#the title really has nothing to do with the fic
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Can you add scaramouche to your omega character series? He'd be a disastrous omega that needs lots of healing but I'm sure his partner can provide
You're doing great! I love reading your fics and characterization
Scaramouche as an omega
I was really considering Scaramouche before to start with genshin! I was a bit scared to start with Scara because I could see that I would start yapping, and almost did, I had to cut so many things bc my initial idea was to write him in all stages of his life, also not sure if you meant the canon timeline or fatui!scaramouche, but I can do that in the future, for now this fic has some brief mentions of Kabukimono and the fatui. And thank you for the kind words, it means a lot!
gn!reader; cw: contains deep dives into his mindset so he has pessimistic thoughts in some parts (like him thinking that reader is a sort of player, bur nothing too heavy)
This poor omega is indeed disastrous, since the moment his creator abandoned him, Kabukimono was left with a lot of questions regarding his worth. He does not understand, truly, by venturing around he discovered that omegas were not treated with much respect, was that the reason why his mother abandoned him? Does she think an alpha would be more appropriate to be an archon? But he was a puppet, designed by her will, it didn't make sense why she would make him an omega to begin with if that was her reasoning, so what was wrong with him?
The little fledgling was happy during his stay in Tatarasuna, Niwa was a father figure that teached him many skills, and the village helped each other, he was pampered by everyone. What a pity that disaster caused by a doctor's interest befell such a kind community.
Scaramouche felt his dignity crumble more each year, month, day, second that passed. At every step that he was corrupted by the fatui's ideals and methods - his body torn apart from Dottore's experiments - the thoughts of self-doubt grew in his mind. He wasn't enough to be a god, discarded before he had the chance to try, his hands didn't purify the water nor cut through mountains, no one would sing his name in worship, but he also wasn't enough to be human, his skin is artificial, unflawed like porcelain, not even a mechanical heart occupy the emptiness of his hollow chest. Forever lost in between the limbo of where his existence belongs.
For a being so emotional, Scaramouche wonders when was the last time he felt anything besides rage, it doesn't matter too much for him, as he learned how to use his anger as a tool. His underlings - though only in the fatui, as the people of Sumeru never faced the omega's wrath (or better worded, don't remember) - whispered out of his earreach, murmurs wondering if the beautiful omega was capable of love.
And now, carrying the title of Wanderer and face to face with the reason that made the vacant part of him tremble, he finally found the answer.
Courting
Nahida's orders indirectly led him to you, to be a student of the Akademiya would eventually force him to interact with other scholars, you being from Vahumana or not didn't matter, as students from different darshans would often benefited from cooperating. And like many people he met nowadays, he was indifferent at first, which considering his past as The Balladeer, when everyone was an annoying fly in his way, is a considerable improvement.
But for many aspects of life, even as he accepted that this would be something that he never would reach, he was interested in humanity. What makes people human, their flaws, traits, mannerisms and personality, what makes them yield or fill them with confidence. His almost deification didn’t bring him the same satisfaction as he felt with Niwa and the rest of the Tatarasuna people, but watching the Sumeru's citizens may be close enough.
If it's something he can't be, then he will appease himself by observing.
As he looks at alphas, he thinks that this is another thing that he is flawed at. In his studies, Scaramouche determined that omegas supposedly went crazy over alphas, but he never felt it before, or maybe he never gave himself a chance to try. A long time before he learned the consequences of creating genuine connections, that humans tend to betray the same way gods do.
But… he learned that they never did abandon him, that maybe he can trust again.
And while you both worked on your project, these types of thoughts ushered to the top of his mind like never before. You were nice to him,and laughed it off when he was being purposely cunning. You were also attentive, meticulous in your work and doting on him, always bringing him tea or other types of bitter delicacies, and just shrugged when he said there was no need to feed him.
He liked to see your reactions, there were moments when your behaviour took a tired and upset turn, when you mumbled curses about the things that went wrong with your work. It was somewhat relieving and entertaining to witness, that the gentle façade crumbles when faced with challenges.
“It's always better to work with a full stomach” you said, not sparing a thought that he didn't need to eat.
“This is pointless” the omega grumbled, he took a step away from the food.
“So just eat for the satisfaction of it, the success rate of content workers is higher than stressed ones” you insisted, and Scaramouche hated that.
Why do you treat it like there was no trouble in taking care of him? Getting out of your way to please others is dumb, especially for the likes of him.
The omega knows that he is a pessimist, that people always have motives behind their actions, and even Nahida didn't escape his judgement as he does not believe she is merely being kind and benevolent. You are no different, and when he is alone with his thoughts after bidding you goodbye and retiring for the day, he must find your intentions.
As he looks himself in the mirror, Scaramouche looks carefully at his appearance, “alphas and betas are always kinder to pretty omegas, we all know that they only want one thing” it's what the older men from the bazar say. He raises his hands to cup his face, fingers touching smooth skin with no marks, doe indigo eyes look back at him with something akin to divinity, and as he glances lower, he does not think his body lacks in beauty.
That must be it, they clearly are being good to me only to get in my pants!
Scaramouche is not a saint, he knew that, but since he started to work on his path to atonement, he was completely honest about himself. The omega knows that not everyone is like that, people that mask themselves behind lies and generous mannerisms are the worst kind of evil, and to think that you would be capable of that-
Hurts.
There is an annoying pain in his chest and a prickle behind his eyes. He needed proof, he will uncover the worst in you, that's a promise he made to himself.
Scaramouche was snarky and insufferable the following days, refusing to cooperate at all. And though he won't admit it, it was hard for him to do that, your scent wavered with a hint of sadness everytime he was rough, and he felt a need within him clawing to be free, he had to fight himself against releasing a comforting scent to appease you.
But his instinct quieted down whenever he saw you acting honorably to other omegas, when you held the door open for a nobody, or when you generously lent a hand to someone feeling troubled. The rage he felt was immeasurable, he growled lowly and was almost convinced to attack whoever was taking your attention from him.
So he wasn't special at all, he wasn’t needed, he wasn't wanted, it's always like that.
It all came to a boiling point when he snapped at you, harsh words thrown at your directions about what he thought you were doing, messing with omegas hearts just to set them aside when you were done getting what you wanted, truly shameful. Nonetheless, he felt regretful when he saw your pained expression.
“What made you think that?” your voice was quiet, and Scaramouche would prefer if you looked pissed by his accusations, anything to reassure him that he was right “You could have told me you were uncomfortable, I would've stopped”
Uncomfortable? He isn't uncomfortable by your actions towards him, he is… pleased that you did not shy away from a broken thing like him. What he did not like was when you did things for others that he believes should be only for him, and the perceptions he created himself even when you never gave him a reason to.
During all this time Scaramouche was overwhelmed by feelings, and though he is used to feel too much, what he felt about you was completely foreign to him, not the familial care he felt for Niwa and the kid from ages ago, not the gratefulness he felt for Nahida and the traveler for giving him a chance to atone for his mistakes, and not the kinship when he met Durin.
“So are you saying that you were running away from it?” Nahida questioned, placing a flower crown above the omega's head, aranara's joyfully circling around both of them “It's fine to be scared, and if you talk to them about it I am sure they will understand”
“How are you sure that people won't disappoint you? Don't you believe it's easier if you cut the problem by the roof so you never have to discover it?”
“I decide to give an opportunity for everyone to prove themselves, and maybe you would be happily surprised by the results” the goddess cupped his face, pinching the fat of his cheeks and giggling when Scaramouche bat her hands away “You look different since you met them, even your scent doesn't hold that sour end from before”
And he followed Nahida's advice, not because she told him what to do, but staying away from you was killing him inside. This is not normal, is it? To think the world is falling apart just because your desired person is not close by.
Moreover, he guesses that since becoming a citizen of Sumeru he started to work on redeeming himself, what is one more person to apologize for when you acted out of line?
Scaramouche prepared a basket of fruits and Padisarah flowers and headed to your work station, exchanging these types of words is still unfamiliar to him, but he made it very clear that he wanted to improve your relationship.
It's possible that the state of your relationship was just confirmed when someone he was jealous of before questioned him.
“Of course we are courting, don't ask stupid questions”
Honestly, it's possible Scaramouche just came to terms with his feelings after he said that. The omega was still astonished that he is loved back, he doesn't know if he deserves this.
And yet, he can't deny himself the pleasure of being in your arms, taking deep breaths of your scent and resting his eyes with your rumbling under his head. If he is being selfish and taking a good alpha form a good omega, so be it! No one deserves you anyway, if another omega even thinks of taking you from him they will be met with sharp teeth and claws.
You both become inseparable, while it's mostly because he enjoys spending time with you as much as you - and he sees you as one of the few people that it's not a waste of time to be together -, it's also a result of a deeply buried insecurity of being betrayed, he knows that some were misunderstandings, but it's hard to change a mindset after hundreds of years believing in it.
He prefers the reassurance coming from actions instead of words, so when his alpha permit him to scent all of their clothes and also their body, or hold him tight and shows that he belongs by their side when he is feeling bothered by the presence of another, it's moments like this that he feels the most complete.
Scaramouche is truthful in a relationship and he expects you to do the same, if he feels that he needs something and you can provide he will ask, he may not be the romantic type, but everyday he makes it very clear how much he adores you.
He doesn't have a favorite gift to receive - unless you make a table full of sweets, he will complain non-stop if you do that. Spending time together is enough for him, but he appreciates anything you give him, gift him a small plushie and say you thought of him when you saw it, perhaps he will tease you and joke a little, but he will keep it safe. If you give Scaramouche jewelry or any small token, he will bring it with him anywhere he goes. His gifts to you include artifacts he finds when Nahida sends him on expeditions, also Scaramouche doesn't have hobbies for himself, so instead he will engage on yours.
Growling
During the fatui era, growls were very frequent sounds he made, it was almost impossible that someone that worked with him and never heard him growl. And he felt so powerful doing so, a long time ago, while he still lived in Inazuma, omega's were heavily punished if they growled at someone, and though this conservative behavior diminished a lot compared to the past, it was far from being extinguished.
So with his title as a harbinger, Scaramouche growled until they all cowered by his feet, just like a god should be revered.
But since living in Sumeru, he doesn't growl as much anymore, this is because he is not as stressed as before, he lifted the weight off his shoulders that was having to act like something he would never become, he was not trying to sacrifice his body for his objectives anymore. There's the occasional growl when other people irritate him, as a warning to watch their words and actions.
In a relationship with you, Scaramouche also growls when he is feeling jealous or insecure, but overall, he does not growl at you unless he is in a deep mindset that something feels wrong, he will require reassurance in times like this.
Purring
Scaramouche doesn't remember the last time he purred, and now he is almost sure his purr box is broken. The omega has two reasons to think that, one is that it has been centuries, he does not know how to purr due to the disuse of that part of his vocal cords, another is because of the experiments Dottore made on him, turning his body almost inside out.
Nowadays he does not care whether he purrs or not, it's a thing he lived almost his entire life without, and he does not miss it.
If he somehow discovers that he can purr again, it would be an almost inaudible sound. If you want to hear it, you would need to rest your head over his chest, it's more vibrational than vocal. Scaramouche will not purr in public, for him, it's a thing that just both of you should be aware of.
Nesting
Scaramouche does not have a proper nest, actually, what he calls his nest is merely two pillows and one blanket that he carries around his home. at max he will try to put the blanket in a circular shape.
