prior to kneading them hungrily in their entirety.

Without warning, Jeno seizes your back with one hand and brings himself up, snatching your breasts into his mouth.

“Fuck, Jeno,” you exhale in pleasure, sinking your nails into his flexed back and shoulders. “What are we doing?”

“Do you wanna stop?” he asks between the snug puckering of his lips around your nubs.

“No, no,” you immediately reply, shaking your head profusely. “You feel too fucking good...”

When he’s finished loving your breasts, you gesture for him to lean back down during a kiss. Like before when you fell on him in the beginning, your chests are glued together again, this time now sans clothes.

Your lips maneuver over to his neck, attacking him with kisses, and you fuck him with the your ass jutting out. The wet slaps of your sexes intermingling, Jeno’s panting, and your whines penetrate your surroundings.

“I’m close, I’m close...” he says, his eyes rolling to the back of his head in timing for what’s about to happen.

Dragging yourself away from his neck, you kiss him fervently while you fasten your pace. He moans into your mouth as he unravels, his sweaty palms relaxing against your perspired back. You follow right after, practically reaching your peaks together.

After a few moments, you roll off and lay beside him. Both of you pant towards the ceiling in disbelief. The disbelief that runs through you is immersed with an underlying fear.

“Maybe I should get going...” you say unsurely, sitting up and looking at your clothes at the other side of the floor.

Just because you’ve had sex with him, it doesn’t mean Jeno still isn’t your best friend, nor does it rid of the fact that he knows your change of emotions like the back of his hand. He sits up too, warmly wraps an arm around your shoulder, and kisses the top of your nude arm.

“How about one more game?” he mumbles into your skin.

“Which game?” you whisper curiously.

One more peck, this time on your cheek.

“The game called Stay the Night.”

Your head turns to face him, gazes converging. He flashes you his saccharine smile, his eyes following suit and smiling as well.

“Can’t play it without you, but only if you want to.” He rubs the tip of his nose against yours, causing you to giggle. “What do you say?”

You get lost in his eyes, realizing that maybe you’ve always had something for Jeno, whether you were conscious of it or not.

Despite it all, you know your feelings aren’t unrequited. They can’t be, not with the way he’s looking at you as if you’re his entire world right now.

In response to his proposition, you lean in for another kiss. It’s definitely not the last kiss you give him tonight.

Not by a long shot.

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lepusrufus · 4 years ago

Photo

Some (slightly angsty) vamp fam being wholesome and loving each other bc we need it

Now keep in mind I’m in no way a writer but i wanted to write a teeny lil fic based around this sketch (the alternative was a short comic which i do not have the time for lol) so enjoy the angst and fluff under the cut

The frigid wind was howling outside, crashing against the towers of the Dimitrescu castle. Yet they stood tall and proud as they have for centuries now, the thick stone walls protecting its inhabitants from the winter cold.

On the inside, the halls were filled with echoes of heels running across the polished floors, accompanied by the giggles and laughter of the three daughters of the house. Cassandra was in the lead, a comically large hat held in her gloved hands, followed by Bela and, lagging behind, their youngest sister Daniela. She deliberately stayed behind to -jokingly of course- mock their pursuer’s efforts to catch up. Each time she turned to yell a “we cannot be captured” or “give up and we may spare your hat” a small sigh escaped their mother’s lips.

“Come now, daughters. You know as well as I do that I must get ready for tonight’s meeting.”

Alcina made no efforts to quicken her pace though, she knew that her mischievous daughters would not run too far ahead. After all, where is the fun in having so much distance between you and your pursuer that you can’t even see and make fun of them. At least that’s what Daniela always said.

Despite her air of tiredness, Alcina couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips at the sound of her beloved daughters’ giggles. They may be up to no good occasionally, but they knew better than to cause their mother embarrassment, especially when it came to Mother Miranda. The meeting was still distant. For now she could afford to spend some time with them.

The trio rounded a corner, the first two quickly slipping out of sight while Daniela lingered there and turned towards her mother.

“Fine, we’ll give you the hat back,” she shouted and, for a second Alcina looked at her daughter hopefully, until she held her chin between two fingers in an exaggerated pensive expression. “If we can get a pet lycan!"

Alcina grimaced at the mere thought of one of Heisenberg’s beasts coming even close to her castle. Her clean castle.

"Never."

"Good luck then!"

Daniela spun on her heels to follow her sisters, but lost her balance for a moment, slamming an elbow against the window placed right behind her for support. She had a tendency to get a little clumsy when excited, though it never became a problem bigger than a couple insignificant vases getting broken or an accidental -according to her- shove against her sisters. That is, until today.

The latch on the old window rattled from the combined force of Daniela’s hit and the wind outside that has been pushing against it all day long. This was the final hit that it needed to give out. The window opened forcefully, letting in a cold burst of winter air from outside that howled through the hallway. Daniela got knocked to the ground, more due to the pain caused by the chilly air than from its force, and instinctively tried to crawl away from the window while shielding herself from the cold as best as she could. The pain, however, became quickly unbearable and an agonized scream that bordered on a guttural grow pierced the howling of the wind.

"Mom!” Daniela called out desperately, now balling up in the fetal position.

Her mother however was not far, having witnessed the whole ordeal and now rushing towards her with heavy steps from the other side of the hall. Even the other two, hearing Daniela’s scream, dropped their game and came back for their sister.

“Dani- "

Bela had to quickly grab Cassandra’s shoulder to stop her at a safe distance. As much as it pained her to see her younger sister writhing in pain on the floor, she knew that all three of them being in that state would get impossible for their mother to handle. And Alcina indeed handled it. She was at her youngest’s side in mere seconds, forcefully shutting the damned window with just enough self control so as to not shatter it, and then knelt down to Daniela’s shivering form. She gently scooped her up in her arms, holding her close to her body and almost wincing at how badly she was shaking.

Alcina spared only a glance towards the elder daughters "Go around. Meet me in my chambers,” came her booming voice and, although she wasn’t mad at them, they couldn’t help the shiver that ran down their spines.

“Yes mother,” they replied in unison and the next second a swarm of insects had replaced their bodies.

The journey to Alcina’s chambers was little more than a quick blur of hallways and heavy booming footsteps. She shoved the door open, crouching to enter and made a beeline for the pile of blankets neatly placed on the bed. Daniela was lowered down on one of the thicker covers so that her mother could wrap her up in a better attempt at warming her up. She then was promptly picked back up, now cocooned in the soft blanket, and Alcina went to sit on the couch placed right in front of the fireplace while tightly holding her daughter in her arms.

Contrary to popular belief, Alcina’s body was quite warm to the touch, unlike her daughters’ cold skin. On chilly winter nights it was common occurrence for the girls to come to her, demanding cuddles with the excuse that their rooms felt too cold. She always complied, gladly allowing all three of them to huddle around her like kittens for a bit of extra warmth.

Which is exactly what Daniela was doing right now, her small body almost glued to her mother’s chest and her head shoved in the crook of Alcina’s neck. One hand was covering her face, muffling the sound of sobs, while the other was damn near clawing at her shoulder trying to hold the blanket tightly around herself. It pained Alcina deeply to see her in such a sorry state. Her hands were tightly holding her daughter and she bent down to kiss the top of her head, whispering gentle words of encouragement.

A slight buzzing sound reached her ears as Bela and Cassandra entered the room, their expressions riddled with worry. Bela wordlessly approached the fireplace, it’s flames dying down from not being fed in a while, and added a couple logs that quickly ignited, casting a warm light on the room and its current inhabitants. Cassandra on the other hand was standing a couple feet away from her mother, not knowing what to do. The hat was still in her hands, her grip tightening further with each muffled sob that could be heard from Daniela. It took a few moments for Alcina to notice her, but when she did, she called her to sit by their side with a slight motion of her head. Cassandra was happy to oblige, quickly sitting down by her mother and helping her with keeping Daniela wrapped in the soft blanket. Bela joined them too after taking care of the fire. She knelt in front of Daniela and started to slowly rub her shoulder hoping to bring some comfort while her other hand went to Cassandra’s.

They sat like that until sobs turned into soft sniffles and until those died down too. Daniela stopped shivering and was instead just enjoying the warmth of her mother’s embrace, recovering from the whole ordeal. Until she let out a sigh, still not budging however.

“Well that sucked major ass."

Cassandra couldn’t stop the small chuckle that escaped her lips at the sight of Alcina fighting the urge to reprimand her youngest for her choice of words. When she looked at Bela, she saw the same struggle to keep a straight face. The very air in the room seemed lighter, no longer carrying the very real possibility of one of them dying.

"No more heels for you. From now on you can only wear flats,” Bela said teasingly, finally allowing her shoulders to relax.

“You’re only mad I’m taller than you,” came Daniela’s reply, who had turned around in her mother’s arms to give her sister a light shove.

Bela gasped, indignated, and went for a rebuttal, but was promptly interrupted by Cassandra’s sudden burst of laughter. She buried her face in her hands, muffling the sound, and leaned against her mother.

Alcina finally managed to let out a sigh of relief, her grip on Daniela loosening, and she leaned back against the soft cushions of the sofa. She closed her eyes, just reveling in the sound of her daughters giggling and throwing light teases at each other as if the last half an hour or so did not happen. These girls were really able to bounce back from anything.

But that was still a close call. She was already making plans to have someone come to the castle and repair any old window with a faulty lock so that such an accident would not repeat itself. It wasn’t unusual for things in a castle to get old and less effective as they once were, but Alcina couldn’t help blaming herself for not properly upkeeping her home. Her and her daughters’ home.

A shift from the three girls pulled her back from her thoughts. Bela got up to sit by her side, now all of them huddled around her and giggling at whatever joke Daniela just made.

She could have a maid call the repairman later. Right now she just wanted to enjoy the quality time with her daughters, in the safety of her warm room. Not that the girls seemed to have any plans of letting her get up anyways.

#we al need some fluff okay #hope yall enjoy this have mercy of my writing skills #lady dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #resident evil village #my art #fanfic

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sleeping-on-cracking-ice · 4 years ago

Note

hiya there! i love your work and i was wondering if i could request a Chishiya fic where its 3 times the reader almost kisses him and the one time he kisses them OR 3 times they almost confess their feelings and the one time Chishiya confesses his feelings. its up to you! :D

Thanks for you request! Here you go! 😉

Interrupted Confessions | Shuntaro Chishiya

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

{Main Masterlist}

Character(s): Chishiya (ft. Niragi, middle-aged woman from the second game, OC, Aguni, militants)

Summary: You and Chishiya keep trying to confess your feelings for one another, but something always seems to come between you when you finally get the chance

Warnings: drinking (reader), violence, mention of dying/death, guns, gunshots, panicking, mild angst

Word Count: 2.5k

*reader is gender-neutral

Chishiya wasn’t the best at expressing his emotions, especially when it came to romantic feelings. He appeared so confident and smug most of the time, but if someone was to even give him a bouquet of flowers or wink in his direction, his sarcastic remarks become caught in his throat and he doesn’t know how to react.

He could tell that you held romantic emotions for him. He was a people watcher, so he knows how people act when they feel that way. For ages, he tried to ignore the fact that you liked him, but as time pressed on and he began noticing you a lot more during games and at The Beach, he could slowly feel himself develop feelings for you back.

He knew he had to tell you soon enough, but every time he tried to open up to you, the world just didn’t allow him to have the chance.

************

1st Attempt

The first attempt Chishiya had at trying to express his interest in you was at The Beach.

It was a usual late night, everyone dancing and singing on the big patio of the hotel, allowing themselves to indulge in the delusional thoughts of being safe and sound, not having to worry about their lives for the time that the alcohol infected their hearts and minds.

You had had a few drinks, beginning to feel a little light headed yourself. You had dragged Chishiya down to the bar with you, convincing him to keep you company due to not being able to find Kuina or Usagi. Chishiya gladly went along, wanting to make sure you didn’t over do it and end up getting yourself hurt.

You sat on a stool at the bar, leaning on the wooden bench and staring down into your empty cocktail glass. Chishiya leant on the bar next to you, scanning the crowd of rowdy and social people. It was entertaining, watching people being drunken idiots.

He glanced over to you as you placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Chishiya,” you mumbled. “Have a shot. I feel bad for being the only one ordering. You’re making me look like an alcoholic.” You nudged a small glass filled to the brim with liquor in his direction, trying to encourage him to drink it.

Chishiya smirked as you looked at him pleadingly. He lifted his hand out of his white hoodie pocket and pet your head playfully. “No thanks Y/N. A matter of fact, I think you’ve had quite a bit.”

He could tell the intoxicating alcohol was beginning to get to you as he saw your eyes begin to gloss over. Your movements became a little more lazy and disorientated.

You pouted and looked into his piercing eyes that filled with the unfamiliar feeling of care and concern for you. “Just one more cocktail? We haven’t even been down here for long and you already want to leave,” you groaned, turning back to the bar to shout for the bartender.

Chishiya rolled his eyes and chuckled at you. You were lucky he liked you. If anyone else was to act the way you did around him, they would irritate him like no tomorrow.

Around half an hour later, Chishiya and you were strolling up the stairs to the roof, wanting to escape the chaotic ground level that pounded heavily as the bass in each song seemed to become more and more powerful, beginning to make your head hurt.

Chishiya and you giggled together as you tripped up the stairs slightly, being able to catch yourself before you face planted. Chishiya held a firm grip on your shoulders, making sure you don’t end up hurting yourself.

“You’re such a lil’ goose,” he laughed, turning his head towards you with a wide smile across his face, showing off his cute teeth. You smacked his cheek lightly, being embarrassed from his intense stare, considering how close his lips were to yours. “Shut up, you’re no better when you’re drunk. Last time you drank, I had to drag your ass up all these stairs like a baby. And you’re much heavier than you look.”

Chishiya laughed, and in a moment of bravery, he lifted a hand and gently stroked his knuckles across your face. Your skin was hot and soft under his touch, making him feel warm inside and gaze lovingly at you.

Silence took over the atmosphere, and you both stood still in the hallway together and stared into each other’s eyes. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol talking, but the warm lights made Chishiya’s skin glow beautifully, and you didn’t think he had ever looked so gorgeous.

“Y/N,” he whispered. “Can I do something?” His heart was pounding so loudly, he was afraid you would be able to hear it through his chest. Why was he suddenly feeling brave?

You smirked and cocked your head to the side, pretending to not understand what he wanted. “And what would that be?” you questioned in a playful tone.

Chishiya took his arm off your shoulder and placed it against your other cheek, holding your face delicately in his hands so he could keep you looking at him. “This.”

Just as Chishiya was slowly leaning in to crash his lips onto yours, you both suddenly heard a deafening bang down the hall. The sound made you both quickly jump apart in fright, snapping your heads to see what caused the noise.

There stood none other than Niragi, having just kicked a young woman into the wall across from the room they came from.

“Locking doors I see? What exactly do you have to hide?!”

Chishiya and you stood completely still as you watched Niragi stride over to the woman and grip a fist full of her hair, pulling her up and making her scream in pain.

“Y/N, come on,” Chishiya said quietly next to you, sounding rushed.

You looked at him confused. “What? We can’t just leave her,” you said, stumbling after him as he dragged you by your wrist, trying to pull you away from the scene.

“It’s not our business. She went against the rules, we can’t defend her.”

That wasn’t true. He could easily take on Niragi to help the girl, and so could have you. But considering your state at the moment, and Chishiya’s main concern being your safety around Niragi, he just wanted to leave to get you safe again.

Your safety was more important than a small kiss or saving a girl who broke the rules.

*************

2nd Attempt

Chishiya’s second attempt to admit his romantic feelings towards you occurred at a game together.

The game was held in an apartment complex. Luckily, you two had managed to be put into the same group, meaning you could work together to survive. Two militants from The Beach also joined you, one of them being Aguni. Chishiya and you knew you wouldn’t receive any help from them, so you decided to just stick to you two for this one.

The game was a five of spades. The players had to find a safe zone to turn off a bomb within the time limit without getting killed by the ‘Tagger’.

As soon as the game began, you suggested to Chishiya to go to the top level, as you would be able to get a good view from there and be able to determine the Tagger’s patterns and habits to take note when searching for the unlocked door.

You both stood at the end of the top floor, having a clear view of the many levels and seeing all the players scattered in different positions.

You felt your heart sink as you saw a middle aged lady with a handbag on one of the middle levels. She was alone, looking around confused. It made you guilty that you couldn’t do anything to help her.

“As usual,” you heard Chishiya mumble beside you. You glanced at him and saw him scanning the players before continuing. “Everyone looks like they’re about to die.”

You blinked at his statement, looking back over the edge of the concrete railing. The vast sea of darkness that became darker the further it was away from the game made you feel empty. It purely just appeared like a black hole, waiting to suck you back into it’s depressive atmosphere.

“Sounds about right,” you responded to Chishiya.

Chishiya turned his head towards you, feeling his white locks become tangled together from the wispy wind. He examined your features as you stared over the area, admiring the way your skin glowed in the fluorescent lights. He looked down to your legs, hearing your shoe lightly tap anxiously on the ground.

He slid closer to you on the railing, placing a soft hand on your thigh to still your shaking leg and placed his chin on your shoulder before speaking softly. “Don’t be scared, I’ll protect you.”

You turned your head slowly towards him, seeing your lips only inches apart once again. You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “As if I need protection,” you teased.

Chishiya huffed, hiding his face in your hair in fear of you seeing the blush creeping onto his cheeks. You smiled at his movements. “You’re a bit clingy today, aren’t you?”

From that comment, Chishiya pulled his head back and looked into your eyes. His emotions were bouncing around his mind, making his heart beat quickly in confusion. Why couldn’t he just say it? Either of you could die at any time, why was he wasting time?

A piercing sound filled the air, and you gripped the back of Chishiya’s hoodie to roughly pull him to the harsh ground. Your reflexes went into overdrive as the gunshots rang. You glanced towards the hall on your right, in fear of seeing the tagger there. But luckily he wasn’t.

“Y/N, look.”

You looked towards Chishiya to see him standing over the railing again. You scrambled to your feet and stood beside him, following his line of sight.

A door a few levels down had several bullet holes around the sides of it. The tagger had tried to shoot someone there from a different level.

“He hasn’t done that yet. He’s trying to protect it,” Chishiya theorized. You nodded and pushed off the railing. “Come on, we don’t have much time left.”

You both quickly entered the lift and selected the floor the damaged door was on.

As you both stood in silence, Chishiya’s words that almost poured out of his mouth before still rang in his ears.

‘I’m clingy because you make me feel safe.’

When will he ever have the chance again to tell you that?

He promised himself that if you both survived that game, he would confess to you before your next game. Because who knows what the game makers would make you do next? For all he knew, it could get you killed, and he would never be able to get to tell you how he feels.

************ 3rd Attempt

Surprisingly, Chishiya wasn’t the one to confess his feelings first. You were able to bring enough courage together to say it to him, but it wasn’t under the best circumstances.

He always envisioned his confession to you as being sweet and loving. He dreamed of telling you how he felt underneath the stairs on the roof, like a cliché romance movie.

But he didn’t get that chance.

You and him were huddled together in the corner of a trashed room. Chishiya held you tightly against his chest, patting your head to try and ease your rapidly beating heart and nervous breaths.

“Shh,” he whispered, his voice shaking slightly. “It’s okay. This’ll be over soon, and we can leave. We can find somewhere else to go.”

Gunshots rang outside the door of the room you were hidden in. Chishiya felt you flinch at every bang, making his heart sink lower and lower. He hated not being able to comfort you, it made him feel sick almost.

The Beach had become a game arena. Aguni has demanded the militants to kill everyone on sight so he could find the witch the hard way. As soon as Niragi had yelled and shot several bullets to the ceiling, sending everyone into a sudden panic, Chishiya didn’t even give you time to think before grabbing your arm and dragging you hurryingly away from the lobby to hide from the militants.

So there you were, trying to make yourselves as small as possible behind a turned over table in the corner of a pitch black hotel room. Chishiya thought it was best not to hide in his room or your room because the militants would look there first to find you.

Chishiya lifted his face from the top of your head to glance towards the door. He sobbed slightly in fear as he saw shadows through the small crack at the bottom of the door. People were running back and forth through the halls screeching for help, trying to escape the murderous militants.

He felt you wrap your hand around his upper back and tuck your face into his neck, causing your tears to make his sensitive skin wet, not that he really cared.

He sighed heavily, trying to relax into your touch. It was deemed impossible to be calm, but having you there with him brought him more relief than anything else could’ve in that moment.

Chishiya placed his cheek on your head, snuggling into you and inhaling your scent. “I-I’m sorry,” you mumbled out.

Chishiya frowned at your apology. “Why are you saying sorry?” he asked.

“I-I’m sorry,” you cried quietly again. “I’m so in love with you Chishiya, and I’m so sorry that I’ve waited until now to say it. But I’m afraid if I don’t, I won’t get another chance.”

Chishiya felt his heart stop in his chest. Silence fell over both of you, but then Chishiya placed a soft hand on your jaw to lift your teary face to face his.

“You idiot,” he laughed, tears still streaming down his smooth cheeks. “You’re an idiot. You should’ve told me this sooner, I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to tell you the exact same thing.”

His words only made you sob harder, pushing your face towards him to share a desperate kiss. It was messy and emotional, but that kiss alone was enough to make both of you understand how much you truly cared.

Whether you both lived or died at that moment didn’t matter to either of you, all that mattered was that Chishiya finally crawled out of his shell to let you in, and you had finally been able to create the courage to express what you truly felt about him.

*****************

3 Months Later...

The breeze flew gently past your body, making your skin develop small goosebumps at the cold feeling. Your eyes scanned over the vast ocean of water in front of you, almost being blinded from the morning sun reflecting off the surface.

You glanced behind you quickly when you heard light taps of feet against the grassy ground. Chishiya walked away from the tent and rubbed his eyes. He sat next to you, but not without giving you a soft kiss on the cheek.

“Good morning baby,” he whispered into your ear. You smiled at the pet name, turning your head and placing your lips against his. “Good morning.”

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plus-size-reader · 4 years ago

Text

Hack Job

Jerome Valeska x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2315 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Jerome comes back from the dead with his face stapled on and she needs to help him put it back

—————————————————————————————————

You were bored.

Gotham was the kind of city where you could never really know what to expect, and you had to be ready for anything. There was always something going on, or going wrong, but tonight, that didn’t seem to be the case.

It was an unusually quiet Friday night, with nothing of note happening, and really, you were glad for it.

Having nothing going on was better than having to deal with the truth.

Since Jerome was killed, nothing had the same gusto as before. You didn’t find anything exciting, or worthwhile and that didn’t seem to be changing anytime soon.

You missed him.

So, rather than think about anything else, you decided to keep doing what you’d been doing all this time. You were going to spend the rest of your life on your couch with a bucket of popcorn and shitty news coverage.

Shitty news coverage all about Jerome.

Evidently, the rest of the world was celebrating the death of the man you loved, even though you were more miserable than you had ever been. You didn’t want to do this whole thing without him.

Even tonight, which started out fairly normal, was dull and dreary.

You had a pint of your favorite ice cream and a spoon, as well as the newest episode of your favorite show, but you couldn't have cared at all.

Nothing was going to make you feel better.

Unfortunately though before you could feel too bad for yourself, all that had to be put on hold when the doorbell of your apartment went off, echoing through the small space like the abrasive chiming of church bells.

“Coming” you groaned, standing from your couch with a groan, leaving the old blanket you had been cuddled up with in your place. You were desperately hoping they would just go away.

You weren’t in the mood for any company but you knew that whoever it was would just keep knocking. In this city, you were painfully aware of everyone who lived around here and they all sucked.

They wouldn’t go away.

...But it wasn’t like something terrible was going to happen.

You had no idea who could be visiting at this hour, but you doubted anyone would try to pull anything on you.

Everyone knew you as Jerome Valeska’s girlfriend so they didn’t dare inflict the wrath of his killer cult, who basically worshiped you as a goddess, even now.

The fact that Jerome was gone wasn’t going to change the way they felt about him, or how they felt about you by proximity. As long as you were alive, everything that Jerome had believed in was alive.

That was all they needed.

However, the moment the door swung open, you knew your ice cream would be long forgotten, left to melt without a doubt.

After all, the last thing you expected to see on a Friday night was your dead boyfriend but in Gotham you had to be ready for anything.

“Jerome?”

The word came out as a single gasp from the back of your throat, your jaw slack as you tried to collect yourself. All that did, of course, was cause hot tears to spill from your eyes and down your cheeks.

It was weird.

You had never been super emotional, in all your life, but for some reason, this was really getting to you. You couldn’t handle the rush of emotion that hit you as you tried to fathom a million things at once.

Jerome was dead.

You had seen him die, and the coverage of his murder was all over the news. It wasn’t like you’d imagined the whole thing, or forgotten to take your medicine again.

It was real.

Though, before you could get too worked up in that, you pulled Jerome into your body as tightly as you could. You didn’t want him to disappear again, even if you couldn’t figure out how this happened.

It didn’t really matter as long as he wasn’t going anywhere.

You sighed, taking in his scent as deeply as you could just to make sure that he was really here.

He smelled faintly like formaldehyde but buried beneath all that was his calming scent that a few moments ago, you would have killed to smell again.

Somehow, you’d managed to forget just how much it meant to you.

“Are you real?” you whispered into the crease of his neck. You were no stranger to the odd hallucination in the past, but this was much more than that.

Hallucinating Jerome like this would be far too cruel to handle.

“Course I am” he grinned, pulling you closer before letting go completely, heading inside the apartment as if he owned it, which technically he did. After all, you’d bought it with the money he’d stolen.

The scene that Jerome walked into was hilarious, it was as if he hadn’t even left and you had been waiting for him to return.

The blanket you had been cuddling with was the only thing that was out of place, it had come from his closet, not from your shared bed.

He picked it up and looked back at you in questioning with a smirk dressing his lips. “It smelled like you” you level, shrugging and making your way over to him, before crashing down next to his body on the couch.

It was just like it always was, like it should have been all along.

You let yourself melt into his chest as you crawled into his lap, letting him wrap the before-mentioned blanket around you both as you moved closer.

...but there was one thing that you’d yet to address, and one thing that you needed to talk about.

Jerome wasn’t completely the same as you remembered because as you snuggled into him and let your fingers dance over the skin of his jaw, you were met with the cold chill of metal.

That was certainly new.

You pulled your hand away quickly and looked up at him in shock “What was that?” you whisper, keeping your voice low so as to not disturb the peace. You still hadn’t gotten any answers as to what was happening, but you certainly should have noticed that.

In the dark, it must have skipped your mind. You hadn’t noticed, but now that you had, it was kind of hard to go back to cuddling as if everything was fine.

It definitely wasn’t.

Apparently, Jerome's had his face stolen and as best you could tell, had attempted to reattach it with a staple gun.

“Oh no J, what did you do?” you whined, naturally concerned that he’d made some kind of half-cocked choice that was going to hurt him. He was prone to irrational solutions and you were worried.

There was silence between the two of you for a moment or so as you thought about what you were going to do before you stood from the warm cocoon you’d created on the couch completely.

You had to do something about this.

“How did this happen?” you muttered, taking his hands in your own to lead him to the table where you could get a better look at him. You didn’t really want an answer from him, of course.

It was just more of that nervous prattling you tended to get up to when you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

“I did the best I could with what I had” he shrugged, as if there was nothing wrong with the way he had chosen to attach his face. In his mind, he didn’t think that he could have done any better but you knew differently.

It looked like a mess.

“You might as well have super glued it” you teased, sitting him down and getting to work looking him over. It was an absolute chaotic solution to what had happened, and frankly, you weren’t even a tad bit shocked.

The edges of his skin, held together with a few thick staples, were jagged and ridiculous.

“Careful princess, I didn’t exactly have you around to put it back on for me” he chides, admiring your concentration as you studied him. Your tongue peeked out between your lips as you did your best to pick at the staples without hurting him.

They had to come out.

Anything was better than having rusty metal holding your lover’s face on, and you were sure it wasn’t comfortable. As unpleasant as it was to look at, you could only imagine it felt that much worse.

“Stop me if I’m hurting you” you suggested, knowing fully that he wouldn’t. No matter what he was feeling, he was never going to admit that he was hurting. He was never going to do that, not ever.

Instead, all you could do was smile as you looked him in the eye, continuing to pluck at the metal in his face.

“I missed you” Jerome hummed, moving on completely from what you’d been talking about. He didn’t care about if his face hurt or about the fact that he was literally back from the dead.

Nothing mattered to him any more than you did.

“I missed you too” you whispered, taking in the predatory look in his eyes as he looked at you. You found yourself admittedly taken aback by that because you hadn’t seen that look in almost a year.

You really had.

Jerome was your greatest friend, and the love of your life. Having to live life without him for so long was awful, and you never wanted to do it again.

If you could help it, he would stay by your side forever.

“Y/N” he sighed, catching you off guard. Jerome very rarely used your real name so at first you were concerned you had hurt him, or that something was wrong.

However, all he really wanted was for you to give him the attention he’d been craving.

You were trying desperately to get his face cleaned up but he was already bored of that. So bored, in fact, that he slid his hands under your ample thighs to pull you into his lap, earning a heavy sigh from you.

This was going to take forever.

“Jerome” you scoffed, doing your very best to get away from his hold so that you could finish up here, but he wasn’t having any of it. In fact, the more you struggled against his hold, the more Jerome laughed.

This was one big game for him.

“I have to get you cleaned up J, you need to let me” you grumbled, doing everything that you could to figure this out. You were well aware of how difficult he could be but this was serious.

He could really run into trouble with this.

“But that’s no fun at all” he huffed, pressing a kiss to your face as gingerly as he could. It had been too long since he’d been able to hold you and right now, the last thing he wanted to do was wait for anything.

Especially not for you to sew his face back on.

Without hesitation, you stood from his lap and headed over to the medicine cabinet before he could argue with you over it.

He wasn’t happy about it, of course, which you could tell because of the hefty slap on your ass as you did so.

Thankfully though, you didn’t have to care about that because you had a job to do right now and it was far more important than whatever he wanted to do. You had plenty of time to spend together now that he was back.

You didn’t exactly have any experience reattaching faces but you knew anything you could do would be better than the hack job he was currently walking around with.

At least if you took over, it would be clean.

After quite a bit of going back and forth, you decided that a spool of thread and a sharp, disinfected needle was going to be your best option.

You practically soaked everything in 95% pure alcohol, and if it wasn’t clean, not was.

The last thing you wanted was for Jerome to be walking around with a painful, infected face, so you let the needle disinfect for a little longer just in case.

Once you felt it was good enough, you headed back over to the table where Jerome was now pretending to be dead against the hardwood, always the drama queen.

“Get up you goofball” you ordered, playfully smacking his shoulder with the back of your hand before setting everything you had gathered down in a huge pile.

You weren’t looking forward to doing this but it had to be done and you couldn’t exactly take him to urgent care to get it done. After all, the man you loved was still a wanted criminal, even though some people didn’t know he was alive.

“Okay J, this might sting a little” you sigh, biting into the plump flesh of your bottom lip to stifle your own nerves.

Jerome wondered if maybe you were more bothered by this than he was, but he thought it was cute so he said nothing regarding it.

“That’s okay kitten, I’ve got something to hold onto” he smirks, grabbing onto you before you could even ask what he meant.