He took a while before introducing you to his nest. He was a bit insecure at first, other omega's have big and filled nests, with an enormous assortment of colors and textures, while his… during the fatui, he would say it was just another thing that proved something was wrong with him.
And he enjoys it so much when you are with him in his nest, you could be just relaxing around the house, and he would bring his blanket and wrap it around you wordlessly. It made him feel warm with adoration whenever he saw you inside something purely his.
He won't get out of his way to buy or make things for his nest, but he will increment it if it is a gift from his alpha. He thinks it is kind of lovable that his alpha would try to get things to make him more comfortable, and Scaramouche deeply appreciates that.
Marking
He marks you all the time, even before you started to officially court. His scent is now almost ingrained into your skin, and if he already had permission to give you a biting mark, he would.
It's not just a sign for other omegas that you are already committed to him, it's also a reminder for you, that you have an omega to come back to, and that he would do anything to keep you with him.
But even after he becomes confident that you won't leave him behind - no omega or yourself is going to separate you from him - he still covers you in his smell, Scaramouche became very fond of the whole process of scent marking and to claim you for himself.
It's therapeutic to him, he will nuzzle quietly your cheeks and bring the scent glands of his wrists to your neck, not a single gland of your go untouched. For him, it's a mandatory procedure that you must go through before leaving home, especially if your agendas oblige you to not be together for the rest of the day.
Subspace
He never entered subspace before you, and it also took a while for you to achieve that. He denied himself the mindset many times before, he felt kinda scared by it, to be so vulnerable. Anytime he felt that his mind was starting to feel like it was becoming cotton filled, Scaramouche immediately backed away from you and tried to distract himself.
When he does enter subspace, he is whiny and clingy, following you around your home and hugging you when you are busy, from behind if you are cooking, sitting on your lap and throwing his arms around your neck while you work.
Scaramouche feels like he took a shot of serotonin when he smells your skin, he is addicted, touching every exposed part of your body to his contentment. He also likes to bite, so you probably will be covered by marks of nibbles by the end of it.
And when he sobers up again he gets flustered easily, he can't believe he let instincts control over his body. He will hiss if you mention anything that he did during subspace. Nonetheless, he will eventually get into it again and the cycle will repeat itself.
☽ ☼ ☾
Scaramouche supposes things should turn out like they were before, that everything would come back to normal, he followed Nahida's advice, the instinct in his gut that begs to be with you, and yet, it seems worse than before. The omega may have had a strong reaction before and jumped into conclusions far from the truth, but he has also gotten used to silently pine for you, not expecting anything from it - maybe he can be and was aggressive towards other people that had your attention, but he won't mention it! -, for he can count the number of times in his long life that situations turned into his favor.
But Scaramouche reminded himself that he has to learn that your entire existence is too good to be true. You give him hope in many ways that he never imagined before. Your arms are stretched before him, holding a light blue and soft blanket.
“And for what reason would you give me that?” he stepped forward, picking the material from your hands.
“Can't you guess?” you chuckled and shook your head, the movement dispersed your scent that was reeking of amusement “If anything, see it as a gift to compensate the time we spend apart, to show how much I cherish you”
His eyes widen at the proclamation, under his nose he can smell that the blanket is scented. An item for a nest and carrying your smell, isn't that a sign of a courting gift? He couldn't help but hug the blanket tighter at the thought.
“Thank you for trying to look out for me”
For a long time he desired for a normal life, all his objectives from the past had the intention to lead to it, sadly all was for nothing, and he hopes he didn't look pitiful for that. And yet, in front of him, he saw an opportunity for that, he just needed to reach for you.
Once again, he gives himself the chance to dream of a better future.
#genshin impact x reader#scaramouche x reader#wanderer x reader#genshin impact x gn reader#scaramouche x gn reader#wanderer x gn reader#omega!scaramouche#omega!wanderer#alpha!reader#alpha/beta/omega dynamics#omegaverse
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do you feel us falling ('cause i feel us falling)
Pairing: Lucifer/Alastor
Rating: G
Tags: Established Relationship, First Kiss, Demiromantic Ace Alastor, Autistic Alastor (it shows), they have the "omg what are we?" talk <3, bonus: Platonic Radiodust!
A/N: This is part 3 of my Radioapple series, The Taming of the Deer and the Devil! If you've not yet read the other 2 parts, highly recommend doing that first! Anyways, I've been working on this one off and on for months between other fics, and it kinda shows... Hope you enjoy anyways! Title is from Goodnight Moon by Go Radio!
It happens in bed. Alastor is snuggling himself into Lucifer's feathers, waiting for Lucifer to pull him close and cling to him like he's a stuffed animal. But he doesn’t. He keeps a bit of distance, which can only mean one thing: They're about to have a Talk. Probably some inane question Lucifer's worked himself into thinking is the Most Important Thing Ever again, but the waiting is cutting into Alastor's “being warm and comfortable” time, and that just won't do. He cracks an eye open, giving Lucifer a look that seems to say get on with it already.
“So I, uh, I wanted to ask if… Well, maybe you wanted to… Come over for dinner this week? Uh, at— at my place, obviously.” Lucifer’s expression is hopeful, as if he still has some doubt as to whether Alastor will say yes. As if I’ve said no yet.
“You always sound so nervous when you ask me questions; why is that?” Alastor replies, giving him a bemused look.
“You make me nervous! That’s not the point— Will you come over and let me make you dinner or not?”
In truth, the idea of going over to Lucifer’s manor makes Alastor nervous. Charlie lives here at the hotel. The manor doesn’t have any staff. It would be just the two of them, with no one anywhere nearby to ease the potential awkwardness.
And really, he shouldn’t feel awkward about it. They sleep in the same bed most every night; what’s there to be so worried about? But it just feels different, the knowledge other people stay at the hotel as well making him feel like they were never truly alone together. He really isn’t sure he can handle the idea of there being nothing but the two of them. Together. As if things were perhaps getting serious between them.
Now that… That makes him nervous. His heart is skipping beats at even the thought of it. Which he supposes means he and Lucifer are in the same boat.
“All right,” Alastor finally answers. “But if you poison me, we’re done.”
Lucifer smiles at him, that warm, bright smile Alastor’s certain actually does give off some light of its own. “I’ll take those odds.”
Keep Reading
#hazbin hotel#radioapple#hazbin lucifer#hazbin alastor#alastor x lucifer#lucifer x alastor#lucifer magne#lucifer morningstar#hellaverse#my writing#x#ttotdatd#<- fic series tag!
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Amid the Falling Snow
Pairing: Ezra x f!reader
Rating: T
Word Count: 2.9 k
Tags/Warnings: fluff, a hint of smut, allusions to smut, oral (f receiving), Ezra being Ezra, soft!Ezra, established relationship, two people madly in love. Reader has several nicknames (my love, love, little dove, sweet girl) Reader has hair that can be tucked behind her ear, but no other physical description is given. Photos in the moodboard are for aesthetic only and do not represent reader.
A/N: This fic was written for @sixhours. Hey!! I'm your Secret Santa. Merry Christmas and I hope you enjoy this little snow day with our lovable scoundrel. (P.S. This is my first Ezra fic😬) Thanks to @whocaresstillthelouvre for organizing the event. The title comes from a song of the same name by Enya. It just seemed to fit.
Moodboard by me. dividers and banner by @saradika-graphics
A million feathers falling down, A million stars that touch the ground, So many secrets to be found Amid the falling snow.
The hum of the ship drones in the background but all you can focus on is the dark-haired man between your legs, the little blonde patch that you’ve grown so fond of appearing every now and then as he moves. You never would have thought you’d find yourself here, traveling the galaxy with a loquacious Aurelac miner, but here you are, and you couldn’t be happier.
Your hips twitch as his lush lips suction over your sensitive bundle of nerves. The sensation zings through your body and you know your second orgasm is only seconds away. The delicious tension in your lower abdomen is enough to make your eyes water. He draws his tongue in tight circles, and waves of pleasure wash over you as you cry out his name.
He lifts his head with a throaty chuckle. You can tell just how pleased he is with his ability to make you come undone.
“You were magnificent, my love.”
His raspy southern drawl floats to your ears. It's one of the things that initially drew you to him; that and the curious shock of blonde hair in his otherwise dark locks. All you can manage is a soft mewl; You’re too blissed out to form words, too lost in the way he makes you feel.
His nimble lips brush against the silky skin of your inner thigh, tongue occasionally peeking out to taste the saltiness of your skin. Kevva, he loved the sounds you made for him, like the sweetest symphony he’s ever heard. He never thought he would find anyone like you: a wonderful combination of patience, compassion and sass. No one else listened to him the way you did. Some people found him verbose and a bit pretentious, but not you. You always knew when to listen and when to call him on his bullshit. It was time he repaid you for your affection. He was going to make it his mission to make you happy.
“Tell me, little dove…What does your lovely little heart desire? Name it and I will endeavor to make it a reality.”
The whispers of his dulcet tones tickled your skin as his lips continued their lazy path up your thigh.
Your brow furrows. Material possessions never interested you. Growing up with next to nothing taught you the value of the things that money couldn’t buy. The first thing that pops into your mind is so silly that you giggle out loud. Your hand slaps across your mouth to muffle the sound, but it’s too late.
His head jerks up and his mocha eyes meet yours. A roguish smirk graces his lips and his right eyebrow arches to the sky, silently imploring you to let him in on the joke.
“Don’t be shy. No thought is too preposterous, love.”
Your chest heaves as you swallow your giggles. This really was something you’ve always wanted. It shouldn’t be that hard to say out loud, but it is.
“I’d like to see snow.”
Teeth dig into your bottom lip as you wait for him to respond. Your fingers fist the sheets as you prepare for the worst, for him to laugh at you and tell you how childish you sound. Instead, you’re met with a smile.
“My precious little dove wishes to see the snow?”
There’s not a hint of admonishment in his tone. He sounds curious, like he’s willing to indulge you.
“Um, yeah. I’ve always wanted to see snow. It looks so beautiful in pictures.”
He nods. If that’s what you want, he’ll make sure you get it.
“It is indeed beautiful…though it pales in comparison to the beauty displayed so deliciously before me.”
“Ez…”
Your cheeks burn; you could never resist when he talked to you like that. If any other man said the things he said to you, you’d laugh in their face. He was a silver-tongued devil, but he always made you feel so beautiful, so desired; like you were the only woman in the world.
“Shhh” he coos, continuing to kiss a path up your body and over your stomach.
“You would look devine in the snow, like a goddess with those flakes in your silken tresses.”
Plush lips slowly move higher to the valley between your breasts. Your need for him reignites once again and he lifts his head enough for his mocha brown eyes to meet yours as you mewl softly.
“I will make it happen for you, little dove. You have my promise that one day soon, you and I will dance amid the falling snow.”
Your eyes flutter closed as he resumes his teasing kisses. How did you get so lucky?
“But first…” he murmurs as his lips hover over yours.
“I need to hear my little bird sing for me one more time.”
Ezra propped himself up on an elbow and watched you as you slept. You looked like an angel all tangled up in the sheets and your hair spilling over the pillow. The dim runner lights of the ship illuminated your perfect features. You were the best thing that ever happened to a scoundrel like him. He wanted to make all your dreams come true, starting with showing you the beauty of a snowfall.
There was a planet he’d been to where it snowed all year. It would take some planning on his part, but he could take you there before his next mining stop.
He slowly sneaks out of bed and softly pads to the cockpit. He pulls out the maps and found what he was looking for. This was perfect; the snowy paradise you wished to experience was along the route to his next stop. A late start on grabbing his next haul was worth it to see you light up with joy.
The next morning Ezra made his scheduled supply stop. Once all the needed supplies were stored away on the ship, he set his course for the surprise.
“We have one more stop to make. Hope you don’t mind, sweet girl.”
The tone of mischief in his voice makes your brows go up. Crawling into the co-pilot seat, you can hardly sit still with anticipation and your curiosity gets the better of you.
“Where are we stopping?”
He’s not going to tell you, he never does. Although he loves to talk, Ezra is a master at keeping secrets and no amount of pouting or begging on your part gets him to budge. He’s impossibly tight lipped when he wants to be and it’s infuriating.
He chuckles softly at your prodding. It always tickles him that you still try to wrangle surprises out of him with childlike enthusiasm, despite knowing that you’ll never break him.
“Patience, little dove. You’ll see soon enough.”
He punches a sequence in the computer and looks at you. He’s so excited to do this for you his chest hurts. He heard you murmuring about snow in your sleep last night and he knows you’re going to be over the moon when you see the snow for the first time.
He patiently waits for you to buckle your harness in the co-pilot seat. You’ve done it a thousand times, but he has to watch to make sure it’s secure; he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if anything happened to you.
He looks at you, his mocha eyes filled with affection. One corner of his mouth lifts into a crooked smile.
“Now little dove, I need to blindfold you while we land.”
Your brow furrows and he tucks a stray strand of your hair behind your ear before cupping your cheek with his large hand. The calloused pad of his thumb swipes the apple of your cheek to soothe you. He knows you’ve had bad experiences with being blindfolded before, but he hopes that you’ll trust him enough to go along with him.
“It won’t be for long, I promise.” he assures you. “It’s only so you’ll get the full effect of what you are about to experience.”
You bite your lip and nod your head. You trust him, he’s proven himself to you time and again and you know you’re safe.
He ties the scarf around your eyes, plunging you into blackness. Your fingers curl around the armrests as the ship rumbles around you. Little beads of sweat form at your hairline as you concentrate on the breathing exercises you learned. There’s nothing to panic over, whatever is waiting for you on the other side of this will be worth it.
The whine of the landing gear fills your ears, and the slight jostle lets you know the ship is on the ground. You exhale softly, slowly flex your aching digits. It won’t be long now; you’ll have your sight back soon.
Ezra unfastens your harness and takes your hands in his, helping you to your feet. He’s grinning like a fool; you have no idea what awaits you. He leads you to the ship’s door, his steps careful and measured to make sure you don’t trip.
Boots clack along the floor then a chill brushes against your cheeks. Your chin tilts up as an unfamiliar scent fills your nostrils. It’s a crisp, clean, almost earthy smell, one your certain you’ve never smelled before.
His boots clack again as he moves behind you. His broad chest presses firmly against your back as he reaches for the blindfold.
“Keep those beautiful eyes closed for me, little dove.” he croons in your ear.
The lines between your brow deepens as you squeeze your eyelids closed. You can’t ruin this for him. The anticipation makes you shift your weight from one foot to the other.
He chuckles softly as his large hands come to rest on your shoulders. You look adorable as you wait for him to let you open your eyes. He gently squeezes you and lets out a breath.
“You can open your eyes now.” he whispers.
Your lids flutter open to behold a woodsy landscape blanketed in white. Tiny crystalline shapes floated to the ground. Snow. Your jaw falls open as you take it all in. It was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.
You turn to him, eyes wide and sparkling with unshed tears. This was the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for you. You almost believe this is just a dream, but the tingle of your skin tells you it’s very real.
He takes his hands in his and holds them tightly. The look of disbelief on your face is priceless.
“Go on, little dove…”
He gestures toward the snow and smiles softly.
“I’ll be right behind you.”
You walk down the ramp as calmly as your stiff legs will carry you. The urge to run like a little girl is overwhelming but you reign it in. The blanket of undisturbed white goes as far as your eyes can see in all directions.
The snow squeaks under your boots, making you gasp at the curious noise. You take a few more tentative steps out into the meadow, looking around. The pines at the edge of the clearing look like they’ve been covered in marshmallow fluff, and you smile at the thought. Staring at the picture-perfect scene before you, you will your brain to burn it into your memory, so you won’t forget a single detail.
The quiet hugs you like an old friend. It’s just you and your thoughts here. Peaceful feelings envelope you, making you feel warm and cozy despite the cold. Your dreams paled in comparison to the reality, something that could only You never imagined this would make you feel so happy. Snowflakes land on your eyelashes, and you giggle softly. Spreading your arms wide, you tilt your chin to the sky. It feels like a thousand frozen butterflies kissing your face. You slowly spin around in circles until you’re dizzy, biting your lip so you don’t giggle. You sway slightly as you come to a stop, watching the steam of your breath dance among the flakes and disappear.
Ezra watches you, a smile plastered to his face. Your reaction is everything he’d hoped for. He wanted to see you happy; your smile was everything to him. Your little giggles made his heart feel like it could beat out of his chest. That was a sound he could never get enough of. The snow in your hair made you look ethereal, like a goddess come to life.
“Is it all you thought it would be, my love?”
His breath ghosts against your ear, the warmth amplified by your chilled skin. A thick blanket wraps around your shoulders. His arms hold the blanket in place, shielding you from the elements.
“It’s even better than I imagined.” you whisper.
Standing in the snow, wrapped in your lovers' arms was the most perfect thing you could have imagined. All your life you searched for someone who would accept all the love you had to give without reservation, and you’d found it in Ezra. He accepted your quirks and your flaws without hesitation, just as you had accepted his. The two of you were two puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly.
His warm lips brush against your frozen cheek and he hugs you just a bit tighter. He truly was the luckiest man alive. If anyone would have told him he’d find someone like you, he would have laughed in their faces. He had resigned himself to being a lone wolf, destined to be alone but you walked into his life and changed everything. You made his world brighter, gave him a purpose, a reason to be a better man.
“I believe I promised my lady a dance.”
He turns you in his arms to face him, pulling you tight to his chest. You instantly wrap your arms around his waist, the blanket now cocooning the two of you in its warmth.
Your head rests against his shoulder as you gently sway to the music in his head. He softly hums a melody, slightly off-key. The vibrations tickle your cheek, and you hug him just a bit tighter.
Despite the cold, you could stay here forever. There’s nowhere else you’d rather be. This is your own little piece of heaven, a place where nothing else matters but the two of you. The rest of the world and all the hardships the two of you have faced are miles away.
You lift your head to look at him and he lowers his lips to meet yours. It’s not hurried or overly passionate, it’s slow and real; the kind of kiss you give someone that means the world to you.
“This was the best day of my life.” you whisper against his lips.
His face contorts in mock offense.
“I beg to differ, little dove. The best day of your life was the day you met me.”
Your lilting laugh dies among the flakes. Of course he would think that was the best day of your life; Ezra’s confidence never faltered. Your brow arches and you tilt your head to the side.
“So cocky.” you tease.
His laugh echoes through the open meadow. He rolls his hips against yours and smirks.
“In more ways than one, it would seem. But my statement still rings true.”
What he said about the day you met was more true than he knew. That was the day your life changed for the better and you couldn’t be happier.
“You’re right. The day we met was the best day of my life…but this one is definitely in the top 3.”
He kisses the tip of your frozen nose. His stomach flipped a bit as he realized how cold you were. He should have known better than to keep you out in these conditions for so long without adequate clothing.
“I loathe to break up this magical scene, my little snow angel, but I’m afraid we need to get you inside before you freeze to death.”
A trickle of icy water drips down your shirt causing a little shiver to run the length of your back. It seems the elements are finally taking their toll on you. You’re not exactly properly dressed for the weather, and you can only hold out for so long.
You know he’s right; you can’t stay out here much longer but it’s hard to hide your disappointment at having to leave this wintry paradise.
“This isn’t the last you’ll see of this place, I swear it.”
The conviction in his voice goes straight to your heart. You’re the one person he never lies to.
“Thank you for today.” you murmur.
Another soft kiss, this time to your forehead.
“Anything to make you smile, my love.”
He disentangles himself from your embrace and guides you back toward the ship. You glance back one last time, a final snapshot of the most wonderful day.
He hums softly and stops at the top of the ramp. He lifts you into his arms like you weigh nothing.
“I feel a proper display of gratitude is in order, don’t you agree?”
You squeak as he lifts you off the ground. Your arms immediately wrap around his neck as he carries you bridal style onto the ship. He lays you gently on the bed and looks down at you with his mocha eyes locked on yours and his heartbeat thrumming against your chest.
“I’m sure I could think of some way to thank you properly...” you purr, “and maybe warm up at the same time.”
He runs his chilly nose up the length of your neck, stopping at your ear. Warm breath ghosts over your ear as he speaks.
“I have complete confidence in your abilities, little dove.” he whispered huskily, “Now, let’s get out of these damp clothes.”
#amid the falling snow#ezra prospect#ezra x f!reader#fluff#little bit of smut#established relationship#two people in love
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I think the most baffling thing about the Tulpar as a vessel to me is the fact that the ship really did only have a one way communication system.
I know it was cheap but even the most basic of vessels regarding major transport would have some way, shape or form for outside communication. Not only that but there was absolutely no form of innate emergency signal to show they may have been offline or in trouble despite clearly having a system to dock credits if they went off course. It's another factor that really shows that bad situations are made to get worse by design. One person who is required to relay all information to the crew and make all the choices without feedback. No way to update or call for help in case of a dire situation. No way to inform of inner personal conflicts and acquire procedures accordingly.
It really is like they are all in some sort of fucked up solitary confinement. They have their own world with strict roles that are meaningless in the end, as long as the cargo makes it, it doesn't matter what happens on that ship to the company. They don't want to hear anything and will come to conclusions on what happened based on how much pay they can withhold from the workers. Even what they do send is short, sterile and corporate to the extent it was likely written and sent out with a command by some random unmanned computer in an office.
There's something to be said about how unfair it is to force absolute power and control onto one person when you as an entity could do so much more to offload it but I've said it many times before so I won't again.