Jerome Valeska was always a terrible flirt but considering you hadn’t seen each other in nearly a year on top of that, you couldn’t imagine how bad he was going to get.

It wasn’t until you felt his hands snake around your waist that you understood the meaning of his words, your suspicions were confirmed when he took two big handfuls of your jean wrapped ass and kneaded the flesh through the fabric.

This was definitely not how you thought your night was going to go this morning, but at least he was alive.

#jerome valeska #gotham #jerome #jerome x reader #jerome x ps reader #jerome x plus size reader #jerome imagine #jerome valeska x reader #jerome valeska x ps reader #jerome valeska x plus size reader #jerome valeska imagine #gotham x reader #gotham x ps reader #gotham x plus size reader #gotham imagine

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disasterlesbiansunite · 4 years ago

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Just Two Things: A Young Royals Fix-It Fic

His mama had stood over him as she began talking. Wilhelm could hardly focus; the vision of the video (his video, his and Simon’s video, the video of Simon) burned into his brain on a constant loop. She hadn't asked him if he was alright, not yet, but he had stopped expecting her to early on in life. Duty first, he guessed, as usual. She pulled away and off the bed, rattled off the words about the interview he’ll do to protect the royal family et cetera, et cetera.

“I don’t want you to see Simon for the time being,” she said, and he glanced up, suddenly feeling like his world is fell away underneath him. He wished Erik were here, that Erik was still alive. If he were, then maybe this would all go away. He doubted any of it could now.

August brought him dinner that night when he’s too exhausted to even leave his bed. He said that Erik would want Wille to be himself - but how is August so sure of what Erik would want him to do to fix this, to just get this whole shitshow over with, when the only person who knows that is six feet under.

“Follow your heart, really.” August said. “Follow your heart.”

If anything his heart only thought of two things at the moment. One is the crumpled up rage he feels that’s been broiling under his skin since he saw the video; the screaming, panicked wild thing that wants to shout at the world and watch it shouts back until no part of him remains, no crown prince, nothing.

The other part of his brain thought of Simon. Holding him, soft and warm until his skin, kissing his neck and inhaling as much of him as possible. Kissing him, kissing Simon, an exhilarating feeling he can’t describe, he won’t ever be able to describe. Almost all of the girls he had kissed had kissed gently and slowly, like they were afraid he would disappear right next to them. It always felt like he was being kissed by air, a ghostly possession that was over in a second and just as uncomfortable.

He would have thought that Simon would kiss like that, he had thought Simon would kiss like that, Simon had kissed like that, before they really truly got to know one another. Now, Simon kissed hard and rough, like he knew Wilhelm wouldn’t disappear but just as quick, aware he couldn’t have him by himself ever. Simon’s kiss had the edge of sandpaper, tough grit and fine smoothness rolled into one. Simon kissed for the sake of it, like there was so much he wanted to do to Wille, do with Wille, that he simply couldn’t function enough to do anything but kiss him. Wille fell asleep soon after that, dinner discarded. He wondered if the last time they would ever kiss would be the time that caused both of him to want to recoil from society and away from the world. A part of him hoped so.

The nail on his thumb was raw and bleeding.

As he walked through Hillerska, everyone stared at him in pity. He was used to the stares, used to the way his simple presence shut up people around until all they could do was give him a dumb look. It was pity that was new to him, but he tried not to focus on that as Malin rushed with him to his first class of the day. He knew the things they were saying, drove himself insane as he googled himself over and over again, watching Sweden’s trending page unravel until it felt like it was all over. He watched as Simon walked into their classroom, turning heads for once in his life. Once except for the amount of times he had his, of course. He mindlessly made small talk with his classmate, but all he could think of were two things.

After class he rushed into the locker room to talk to Simon. He looked sullen, his features that were generally framed in a light source of their own were moody and dark, an awkward, ill fitting portrait. He wanted to kiss it all away. Instead, kicked at Simon’s foot, hooking the two into a game of footsie.

“What the hell are we going to do?” Simon asked, wrapping his hands around Wilhelm’s, as if he had any of the answers. Breaking news, he didn’t. All he could do was sit in silence and hold Simon, it felt like the only thing he could do. Unless…

“They’ve asked me to deny it was me in that video.” He could barely get the words out.

“Serious?”

Wille hummed, unable to interpret that reaction. “They want me to make a statement at the castle on Saturday.”

Simon turned, his head moving off of Wille's shoulder in a way that feels entirely unwelcome. Put that back please. Wille had realized that he could only really function anymore in Simon’s arms. As if he wasn’t touch starved enough, but Simon was hot and didn’t mind so it didn’t really matter. “But you’re not going to do it, right?”

“I don’t want to say anything.” Simon doesn’t get it, but Wilhelm doesn’t expect him too; too impossible to explain.

“But, Wille, everyone can see that it’s me in that video,” Wille groaned. He had forgotten that slightly important detail. Simon continued, “What am I supposed to do? But no matter what, they can’t dictate what you say,” Yes, they absolutely can, they’ve done it before.

We haven’t done anything wrong.” He had forgotten that too, spending so much time yesterday going over consequences and contingencies ranging from plan A to Z it made his head bled. But no one had actually told him that they hadn’t done anything wrong. Not even August, with his love is love attitude that came out of nowhere. Not even fucking him.

Mama had been waiting for him. Mama had met Simon. She never looked twice at Wilhelm, veiled disdain souring her mouth as she stared out the window.

“What? Why can’t I just have a relationship with him? And not say anything. Just live a normal life.” He knows why. He just wants to hear her say it.

“You’re the crown prince.” And there’s the world crashing back down onto him. “And that’s a privilege, not a punishment.” It’s both actually, but whatever, mama.

“Yes, but I didn’t ask for this!” Erik should be here. Erik would know what to do.

“Well, nobody has ever, ever asked for this,” his mama shot back. He feels like a little kid again, feels like biting his thumb raw. “You’re the only one who can take over the throne after Erik. Don’t you understand that?” He wished she would just look at him.

“You’re so young. When you’re young love feels like the most important thing in the world. When I was your age, I too had an unfortunate romance.” He wants to laugh or cry or release that panicked, clawed, anxious feeling that’s always been trapped underneath his chest, beating his heart faster and faster and faster. Unfortunate romance, she said, like Simon isn’t the best thing to happen to him, like Simon wasn’t the only one holding him together, like Simon wasn’t the only real thing in his world.

He snapped back into the conversation.“Is it worth it,” she continued. “If you feel that the attention you’ve been getting so far is unacceptable, it’s nothing compared to what you will endure for the rest of your life. We have a chance to cover this up. I urge you to take this chance. You may not get another.”

With Simon on one shoulder, and his mama and the world on the other, it turns out he was going to make the statement after all. Fucking great.

He felt like throwing up, but, to be fair, when hasn’t he.

“Are you ready?” His mama asked, like he could ever be ready to announce to the world, no that definitely was not me in that tape and that boy is definitely not the love of my life, thank you very much.

He dragged his feet, as he went into the room where Rosenqvists sits. Like Mama said, they only have one chance to not fuck this up.

Rosenqvist smiles at Wilhelm, her eyes hawkish. He musters as much of a smile as he can, playing with the buttons on his suit as the photographer directs the two around.

“It’s good to see you again, your highness.”

His eyes darted around the room. He could hear his mama and papa argue in the room they were in

“You too.”

The interview began then, menial questions about his existence that made him want to bite at his thumb. He resisted, knew that if Rosenqvist saw how his anxiety was surging through him like a freight train and mentioned it in her interview, his mama would be more angry then she already was. The questions are simple really, he barely thought about the answers and more about how Erik would have phrased them. Not like Erik would have been in this situation.

“So, Wilhelm, we both know why we’re here.” She smiled apologetically at him. Here we go. “As you are, no doubt, aware of by now there was a video from Hillerska that is going viral of what is rumored to be yourself and another male student,” she paused for a moment, uncomfortable with the what she’s about to say to a boy she’d been interviewing for most of his life, “being intimate. What do you have to say about these rumors, Crown Prince Wilhelm?” She’s less probing, then. He can tell his mom already prepped her on how exactly this interview needed to go. Fuck.

“That’s not-” his words got stuck in his throat.

“That’s not you in the video?” She filled, looking more and more saddened with each word, more maternal that he thinks he’s seen anyone in his entire life. He wanted to nod, wanted to do what his mama wanted for him, wanted to listen to what she feels is best for their country, because it is theirs now, isn’t it? Erik is dead and gone and never coming back no matter how much Wilhelm wishes he had been able to keep him alive. Wilhelm doesn’t exactly know much about what it takes to be king, not like Erik did, but he’s pretty sure a leaked tape is one thing a king is not supposed to have on his record. Wilhelm should want to deny the rumors, so why does it feel like every time he tries to open his mouth that it’s filled with cotton, that panicked wild thing grabbing hold of his brain and shaking it like his snowglobe. It’s begging him to choose the path of least resistance. And then there was Simon. Simon with his pretty soft voice and his even softer lips. Simon with his kind eyes and hands and just Simon, Simon, Simon. Simon, who has already been broken by the video and if Wilhelm denies their relationship then he’ll only break more. The only things he can think about. Just two things. Two things he can’t seem to choose between.

He took a deep breath. Erik would have wanted him to follow his heart, would have said that that would be how he becomes a great king. By being kind and good, and wholly himself.

He chose.

Simon’s mama shouts for a rematch as he laughed into his snack.

Ayub tensed next to him, “Oh, shit.”

“What’s up?” Simon asked, confused. Did his dad ask him to go home or something?

Instead, Ayub read from his phone: an online copy of this week’s Göteborgs-Posten screenshotted and reposted to Twitter. “The Crown Prince addresses rumors of Viral Video.”

“What?” He could have sworn Willie had said he wouldn’t do the interview. His mom and Sara exchange glances.

Ayub read on, “While the Royal Court denies rumors that the Crown Prince appears in the video that has gone viral this past week, his royal highness Prince Wilhelm goes more in depth on his time at Hillerska and the events surrounding the video. He says, ‘I started at Hillerska to focus on my studies and have kept to that.’ At this moment, the prince pauses and grows quiet.

‘That’s not the entire truth. The truth is that that is me in the video. I do not know who took it or why but the facts remain the same. There are many people who would want me to not address the rumors surrounding me at this time, and some even would want me to outright deny them, but I disagree. If I am to be king, and no matter what happens from this I will be king, I want to be the kind of king the people can be proud of, the kind of king my brother would have been, and the kind of king that if he saw me he’d be proud of. And that starts by being genuine and being myself to the citizens of Sweden and to the world.’ ‘Everyone should be allowed to live as gay or straight or whatever they want,’ says the Crown Prince. ‘And I suppose the former includes me, but I would still like this time to decide further who I am and what kind of king I will be.’”

Simon is stunned. Of all things, he didn’t think of this as even an option. He fishes his phone out of his pocket.

To Wille: just read the interview, what. the. fuck.

From Wille: Is that a good “what. the. fuck!!!” or a “bad what. the. fuck?!?”

To Wille: you’re so brave, wille, thank you

To Wille: also according to ayub youre trending as “gay king wilhelm” on twitter rn

From Wille: Fuck yeah, bow down to your king. Meet me before school starts tomorrow, courtyard?

To Wille: see you then, gay king willie

As Simon approached the school - having already been stopped by four journalists, three photographers, two nosy neighbors and one blogger - he could see as Wille nervously paced at the edge of the courtyard, his hand rubbed deep into his chest, shirt creasing around it. Simon couldn't even begin to imagine what had happened in the palace after Wille’s interview. From what he saw the queen didn’t really strike him as the accepting type, but that was one of those things he’d let Wille discuss on his own time. He snuck up behind Wille instead, held his arms and kissed his neck.

“Hello, my prince,” he said and twirled Wille around and into his arms. Wille let out a little sigh of relief and if he could have held Willie there for forever he would. Wille smiles at him and kisses him on the cheek.

“Can we just go one day Simon without having your weird relationship issues making a scene,” Sara huffed past and quickened her pace to the school. Simon hadn’t noticed the stares, it felt like everyone in the courtyard had been watching them from Felice to August to other boarders Simon couldn’t name, but that had definitely called him names. Simon can’t bring himself to care anymore.

“I’m so proud of you, Wille.” Wilhelm let out a little noise, the only amount of negative emotion that being schooled on refinement since before he could talk would allow. He grabbed at Simon’s coat and drew him in for a hug.

“I love you,” Wille said and suddenly Simon’s whole world had shrunk down to three words.

Wille quickly ended the hug and walked towards the school, his bodyguards following quick after. Simon speed walked up to him and grabbed his hand, “I love you too.” Wille broke out into that tiny golden smile Simon loved to tease out and grabbed Simon’s hand.

The stares followed but Simon didn’t care. “Just two things left,” he said, “Get through this last day before break and then find whoever took that video.”

“And then?”

“I haven’t gotten that far yet,”

Wille hummed and played with Simon’s as they settled at the doorway of their first class of the day, “You might want to work on your plans.”

“No, my plan only needs those two things.” Simon messied with Wilhelm’s hair and strolled into the classroom.

Wille followed after one hand fixing his hair, the other clutching at Simon’s hand, muttering, “Just two things?”

Just two things.

#if this is bad im sorry #young royals netflix #young royals #wilhelm x simon #fic writing #yes they are my comfort characters #after like two days #character study #myownfics

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anika-ann · 4 years ago

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Walk Me Home Tonight (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, songfic

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 4700

Summary: Sometimes it’s hard to be in a celebratory mood when all you can think of is that life sucks and that being left on your own to drown your sorrows is for the best.

Sometimes people who care about you know better than yourself and come crashing your party of one.

Sometimes, despite the popular belief, you do realize how lucky you are having been introduced to Steve Rogers.

Warnings: mention of blood and violence and death, mention of alcohol, angst, fluff and language

A/N: P!nk’s Walk Me Home just does something to me, alright? Music video included - it’s soooo beautiful.

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

You stared at the amber liquid, lazily making it roll in the glass with idle motions of your wrist. It reflected the rather soft lights of the bar, an exquisite game of colour you found fascinating enough to dull your mind and muffle the noise of the party.

It wasn’t that you were a party pooper, not usually anyway; just… the timing wasn’t ideal.

Of course, Sharon could hardly move her birthday to make it more convenient for you, less so a party her colleagues had decided to throw for her. You knew Agent Carter for quite some time now; she had joined SHIELD about the same time as you, going through the same tough training. Except unlike you – and initially without your knowledge – she had an image to live up to.

You might even call her a friend, your chest bursting in pride for her when her hard work had finally borne some fruit and she had been promoted to an assistant director of the intelligence agency. Among other things, it earned her a lot of new potential friends.

You were hardly acting like one tonight, much to your own annoyance. But for some reason, you found it difficult to leave your momentary emotional baggage at the doorstep, slipping it off as easily as your coat. You had wished her all the best, conversed for a tiny bit and then happily made space for others, for the forming line of guests waiting to celebrate with her as well.

Then you retreated to your spot at the bar, possibly annoying the bartender, who would have been more delighted seeing some heavier drinker occupying your seat, tipping generously, instead of having you nursing each glass of alcohol for about two hours.

You weren’t even sure why you were still here; you had given up on the attempt on small talk with anyone, apparently unwittingly chasing away any potential company. And here you thought misery did love company – perhaps you were wrong, at least when it came to birthday parties of gorgeous women loved by everyone. You might as well pack up your bottom and sulk at home.

You were stubbornly shushing the voice in the back of your skull, whispering about knowing precisely why you remained in your seat; about feeling less alone here, despite being a literal loner in a crowd.

You downed the rest of the bitter scotch, basking in the burn which it left on its way down your throat, your eyelids slipping shut in content, the noise in your brain falling silent completely for few blissful moments.