#its just like idk i dont think Curly was a bad captain because we only have this scenerio and I certainly dont think a man like Swansea#would like him or have very little issues with him specifically if he was incompentent or too lienent in the past but I do think the stress#was making him worse and worse as being a present leader as it dawned on him how much he actually had to handle like I really think he#just wanted to do yknow normal captain pilot stuff and fly the ship and yknow the little stuff like make sure things run right and over tim#the constant stress and strain of having to make every major choice started to grate on him and freak him out cause they cant even fucking#eat unless he pulls out the scanner and starts cooking like he has to choose the meal likely or have a vote and i make that part of the#reason he seems so indecisive and inactive is the fact he has to make the choice all the time and he's hoping he can at least make the crew#feel a little more in control of themselves as people by staying out of affairs like the game or disputes because god he literally has to#choose for them all the time like thats a lot of responsibility monitering their sleep their breaks food consumption thats all on him like#it really should be another persons job entirely as thats almost like absoulte contrl over the lives of everyone else that PE forces onto#that title and its also crazy how everyone accepts it even if they dont like it like they broke the food machine open rather than get the#scanner they all waited two months before Jimmy appointed himself leader its so scary how conditioned they all are to the environemnt#cause that sort of mindset is sadly real where people just wait everyone just waited until it was getting real dire and then they still#followed Jimmy without too many complaints like i saw a fic or post where Anya acknowledges they all kinda just let Jimmy do what they want#because he became the captain and it was stupid on all their parts cause they could clearly see how bad he was and yet he was captain so#they just fell in line to their roles and thats a bigger point towards how PE treated them and the complacency capitalism brings to you#just like something that irks me because idk I know Curly is slow to act but he's not as like unopinionated as people make him out to be#like he does try to find solutions but they are still restricted at the end of the day by what PE provides them and I think his biggest c#crime is being in his own head too much and not giving Anya that emotional stability cause like idk man was he supposed to go to Home Depot#himself and install like padlocks? even if the let Anya sleep in medical after she pointed it out she was already pregnant at that point#like we arent seeing the inherent issue that no one not even Anya herself was thinking of the preventative measures because a)there was a#point nothing was happening that necessitated them b) it would've been the responsibility of PE to address them pre and post incident and c#there is only one person on the entire ship given the authority to do anything. You can not make multiple important choices in one instance#in such little time and Curly should not have had that total power like i think the most interesting thing in takes that really blame Curly#is that level of control they give him over the company. Like again i think about the three days we miss between the eval/party and the#convo/crash like i think people switch them around as if those scenes happen in succession when they are broken up and its heavily implied#Curly and Jimmy just havent been talking vs the depiction that she told him and for like three days Curly was just chummy despite the fact#Jimmy and him just had a blow out fight like the next time we assume they talk is during the crash sequence cause he honestly hangs#around Anya more which i think is really important because she trust Curly to defend her himself but not his judgement to give her somethin#to defend herself as she knows he believes her but also knows she's not seeing the danger the same and its heartbreaking and more
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lord its so dark in here the sahara desert of tsaritsa content you are like a shining oasis. your characterisation of her compels me & mihoyo would be hard pressed to top it imo.!! caaaaan i humbly request yr thoughts on her first meeting w a reader of any kind, or maybe even multiple kinds (sagau, sagau god au, isekai, etc) if you so desire...
it really is like a desert here. being the fan of a character we aren't getting until the last damn nation is driving me up a wall but i will persevere bc if nothing else i support morally bankrupt women in media. we r in a severe drought over here but i do my best. unfortunately nothing i say is ever coherent so pull out your translation notes its abt 2 be messy
also this got out of hand but thats bc first meetings w the tsaritsa are tricky to write + a LOT of her characterization lies in deeper exploration then just surface level yknow...NOT A DIG AT YOU this is just my excuse for rambling. gently pats the tsaritsa she can hold so much complexity i do not have the word count to delve into it completely :]
gonna talk cult au for a bit here though because that's 99% of my content. and honestly? she thrives in sub au's of the cult au like villain au + imposter au. it's basically made for her. i mean, early days, the imposter au had been going around for a little while but one of the first few ideas was the Fatui taking reader in so like. it kinda technically actually was. pretty sure cult au Tsaritsa popped up because of the imposter au. a lot of it's writers kinda left though which. man am i getting old or.
anyway.
there isn't much of a chance her first impression is all that positive. at best it's usually neutral, imo, but rarely if ever positive. specifically because i view the Tsaritsa as someone who isn't as fanatical as most of the acolytes typically are towards the creator. she's not exactly going to worship the ground you walk on unlike a certain geo lizard. which is partially why i think she thrives in the sub au's i mentioned.
imposter au, for example. she meets you at your lowest. there's no gaudy extravagance or pampering from the acolytes waiting for you because your own acolytes have turned on you. for all intents and purposes you aren't a "god" at all. which is why i don't think she meshes well with normal cult au reader. the Fatui are made up of outcasts, basically, and imposter au slots right in just perfectly. you're weak, at your lowest, when you meet the Fatui in the imposter au. and the Fatui can help you, too.
a mutual exchange, really. the Tsaritsa sees a tool she can use to one up the rest of the nations and especially Archons, and she has no qualms about you using her and the Fatui in turn. you both want something out of it, after all. whether you just want to be safe from the rest of the acolytes, or you want revenge, or whatever else..she'll give you the power to fulfill it, and she gains the strongest piece on the chessboard when all is said and done.
the best way i can describe the first meeting is "practical", i suppose. she sees an opportunity in you. the ultimate gamble. because if she "saves" you, and you dont trust anyone else because they tried to kill you, well..she holds all the cards, doesn't she?
but the Tsaritsa, imo, is just as capable of being just as fanatical towards you as anyone else. she just won't worship you as the creator. but as yourself? clawing your way back to your divine power and taking back what belongs to you? the Tsaritsa is, to me, a character who's character flourishes in long-term fics more because she changes a LOT between "just met reader" and after having been with reader for some time. she's practically apathetic at the beginning but a lot of her character, in my characterization, shines through LONG after the first meeting.
#asks#Anonymous#sagau#tsaritsa#like. am i explaining this coherently?? first meetings r GOOD and i could go on a tangent of like. first meetings w zl and make it work#but first meetings w the tsaritsa is like. you just cooked a 5 course meal. took one bite. called it a day.#so much of my characterization lies in the “after” of the first meeting#because her first meetings are generally the same. she's apathetic at best!! she does not gaf abt the creator in the SLIGHTEST#but show that you are more then the creator? that you do not cling to the title like a shield? that you do not rely on it?#youve got the worst person youve ever known ready to kill a man for you.#tsaritsa is very like. EXTREMELY hard to earn the trust of but when you do she will kill someone for you no hesitation no question#which is why she works SO WELL in villain au and imposter au!!!!!!!!!#esp if theres a fake “creator” calling you the imposter. she hates their ass and was .5 seconds from dethroning them anyway#you just made it 10x easier#also cant do just first meetings bc i am incapable of not shoving themes of love into every fic w her SORRY#tsaritsa going on a full multiple month long mental breakdown bc she is not in love with you but she would destroy everything for u..#(shes in denial)#tsaritsa and complex themes of love and what it means for the god of love to be incapable of feeling it + what it means when reader shows u#LIKE UGHHHHHH okay. i guess ill write another tsaritsa fic and put it in my vault#aka my drafts#i hold so many fics hostage there its crazy#this answered like 0 of ur questions sorry i see tsaritsa and black out and this happens#i just think first meetings dont let her character really come thru but my response got out of hand so uhhhhh everyone look away. please#putting tape over my mouth now so i shut up before this gets worse#basically tsaritsa gravitates more towards outcast reader rather then one who has already become accustomed to the adoration of the acolyte#does that make sense........#i havent slept in forever and im running on nothing but spite and dreams atp dont expect coherency when it comes 2 the tsaritsa from me#head in hands someone please stop me i keep rambling abt the tsaritsa it makes me go NUTS#lays down. explodes
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O Sol e a Lua
Pairing: KakaSaku Rating: General
the years go by, and hatake kakashi can’t help it as he falls deeper in love.
excerpt below the break:
They’re four, when they meet for the first time.
“Hello, Kakashi-san!” The girl chirps at him, holding out her hand with the brightest grin he’s ever seen. “I’m Haruno Sakura, I live next door!”
He blinks owlishly at her. She’s the first kid to actually approach him after his father’s death, and she’s one of the few who knew him.
“You probably don’t remember me,” her grin turns sheepish. “But I really looked up to your Dad, y’know?”
He doesn’t say anything, but he wants to. He wants to tell her, “I know. I used to watch you all the time whenever you’d come home. Dad told me all about you.” He doesn’t say anything.
“Ah, I have to go now,” she tells him when she hears her mother call out her name. He tries to stamp down on the jealousy. “See you around, Kakashi-san!”
“See you,” he mumbles.
(Two years after he graduates, he hears rumours about a pink-haired apprentice.)
ao3 link
#kakasaku fluff#hatake kakashi#haruno sakura#hatake sakura#kakashi is a SIMP#this is literally just fluff pls#kakasaku#kakashi x sakura#sakura is highkey a badass#they should've made her a teacher#or maybe i just really want to see her in the jounin outfit... with children#why does that sound so weird... nvm#the title is from a song#it has nothing to do with the actual fic#drabble#cute and short#bamf sakura#she deserves all the love btw#same age au#uchiha obito#nohara rin#both of them live#uchiha sasuke#uzumaki naruto#sai#team 7 fluff#team as family#found family#whipped kakashi#me too tbh
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it’s so funny how i rewatch s1 anthony scenes and i don’t give a shit about him (unless i really try to keep in mind what we know about him and try to understand what’s going on behind the facade/beyond what the show dictates we should see because it’s definitely not from his pov) and then i watch s2, particularly from ep 3 onwards, and suddenly it’s like, !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! this is my dumbass idiot
#ramble.txt#bridgerton#sorry i keep posting about this skfjgnfk#i might've moved fandoms but i'm not sure yet#this show really came at the perfect time#when there's nothing new from seb and people were mourning (?) the apparent state of AM atm#i mean. who cares?? seb made his choice and afaik it wasn't just because of the slow car that he decided to retire#anyway. i actually like anthony's s1 hair but not the sideburns#the sideburns and hair were especially atrocious in 1x08#before that it was passable#and i would love to know if they makeupped him to look tired almost all the time because he certainly doesn't look that way in s2#the van dusen dude mentioned that they broke anthony at the end of s1 so maybe that look was intentional#do i think about this/him too much? yes i do#it's such a delight to have new things#tangentially: i wonder if there are any fics out there of violet dying in childbirth (hyacinth survives) and suddenly anthony has 7 kids to#look after all on his own in addition to the title and the estate and omg#tangentially again: i really like how the show leaves it open to interpretation how much angst you want to assign to anthony#i just rewatched bits of 2x01 and the part where violet's like 'you will end up alone' and anthony stops and then he's like 'good day mother#yeah i just. you can interpret that in so many different ways from non-angsty ('omg whatever') to very angsty (maybe i deserve to be alone)#and i just think that's cool#uh ANYWAY#(i might gif that scene btw. MIGHT.)#anyway i'm out#//#actually i ... maybe i wanna gif his last scene in 1x08 too#hmmm#maybe that could be one gifset
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night again
pairing: bang chan x female reader
summary: in hindsight, visiting chan's studio right before a comeback isn't one of your best ideas. what was supposed to be a pleasant surprise leaves you spiraling into self-doubt, wondering if chan even wants to be in a relationship with you at all.
word count: 6.4k
tags/warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, misunderstandings, insecurities, reader not eating due to stress
a/n: the long awaited 'he calls you clingy' fic! title is from the english translation of 또 다시 밤 (twilight)
read it on ao3 | masterlist
You love your job. It's challenging for sure and the expectations from upper management are often unforgiving, but you’re proud of how hard you've worked and everything that you've accomplished in the past few years at your company.
As you've gained experience, you've slowly been given more and more responsibility. You've grown out of your junior role and though you're thrilled by the pay raise and prospect of being a team lead rather than being led by one, it's also daunting.
When you and your new team are assigned an important project with tight deadlines, you're determined to prove yourself. It's implied that you're going to have to have to dedicate a significant amount of time to finish it and while you're no stranger to long hours, it means that any plans you have of seeing your boyfriend, Chan, are out the window.
The timing is not terrible, Stray Kids has a comeback scheduled in about a week so you didn't think that you would be able to spend that much time with Chan anyway, but you usually try to surprise the boys at one of the music shows with a cake and some home cooked food.
Luckily, you've already been planning for this. Although nothing had been confirmed, you had expected that this project would be awarded to your company and you've already been trying to spend more time with Chan than usual in preparation for the busy season ahead for both of you.