“Party of one?” a male voice gently asked, the tinniest note of teasing in it and while your heart skipped a startled beat at being addressed, you felt the burn in your throat slip lower, warming your chest and causing the corners of your mouth turn up just a fraction.

There's something in the way you roll your eyes Takes me back to a better time When I saw everything is good But now you're the only thing that's good

“Felt like crashing it?” you hummed in response, side-eyeing the intruder and found a pair of cerulean eyes staring back. He blindly waved off the eager bartender who was about to offer him a drink.

Ah, poor guy. No tips for him tonight.

“Well, I didn’t get an invitation. Looks like crashing was my only option.”

You sighed tiredly despite Steve’s kind teasing. Tonight was just… so exhausting. Tonight. Today. This week. Gah, this whole month. This fucking year--- okay, maybe you were exaggerating, because you were simply crossing the line, moving from relaxed buzzed drunk to a miserable one.

Battling with yourself, arguing whether you should send him to hell – nicely, because Steve was nothing but kind, he was always so kind, goddammit, gentle humour spiced with the ability to become an utter troll, still benign though, that was why you usually enjoyed his company so much after all-… – or call it a night.

Or should you order another drink? Was there a point? You might cross the line to a clingy drunk eventually and you weren’t certain that was a good idea.

It was probably about as good of an idea as coming to a party despite feeling like shit on an emotional roller-coaster, dangerously inclining towards a very bad mood to put it mildly.

You tilted your head to side as you looked at Steve properly, tight blue shirt flattering his supersoldier frame, black pants with desperately needed leather belt considering his thin waist, his blonde hair a mess, gaze fixed on you, observing. Always observing to read people, to anticipate behaviour, evaluate the threat; sometimes simply to be considerate, to… to be compassionate.

Dammit, Steve.

“Must have got lost in the mail then,” you said eventually, offering a weak smile. “Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s alright,” he shrugged it off, the curve of his lips more distinct than yours. As if he was offering to cheer you up. Sweet, but possibly vain effort tonight. Sometimes, things simply piled up and there was no escape. Such was the fate of a government agent. And human, for that matter. “Doesn’t look like much fun and I think it’s about to end anyway.”

“I guess…”

Tryna stand up on my own two feet This conversation ain't comin' easily And darling, I know it's getting late So what do you say we leave this place?

This time, Steve actually made an eye contact with the bartender, who eagerly rushed to him at instant. His excited expression fell when he noticed you were pulling out your wallet to close your tab. You didn’t have the strength to shoot him an apologetic smile.

Steve’s eyes were on you the whole time, you could feel them, and you wondered why. Until he spoke again, as soon as the other man left.

“Come on. I’ll walk you home,” he offered gentlemanly, coaxing you into saying yes, possibly unaware of the effect which such tone had on people.

Or perhaps he knew, using exactly that when he was trying to talk someone down, to calm them, gain their trust. The joke was on him, because it was a vain effort; you trusted him fully already. Surely, he knew that.

Right?

Trust was the solid base the team of Avengers needed and since you somehow found yourself with them, it involved you too. The team stood and fell on trust and mutual respect. But it meant so much more – they were friends. They cared about each other, about their well-being.

Right now, Steve was being a good friend and a good teammate.

And you were being exactly that too when you turned his kind proposition down.

“No, it’s fine. There are still some people who are actually able to speak coherently with you. Go enjoy yourself. I’ll be okay.”

“It’s three in the morning,” he pointed out, as if admonishing you for not noticing. Your eyebrow rose deliberately.

“…and?”

“And I’d feel better if you weren’t walking the streets alone,” he replied easily, ignoring the hint of snark in your comeback as you made your way to the coat-stand.

Still walking on the line of miserable and pleasantly buzzed, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be mean to him for such patronizing approach. He had been raised this way and despite his open mind and admirable respect to women, he slipped sometimes.

“Steve, I’m a SHIELD agent basically turned Avenger. I can take care of my-“

“But you don’t have to. And-” He gestured subtly back towards the bar and a metaphorical lightbulb flickered above your head.

Not patronizing then, god forbid chauvinist; Peggy Carter would rise from the death to beat him with his own shield, with Natasha’s enthusiastic help, if he was showing any sign of aforementioned qualities and he was well-aware of that.

Just mother-henning then, the way Steve excelled at.

It brought the first honest smile of the night to your lips. You made sure to face him so he could see how wholesome his company was for you.

“I’m not too drunk, Steve. I had like two glasses of scotch,” you assured him, gently brushing his forearm before reaching for your coat and scarf. “And two beers.”

“I know,” he stated, stealing your coat only to hold it out for you to slip into it.

God, the woman who would once win his heart was about to be one lucky bitch.

Jim has never done this for me, flashed through your mind and you instantly shushed the whining voice in your head. Instead, you went over what he just said, blinking in surprise.

Huh? He… knew?

“I… might have kept an eye on you,” he admitted tentatively, the tips of his fingers brushing your shoulder before retreating and letting you to cocoon in the fabric.

“Why?”

Why would he keep an eye on you? Sure, teammates and friends and all that, but for some reason, you doubted he kept an eye on Tony, the only other Avenger (beside Steve, not Steve and you, you don’t count, a voice hissed in your mind and you winced) who attended the party, not being on any mission at the moment.

Why did Steve feel like you needed a chaperone?

No, that was too harsh of a word for him, you were certain his intentions were everything but malicious, but… why?

Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind, mhm So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on outside

The genuine wonder must have been audible in your voice, much like your shock must have been clear in your expression, because Steve seemed sheepish all of sudden, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Well, I mean, I know that you probably wouldn’t-“ he started, only to grimace. “It’s not that I think you’re an alcoholic! It’s just that... you--- and it’s only been-…“

-four days since you got dumped, you finished the unspoken sentence and tried your best to ignore the cold seeping into your bones at the reminder.

One of the reasons why you had been in a sour mood and deciding to drink alone. Your amazing asshole of a boyfriend had dumped you, metaphorically kicking you while you had already been down. Lovely.

“-I was worried. But you didn’t look like you were interested in having company, I didn’t want to be a bother and-“

You pulled Steve out of his misery by placing a hand over his forearm, which stopped the words spilling uncontrollably from his mouth.

He was actually being very sweet and thoughtful. It kinda made you feel bad, because… you weren’t looking for dragging someone down with you. As it was, he had his own reasons to not be happy about partying tonight, but feeling like he had to keep an eye on you probably didn’t help to lift his spirits.

“-and you had to spend some time with the woman of the hour,” you finished instead of him slowly, hoping you sounded at least half as thoughtful as he did and that you didn’t appear to be the greatest bitch, stealing attention from Sharon. “That’s understandable, Steve. It is her birthday party and I’m the one being antisocial.”

You bit down your lip, lowering your gaze, because the infamous worried wrinkle appeared on Steve’s forehead and you just knew he was about to protest and you… honestly felt bad about your behaviour and the welcoming colour of his eyes was not helping to make you feel any better, because of course he probably thought it was perfectly normal to look out for you instead of allowing himself to enjoy the night and- ugh.

“You… you shouldn’t have to look out for me. Your attention could have been fully on the birthday girl.”

Naturally, Steve Rogers basically shrugged it off. Covering your hand on him with his large palm, he slouched to look into your eyes once more. Insistent bastard, no doubt aware of your inability to say no to his amiable face.

“That’s what friends are for. Now, can I walk you home?”

You shook your head with a sad smile, rising your gaze towards the ceiling, hoping it came out as an exasperation at his stubbornness and not as it truly was – you in fact attempting to keep your tears at bay, because, miserable drunk, dumped four days ago apart from other things and there he was, asshole perfect, Steve fucking Rogers, gentleman and friend extraordinaire, caring for your well-being more than Jim ever had.

A twinkle appeared in his eye when he recognized he won and you chuckled, sealing his victory out loud.

“Yes, Steve. You can walk me home. It’s conveniently located on the way to yours.”

He smirked when he shrugged on his own coat. “Happy coincidences…”

There's something in the way I wanna cry That makes me think we'll make it out alive So come on and show me how we're good I think that we could do some good, mhm

Once you left the bar, silence fell on you, feeling heavy as did the cold November air.

Heavy and awkward. While you could tell with certainty you were barely affected by the alcohol you had drunk, your steps were wobbly, knees shaky as if you were a baby horse trying to stand up for the first time.

Steve walked by your side, majestic in his thigh-length coat, hands snugged in its pockets only halfway as if he was waiting for you needing his support. It irritated you as much as it warmed your heart.

On top of everything, you would swear every lone person you met stared at you, staring you up and down until they seemed to register Steve’s imposing frame and quickly went back to their business. It annoyed you to no end; it was just proving Steve’s point that you shouldn’t walk the streets alone at such hour, government agent or not.

“I would have been fine, you know,” you hummed, cautiously breaking the relative quiet.

It was never truly quiet in New York City, only rush hours alternating with calmer ones. You didn’t mind it; you enjoyed the city. Sometimes quiet meant that thoughts won the opportunity to become too loud; tonight, for some reason, despite the silence, Steve prevented that ever since he joined you.

It dawned to you then, how ungrateful you sounded and you quickly added “But thanks.” – a whisper full of honesty.

“Uh-huh.”

Perhaps the silence weighted so much because your mood wasn’t the only cause of it.

Steve was showing you that he worried; surely, you could as well? Because you did, worry about him that was.

“…are you? Okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked distractedly, but you could hear the frown on his face, the image of his nose scrunched in confusion painted in front of your eyes even without looking at him.

“Just… today-” you nudged him once more and vaguely eyed your watch only to be reminded that ‘today’ was a confusing term. “Or, more like, yesterday…”

A sharp inhale was drawn at your side and you could sense as he started closing off, putting up his walls so no one would catch a scent of his weakness. You hated when he tried to do that. You would have thought you were past that. You liked to consider you two friends at least.

Tonight was simply not your night. Of either of you, apparently.

“What about it-?“

You sighed, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. Were you truly such a crappy company, an insensitive friend or was there something sorrowful and cranky in the air, preventing your communication channels from tuning to the same frequency?

You were aware what the day meant for him – another painful reminder of what he had lost with crashing the plane in the forties only to wake up in a new millennium.

Though this particular loss – of his mother – haunted him even back in what some people called his days. It was an utter non-sense. Steve belonged there as much as he belonged here. He was brave enough to try and stubborn enough to succeed in fitting in.

“Nothing, I guess,” you sighed once more, this time rolling your eyes. “…Mr. Nothing Can Touch Me.”

The wry nickname hung in the air for a while, the faint noise of the night city washing over your pair. When Steve broke it again, there was a barely audible crack in his voice.

“I… I’m okay. I think. I… should be. It’s been so long. Decades,” he mused, turning his gaze to the sky. His eyes glistened and if you didn’t know him, hadn’t witnessed his walls lowering before, you would have thought it was just the streetlights reflecting.

You knew better. Tentatively, your fingers brushed his, not remembering when his hands had left his pockets. You were grateful for it now, especially when he didn’t retrieve from your touch instantly.

“Not for you,” you pointed out quietly, rewarded by the softest squeeze of his warm hand.

The heaviness and tension you had felt before resolved with the gesture. Something finally fell into place and you were almost you again and he was almost him.

Two figures, carrying their griefcases, but functioning and… harmonizing once more.

“How did you know?”

“That’s what friends are for, Steve,” you echoed his earlier words, sending a tiny smile his way, meeting his glassy gaze. “They remember important dates, good or bad.”

“No one else did. Not that I can actually hold it against Buck, of course... but no one… you…” his voice trailed off as he lost his train of thought – or perhaps he had never truly directed it to the station in the first place.

Your shoulders moved a fraction, a hint of a shrug-off. His hand wrapped around yours tighter in silent appreciation, not showing any sign of intending to let go.

And you were alright with that. More than alright.

Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind, mhm So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on outside

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

His presence was always immense, overwhelming even; yet so comfortable you didn’t have the slightest problem with opening your heart to him, offering it to him even when it was bleeding. And now, finally tuned together, it was no different.

You bared your heart to him, even if it hurt.

“She didn’t make it,” you whispered, voice pained in the dead of the night and he didn’t react, letting you to gather strength to elaborate. You cleared your throat as the lump grew in it. “Kayla, one of the kids… from last week’s mission. I found out yesterday… she-she didn’t make it, she had too many injuries. Word is that perhaps it was even a blessing. A relief.”

“I’m so sorry,” Steve repented, his grip growing stronger just a fraction, enough to make your chest and eyes burn.

“Yeah, so am I.”

Whatever he heard in your voice, it caused his fingers twitch in your hand, his footsteps slowing down. “You know that wasn’t your fault, right?”

“Wasn’t it? If I was faster, if I-“

Steve stopped in his tracks completely, pulling at your hand to make you do the same and face him.

You closed your eyes when his blue ones met them, unable to stand the urgency in them. His free hand curled around your shoulder, caressing in attempt at comfort.

“Hey, hey, don’t do that to yourself.” Hypocrite, you threw back at him in your mind, stubbornly keeping your eyelids shut, simply knowing that if you saw the sincerity in his gaze in addition to the fervour he spoke with, you might actually believe him. “You did your best. I know that, Nat and Buck know, everyone does. A monster you helped to put behind bars hurt the kids. Not you. You saved so many lives.”

You shook your head with a sigh, staring straight ahead as you turned on your heels and continued your path. Steve, never letting go of your hand, followed reluctantly.

“Sometimes I think he might have been right, you know?”

Peripherally, you saw him frown again and you cursed yourself for drinking – it untangled your tongue and his stupid face made your spill your guts to him, vomit emotion. You weren’t too secretive about your feelings most of the time, but damn, you hated how alcohol pushed your boundaries of sharing them.

“… Jim. He said that maybe I should give it up. That I’m just running alongside you, heroes, pretending to be one of you, but in the end, I’m not even close to being as good-“

Steve’s feet took roots in the ground, his steely grip forcing you to stop – as long as you wanted to keep your hand attached, which yeah, you kinda did.

“I feel like taking a detour now,” he muttered darkly and for a short moment, confusion was everything you felt, blissfully overtaking the anger, the sorrow, the helplessness and the feeling of utter uselessness.

“Huh?”

“Where does Jim live?” Steve spitted out the name venomously and you couldn’t help the wave of affection washing over you. Affection towards this treasure of a man who apparently wanted to punch another human being because it offended his friend. “He has no business saying something like that. Especially if his bullshit actually affects you-”

“Steve, he wasn’t wrong, I’m just-“ you sputtered, caught off guard when you registered the fire in his glare.

“We all make mistakes. But that’s beside the point, because you didn’t even make any that day. I read the report, and I know you, you put everything you got and more into the rescue mission. How can he-“ he hissed, literally taking a calming breath as both of his hands balled into fist.

Well, one of them only nearly, since it was still holding yours. It actually stung a bit, the bones in your hand close to grinding against each other.

“-I haven’t met him many times, but if he said that instead of comforting you after an incredibly draining mission, then I’m glad that that asshole is gone from your life. … though I would still appreciate his address.”

Blinking away the few stray tears that welled up, you forced a smile as Steve’s strict glare found yours. It felt good, seeing his indignation; having someone else exasperated on how Jim had reacted. He should have given you a hug and hold you tight; that was what you would wish for. Instead, he told you to stop complaining and when you accused him of not supporting you, he called you a whiny bitch who should make up her damn mind and broke things off.

You deeply appreciated Steve’s display of chivalry, hell, you half-considered giving away the address just so Jim would hear someone else agreeing with you, but you were honestly just tired. And you had a feeling Steve wouldn’t stay only at words and seeing any more blood, any more aggression would have been too much for you tonight.

Tonight, you… you needed serenity and comfort.

“…thank you. That… that means a lot. But… maybe just walk me home? Please? Could you walk me home, Steve?” you pleaded softly, barely audible, not caring it sounded like weeping of a needy child.

Unbeknownst to you, that was the last thing you resembled in Steve’s eyes. Your imploring gaze, vulnerable and open, it moved something inside him, his anger silenced for the moment, leaving him defenceless, unable to say no. Not that he had an intention to do so. He always had trouble saying no to you.

So he forced his fists to relax, running his thumb over the back of your hand and whispered the only word that made sense.

“Always.”

You settled back to the comfortable silence after that.

Walk me home in the dead of night 'Cause I can't be alone with all that's on my mind Say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on

You reached the Tower hand in hand.

Neither of you released the other. Not during the elevator ride, not when you walked the halls lined with doors leading to each’s private quarters.

You were still holding onto each other when you came to a stop in front of your door; rest assured, Steve Rogers would lead you right to your door even if his was only at the end of the very same corridor.

Standing nearly chest to chest, his eyes bored into yours with seriousness that surprised you.

“For the record, you do a great deal of good,” he reassured you, saying it as if he truly meant it. It tugged at your heart, sweet and bitter. “You’re amazing and you’re the most authentic of all of us. I admire you.”

That claim caused you to chuckle. Now he was laying it on a bit thick, downright exaggerating.

“You admire me? Steve, that’s really nice of you to say, but don’t be ridi-“

Your words died in your throat when his large palm splayed over your cheek, cradling it gently. When the paddle of his thumb swiped over your other cheek, soft smile playing on his lips, his irises bright with a promise, time seemingly stopped along with your heart.

“And you’re a great friend to the whole team, a wonderful person. Do me a favour and finally learn to accept a compliment,” he asked of you in hushed voice, the electric blue and green of his eyes locking you in. “If he didn’t praise you enough for you to get used to it, he was doing something wrong.”

You gulped, a silly association with the word ‘praise’ allowing you to break from the cage of his gaze that had previously had your mind gone blank.

“I’m not a dog to be praised, Steve…”

One corner of his lips – and when did they got so close anyway? – twitched. And then a tender kiss landed on your forehead, just the softest brush of lips against your skin. The gesture, utterly incomprehensible for you, had your eyelids flutter shut.

“I’m very much aware. Believe me, doll, I know. Thank you for letting me walk you home.”

You only nodded at the ridiculous statement – why was he thanking you? – too perplexed at the fact his lips had made contact with your skin. When did you cross the line towards the delusional drunk?

His fingertips caressed your face as he let go, wishing you to have a good night. Too baffled, you were unable to respond until he had already made his way to his door and you suddenly missed the warmth of his presence.

Breaking free from your haze, you acted on impulse, apparently startling him when you called his name out of blue so urgently.

“Steve!”

Whipping his head around to look at you, you felt your heart jump into your throat.

“Uh… are you ready to go to bed or… or maybe… would you like to watch a movie or something?” With me?

I don’t think I’m ready to be alone. Ready to be without you.

Even from the distance, you would swear you saw his lips spread in a slow honey-sweet smile.

“I think I’d like that,” he called out lowly. “Ten minutes? I’ll get the blankets. You pick the movie.”

“See you in ten then.”

You pretended that your heart didn’t flutter, sending a wave of familiar tingle through your chest and to your fingers, as you slipped inside your room with your mouth curled up in a content smile.

Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong There is so much wrong There is so much wrong going on outside

*✧･ Bonus *✧･

If Tony found them two and half hour later, closing credits rolling, the pair curled up and cuddling on the couch, you fast asleep in Steve’s arms, and he noticed that the supersoldier was in fact only faking to avoid an interrogation from the Ironman himself, he didn’t mention it. He just whispered to FRIDAY to turn off the TV and turn off the dimmed lights completely.

He hoped Rogers would treat you the way you deserved, unlike the man who now had farts announcing a received e-mail or texts, unable to change it, and a laptop turning on randomly, dead-pale children staring at him from the screen with hollow eyes and in clothes dripping water. Tony would hate to have to hack more tech again just to avenge your broken heart without your knowledge any time soon.

He’d rather suffer watching the two of his friends being disgustingly sweet on each other.

Probably.

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

S.R. masterlist

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

Silent thanks to the person who came up with the word ‘griefcase’ as an alternative to emotional baggage.

Also, I’m pretty sure songfics aren’t supposed to be so long... oops?

Thank you for reading!

#fanfiction #songfic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #hurt/comfort #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #avenger reader #shield agent reader #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #walk me home tonight #anika ann

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storiesbymads · 4 years ago

Text

GIVE IT UP ( tyson jost . )

You find yourself at your ex’s house party despite the fact that you’ve pretty much convinced him and yourself that you hate him. Apparently, he’s not that fond of you either. At least, that’s what he wants you to think.

warnings: smut, hate sex, unprotected sex

wc: 2.6k

add yourself to my taglist + masterlist

It was shocking of how quickly the sweet boy who once would’ve done anything to see you smile turned into the man before you that managed to get a rise out of you without even directly speaking to you.

Granted, most of that was your fault. All he’d wanted was a break, a few weeks, maybe a month apart to think things over. You’d been the one to suggest a full breakup.

“Tys-“ you stopped yourself. “Tyson.”

His pacing stalled, the hand that had been furiously running through his curls fell to rest on his hip as he turned to face where you were sitting on the couch. The couch you’d helped him pick out when he’d first moved into this apartment. The one he’d first kissed you on three years ago, though it was a bit more beat up now than it had been then. It was a faded blue in color now.

“What,” he halfway snapped. The tone of his voice caused you to flinch at his words, which almost sent Tyson into a deeper downward spiral had he not been so desperate to get through this evening without you killing each other.

“You know this isn’t working,” you said. “Not like it used to.”

“Then why are you fighting with me about taking a few weeks to figure things out,” he sighed before moving to sit on the matching ottoman in front of you.

“Please don’t make me say it out loud,” you said. Your jaw was trembling as you didn’t know how much longer you could keep looking him in the eye without breaking down.

Tyson’s hands were quick to start rubbing his eyes, almost painfully so as the heels of them dug in.

“You don’t mean it,” he whispered.

“Tyson.”

“I still love you,” he sighed.

“We had a great run, yeah?” you smiled sadly at him as you picked yourself up off the couch. “I’ll be back to get my things in the next week or so.”

And that probably would’ve been the end of it had Andre not been your best friend. He was, and he claimed, the best guy in your life before Tyson and he was going to stay that way after Tyson.

Sure, parties were awkward but it was nothing you couldn’t get through without a couple girl friends and some distance. And a handle of pink whitney.

“You’re kidding!” you gasped as your old college roommate gushed about her new boyfriend and their bedroom antics. “There’s no way you let him do that!”

“Long time no see, sunshine,” a familiar brown haired swede said as he pulled you into his side by the hip. You could tell the drink in his hand was far from his first based on the slur of his words and the way the snapback was situated sideways on his head.

“Hey, Dre,” you said before pecking his cheek quickly and sipping on the drink in your own hand. Contrary to your usual party behavior, you were only about half of the way through your first.

“Yeah, sunshine,” you heard Tyson say from behind you. The smile on your face wiped away into a scowl within seconds. “Long time no see.”

You opted to ignore him, continuing your conversation with your roommate, Savannah, as Andre left your side to join the beer pong game in the corner.

“Aw, c’mon. It’s not my fault you’re desperate enough to come to your ex’s house party,” he mocked as he shuffled his way closer to you.

“Aw, it’s not my fault your other eye’s just begging for a matching shiner,” you cooed. You could feel his breath against your pulse point as he leaned in closer.

“Think you have it in you?” he asked, voice grovely as it dropped an octave. Scoffing, you pushed away from him in search of anyone else to talk to. You couldn’t stand the fact that he was still able to jump start your heart rate after all these years, especially after all the things he’s said to you after you’d broken up.

You shouldn’t even be going to this part. You wouldn’t be had Andre not literally dragged you into his car with a promise that you wouldn’t even see Tyson, let alone have to speak to him.

“You haven’t been out in months, sunshine,” he said as he pulled out of your apartment complex. “We miss you.”

“You missed me,” you sighed, pulling your head up from where it was resting against the cool glass of the window.

“The team misses you,” he said, temporarily taking his hand off the wheel to pinch your hip. The team minus Tyson, you thought.

The party itself was fine for a while. You’d practically attached yourself to Andre’s side, not that he was complaining. He was just glad to have you in a social situation again. You were actually having fun for the first time in a while playing flip cup with some of the guys. Tyson had practically slipped your mind, another first.

Until he decided to, rather harshly, drag you away from the table.

“What are you doing here?” he rushed out as he clicked the lock on the bathroom door.

“Dre- Andre invited me,” you stuttered. The party was still going strong outside the room and you could feel the bass through the floor.

“God, I haven’t seen you in months and you’re here because my teammate invited you?” he scoffed. The shock in his eyes had since shifted to something more of disgust.

“We broke up, Tyson,” you said.

“Exactly! We broke up!” he said, throwing his hand up in the air. Your eyes stayed glued to the lock behind him.

“I didn’t come here to see you,” you said, though it came out more like a whimper. You swore you saw something crack in Tyson’s eyes before his resolve went back up.

“That’s rich, even coming from you.”

“God, you’re such a dick, Jost,” you pushed past him, wiping a tear away before it had the chance to fall as you unlocked the bathroom door.

You hated him. You hated him.

Thankfully the kitchen was empty when you found yourself there. You weren’t looking for anything, your cup was still mostly full.

How was Tyson always able to find you in a crowd? Even when you were actively avoiding him like the plague, he somehow managed to sneak up behind you and send your head into a downward spiral.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing thinking so much at a party,” an unfamiliar voice said from beside you, pulling you from your daze.

“I’m not-“ you cut yourself off. “It’s just…”

“Whoa, don’t burst a blood vessel,” he smiled at you. His comment was awkward at best, but the soft look in his eyes made up for it. He was cute.

“Sorry,” you chuckled. “I’m Y/N.”

“Jason,” he responded, clinking your red cups together in a fake toast.

Jason, you learned, was a bartender at the Star Bar in downtown Denver. Though, that was a temporary job as he worked on his masters in biochemistry. You ended up telling him a story about the time you found yourself being escorted out of said Star Bar from dancing on the bar.

“If you’ll excuse me, I really have to go to the ladie’s room,” you said, starting to walk past him in the now crowded kitchen before turning back to face the blond. “Would you mind holding my drink?”

“Sure,” Jason said, even going as far as putting his own drink down so that he could cover the top of yours fully with his hand. Maybe this party hadn’t gone completely to shit.

The line to the bathroom was nonexistent and you’d managed to finish your business in record time. You checked your appearance in the mirror before clicking the lock on the bathroom door and opening it to see the one person you really wished you hadn’t.

He pushed his way through, slamming the door and locking it behind him.

“What are you doing, Jost? Let me out,” you said.

“You really think you can come here and flirt with some random guy in my kitchen?” he scoffed. With every word he took another half step closer to you until your back was pressed against the far wall.

“What do you mean your kitchen?”

“Did Dre not tell you? Can’t believe this is the fourth time you’ve been here and you didn’t even know who’s apartment it was. I think that’s a little rude, if you ask me,” he cooed. Four times; he was counting. He’d made a mental note every time you’d been sitting on his couch and he’d been too fucked up about it to do anything.

His knee pushed your thighs apart as his hands found solace on the wall beside your head. You felt the sudden urge to spit in his face. Or to let him spit in yours.

This was much more possessive than he’d ever acted when you were together. Granted, he hasn’t acted the same way he’d been when you were together in the year and a half you’d been apart.

“Answer me,” he hummed. “It’s rude isn’t it.”

You tilted your head to the side in response only for Tyson’s thigh to press up further so that it was resting against your core. You took the sudden close proximity between the two of you to gauge the changes in his features. Most obviously was the beard he was sporting now, he’d never been able to accomplish more than a patch here or there while you were dating despite his best efforts. His shoulders were more filled out now, too, and his curls looked longer. He looked more… mature, if that was the word for it.

“Answer me,” he tutted. “Or am I gonna have to fuck it out of you?”

“You’re a lot bolder than I remember, Jost,” you gasped. There was a definite wet spot growing in your underwear at the rasp in his tone.

“You’re just as annoying,” he said before one of his hands found your hip. His mouth came crashing against yours an instant later, a rough mess of teeth clanging together as he popped the button on your jean shorts. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m sure I’ll fuck that out of you, too.”

The comment caused a gasp to slip past your lips as he removed his knee so that he could tug your bottoms to your ankles in one fell swoop. His fingers were quick in replacing the delicious pressure against your clit, circling the nub with the pad of his finger.

“Do you still make those pretty little noises you used to make?” he asked, only to pull a whimper out of you not even a second later when he slipped a finger into your hole.

“You’re still a dick,” you moaned as you dropped your head to rest against his shoulder. You bit down on the cotton of his t-shirt to conceal the whimper of emptiness as Tyson slipped his finger out of you so that he could push the band of his sweatpants down just enough for his cock to slip out.

“Yeah? And you’re about to cum all over it.”

The string of profanities that followed from your part were involuntary.

He pushed into you slowly until he was halfway in before snapping his hips forward in one quick motion so that your pelvic bones were pressed together. You hadn’t felt this full since… Well, since him.

“Fucking-“ he hissed. “I forgot how tight you were.”

His eyebrows furrowed as he started thrusting his hips. You would’ve been able to admire it longer had your eyes not rolled into the back of your head. Your hand slipped down between your bodies to rub your clit only to be swatted away and replaced by Tyson’s a moment later.

His name rolled off your tongue like a chant as you felt your orgasm building with each pump of his hips.

“I’m gonna cum, holy shit,” you said.

“That’s right, baby. Cum all over my cock,” he said. The rhythm of his thrusts was getting sloppier by the second and you could tell he was getting close. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Where do you want it?”

“What?” you asked, head still very hazy from the impending orgasm.

“I can’t cum inside you—shit,” his thrusts slowed. “Where do you want it?”

“I’m on the pill,” you rushed out in hopes that he’d start fucking you again. The thought alone almost had him falling apart.

“Holy shit, ok,” he mumbled before picking up his thrusts once again. It was a step the two of you hadn’t taken before, and he was dying to see his cum drip out of you.

“Fuck, Tys,” the words came out rushed as your high washed over you. Tyson came soon after as ropes of it coated your walls in hot spurts.

Your senses came back to you as you came back down. What the fuck were you doing? Why did you allow yourself to hook up with the ex you were still pretty sure you hated in a bathroom.

“I-I’ve gotta go,” you said, pushing Tyson off, and subsequently out, of you so that you could pull up your shorts and button them.

“Wait, Y/N,” the flustered, blushing Tyson you thought you’d never see again made an appearance as you threw the bathroom door open just as he tucked himself back into his boxers. The fly of his blue jeans was undone as he chased you out of the bathroom, practically begging you to stop as he followed you out the front door.

“Leave me alone, Jost,” you scoffed as you watched him zip his pants out of the corner of your eye.

“There’s no way you’re gonna go back to hating me after that,” he said. You could feel his cum dripping into your panties as he spoke.

“We made our decision last year. We should’ve left it at that,” you shivered in the open exterior of his apartment complex, silently cursing yourself for thinking a jacket would ruin your outfit.

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” a dry chuckle slipped from his lips. “After all of that? After a year and a half of pretending, you can’t admit it?”

“I wasn’t pretending-“

“Like hell you weren’t. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t regret even mentioning the idea of a break between us. What we had doesn‘t just go away,” he took a step towards you. You could still hear the music from inside his place, though it was fainter now and still half-muffled by the various conversations just past the front door.

“We weren’t working out,” you said, though it came out as more of a squeak.

“You and I both know we could’ve worked on it. We were stupid to let what we had go over nothing,” he said. “I miss you.”

Your resolve was breaking more with every word.