Still, you can't help but agree with your best friend at work after she complains how little she's going to see her partner this month. Jinjoo doesn't know who your boyfriend is, but the two of you are close enough that you’ve shared that you have one and that work takes up a lot of his time. You've gushed to her about the sweet things that Chan has done for you and you've admitted that you think he's the one.
“You should bring him dinner sometime!” she exclaims when you mention you're not sure when the next time you'll be able to see Chan will be.
“Well, he’s really busy-” you start to say.
“That’s the beauty of it. I’m sure he would appreciate if you brought him food at work, especially if he’s anything like my partner and gets so caught up with work that they forget to eat sometimes,” she insists.
“That’s true.”
“Just trust me, Y/n. I wouldn’t be telling you this if I wasn’t sure that it’d work. My partner loves when I do this. It’s literally the perfect way to take some time for each other before you’re both too busy. Even if he's super busy, his work can't be bad enough that he’s not allowed to eat, right?”
You agree somewhat reluctantly. You're still unsure about whether or not Chan would appreciate you barging in unannounced, but it is a cute idea and Jinjoo's confidence is enough to convince you.
The next day after work, you head to the company and order takeout for a late dinner for you and Chan, picking it up along the way. It reminds you of earlier in your relationship before you had gotten your current position and when Stray Kids were just gaining popularity. Both of you enjoyed having more casual date nights that provided more privacy as opposed to going out to fancy places and it makes you even more excited to see his reaction.
About a year after you started dating Chan, he insisted that you get a pass to get into JYP Entertainment without having to fill out a visitor's form and have someone pick you up. It has definitely come in handy more than a few times, although you try to limit the number of visits you make. Even though you're allowed to be there, it still feels intimidating to be in the building, like someone is going to recognize that you're not an employee and accuse you of being a sasaeng.
Luckily the late hour means that you make it to Chan's studio without having to interact with anybody except the security at the door, who had waved you through without a second thought. You had double checked with Felix earlier in the day to make sure that Chan didn't have any schedules or dinner plans, so you directly knock on his door without texting or calling him beforehand.
“Y/n?” he asks, a bit baffled when he sees you. “Did we- Did I forget that we had plans tonight?”
“No,” you say, a little nervous for some reason. It's just Chan, you tell yourself, but it doesn't make you feel any better. “I didn't think that you had dinner yet and wanted to see you.”
“Oh, I see. Come in,” Chan responds slowly, still processing your sudden appearance. “I just have something that I need to finish up-”
“It's fine! You can work,” you assure him quickly. “I don't want to interrupt you too much, I just wanted to drop by since I don't have plans and wanted to make sure that you're eating well.”
Chan’s studio isn’t messy at all, but he still gets up to clear some space on a side table for you, before returning back to where he has Cubase opened up. You pass over his food and feel relieved when he immediately digs in, but your appetite seems to have vanished, you can only get yourself to pick at your meal.
Chan is short with his responses all evening and continues to work on his laptop, even while eating. It throws you off a bit, you thought that he would be able to get to a stopping point and at least make a bit of time for you, but you did tell him that he could. Even so, you're determined to make the most of the last time that you’re going to see them for a while. You know they’ve been super busy the past few days, or more like the past few weeks, but still you had thought he would be a little bit more engaged or at the very least seem happy to see you.
Finally, after half an hour of eating with minimal conversation, you decide to broach the subject that’s been on your mind this entire time. Chan’s finished his food and you know that you won’t be able to get yourself to eat anymore, so you shuffle everything off to the side and inch closer to Chan.
“You know that client we’ve been trying to work with for a while?” you start tentatively.
Chan hums noncommittally, continuing to type on his computer. Not quite the reaction that you're hoping for, but you forge on anyway.
“We got awarded the job! It’s a great opportunity for the company and everyone is really excited, but-”
“Y/n,” he interrupts. “I’m sorry, that’s amazing and all, but you know that it’s not a good time for me right now. I have something I really need to work on and now that you’ve finished eating, can we please not bother with the small talk?”
“Oh,” you say, a bit caught off guard. Chan has never been the type to cut you off when you're speaking. “No, yeah, I get it. Uhm. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, just-” he sighs, sounding frustrated. “Next time can you please ask me when you want to visit in advance so this doesn’t happen again? You chose the worst timing to come by. I just need some space, from all of… this,” he says, waving a hand between the two of you.
“Sorry, I know it’s a busy time, but I just wanted to see-”
At that moment, an alarm on Chan's phone goes off, interrupting you. When he turns it off and notices the time, he swears lowly, unlocking his phone and typing out a message to somebody. You’re scared to break the silence. Less than a minute later, someone knocks on the door.
“Come in,” Chan calls. When Changbin and Jisung step into the room, they eye you curiously. You keep your head down and try to prevent your hands from shaking as you stand and start to haphazardly shove away all your belongings and the garbage from your dinner into bags.
“Noona, it's good to see you!” Jisung says brightly, although his smile dims when you make eye contact and can only manage to weakly return the smile. “Sorry for interrupting you two.”
“Hi Hannie,” you reply quietly, not wanting to make conversation, but not wanting to be rude.
“It’s okay, Y/n was just leaving,” Chan says, his obvious annoyance making things even more awkward.
You say bye to the boys quietly and apologise as you shuffle past them to the door.
The handles of the bag from your dinner are digging into your hand painfully and your purse can’t close with the way that you’ve thrown everything into it. You only take a few steps before you have to stop for a moment to save a container from falling and decide to put down everything and reorganise it all.
When you crouch down, you take a second to mentally berate yourself. Everything you had worried about had come true. Instead of being a pleasant surprise, you had come across as a nuisance.
In your rush, you hadn't fully closed the studio door behind you and you're close enough that you can just barely pick up the conversation that happens inside.
“Sorry,” you hear Chan say faintly. “I don't know what's been going on, but Y/n has been… really clingy these days. She just showed up today without asking and I hate-”
You leave before he has the chance to say anything else. You look like a mess for sure, you had just grabbed all the empty containers without bothering to put them back into the plastic bag, your jacket is partially dragging on the ground, and your purse is hanging off your elbow, having slipped off your shoulder. You're pretty sure you hear an empty drink bottle clatter to the floor behind you, but you don't look back to check.
You don't have it in you to care, you just need to leave.
Even waiting for the elevator feels humiliating, so you bypass it and stumble down the stairs. You dump the garbage into a bin on the first floor, not bothering to sort it properly, and step out onto the street, bee-lining to the nearest subway station.
The ride home passes by in a blur.
It hurts, of course it hurts.
Honestly the reason that your relationship had worked out so far was because you weren’t the kind of person that needed a lot of attention. You understood that both of you were busy and were content to just exchange messages every couple of days because you knew how important Stray Kids was to Chan. Of course you did, they were just as important to you.
If Chan wanted space, well. You were more than capable of giving it to him.
In fact, your upcoming schedule had been the reason that you had wanted to meet up in the first place, the source of your so-called clinginess. You’d never been called that before. You were hyper-independent and tended to get lost in your own mind, easily distracted by different thoughts. It had gotten to a point that most of your exes had complained at least once about you being distant or inattentive.
With Chan, you had been determined not to be the same. It had been difficult at first, to make the effort to send messages throughout the day. You had to convince yourself not to spend too long drafting replies in your head and try not to worry that you were bothering him, especially if you knew that he had schedules at the same time that you were texting.
By the time that you make it to your apartment, your pain has faded into a mixture of resignation and numbness. You don't want to talk to Chan about how you feel, it's your clinginess that he didn't like in the first place, and you don't think you'll have time or the energy for a long, emotional conversation in the next few weeks anyway. If you keep your distance for a while, it just benefits both of you, you tell yourself. You won’t be a distraction to Chan as Stray Kids has their comeback and he won’t be one to you as you take on this new project.
As much as you want to spend the rest of your night overthinking- something you’ve done more than you’d like to admit- you know that you have a busy day at work tomorrow. Feeling a bit like a zombie, you force yourself to shuffle through your usual nighttime routine, swallowing a melatonin pill before climbing into bed.
Normally, you would send Chan a good night message. Actually, normally you would have sent him a message the second that you arrived home. It was something that he was insistent on starting from early on in your relationship, wanting to make sure that you were safe.
Tonight, you just turn off your phone, plug it into its charger, and sleep.
—
In the morning, you allow yourself to wallow in bed for 5 minutes, before you get ready for work. You’ve never been good at eating breakfast and today’s no exception. Your stomach turns uneasily at the thought of food so you only force yourself to drink some water before you leave.
Your team at work has agreed to get to work earlier than usual just to get a headstart on everything. Though you’re more of a night owl, you’re grateful to find that deviating from your usual routine means that the subway is empty enough that you can find an empty seat, a luxury that you’ve rarely experienced.
It feels eerie to walk through the streets of Seoul when the sun has just started to rise and you’re relieved when you finally make it to your office.
Unsurprisingly, you’re one of the first to arrive. You’re grateful for the time that you have to unpack your things and make a much needed coffee before the rest of your team shows up.
“How did it go last night?” Jinjoo asks you excitedly when she comes in.
“Uhm, it was okay,” you reply noncommittally. “He was definitely surprised.”
“Oh,” Jinjoo pouts at your lack of enthusiasm.
“I mean, it wasn’t bad,” you backtrack, hating to see her disappointed. “It was just so short, he was kind of… busy. But that’s what I expected anyway so that's fine I guess. Thanks for suggesting it to me though! I really appreciate it.”
“That’s good,” Jinjoo brightens. “At least you got to see him one last time.”
“Oh yeah for sure! I think that after seeing him yesterday, it’ll be easier to deal with how busy we’re going to be for the next few weeks,” you say truthfully.
It’s not a lie, you justify. For the first time since you started dating, you’re not looking forward to the next time that you’re going to see Chan.
You know that your communication is about to reduce to an all time low for the next few weeks, and while you had originally been worried about how Chan would react, now you’re thinking that he’s just going to be relieved not to hear from you. You’ve never thought yourself to have been overly chatty with Chan during the day though, preferring in-person conversation over texting and knowing that he’s generally not available to read your messages anyway, much less send you a reply. It seemed that you were wrong.
Luckily your team now has to use a shared box that you’re required to put your personal phones into during working hours and only have a little bit of time during lunch and dinner breaks, if you take them, to fish them out. It’s a policy that your company enforces when teams are working on confidential projects and you can’t blame them due to past litigation that they’ve been involved in after a former employee leaked sensitive information.
For once, you're glad for this excuse to not look at your phone, even if you feel a little bit naked to look at the side of your desk or reach into your pocket and not have your phone there. You’re relieved to bury yourself in your work and forget all about your personal life. Even though your project is just starting, you feel like you're already behind.
When you're finished work for the day and take back your phone, you find yourself reluctant to check your notifications. It's only when you're waiting for the subway to arrive at your station that you finally force yourself to take a look.
No new messages or calls from Chan.
You’re not sure what you expected, but somehow you’re still disappointed.
You get back to your apartment late, you had wanted to finish a couple of things before you left the office and it had led to you being one of the last to leave. You had also stopped by the convenience store closest to your place, not having the energy to cook anything for yourself.
You pick at your dinner half-heartedly. You're used to eating alone, Chan often had his meals at odd times due to his schedules, but tonight the silence feels more oppressive.
It haunts you, the tail end of the overheard conversation. You have no idea how Chan was going to complete the sentence, but your mind unhelpfully fills in the blanks with worse and worse suggestions.
He hates the timing of your visit.