“Jost, what if this doesn’t work?” you asked, allowing him to get close enough to take your hand in his. It was quite the contrast to the way he’d been with you not even ten minutes ago.

“Would you stop calling me that?” his features were screwed tight as he asked. “You only call me that when you’re mad at me.”

“Tyson,” you said, only to be greeted with a knowing look in his brown eyes. “Tys.”

“We’re gonna work out,” he said. “We’re gonna work out because…”

“Because?”

“Because I still love you. And I’m not letting you go again,” his voice had lowered to a whisper and it shook and his forehead was dangerously close to resting against yours. Within the span of an hour, he’d transformed back into the shy boy you’d given your heart to three years ago on his blue couch.

“Ok,” you whispered back, closing the distance and resting your foreheads against each other only for Tyson to bridge the gap completely with a tilted head to plant his lips against your own.

tagged @ptersparkers @annedub @corebore123 @damndunner @kiedhara @watermelon05 @sidscrosbyy @thelionkingpw @besthockeyfics @iwantahockeyhimbo @beauvibaby

#tyson jost #tyson jost imagine #tyson jost smut #tyson jost x reader #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl smut #hockey #hockey imagine #hockey smut

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sevendeadlymorons · 4 years ago

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Hello! I don't really see many guys who play Obey Me so it's actually kinda interesting to see that. I hope no one has been rude to you.

If you are open to requests- how about one where the MC isn't afraid to pact command the brothers when they want something? Be it a change in their behavior for a bit or for them to do something for them 😏

Hey! Thanks for the concern, everyone has been lovely on here so far, so I’m hoping it’ll stay that way, haha!

But anyway, that sounds like it’ll be fun to write 😏 I haven’t written anything In a while, so excuse the poor writing :)

MC Controls the Demon Boys with Their Pacts

NSFW // Sexual Language

———————————————————

MC has been wanting to be able to use their pacts on the brothers for a little while now. So one day, they decide to pay Solomon a visit...

———————————————————

Lucifer

MC decides today is the day. The day when they finally make Lucifer kneel at their feet. They walk up to Lucifers room and knock on the door, anticipation running through their veins. The door swings open and there stands the one and only avatar of Pride. It was quite late at night so he looked exhausted and quite ready to collapse none the less.

“Ah. MC. What are you doing here so late at night?” He smirked. Looking at him smile like that made their stomach twist into knots and they felt they couldn’t hold back more longer.

“May I come in?” They ask innocently, flashing him a smile and stepping closer inside.

“I don’t see why not..” Lucifer moves to the side to let them in and they smirk at him as they go past, running the plan over in their head to make sure it’s flawless. Lucifer turns round to shut the door but as soon as he does, he feels MC’s hand rub over his shoulder. They could feel him slightly stiffen at the meer touch of them. They lick their lips and lean up towards his ear...

“Lucifer. Lock the door. Now” They whispered seductively in his ear. Visible chills ran down his spine as a subtle click came from the door. Perfect...

“What do you think you’re doing, MC?” He said in a cold but also seductive way, turning around to put his face close to theirs. MC shrugs playfully and wraps their arms around his neck pulling him closer.

“How about you go sit on the bed for me...?” They purr, so close to his lips that they could feel his hot breath against their skin. He obeys his order and walks over to the bed with MC in tow. He pulls them in by the waist but MC pushes him down and straddles him. “I’m in charge tonight, Lucifer..” They plant kisses all down his neck, tangling their hand in his hair and tugging at his clothes. Silent groans escape his throat as he lays motionless underneath MC. They begin to unbutton his shirt as arousal pools in the pit of their stomach. They kiss down towards his navel, looking up at him with lewd eyes. They start meddling with his belt, tugging at it desperately, their eyes not leaving his. A tent building up inside his trousers, and desperation and desire burning in his eyes.

“Please, Master... Keep going”

Mammon

MC was watching Mammon on the floor of their room, most likely selling something he stole from around the house. He looked so happy at something, which made them curious. MC didn’t really plan to do this today but they suppose it was a good moment...

They hopped off the bed and joined him on the floor, startling him slightly, but more or less not the reaction they were looking for. They huffed and playfully rolled on top of Mammon.

“Ey, MC, what do ya think you’re doin’?!” Attempting to wriggle his way out from underneath her, a light pink blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Mammon. Stay!” They spoke harshly, causing him to stop in a halt. MC felt an overwhelming feeling of power rush over them when they stared down at Mammon’s face, so shocked and vulnerable. They wanted more... “Kiss me”

Mammon’s body shot up, crashing into MC’s lips. They instinctively closed their eyes and pressed into the kiss harder, desperate for his touch and the taste of his lips. They ran a hand through his hair, gripping and pulling at it, a growl escaping his lips as his arms wrapped tightly around their waist, pulling them in. MC broke away from the kiss to explore his neck and collar bones. They kissed and sucked every inch, covering him in lovely red bruises, his mouth wide open with moans leaving his throat. MC could feel his heart racing inside his chest, like it was close to exploding, the faint pink blush that was previously covering his face was now replaced with a bright red tint and lustful eyes, like a predator reading to pounce on it’s prey.

They could feel Mammon gradually taking over them, leaning greedily into the kiss, pushing them further back so that he’s almost straddling them. Their name escapes from his lips in a lazy moan as his hands begin to wander underneath their clothes...

“Master... Please... Give me another order”

Levi

Levi had invited MC over for a game night, and was currently sat on the floor, game controller in hand, presumably on the last level on his game. It was somewhat exciting seeing him in his zone. His fingers quick at the buttons and his tongue slightly peeking out of his lips. Unfortunately, it did mean not much attention was on them. They planned to change that...

Usually at this time, Levi was pretty distracted and not really in touch with the world around him, which gave them a perfect opportunity to sneak behind him. MC crawled around to where Levi was sitting and put their hands around his waist, resting their head in the crevice of his neck. Levi continued to play his game so MC decided to test how long it wound take him to notice. They creeped their hands down towards the hem of his shirt, and fingered their way inside, towards his stomach. They felt him jump in surprise and swing his head back to face her

“MC—?!” They cut him off with a kiss, no longer able to resist. The outline of his muscles underneath his shirt, alleviating their desires and overpowering them with lust. They reached a hand towards his jaw, cradling it, pushing his face closer towards them to delve deeper into the kiss. They felt his body go limp from their touch and felt a hand gently touch their hip.

“Levi. Turn and face me.” He didn’t hesitate in obeying his masters orders, and was quickly facing MC, pushing deeper into the kiss, sloppy kisses and tongue included. His hands were placed either side of MC’s thighs and he was already on his knees, leaning over them. For a quick second, for the first time ever, they saw a glance of deep desire and arousement in his eyes. Burning passion as his cheeks grew red and he wandering hands explored more of their body. They wanted more, they wanted him to envelop her body in a tight embrace as he touched them in more erotic places...

“Levi. Stay.” A low whimper formed in his throat as he was forced off them, looking hurt and confused. MC proceeded to crawl up to Levi and place multiple kisses all over his neck, occasionally nibbling his collar bone to hear him groan in pleasure. Their hands wandered over his sweats, tugging and palming at them, causing his breathing to hitch and his face to burn up, his obvious arousal clearly showing. They giggled at his reaction as they licked over a bite mark, causing his head to lean back and moan their name deep in his throat.

“Master, I need you, now...”

Satan

It was quite late at night. MC was having no luck sleeping, so decided to wander around the house a little bit. As they walked past the library, they noticed a lamp was on. They weren’t exactly allowed up past this hour, so they peeked around the corner to check who it is. And there sat Satan, book in hand, tea by his side and a small red lamp dimly lighting the room around him.

MC didn’t plan on going to sleep any time soon, so decided to join Satan for a little while. They silently walked behind him where the couch was sitting and gently wrapped their arms around his neck, hands draped down towards his stomach. His body tensed up but relaxed when he turned around and saw MC, a silent purr leaving his lips from the sudden touch.

“MC? What are you doing up? Can’t sleep?” He asked, grabbing hold of one of MC’s hands and stroking it lightly, a small smile creeping onto his lips at the warmth of it. Just this small amount of affection made MC’s stomach flutter and they were finding it difficult to contain themself. Being alone at night made their situation worsen. “Would you like to join me?” Offering out a book from the pile that sat next to him. MC didn’t answer, their eyes were glued to the gently smile plastered on his lips.

A sudden urge came over them and they leaned down towards his ear, so close, they were positive he could feel their breath on his skin. “Satan. Put the book down.” He quickly obeys his order, placing his book on his knees, MC’s hands still wandering over his stomach and breath radiating across his skin. They reward him with kisses plastering across his neck, turning to his ear to nibble on and sucking the red marks they leave behind. Satan was a flustered mess at this point and was getting riled up by the second. They could feel him squeezing their fingers in arousal and groaning at each mark they leave.

They walk in front of Satan who desperately grabs and claws at their hips to try and get them as close to him as possible, desperation and desire burning in their eyes. A slight ping of wrath as he drags them towards him onto their lap to envelop into a deep passionate kiss. He was rough, and they were both panting seconds into the kiss, breaking away every few moments to take a breather before continuing, even deeper than the last.

Satan was grinding into the kiss now, his arousal obvious in his trousers, poking at them, making the pool in their gut grow larger by the second. “Take off your shirt. Now.” A commanding growl escaped MC’s lips as they felt the never fading smirk on his lips spread wider. Satan breaks the kiss to pull off his shirt, but is immediately back into it as soon as it’s off him, the shirt flung across the floor. MC traces their finger over his abs and grips on tightly to his shoulder, as low moans escape each others lips.

“So... What next, Master?”

Asmo

Asmo had decided that today was a good day to pamper eachother. Just the two of them alone. And honestly, he’s probably more excited about it than they are. You two are sat on the bed together talking about whatever gossip Asmo could think up, because let’s face it, he hears it all, when they had an idea that was sure to make the Avatar of Lust falls to his knees..

Asmo had forgotten about the world around him and just kept on talking about things that MC didn’t exactly understand.. so they decided to spice things up and a bit and make things much more exciting. MC smirks at Asmo as they crawl their way over to him and place a hand right on his thigh.

“Oh, MC, how dirty of you!” He smirks in obvious enjoyment at their sudden move, ready to lean in for a kiss.

“Asmo. Stay.” They weren’t going to let him get what he wants that easily. Asmo stares in disappointment as he obeys his command. MC leans forward towards his neck, pulling down his shirt slightly and licks from his chest, up towards his jaw. A shiver runs up his spine as his body expresses how much this excites him. His hands are already slivering it’s way towards their lower back to tug them closer to his body, his eyes blazing with more lust than usual. He knew what he wanted and he wanted it now...

MC’s hands explored his body, using their finger tips to tickle certain sensitive places. He groans in pleasure as his hands grip tighter to your clothes, desperate for you to relieve him of his heightened arousal. They place 2 fingers underneath his chin as he desperately leans forward to engage in a kiss.

“Kiss me. Now.” Asmo lunges forward and he doesn’t hold back. He’s rough, lewd with desire and a longing to be touched more. Moans escape their lips as his hands trail over their body, discovering new erotic and sensual places. You should know better than to tease the Avatar of Lust...

“Do you like it when I touch you there, Master?”

Beel

MC was staring at the ceiling when they suddenly felt quite hungry. They thought they’d just quickly go downstairs to grab something to eat and then come back up, easy. But as they head down the stairs, muffled clashing noises could be heard in the kitchen. It wasn’t unusual to be heard in this house, especially with Beel around, so when they turned the corner to see none other than Beel helping himself to the fridge, they weren’t exactly surprised and instead snook up behind him to give him a hug.

He let out a sound of surprise at the sudden touch, and looked down to see MC squeezing at his waist. He gave them a sweet smile and offered them a bit of food. “You hungry too? There’s not much left, but I’ll happily share what’s left with you.” He grinned at them and continued to eat. They sighed as they realised they weren’t going to get much of a reaction out of him this way.

They swiftly let go of his waist and looked up at the tall man before them. “Beel. Stop and look at me. Now.” His body obeyed the order he was given and spun around to face them, so MC grabbed his shirt, and pulled him down into a kiss. Beel dazedly stared at them for a few seconds, once again surprised by the sudden affection, before eventually closing his eyes and pressing into the kiss, deepening it. MC’s hands moved from his shirt to his neck as their hands ran through his messy, orange hair, gripping at it suddenly, making him groan against their lips. “Beel. Lift me onto the counter” His hands quickly lifted them up and harshly placed them onto the counter, never once breaking the kiss. It was filled with passion and both their eyes were lust filled, both wanting more. MC’s hands trailed underneath Beel’s shirt, and towards his back, clawing at it slightly.

Beel started to explore MC’s body, making them moan onto his lips as his fingers ran over sensitive areas, sending chills down their spine and arousal form between their legs. He nibbled on their lip, occasionally breaking the kiss to bite down on their neck. His eyes looked so lewd as he stared at MC, begging for permission to go further.

“Master... I want to taste more of you...”

Belphie

It was a peaceful night with Belphie. He’d asked them to stay and sleep with him, which, of course, they agreed to. But they had to get up because they were hungry. So now here they are, standing in the doorway of the attic, Belphie’s soft snores echoing around the room, the sounds of his breathing and the way his chest rose and fell so soothing to them. They couldn’t get enough of it. They walked over to where he was laying. He was cuddled up in several blankets, his arms tightly wrapped around his favourite pillow. MC was going to just get into bed and go to sleep, but they had other plans..

MC places a hand on Belphie’s shoulder and gently shakes him, no reaction. Didn’t surprise them really. MC eventually decides to crawl onto the bed and sit on top of him. They stare down at him, still sleeping softly, completely oblivious. It’s somewhat cute when they think about it. He actually always talks about being woken up by his true loves kiss so... MC licks their lips and leans down towards Belphie’s ear, giving it soft kisses and licking down towards his jaw. He stirs in his sleep and groans, grasping at their waist. They wiggle their hips playfully and chuckle to themself, once again leaning down towards his ear

“Belphie. Wake up. Now” His eyes bleakly open to MC sitting on top of him, a wet sensation along his jaw line. A smirk creeps across his lips as he looks them up and down, not saying a word. He leans forward to kiss them, but MC only pushes him back down again. “Stay, boy.” The heat from their breath tickles his neck and he obeys willingly, but bucks his hips against them smugly, causing them to gasp. They lean down and cock an eyebrow at him before going back to his neck, running their hand through his hair whilst the other runs up and down his leg. He groans and places his hand on their lower back, pulling them forwards slightly.

They move their hand towards his chin and pull it up so he’s looking at them. They tease him for a bit before slowly connecting their lips together, tongues entwining seconds later. Belphie was desperate for any type of touch, every moment that MC touched him, made him want to lose control. MC felt him become erect underneath their crotch, Belphie often grinding his hips into them to get some sort of friction. He moans against their lips from meer touches from them, he was overcome with clear lust and was waiting on his Masters orders on what he should do next.

“Keep going, just like that, Master...”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me leviathan #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me mc #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie

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mitsukui · 4 years ago

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cherry explosion | b.w.

Pairing: Bill Weasley x female reader.

Summary: unexpectedly, Bill finds a way to give you the best New Year’s Eve you have ever had.

Word Count: 1,7k.

Warnings: smut! Oral sex (female receiving). Mentions of alcohol, drinking, and one-night stands ending badly.

Disclaimer: none of the pictures used in the edit below belong to me; I simply put them together.

A/N: sending all of my love to those who are spending their New Year’s Eve by themselves! Dear @maddi-sun18, thank you so much for the request, and I hope this can bring you some comfort. Please, leave me some feedback if you feel like it! My askbox is open for your opinions, thoughts and requests. Thank you so much for your time and attention ❤

Masterlist!

Sometimes, it was so easy to read men. Their actions were so predictable, and they never failed to act exactly the same as the ones who had been there previously.