He hates that you visited at all.
He hates that he has such a clingy girlfriend.
He hates that you are his clingy, annoying, bothersome girlfriend.
He hates you.
In moments of clarity, you can recognize that it's not true. That's not the Chan that you know and he would never say something like that about anybody, least of all you. It's just hard when a small part of you has never really been able to believe that someone as talented and amazing as Chan would want to date someone as unremarkable as you.
You find yourself falling into a new routine, waking early, working overtime, and trying not to cry yourself to sleep. You succeed most of the time, you keep yourself occupied by thinking about work and you're so physically exhausted by your long hours that you fall asleep the second that you get into bed. Luckily, your coworkers are just as overworked as you are and it’s easy to blame your declining condition on the project. Weekends don't help you rest at all, you've committed to your manager that you can work on Saturdays and Sundays are spent completing the chores that you've neglected during the week.
You still talk to Chan sometimes, either right when you wake up or on the way home after work. The conversation is stilted though, both because of the long delays between messages when you text and the limited time that you have when you call. It's enough of a difference that Chan asks you multiple times if everything is okay. Even though you try your best to assure him that you're fine, just busy, you're sure he knows that something is off, although he doesn't question you further.
Most exciting is the day that the new Stray Kids album releases. You've already heard most of the songs for this comeback, perks of dating the member that's the most involved in the writing and production of the album, but it's different now that they're available to the public too. You make sure to organise your schedule so that you're on break when the music video drops and you send a number of messages in the group chat that you have with the group cheering them on. Usually, you try to take a day off to deliver some food to them at the music shows, but you've had to settle for arranging with one of their managers to treat them to a meal.
You can tell when they get breaks because when you check your phone after work, notifications from the members are all in the same blocks of time. It's mostly them thanking you, taking pictures of the food you sent, flowers that they've been gifted, and letters from fans. They have a short promotion period this comeback, but it's packed with different interviews, performances, and fanmeets. At one point, Felix even sends you a picture of Chan sleeping slumped over on one of the waiting room couches. As much as you're relieved to see that he's able to get some rest, the picture has your stomach twisting uncomfortably.
You're proud of Chan, of all of the boys. They've worked so hard and each comeback seems to be more and more successful. Even if you're not confident in what's going to happen with you and Chan in the future, you want to celebrate with them while you still can.
—
After almost four weeks, your project is nearing completion and you've never been more grateful to have a deadline arrive.
You only have a couple more days left until your last submittal is due and after getting off work, you want nothing more than to collapse into bed even though your stomach has been growling the whole walk from the bus to your building. You had caught a significant mistake in a document right before it was going to be sent to a client and the whole afternoon had been spent trying to fix it in time. Your team had just barely managed it, but your head has been pounding for hours and your whole body is tight with stress.
You’re not quite sure how you make it to your apartment, your exhaustion has made you clumsy. You struggle a couple times to enter in the code to unlock your door and trip over a pair of shoes that are scattered in the entryway.
You manage to catch yourself before you fall, then squint back. Yes, you haven’t had the chance to tidy your apartment in a couple weeks, but you’ve never been the type to leave your shoes on the walking path.
A light is on, further in your apartment. You know for a fact it wasn’t like that when you left this morning, it would have been obvious since you've been leaving before the sun rises. Someone else is here.
You stare at the light for a few seconds in disbelief, then slowly reach to grab something, anything that you might be able to use to defend yourself. Your shaking hands close around a full sized umbrella that you keep beside your closet.
You’ve already made enough commotion that there’s no way the intruder didn’t hear, but you try to keep your footsteps light as you creep down the hall to where your kitchen is. It’s stupid to try and confront them, but the idea of someone in your space, potentially taking your things, is enough to inspire a sudden bout of bravery.
You hold your breath as you turn the corner, launching forward to attack the second that you see someone. You recognise the figure halfway through your swing, and though it’s too late to fully stop, you manage to pull back enough that they’re able to easily catch the umbrella before it hits them.
Chan wraps his arms around you then eases the umbrella out of your hands, resting it against the wall. You sag into his embrace, adrenaline draining away, leaving you exhausted again.
“Chan?”
You've missed this. His warmth, his comforting scent, the reassuring steadiness that he always provides. You can almost pretend that everything is fine.
“Sorry for scaring you,” he says, sounding more amused than apologetic.
“You should be,” you grumble into his shirt. “I could have seriously injured you if I didn't realise it was you!”
“I don't think that was going to be a problem.” Even though you can't see Chan, you can hear the grin in his voice.
“Hey!” You lightly smack his arm. “You take that back!”
“Fine, fine,” Chan acquiesces, holding up both his hands in surrender. “I'm very glad that I didn't have to experience the full power of your self defence.”
“Yeah yeah,” you huff. “What are you doing here anyway? Other than trying to give me a heart attack, that is.”
“I made you dinner,” Chan says shyly, turning pink.
“For what?” you ask suspiciously. It's easy to fall back into the banter that you typically exchange with Chan, but you can't help but be a bit wary these days.
“No reason. I uh, just haven't seen you in a while,” Chan says sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck where it’s now flushed red. “We had so much preparation to do and then all our schedules… Anyway, I wanted to surprise you, so I thought I could cook for us.”
Now that he's mentioned it, you can see that he's set your tiny kitchen table and that there's a couple of pots on the stove. Chan doesn’t cook often, but he’s expressed a desire to learn before and you’ve taught him how to make a few of your favourite recipes.
You stare at him for a moment, lost for words.
It's only been a few weeks, but you feel like you've forgotten how to act around Chan. Instead of a comfortable silence, it's almost awkward, neither of you knowing what to say.
“Oh,” you say finally, touched and still a little shocked that he's actually here. “That's- that's so nice, I just- is it okay if I wash up a bit quickly first?”
“No, yeah, of course. I'm sure you had a long day,” Chan says. “Go ahead, I’ll- the food should be reheated anyway so I’ll get on that. Take your time.”
You skirt around him to go to the bathroom, taking a moment to splash yourself with water. This feels like a bizarre dream and you wonder for a moment if you’re making this all up. But when you leave to go to your bedroom, Chan’s still there, puttering around in front of your kitchenette. You change your clothes slowly, mind racing as you try to puzzle together why Chan has decided to visit all of a sudden.
You eventually settle on the most logical reason that you can think of.
He’s finally decided to break up with you.
You’ve figured that this was coming for weeks by now, but somehow it still hurts. Instead of feeling resigned, it feels like you’re shattering into little pieces. You twist your work blouse into a tiny ball as you try not to cry, even though you know the fabric is going to wrinkle terribly. You finish cleaning up in a daze, already drafting what you're going to have to message your manager later. There's no way that you're going to be in any shape to work tomorrow if you’re right.
“Y/n?” Chan calls eventually. You know you're procrastinating leaving your room, but you want to put this off for as long as possible even though you know it’s just delaying the inevitable. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” you reply with a heavy heart. “I’m fine. I'll just be another second.”
You can tell that Chan doesn’t quite believe you. He hovers around you when you emerge from your bedroom, knocking away your hand when you try to pull out your own chair from the table.
He's set the table, going so far as to fold little napkins under your utensils. There's even a tiny vase with your favourite flowers as a centrepiece. All this effort just hurts more.
“You look exhausted. You got home so late. Where were you?” he asks.
“I was at work,” you reply stiffly. You know that if you try and say any more, your emotions are going to spill over and you're either going to scream or cry. Maybe both.
“So late?” Chan's forehead creases with some sort of emotion. You can't quite tell if it's concern or scepticism.
“You're not the only one that has a demanding job.”
“Y/n, you know that's not what I meant-”
“Sure,” you say. “Whatever, let's just eat. Thank you for the food.”
You don't want to deal with this. You're so tired.
You have no idea why Chan’s dragging this out longer than it needs to be. Why he’s forcing you to sit through a meal with him like he’s not about to break your heart. Chan is one of the kindest people you know, he’s probably trying to make this easier for you, giving you one last nice memory, but it just feels cruel.
Chan reaches out, stopping you before you can pick up your chopsticks. He stares at the way his fingers overlap each other around your wrist.
“You’ve lost weight,” he says quietly. You look away, watching steam curl from the bowl of rice that has been set in front of you instead of returning eye contact.
“I’ve been busy.” Is all you can say in response.
You don’t want to tell him that you’ve been basically subsisting on iced americanos and various convenience store meals in part because of your work schedule, but mostly because of your lack of appetite. Every time you thought of Chan, it made your stomach turn and well, everything reminded you of him. You hadn’t realised how much it had actually affected your physical condition until now though.
“You're not taking care of yourself,” he scolds you. You can feel yourself bristle at his comment even though you know it’s true. “I haven't been around to take care of you either. I'm sorry.”
“Chan,” you protest. It has been weeks since you last saw him in person and you’ve spent more time that you’d like to admit micro analysing your relationship, but you still can’t make sense of his behaviour, especially how he keeps switching between criticism and tenderness.
“What?” he asks in genuine confusion.
“Why are you here?”
“I missed you,” Chan says, sounding hurt and confused. “I haven’t seen you in so long.”
“I just- I don’t understand what you want from me!” You run your hands through your hair in frustration. “One day you don’t want me around, we go weeks without seeing each other, then you’re at my place cooking me dinner? You said you needed space, I gave you space."
“Woah woah woah, what do you mean I don’t want you around?” Chan asks, alarmed. “When have I ever said that?”
“You made it pretty clear that you didn’t appreciate it when I went to bring you dinner that day,” you start.
“No, baby!” Chan stands up abruptly before you can say anything else. He falters when the loud scrape of his chair causes you to flinch back. He slowly walks towards you and kneels in front of you, reaching out to hold your hands in his. His eyes are wide with earnestness. “Of course I wanted to spend time with you. I always want to be with you.”
“So why did you call me clingy?” you ask in a small voice. Gone is your anger, replaced with a self-consciousness that you can’t hide. You look away as tears prickle your eyes.
Gently, Chan lets go of your hands and cups your cheeks instead, turning your face so that he can see you better. His thumbs swipe under your eyes, brushing away the tears that have managed to escape.
“Baby,” he says, sounding even more upset and angry than you feel. “I'm sorry. Did someone tell you I said that?”
“Nobody had to tell me, I heard you say it myself!” you burst out, pushing Chan away. You know that you’re being dramatic, that you keep oscillating between different emotions, but you don’t care. “That day, in your studio, you told Han and Changbin that I was really clingy.”
“You heard me talking to Binnie and Hannie?” Chan asks slowly.
“I didn't mean to eavesdrop,” you sniffle. One of Chan's hands shifts and he carefully tucks behind a lock of hair that has fallen in front of your face. The gentleness makes even more tears well up.
“It's okay, I think I know what you overheard now. It must have hurt, right?”
You can't muster up a response, choosing instead to just nod slightly.
“I’m sorry, I'm sorry,” he soothes you. “Can I explain myself?”
You pause for a moment, then slowly nod again.
“I don't mind that you're clingy, actually, I like it. I shouldn't have used that word. I like that you want to spend time with me, Y/n,” Chan says carefully. “I like that you take time to visit me, even though I know that your work is busy too. I think that it's cute and thoughtful that you think of me and try to take care of me by bringing me food. I know that you intentionally take the time out of your day to text me because you know that I like hearing from you, even though I might not see it or respond right away.”
Chan pauses for a second and you use it as an opportunity to pull away slightly. His hands tighten briefly, before he lets them fall away, giving you the space to process.