You wondered if there was some sort of training for young gentlemen on how to pick up girls at hotel bars. There seemed to be four steps for a man to follow in order to get lucky: one – exchange looks with the chosen pretty girl; two – lure the prey by offering her a fizzy and fruity drink; three – make small conversation, and say she is different from any other girl in the room; and, finally, four – get into her panties.

All of that was bullshit, and you would never fall for it.

And, perhaps, that was why you panicked a bit when a painfully attractive man approached you in a different way.

“Hey.” He shot you a small, yet, charming smile. “Do you mind if I sit here? If I listen to Patricia Rakepick talking about her adventures in Japan for one more bit, I might die.”

Both of you were taking part in an international conference on Curse-Breaking. The event had gathered wizards and witches from all around the globe, which caused Gringotts to rent a few areas on a muggle hotel in London for it. Although it was a knotty task for so many people to act as if they had no magical powers rushing through their veins, every participant seemed to be doing well on their own.

His presence there was perfectly reasonable, once he was a Curse-Breaker himself. Yours, however, was a bit questionable. You, as a columnist for the Daily Prophet, had been asked to cover the event, and could not be any less excited about it.

It was New Year’s Eve. All you wanted to do was go home to your family and friends.

While many people were not shy on showing their personal preference for Christmas, you were crazy about New Year’s Eve. The upcoming novel 365 days for you to live as if they were your last, the fancy dresses you always insisted on wearing, the taste of fizzy and fruity drinks lingering in your mouth until January 1st – all of that meant something to you, as brainless as it sounded.

Your peevish ways were soon destroyed by his sudden presence and polite attitudes. After you agreed with his company, it did not take long until you were laughing about the event and the people attending it.

As a matter of fact, Curse-Breakers were rather odd and monotonous people. The man with fiery, long hair seemed to be a clear exception to them, with his exotic fang earring, and his dragonhide boots. He also was to be the only good-looking one in that crowded bar, in that stupidly sophisticated hotel.

He was surprising you second by second. Breaking every single trait of loathing you had piled up for men, due to failed relationships and other women’s reports, he was showing himself as a funny and respectful man.

Between a few drinks, you had talked about his insanely big family, your repetitive daily life, his experiences in Egypt, and how you accidently had Apparated in Colombia once, being left without any knowledge of Spanish.

There was something sweet and intoxicating about him; about the way he asked to hold your hand while you were talking, and about the way he confessed and apologized for being unable to stop staring at your lips and wondering what they felt like.

“They probably taste like cherries now.” You leaned in and whispered, the dizzy sensation caused by your Cherry Bomb drink starting to tingle your insides. In a bold movement, you took your cocktail glass towards him. With your other hand, you touched his chin, and pushed it down a bit, forcing his mouth to part open. Your gaze transformed itself into a flirty one, and you told him to sip your drink so he could get a better grasp on what you tasted like.

It did not take long for you to crash your lips against his after that. You felt comfortable doing exactly what you were doing. You felt like you were in command of your own feelings. There was no stupid game of prey and hunter. There was no lie being told so one would get lucky.

At that moment, there were only two adults, being nice to each other and understanding their desires fully.

Unlike so many other men, he had respected you and, in the midst of slightly drunken kisses and touches, he kept on trying to be certain you were okay and you really wanted that.

Bill was briefly tipsy as well, his tongue tasting like the scotch he had earlier. The mixture between your cherry-like taste and his own made you feel like you were in heaven, although his kisses were growing to be hungry and more desperate.

Half an hour later, your hair spread across the pillow he was temporarily using for sleeping purposes. Your dress had been lifted up until your stomach, and your underwear was now nowhere to be found.

His soft hands roamed around your inner thighs as his tongue lapped your juices. Surprisingly, he was terrific at that, and you suspected you would crave more once he was done.

As he gave short licks to your clit and his tongue ran around your folds, two of his fingers were inserted in you. You arched your back, and reached out for his hair. You allowed your own fingers to tug delicately on his locks, his name leaving your lips religiously. He kept on pumping in and out of you, the pressure on your soft spot increasing each time.

The burning knot in your loins became tighter, and he adored how you clenched your walls around him so strongly. You were a mumbling, breathy mess, but he was entirely mesmerized by the sight, and the intimacy you were sharing.

Almost as if destiny was playing a prank on you, when you hit your first orgasm, fireworks started exploding outside the window of his hotel room. You squeezed your eyes shut, and cried out in the greatest pleasure you had ever felt in your entire life.

Slurping and sinful noises were produced as you came back from your high, still moaning. Your entire body trembled violently, but his big hands soothed your delicious torture.

He looked at you and chuckled quietly, your fluids still hanging on his lips, making them even more kissable than before. You were stunning in his eyes, and he feared not being able to let you go after the morning would come.

“Happy New Year, darling.”

January 1st came as softly and quietly as it possibly could. You dozed off in his arms after you spent a bit watching the fireworks show, and talking as well. The fact he was a grown man, but still could hold a decent conversation for so long, without any visible struggles was amusing.

You woke up to the next morning weak daylight peeking through the curtains and tickling your cheeks. Something inside your chest felt amazing. Flashes of the previous night appeared in your mind, and you could not hold a smile back. Funny enough, the taste of your Cherry Bomb drink still lingered faintly on your tongue.

However, all of your peace of mind vanished in the very instant you realized you had woken up by yourself. Waves of embarrassment and regret crashed in your heart, and you felt ridiculous for falling for all of the sweet nothings that had escaped his lips.

“Yes, that would be all. Yes. Room 716. Thank you very much.”

His enchanting voice shattered your own trance into a million pieces, and his bare footsteps announced he was returning to the same spot where you were at. You pulled the white sheets up and covered your naked torso, still unsure of how you would have to deal with the rising tension of the situation.

He soon captured the image of you being up and a glorious grin painted his lips. “Good morning.” His lower body was covered by a pair of dark jeans, which seemed to embrace his existence perfectly well, despite being different from the visual image he displayed last night. How was it possible for someone to look that good early in the morning? Or was it really early? What time was it? What did happen after the fireworks? With a timid voice, you wished him a good morning, too, but remained silent afterwards. It was difficult for you to ponder your next actions.

“So, the room service guys will be here shortly. I took the freedom to order us some breakfast.” His eyes gleamed with a pure kindness as the words slipped out of his lips. “I hope you fancy some orange juice in the morning.” He was offering you nothing but soft spoken words, and thoughtful actions

What was that?!

“B-Breakfast?” You repeated the key word of the whole conversation in surprise. No one had ever prepared, or even ordered, you breakfast after a night of sex and lust.

“Yeah.” Bill was quick to notice your tone of surprise and, somehow, it was funny to him. A girl like you, whom had shown him nothing but a great personality so far, should be used to being pampered like that. “Did you think for one second that I’d just eat you out like that, and leave you hanging the next morning?”

Honestly? Yes. You did think of that. You feared you would be tricked once more. One more disappointment to be added to your personal archive. One more reason to continue living your life despising men.

His arms were crossed against his chest and he shook his head, a dismissive, short laugh echoing through the room. “I would be mental if I ever did that. In a few hours, you managed to wow me.”

He made his way to the bed, and his body sank down on the mattress, being placed right next to yours. Truth being told, without the alcohol, you felt quite shy being that close to such a handsome man. “And, if you allow me to, I want to continue seeing you. I want to get to know more of you.”

A snuggly heat erupted in you, and it was a novel sensation for you. Perhaps, not all men had those devilish ways in them.

“I’m terribly sorry, but I really feel like kissing you right now. But, given your astonished behaviors, I’m not sure if you’d enjoy that. What do you tell me?”

Perhaps, this new year would not be so terrible.

#bill weasley x reader #bill weasley imagine #bill weasley fluff #bill weasley #bill weasley smut #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter smut #smut #🌼 — personal: writings

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brainmaniaman · 4 years ago

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WE'LL TALK ABOUT IT LATER (Bertolt Hoover/Reader)

TITLE: WE'LL TALK ABOUT IT LATER PAIRING: bertolt hoover/reader, light choking(?) TAGS: semi-public sex, female-bodied reader TRIGGER WARNINGS?: kind of mean and unhealthy y/n interactions (very light) w baby bertolt but on god it's part of the plot, very slight dubcon? idk if it can be interpreted that way but it's tagged for safety AU: idk modern au b/c i fuck hard with those DECSRIPTION: yes i believe in bottom bertolt supremacy but one of my friends gave me this idea like okay hear me out, y/n has been straight up blue-balling her boyfriend for quite some time, and it's getting frustrating, so he swallows his nervousness and, per suggestion of his good friend eren, decides to make even in the middle of the movie theater. by the way i am TIRED of everyone having eren hating on bertolt they would be GOOD FRIENDS in a modern au. WORD COUNT: 2,233

"Hey, Eren . . . I have a question" Bertolt looked like he was going to crawl out of his skin as he sat on the opposite end of the couch in the basement, his hands resting on his knees as he fiddled with his fingers.

"Shoot" Said Eren Yeager, pulling his hair back into a messy bun - his fingers expertly tying a small scrunchie into his hair. Jean had teased him about using scrunchies relentlessly - but Eren would die on the hill that using them was better for your hair; the last thing he wanted was for his hair to fall out.

"I, uh . . ." Bertolt's face was turning red, his nose scrunched as he stared at his knees, trying to figure out how to breach the subject. "So you know that y/n and I have been . . . you know, dating for quite some time . . ."

"Yeah . . .?" Eren drawled lazily, leaning his elbows on his knees as he played lazily on his phone, his thumbs typing away. For the most part, he seemed uninterested. "Where are you going with this?"

"Well, you know with dating comes . . . s-" Bertolt paused, now pressing his knuckles together tightly.

"Sex?"

"Yeah, that"

"Well, we've been having it a lot lately . . ."

"Are you just sitting me down to brag about your sex life . . .?" Eren inquired, raising an eyebrow - not that Eren was one to judge as he was often guilty of spilling his guts about his sexual escapades. But with Bertolt? . . . Well, it felt weird and out of place.

"N-No!" was Bertolt's immediately response. "It's not that. It's just lately, well . . ."

"Lately what? Spit it out. I don't have all day." Eren responded, looking down at his phone that was currently blowing up. He had a date coming up soon and he was relatively excited for it.

"Well . . . usually, y/n is, you know, on top . . . you know, more assertive -"

"I mean you didn't have to tell me that" Eren interrupted, "We all knew that -"

"- anyways" Bertolt's face was turning hot at the comment. He didn't have the time to really address Eren's comment. "I like it! I do! But lately, I've been thinking well, I'd like to take control . . ."

"Oh?" Eren's ears perked up and he was wriggling his way closer to Bertolt. "So you took control and they didn't like it, and now you're asking me for help?"

"No . . . not exactly."

"Then what happened?"

"Well, I asked them if they'd be willing to you know . . . switch it up and -"

"Jesus fuck, Bert. You can't just ask you have to just do -"

". . . and well, they laughed in my face, pat my cheek, and said no. I asked Reiner what to do and Reiner said to tell them I wasn't going to have sex until they gave me what I want. I thought it was a bad idea, but I went with it anyways and . . . well, they told me that two could play at that game and it's been . . ."

"How long has it been?"

"Uh . . ." Bertolt squirmed a bit in his place, "Two weeks. . ."

"Two weeks!" Eren exclaimed incredulously, in sheer disbelief. "That's insane! And you've just let them get away with it for this long?"

"Uh . . ." Bertolt scratched the back of his neck nervously, "What do you mean by get away with it? I mean . . . yeah . . .? What else am I supposed to do?"

"Well firstly," Eren said, picking up his phone, "Never ask Reiner for advice again. That was your first mistake. Secondly, let me cancel my date tonight -"

"Oh, no - you don't have to do that!" Bertolt responded quickly, "Just a few pieces of advice would be sufficient . . ."

Eren tapped away tirelessly at his phone before turning it face-down on the coffee table, now turning towards Bertolt - a rather determined look in his eyes.

"No -" Eren held up a hand, "I want to help. Besides, I'm going to tell you exactly what to do and we're going to run over it a few times, then - I'm going to make sure you don't pussy out. Knowing you, this is going to take a while. Consider it my early birthday present to you"

"My birthday was a month ago . . ."

"That's not the point. Anyways," Eren placed a very serious hand on his friend's shoulder, pulling Bertolt closer, "You're going to want to take her to the most popular movie in theaters on a Saturday night -"

"Where are you going with this?"

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

Seeing how packed the movie theater was, Bertolt was definitely thinking about backing out of it. While his partner was in the restroom, presumably washing their hands, he fiddled with his phone in his hands.

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

To: Eren Yeager

From: Bertolt Hoover

- I don't know if this is a good idea . . .

Read: 9:45 pm

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

From: Eren Yeager

To: Bertolt Hoover

- If you don't go through with this I'll never forgive you. I canceled a date to prep you on this. Don't make me have canceled my date in vain. I dedicated my heart to this cause.

Read: 9:47 pm

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

To: Eren Yeager

From: Bertolt Hoover

- I guess . . .

Read: 9:48 pm

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

To: Bertolt Hoover

From: Eren Yeager

- I'm putting my upmost faith and trust in you. Don't fuck this up.

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

"Here -" Bertolt extended his arms out to you as you came back from the restroom and concessions, a bag of candy in your hands, "I brought this for you."

His smile was innocent enough and the gesture was kind.

"Thank you." Was your tart response as you leaned over to pat the side of his face and press a kiss to his forehead before sitting down. "So have you changed your mind about what you asked for?" You inquired, taking his hand in your own as you opened your bag of candy and set it between the two of you as you linked your fingers in his own. Perhaps you shouldn't have brought up that topic of conversation here, on a movie date, but you couldn't help it - the way his big eyes looked up at you when he handed you the blanket drove you crazy. It made you want to lower yourself on him right then and there. It was just a damn shame that he had to be so persistent. The first week was easy enough but as you rounded out the second week of this no-sex stalemate . . . well, it was getting more difficult.

He openly frowned.

"Is that a no?"

"Do we have to have this conversation here? Let's just try to have a good night . . ."

You felt a bit guilty but were never the type who was keen on saying sorry.

"We'll talk about it later, then . . ." You responded dryly, clearly unhappy with the response.

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

To be honest, when Bertolt had suggested watching one of the like, seven hundred Quentin Tarentino movies produced, you were slightly surprised. He was never one for big action movies - especially loud ones; loud noises were often too intense for him. As well as that, neither of you were into mindless action movies. However, this - whatever the hell this was - was actually quite enjoyable.

Halfway through the movie, you found yourself sucked into a particularly loud action scene.

You hadn't really noticed, or particularly cared, when Bertolt had slipped his hand underneath the blanket - resting his palm on your knee. It was kind of comforting.

You hadn't really noticed when he slipped his hand from the top of your knee to the inside of your knee, either.

Or when he inched it up halfway up your thigh.

However, you had noticed when his hand was slipping up your skirt, resting on the upmost part of your thigh where the muscle met the pelvis. For a second, you wondered if he was really trying to pull moves right here, in a movie theater, underneath this blanket - but when you looked over, noticing how tense and uncomfortable he was, you figured if he was, he wasn't going to go through with it - but settled on the notion that he probably wasn't even thinking about it.

A few moments passed by before you felt the tip of his finger press against your panties. There was a moment of tense surprise as your head snapped to look at your boyfriend, your expression narrowing - almost as though you were daring him to push further. You couldn't tell if he was embarrassed or not, but by the way he looked directly at the screen - you could tell he was at the very least a bit flustered.

If that was this case, this pathetic excuse for a mutiny would be over soon.

He drug the pad of his finger around your clothed clitoris gently, teasing it. You felt your abdomen jerk and dropped your hands onto his over the blanket, trying to hold them in place.

Bertolt's thin finger continued to tease around your clit before sliding downwards, continuing to rub over the fabric of your panties before pushing them slightly to the side. His face was hot with nervousness but the adrenaline of the entire situation was rushing to his head.

He continued to train his eyes on the screen in front of him, pretending to be invested in seeing the seventh car crash of the night. While his eyes were on the screen, his finger was sliding up and down your slit, slick from how wet you were. Bertolt wondered - what expression were you making right now? Was your face twisting up in confusion and frustration? Was your mouth forming into a little O?

You pressed your thighs together, your hands now squeezing at the armrests of the chair, squirming. Your heart raced and you pressed your head back into the chair, biting down on your lip as his finger slid its way back up to your clit, gently rubbing at it. Bertolt couldn't hear anything over the sound of cars crashing into each other, but he could certainly imagine how lewd you sounded - it only made sense, considering the fact that you were simply dripping.

Without much warning, Bertolt slipped his finger into you.

Head swimming, you let out a very small moan.

Finally, he turned his head to you.

"Are you okay?" He whispered. The question seemed innocent enough, but given that he was currently one knuckle deep into your cunt, his finger sliding in and out of you and curling, thumb pressing against your clit, you couldn't help but feel irritated with the question.

"Ber-" You let your head loll over to face him, face flushed red and and mouth slightly agape, though found yourself incapable of finishing the sentence as he slipped in a second finger.

The sight of your eyes half-lidded and your tongue poking out between your lips, which were parted gently, and the overall look of pathetic helplessness you gave him was almost too much. If the two of you weren't in a packed theater, he would have rolled you underneath him, torn off your panties, and fucked you underneath your skirt then and there. But for now, he'd have to settle for sliding his fingers back and forth against the inside of your gummy walls, which were tightening against him.

"Shh." He placed a finger to your lips. "The movie is still going. Try to keep quiet." His finger muffled the small gasps and groans you were breathing out. "Here - try this" He slipped a piece of candy in your mouth. "Good, no?"

He refrained from sliding his fingers into your mouth then and there.

As his fingers rocked in and out of you, you bit down on the candy to stifle the moans and gasps. For a second, you thought you were going to choke - but managed to swallow just fine.

Bertolt looked away, once more training his eyes on the movie. Pleasure pooled at the bottom of your stomach and very gently and discreetly, you began to grind your hips into his fingers.

"That's different." He mumbled to himself.

The second time he turned to look over at you, he could see tears forming at the corner of your eyes as you struggled to discreetly grind your hips against his fingers, seeking out an orgasm, but couldn't quite find the pace your body needed without being blatantly obvious.

The only thing you could do was close your eyes and tilted your head back as Bertolt curled his fingers in you - the pace quickening.

Your heartrate grew faster and you could feel his lips press at the shell of your ear.

What was it that Eren said to add? he thought, that's right -

Breath hot on your ear, he rasped out a simple question.

"Tell me, do you deserve it?" Truthfully, he felt awkward saying it - as though the words didn't quite come out of his mouth. You must have disagreed though, because the only thing you could mutter out in response was -

"Y-Yes"

You were starting to reach the edge of your orgasm, your head pressed against his own, back arching gently, as he pressed his face into your neck. Legs shaking, you sucked in a deep breath and -

His fingers slipped out of you and he took a moment to wipe them off on the insides of the blanket before linking his fingers in your own, leaving you a rattled, shaking, frustrated mess - completely unraveled before him as you tried to catch your breath.

"I don't think you do. We'll talk about it later."

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banoffeeflamingo · 3 years ago

Text

Staying Close

‘The Doctor comes back from a solo adventure to Space Atlantis all wet and cold, so Clara makes him a cup of tea to warm him up’ -

AO3

(Full Disclosure, I’ve never put my fic on tumblr before, but I guess I thought why not?)

****

Clara heard a whoosh, then a crash, then she was on her feet and rushing towards who she knew had inevitably just materialised in her flat.The Doctor had landed in her bedroom, as he usually did, but this time the landing had clearly been rushed and multiple pieces of furniture had been knocked over. He leant against the doors of the Tardis for a moment and caught his breath.

She raised her eyebrows and asked the obvious.

“Doctor, why are you soaking wet? And can you…stop dripping on my carpet?”

He looked at her wildly. “Where do I even start? You should have been there. Why weren’t you there?”

Clara laughed and shook her head. “Because you didn’t tell me! You know I would have said yes.”

“Oh…sorry. It was an impulse decision. But Space Atlantis!” The Doctor gesticulated excitedly. “It is fascinating. Well, it was. I’m afraid I caused more destruction than I anticipated.”

“Unsurprising,” Clara replied. “Come on, I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

Usually the Doctor found the miscellanies of domestic human life unbearably boring, but if Clara was there, he would often still do what she said. He wanted to have a really good, really rational explanation as to why, but maybe it was just as simple as always being drawn back to her.

He sat down at her kitchen table with a small squelch. Clara stifled a giggle. “I’ve got the heating on, if you want to kick your shoes off or something,” she said.

The Doctor paused. “I’ve got a better solution,” he said before quickly walking back into the bedroom and his Tardis. It didn’t take him long at all to find the massive air drying machine the space-time machine had installed at some point. Standing in the jets of warm air for only a few seconds, he was already completely dry.

Clara gave a small sigh as he came back to sit down at the table. “Taking the easy way out, I see. I’ve already started brewing the tea, do you even want it anymore?”

“What do you mean? Of course I do. Space Atlantis is no tropical resort, I’m still chilly enough.”

She smiled. Maybe they’d have to run right off after this. Find some new amazing sight to see. Even the phrase ‘Space Atlantis’ was already filling Clara with the heady, reckless desire for adventure that the Doctor brought. It beat marking her English essays too, of course.

Then again, all he had to do was give her his hand and she’d be flying off in less than a heartbeat.

“How much sugar do you have?” he asked.

“Enough for you, I promise,” Clara reassured him. She knew, by now, that he took his tea sweeter than honey.

The Doctor sighed, but he still seemed happy. “Times like these just remind me of how the universe is always changing. I think there’s a few Space Atlantises, but none of them are exactly like that one.”

“It’s a shame it’s gone though,” Clara said.

For a moment, a sense of evasion crossed his face, a look the Doctor only adopted when he felt restless. “Still though, Magmarous, supposed to have the largest volcanoes in the galaxy…what do you say?” he continued, only slightly missing a beat. Clara still noted it though, not much got past her, not from him.

“After this, yeah? Clara smiled, getting up to pour out the tea as the water finished boiling. She always automatically chose a mug with a nebula on it for him. “Don’t those Time Lord hearts of yours ever need resting?” she added.

My hearts are never still with you, he thought, spontaneously, but didn’t say aloud. Clara enjoyed the power she had over him too much already.

“Of course,” the Doctor replied instead. He paused again, before broaching a question he really didn’t ask enough.

“Maybe we should be careful though. Go somewhere safer. Less…explosive.”

Clara scoffed instantly at this. She saw his game, she knew what he was trying to do.

“Doctor, there’s no point worrying about me,” she said. “You’ve got enough people in the universe to worry about. Besides, I know I’ll be fine if I’m with you.”

Now it was his turn to chuckle. “I’m not sure if I have a particularly good past record.”

She sat down and placed the cup in front of him. She already had sugar cubes ready, and only really bought them for when he came around to her flat, which was not very often.

“What are you thinking, Doctor?” Clara asked, wanting to dispel the sudden tension.

“I don’t know. It’s not important.”

“Yes, it is, now tell me!”

He ran a hand through his recently dried hair. “Sometimes I think…maybe you’re becoming more like me.”

Clara stared down into her mug. Another one of his hard hitting statements, and again she had nothing to say.

“Well, that’s not such a bad thing, is it?” she said, after a prolonged moment.

“I can’t lose you, Clara, that’s all,” The Doctor said, almost offhandedly. Quickly he realised the gravity of his words and cleared his throat.

She shuffled her chair closer to him and took his hand. It was, as he said, pretty cold still. All the more reason to hold him tight.

“Well, you won’t. Not going anywhere, not me. Well, unless it’s with you, of course.”

The Doctor’s eyes seemed to regain some light. He smiled again. “Naturally. Nice tea, by the way,” he added, taking another sip. She wondered if he could really taste anything other than the sweetness, but took the compliment gladly.

As soon as both mugs had been drained, Clara flung them into the sink haphazardly and made towards the Tardis.

“So, Magmarous, was it?” she said. “Still up for it?”

“Take a wild guess,” the Doctor said with a grin, relishing the energy she had brought back to him. He still bitterly regretted not taking her to ‘space atlantis’ (which was not really called that, but by this point it was just more convenient to say.)

As soon as he walked into the Tardis and turned his back, Clara flung her arms around him for a big hug. She could already sense that he needed it.

The Doctor laughed again and squeezed her hand. “Ah, I missed you Clara,” he said.

She grinned. “It’s only been, what, a day?”

Pulling the Tardis lever to spirit them away again, the Doctor shrugged.

“One day too many.”

#mine #twelve x clara #fluff #romantic tension #otp #doctor who #whouffaldi

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xiao-cafe · 4 years ago

Text

drabble game — prompt 67

pairing: diluc x gn!reader

prompt: “If you don’t want to talk about it then say so. Don’t lie and pretend to be fine when you clearly aren’t.”

tags: fluff, grumpy diluc, healer!reader

wc: 1.3k

notes: in the part with the chest i don’t mean like a female chest but like a normal human chest that’s up to your interpretation ^^ also thank you to @spoiledmoras for requesting this! i rushed the ending bc if i went on it would’ve become a full-fledged fic and im not ready for that kind of commitment

The moon hung high and bright in the sky as Diluc limped his way back to Mondstadt. With each step forward, the next step became harder as his legs threatened to give way beneath him.

It wasn’t like him to be injured so badly while protecting Mondstadt in the middle of the night but simple recklessness took a hold of him and he had rashly put himself in danger for the sake of intercepting a few Abyss Mages and the hordes of hilichurls they led.

Granted, his injury was merely a result of his rashness that led to him falling off the cliff after swinging his claymore too widely, making such a rookie mistake weighed heavily on him as he recalled why he had been so agitated in the first place.

Exhaling heavily, Diluc cast a withering glare at the steps leading up to the Cathedral. He had always been one up for some light exercise but his bones ached at the thought of dragging himself all the way up to get some medical help.

“I should’ve gone back to the Winery…” The red-headed man muttered to himself. He glanced back at the route he had taken, the gears spun in his head as he calculated his chances of making it back to the Winery before daybreak or even surviving the night.

But his thoughts were interrupted as you appeared before him, like an angel in the dark.

“Y/N.” He greeted smoothly as he attempted to stand up straighter. The sight of Mondstadt’s newest healer was a welcoming one for Diluc.

Your eyes were as wide as saucers as you observed Diluc looking dishevelled and nothing alike the refined gentleman he always appeared to be.

“Master Diluc.” You responded, eyes roving from his face to his feet. “You’re injured.” You gasped, pointing at his knees.

The man nodded quietly, refusing to explain any further.

One of the things Diluc disliked about you was your unnatural ability to pinpoint when something was up with a person. Your questioning gaze searched his face for answers but Diluc remained stone-faced as you guided him to the fountain by the plaza.

“I know this isn’t the most comfortable of places but I don’t think I could carry you all the way back to the Cathedral.” You said to the man as you helped him move into a seated position with his legs outstretched.

“It’s fine,” He answered, grimacing slightly as pain flared in his legs.

“Pardon me,” You whispered as you rolled up his pants, your face bore no emotion as you assessed the extent of his injuries. Your hands were cool to the touch as your fingers brushed against his skin lightly. As much as he’d hate to admit it, your touch calmed him down and the simmering rage that burned within him seemed to dissipate.

“You’ve been getting hurt more frequently as of late, is something on your mind?” You asked him, unaware that a pair of scarlet eyes were trying to burn a hole into your face for asking a simple question.

“It’s nothing.” Diluc answered stiffly, crossing his arms as he spoke.

The man wondered how much longer you’d take to fix him up and how many more intrusive questions would you ask during that time.

“You sure?”

Diluc sighed deeply, causing you to look up from your work in concern.

“I am. Fine.” He stated quietly, an underlying tone of anger laced his voice as he directed a steely glare at you.

Nevertheless, you were undisturbed by his grumpiness.

“If you don’t want to talk about it then say so.” You told him, a reassuring smile donned your lips as you continued, “Don’t lie and pretend to be fine when you clearly aren’t.”

Were you… giving him advice?

An unknown emotion erupted in Diluc‘s chest as he glared at you as you worked, your hands hovered above his wounds as you healed him with your powers.

“I have no need to disclose personal matters with you.” Diluc said, breaking the silence.

“I know.”

Diluc gritted his teeth, why would you ask if you had known in the first place?

“I just wanted to know if there was anything I could do to help,” You stated, answering his unspoken question.

“You’re always coming back to the city this late in the night, injured, and as someone who’s been healing you for the past few weeks I’ve just been feeling a little worried that’s all.”

It was true. Diluc knew he wasn’t being himself, throwing himself at monsters every chance he got. And the fact that you always happened to be around when he needed a healer was something he greatly appreciated.

Perhaps he had been too harsh…

“Klee’s always saying that you never smile and I guess that’s true!” You laughed pointing at him.

Even without a mirror, Diluc knew exactly what you had meant and your laughter only served as oil to be added to the growing flames.

As time passed, the pressure on his brow lifted and the quiet anger quickly turned into approval (and a hint of admiration) while you finished up the healing process, unfurling his pant leg to signify that you were done.

“I’ve done as much as I could but you should definitely follow me to the Cathedral so you can receive proper treatment.” You stated, perspiration coated your forehead which you promptly wiped away with your sleeve.

“I’ll be fine on my own.” Diluc answered, refusing your outstretched hand in offer.

“Oh, but I’ve only alleviated the pain, the injury is still-” Your words were interrupted as the red-haired man attempted to stand up, only to fall forward and into your arms.

You let out a yelp as Diluc’s weight sent the both of you crashing into the cobbled floors.

“Are you okay?!” Your voice was high as you lifted Diluc’s face from your chest.

“I’m so sorry, I couldn’t support your weight.” You blurted out and continued to apologize profusely even as Diluc lifted himself off of you with his arms and rolled over.

“Your face is red, do you have a fever!?” You pressed your palm to Diluc’s cheek, “You’re burning up!”

Diluc remained composed despite his flushed cheeks, his face felt warm and the way you touched him in such an unrestrained manner didn’t seem to bother him at all. In fact, he wanted more.

You were a rambling mess as you fussed over him, checking his temperature and if his injury had worsened.

Diluc narrowed his eyes at you as he let you help him sit up, he wasn’t sure why he felt the need to hold you. But he let you press your body next to his as his arm slung around your shoulders and you lifted him from the floor.

“Don’t worry, I’m prepared to support you this time!” You assured him, to which Diluc responded with a low unconvinced hum.

Yet, a hint of a smile was evident on his lips as you walked with him up the many stairs, until the both of you reached the Cathedral, out of breath.

“We’re… Here…” You panted, your legs complained with each step you took but you ignored the limits of your body and focused on getting Diluc some much needed medical help.

In truth, Diluc had already gotten used to the initial soreness in his legs. With the pain gone, he could still walk even though he was certain the bone within hasn’t mended but the man wasn’t about to tell you that.

In his eyes, you were strange, asked many invasive questions, yet you stirred something deep in his heart and he would rather compliment Kaeya than to say what was on his mind.

Even as you called for Barbara, you stayed by his side. Making sure he was comfortable and assisting Barbara whenever you could.

Although, the blush on his face still wouldn’t go away.

end.

end notes: this was also unedited bc its 1am and im sleepy lmao

#diluc #diluc x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #diluc drabbles #genshin diluc #genshin impact drabbles #genshin impact diluc #zhongli-cafe-writes

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