It's not that you don't like what Chan is saying, it's just hard to reconcile it with the thoughts that have been eating away at you for the past few weeks. You still don't understand what you overheard though, how it fits into all of this. When you voice your concerns to Chan, he sighs, before continuing to speak.
“I don't know what I did to have someone as caring and thoughtful as you in my life.” You want to protest, but Chan carries on before you can say anything. “It's just that- you visited me without notice and were the sweetest person in the world. I wanted to spend time with you, believe me, I did, but I can't just ignore my deadlines when the rest of the members are relying on me. It makes me feel like garbage when I can’t give you all my attention. That's the thing I hate the most. That I can't be the boyfriend that you deserve. That I can't show you how much you mean to me the way that I want to.”
It makes sense, in some sort of twisted way. You know that similarly to you, Chan often feels insecure. It had taken a while before you had been able to convince him that you really did want to be in a relationship with him even with all of the difficulties that were associated with being an idol. You hadn't realised that your visit had fed into his worries that he wasn’t enough.
“I didn't know,” you say quietly. “I'm sorry.”
“Hey, I didn't tell you how I was feeling and that's on me. I’m the one that’s sorry, you have no reason to be. I should have been clearer about what was going through my mind and it wasn't any excuse for the way that spoke to you. Even if I wasn't at my best, I can't believe that I made you feel like I didn't want you to be around.” Chan shakes his head and you can tell that he's beating himself up about it. This time, you're the one that reaches out to him, grabbing one of his hands in both of yours.
“I am sorry that I put you into that position, though. I got caught up in the idea of how fun and romantic it might be, that I didn't give enough consideration to your schedule. Even though I wanted to surprise you, it would have been better to check with you beforehand. I don't ever want you to have to feel like you have to choose between me and work.”
“It was a really nice surprise,” Chan agrees. “I wish that I hadn't been so wrapped up that I wasn't able to enjoy spending time with you. I really hated not being able to see you these past few weeks.”
“It was really hard for me too,” you admit.
“I missed you so much. I missed your beautiful voice, hearing your laugh, seeing your smile. I missed all the texts that you usually send, they make me feel like I'm not as far away, that I'm a part of your day too. You kept saying that everything was fine and- I know it's hard for you, especially during comeback periods when I'm not as responsive. I didn't want to pressure you into messaging me more often if I'm not able to do the same.”
“No, it's not that. It doesn't bother me. Work was, is still really busy for me,” you explain. “I was trying to tell you that day, but-”
“But I basically shut you down,” Chan realises. He laughs bitterly. “I’m just the worst, aren't I? No wonder you were so confused by why I was here.”
“I thought you were going to break up with me tonight,” you whisper. Chan looks devastated by your statement.
“No- you know I wouldn't-” Chan stumbles on his words in his haste to correct you.
“I don't think that anymore,” you reassure him. “I understand everything now, it was just that we didn't communicate well and I assumed… It's okay, we're together now, this won't happen again.”
“I promise that I will make it up to you. I love you and I will prove it to you in every way possible. And I'm going to start right now. You still haven't eaten yet, please go ahead.” Chan moves back to his abandoned chair and doles out a portion of the stew from the pot that's on the table.
“I am really hungry,” you confess. Your stomach chooses that exact moment to growl loudly and the two of you can’t help but burst into laughter.
Just like that, it feels like things are back to normal.
You know that there's still more that you and Chan have to talk about. The two of you have only scratched the surface on your insecurities, communication, and how those things led to such a significant misunderstanding.
But tonight, it's enough that you get to share a meal with the man that you love.
read it on ao3 | masterlist
#night again#chahnniesroom#skz fanfic#skz angst#skz fic#skz x reader#skz x female reader#stray kids angst#stay kids x female reader#stray kids x y/n#stray kids x you#skz x you#stray kids fluff#stray kids fanfic#stray kids x reader#bang chan angst#bang chan x reader#bang chan fluff#chan x reader#chan angst#bang chan x y/n#bang chan x you#chan x you#chan x y/n#chan x female reader#skz imagines#stray kids#chan#bang chan#skz fluff
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matters of the heart — Nanami K.
summary: finding out your ex-boyfriend wrote a novel detailing your relationship isn’t how you expected this week to go and to make matters worse everyone on the internet now thinks your “character” is a total bitch. you decide to pay your ex a visit, but can you do that without succumbing to your natural urges? well, no!
tags: 18+(MDNI/blank blogs) slight porn with plot, oral (f! receiving), brief nipple sucking, daddy kink, creampie, i guess nanami is a bit toxic in this lol, nanami might also be a bit ooc in here
to the moaners: has this been sitting in the draft for about 3-4 months? yes! but happy birthday month, kento 😚. artwork by @/_3aem (twt); @ryomens-vixen (this was the fic I mentioned a while back) word count: 5.6k (yuck), I don't really like this
I’m going to kill him, that was the only thing on your mind once you closed out of the novel. Normally, your weekends were spent relaxing with a fruity bubble-gum colored cocktail but today was different. Shoko called your phone at exactly 9:26 am claiming it was time she divulged some news to you. At exactly 9: 28am, she sent you an online copy of a book titled, “Matters of the Heart” and told you it was nothing but a two or three hour read and then to call once you finished.
The book had a slow start and it seemed pretty average, just any old love story. Lately, anything was getting published and it seemed that was the case here — wait, you paused your reading and sat up straight. No. Just no. Something just clicked for you which led you to completely start over from page one.
The moment you finished, at exactly 1:01 pm, you grabbed a salmon colored low cut shirt and light washed jeans, slipped on your white shoes and hurried to get into your car. You didn’t need to call her phone because you were going to talk to her face to face; this situation warranted a real conversation. It was nothing but a 17 minute drive to Shoko’s house, so when you arrived at exactly 1:18 pm, her door was already open. “They’re bashing me, Shoko. Fucking bashing! How could he do this to me?” Were the first words that flew out of your mouth, holding your phone close to her face so that she could see the reviews.
“Well, it’s not like anyone would know it’s you.” She yawned, handing you a cup of water – probably because of how crazy you looked – before she ushered you to a seat on the couch. A golden brown blanket was lazily thrown on the seat, which she hurried to move. You sat down and faced her with a look of what Shoko could only describe as pure sadness. She had seen you like this many times before, all because of one person.
“You did.” You sniffled with an eye roll, you couldn’t help but feel uncertain. Reading this book only brought back more uncomfortable feelings towards the breakup and him. You thought that you were over him and the memories that the book produced made you question everything. One question remained which is: Why?
She giggled drily. “Hey, I read all his works. Pseudonym or not. He can’t hide from me. Plus, I know you both and everything that went on. I was there too, remember?” She mumbled the last part. “Maybe this was his way of coping?”
“It’s been years… and I heard he’s announced a sequel. Shoko, a SEQUEL! It’ll be released later this year.” You spoke in a shaking watery voice while she rubbed your back in an attempt of comfort. Your mind could only think of what the reactions would be to your character in the sequel… insecurities that you never knew were there flooded your mind.
“There was enough material for a sequel? I thought he covered everything…” Shoko rubbed her chin and looked deep in thought. You just stared at her, she couldn’t be serious. “Sorry, ignore me.” She shook her head ignoring your stare.
“Do I even confront him over this? A-and how would that make me look, like I still check on him right? I’ll look crazy and bitter… which apparently I am. Oh and I’m bitchy and a ‘total cunt’ as they’re putting online.” He didn’t know just how much you changed, he missed your growth. Rubbing your eyes, you ask:“Why did you tell me about this? What made you take so long… I just don’t understand.”
“Well, at first… I didn’t think you’d care.” Moving a strand of her nut-brown hair out of her face, she continued. “Then about a month ago, I decided it was right to tell you, just in case someone else pieced it together.”
“Gojo read it then, huh?” You mentally cringed at the thought. It was the only person you could think of who’d be so crude about it. He knew how damaging the breakup was for you but not as bad as Shoko knows. Now, you’re just grateful that she told you before he did.
“Yep, so I figured that I had to tell you before he did.” She clicked her tongue. “But let’s just calm down before you make any rash decisions on how to handle this.”
“He wrote a fucking duality series about me, our relationship, our sex life and you want me to calm down? Are you listening to yourself? This is a serious matter. I am being called a bitch, a slut and more on Goodreads and multiple websites, reviews, etc. and he didn’t even have the audacity to give me a heads up. You had to call me.” You let out an unladylike snort.“Why couldn’t he stick to his mystery novels? Wasn’t he doing good at those?”
“Writer's block.” Shoko said in a singsong-like voice. “He hadn’t written a mystery book since you two broke up and then… he alerted his supporters he wanted to switch things up and then… that was that. Ladies loved it, a big hit. By the way, if you two were really fucking like that I need to se—”
“Shoko, now is not the time!” Your face felt hot all over, your mind racing. “I just can’t believe this.” You wrapped your arms around your body and squeezed, giving yourself one big squeeze. It was hard not to cry but you could feel it all in your throat.
“I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think his intentions were to make you feel bad.” She hugged you to her chest, pressing a small kiss to the crown of your head. “I think he still loves you. I mean, isn’t this book proof? After all these years, he wrote about you.”
“I’m sure he moved on by now.” You whispered, your eyes growing tired already and the day had barely started. “I just need to lay down. I need to rest.” Your mind seemed to finally grow calm and your breathing steady, a small hiccup now in your throat but with a gulp of water, you were better.
“Just stay here. I don’t trust you to be alone right now.” Shoko’s voice drowned out as sleep overtook you, you could only feel her warmth as she held you and honestly it was all you needed at this moment, Shoko always made you feel safe and you couldn’t thank her more than enough for that right now as you slept.
You were a light sleeper, it was always something that Nanami pointed out about you. He always said how he felt like he couldn’t leave the room while you slept even if it was to use the bathroom afraid to wake you. He knew how important sleep was to you and he’d risk having a bladder infection if you got all 8 hours that you required. Nanami was sweet and caring like that.
You didn’t think you’d break up with him ever. He was the one for you and he always made that clear. He pampered you and even after the breakup – though you didn’t need it – he left you with a check for five thousand dollars, saying it was for his half of the lease for the next few months.
The breakup was brutal for you. You almost quit working entirely. Shoko was the only person you’d confined into and the only friend you left to check in on you especially when you didn’t want to leave the house. She brought you groceries and helped you shower until you finally were able to get up again.
Though it was hard to believe, it was Nanami who broke up with you. You thought it was a joke, a cliche little joke.
“Baby, I’m not joking.” His voice was quiet and husky, he spoke as if he was going to cry. “I just need some time to myself. I need to figure out if this is what I want. You don’t have to wait for me, you just keep on living your life and being happy. But… I think it’s time we let this go.”
You didn’t cry in front of him. You didn’t cry when he packed his things up. You certainly didn’t cry when he shut the door, leaving his key on the table because you knew he was joking. He had to be. But when you called him and his number was disconnected and you were blocked on any form of social media… that was when you broke down and cried.
It happened out of nowhere. You overanalyzed every aspect of your relationship for where you went wrong. You wrote down every conversation you could remember and dissected it word by word. You watched every video and picture you had of the two of you looking for a bit of regret or anything on his face. You read every text message, looking for malice. He said he needed time to figure out if he wanted this but he always made it clear that he did and even that he was looking forward to having kids together, you two had even gone ring shopping months ago.
You didn’t sleep and when you did, it was only for 4 hours and sometimes barely that. Your heart had an ache in it and the tears wouldn’t stop. You could only think why wasn’t I enough?
When you opened your eyes Shoko was still holding you and a small smile grew on your lips. “Thank you Shoko.” You knew if you could count on anyone, it was always going to be her. She was the one who pieced you back together and made sure that life didn’t destroy you and you couldn’t help but to be grateful.
“Of course. ‘M going to let you spend the night here, okay? Let’s get some takeout and watch your favorite movies, how’s that sound?” She knew the way to your aching heart like the back of her hand.
“It sounds amazing!” You stretched your arms out wide, leaning off of her and sitting up. “Should we start with Uptown Girls or Legally Blonde?”
It took two days before you confronted him. Shoko was adamant about not giving you his address and you were tempted to get it from her phone. But luckily, you wore her down, she was probably tired of you bringing him or his book in every conversation. So now you stood there, nerves washing over you in waves.
The mahogany colored door stared at you – mocked you – and you returned the glare before you knocked on it, hard. This was just a door and you were angry at the person behind said door, not the door itself.
It was almost like he was waiting on you because the door unlocked and opened. He even stepped aside to let you in, quiet. His straw-colored hair was parted differently and he even looked taller or broader – you couldn’t completely tell – but he looked different… seemed different. The atmosphere around him made your stomach clench and it made you mad; why did it feel like only you suffered from the breakup? Here he was – strong and tall – and you were nothing or rather the same.
“You wrote a romance erotica novel about our relationship?” It was what you practiced saying before you got out of your car – making sure your voice didn’t tremble – this time, it didn’t.
“Well, hello to you too. Even after three and a half years, you still like to get straight to the point.” He grinned, putting a hand on your back to guide you to a seat on his couch. “I must ask, what makes you think it’s about you?” He does a slight laugh and raises his brow.
“We have the same initials, almost the same name. Are you kidding me?” You retort, folding your arms across your chest. You tried to ignore the fuzzy feeling in your chest that occurred when you heard his voice after so long, hearing him and seeing that damned smile… your nose scrunched up.
“Sorry, I just didn’t know you kept up with me… with my books…” He muttered, glancing your way, a demure look in his amber eyes. “Should I be flattered?” Almost in an instant, he turned on a slight cockiness to himself, though his body language showed his nervousness – his thigh bouncing a bit and his fingers tapping on the couch handle. A light sense of relief filled your system knowing that you weren’t the only one being affected by this.
“I don’t.” You inhaled deeply. “Shoko told me about it and then, I checked it out.” Fiddling with your fingers and even picking at your nails, that was your tell all sign of nervousness and right now you were engaging in it more than ever before.
“I wanted to tell you or rather, to ask you. I know you got the voicemails I sent last year…and then you kept dodging my calls.” He tells you, you could feel his eyes on you – or more so your fingers… the nasty habit that he had finally got you to stop all those years ago rushing right back in an instant.
“Writing a book to trash me and our relationship… to make you look like some sort of… ugh, like you’re so amazing and I’m just shit. Yeah, that certainly got my attention.” If you were coming off bitchy or rude right there, you couldn’t care less especially when there were worse things that you could’ve said or even could’ve done at this moment. You really wanted to slap him.
“Is that all you got out of it?” He asks with his head low, almost as if he was admitting defeat or as if he couldn’t believe you came up with something so trivial.
“Was there anything else to get?” You counter, shifting your body towards him. Maybe it was best that you sat down and actually listened to the author and his interpretations of his work.
“How about that I love you regardless of any flaws… how about I find your stubbornness and attitude sexy and how I knew this breakup would be good for you. I was holding you back. I mean, I heard you got promoted 3 times since we broke up… I just felt like I was changing you, hindering your growth. I needed to reflect on myself and this book helped that.” He tapped his fingers against his thigh, yet another sign of his anxiousness. “Believe it or not, I still care about you. No matter what happened between us.”
“What happened? You mean when you decided to just leave? You could've told me everything you just told me and I would’ve understood better. We could’ve talked and came to a compromise. You don’t understand what you put me through after it.” You were close to tears but you straighten your posture and sniffled, it was best not to think about what happened before. “I just needed a bit of closure too, I guess that’s why I came. I just was caught off guard. You could’ve knocked on my door or something, forced me to answer… forced me to talk.”
He met your eye for the first time since you came over. “You wouldn’t have listened,” He huffs. “Didn’t I mention how stubborn you are? Plus, I meant what I said. I needed time to myself and I think we both did.”
“I guess…But Nanami, this book was too much. A letter would’ve been fine if you needed closure, don’t you think?” You see his lips quirk up a bit before he licks them, trying not to laugh it seems.
“My publisher got a hold of some of the documents where I was just going over things, writing here and there. She loved the idea… plus I’m in a contract for six books so I had to put something out soon, it had already been a year.” He told you, sitting his chin on top of his knuckles. “I honestly didn't mean to hurt you. I was writing for fun… reminiscing about us and then later down the line, I realized I was writing because I wanted you to read it, I just didn’t exactly know how to get you to since you were very adamant on avoiding me, which is understandable. But regardless, I didn’t think it’d get on the bestseller list or for the reviews to get so harsh.” He admits, reaching for your hand before his hand froze in midair and he stopped himself, choosing instead to put it behind his head.
“Is there anyway you can stop the sequel from being published then… since you got my attention after all this time?” You asked, putting your most dazzling smile on, hoping to sway him.
“I can talk to my publisher. Everything’s in print and materials are already done… but I’ll try to see if I can stop production.” His adam’s apple bobbles when he does a harsh swallow. “Are we… okay? Do you forgive me?”
The question made you pause. He always made it hard for you to not forgive him; it took one look or a smile and a small explanation and it made it easy to fall in love with him all over again, no matter what he did… it seems. But it made you ask yourself: Were you too easy? Did you really forgive him? It was thoughts like that swirling around the corners of your mind. You wanted to forgive him, he was just writing and telling a story… but it was your story, not just his. Using this for your attention when he could’ve written about anything else, he didn’t have to. Were you just ready to forgive him because you still loved him?
You hadn’t realized how deep in thought you were until you felt the couch dip and even then, your mind was still spirling.“You don’t have to…” His voice brings you out of your thoughts, his body so close to yours that it was getting hard to breathe. He still smelled the same; citrus and woodsy and it was easy to get yourself sucked back in.
“So you can write another book about my stubbornness?” You give a quiet giggle, scooting a bit away from him, seeing him frown from the corner of your eyes. You didn’t want to fall back but he made it all so simple. It was easy and you were already falling back on him and you didn’t need that… Did you?
“Baby…” Your body buzzed and hummed, turning to him with wide eyes. “I’ll do anything I can to make this right. Anything for you to forgive me… If they can’t stop publication, what can I do to make us right?” He was doing more than a gaze, he was full on staring and from how close he was it was hard to avoid.
“Nanami I–” You stopped yourself. You couldn’t really think of anything he could do but you could think of several unhealthy things you could do to ruin your progress on going over him. He had betrayed you and made you a laughing stock so why are you stuck thinking about forgiveness when you should be leaving.
“I never stopped loving you.” His fingers traced up and down your pants but his eyes stayed on yours. “I never thought about anyone but you… I never slept with anyone… it’s always been you. But, I understand what I put you through and I’ll apologize every second until you forgive me…” The blond man who you never saw shed a tear looked more than close to it. “But just please… forgive me.”
“I’m sorry, honest.” He tries again after being met with absolute silence. “Just… let me show you, okay?” His breath tickles your face for a second and when you look into his cocoa brown eyes, you feel everything you once felt again.
Memories of good times dulls out the odd feelings in the pit of your stomach – the confusion and pain – instead are replaced with joy. The trip to Malaysia where he rubbed sunscreen on your entire body and laid back to read a book and you watched as his eyes kept drifting to you while you played in the cerulean water; how you kept begging him to come in until he complied and how eventually in the early hours of the morning when you wanted another dip, he fucked you twice — once in the golden lush sand and another in the cool ocean water.
His face is in your thighs and you couldn’t help but feel better, feeling his breath fanning so close to your pants covered pussy, your body felt scorching hot. He’s grumbling, “Will you let me make it up to you? Will you let me show you how sorry I am?”
You must’ve nodded because he was already unbuttoning your pants and helping you lay back, pulling your shirt up just a bit to see your perky tits – he must’ve remembered how you never wore bras unless you felt it was necessary, which was mainly work or any important events.
He blew a bit on your hardening nipples before he took one into his mouth – playing biting them with a smug look on his face before he began licking around your areolas and kissing around the swells of your breast. He doesn’t say anything but he looks deep in thought as he kisses down your body, his fingers scraping down your sides as he works your pants and your panties all the way down. Bringing his head up for a minute, he looks in your face. “I love you.” He says it simply, heavy emotions swirling in his brown eyes.
Removing your pants and underwear completely from your body, he spreads your thighs and looks over your body – a trimmed low pretty bush sits between your thighs and it makes him smile, he always loved seeing the curled hair on your delicate lower lips. He spreads your pussy, watching the skin stretch with a deep smile on his face. You could feel yourself … the wetness leaking down under your body and it made you cringe, but the way he was staring at you made the insecurities vanish. “All this for me?” He takes a tentative lick before he slurps, clutching your hips. “I know you like to run… but I need you to stay put, got it?” It was hard for you to listen to him, your head already fuzzy and the thoughts swirling around were only about him, nothing more.
Then your body bucks up, “Wait–!” A broken moan escapes your mouth when he presses a soft wet kiss to your clit. Nanami had always been gentle and very careful whenever he ate you out; making sure his tongue was wet enough and that he wasn’t too rough. His tongue was wide enough to make your back arch, your body leaving the couch when it finally hit your clit and he gave you no time to recover before he peeled back the hood, sitting the tip of his tongue there and rapidly flicked at the bud.
Hearing the lewd squelching noises coming from the mixture of your cunt and his mouth made you close your eyes, squeezing them shut tightly. He spits before he licks it up and down your aching slit, nudging his tongue inside only slightly, much to your dismay. You’re gasping every second when more of his tongue slips in and out of your pussy; sliding a bit more each time and it makes your thighs shake. When he finally slips his entire tongue inside of you, curling it just enough that you can feel it everywhere, your legs attempt to close up around his head. “Please– ‘m so… soo–oh…” His fingers join in on the fun and in small sloppy circles he rubs your clit, pressing down on the pearl while his tongue continues flicking inside of you. The split second that you open your eyes, his are already on yours and it was that moment, that made your body tense up and for you to cum.
It happens fast, clear sticky wetness leaks out of you and Nanami still tries to get more of it on his tongue, catching anything that drips and sucking on your folds. “Always so fucking good…” He mutters, spreading you again and smearing more of your slick on his face by shaking his head between your thighs, so that he’s completely covered in you.
When he moves his head, embarrassment comes over you, looking at his wet face… even his forehead was wet and you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, baby but… I’ll be right back, stay wet for me.”
Your heart hammers against your chest, lying there on this now wet couch. You didn’t come over here for this and yet here you are… about to get fucked and really, it was no turning back now. You’d been on dates with men after Nanami but they never lasted past the second date and you certainly hadn’t had sex in a while, but he made you come apart like it was nothing.
But then again, Nanami knew your body… so of course this was a walk in the park for him. It honestly annoyed you right now, you couldn’t even make yourself cum half the time especially these last few years and now, barely an hour here and he has you right where he wanted you… bare and practically back in love with him.
Nanami came back with a fresh face and unbuttoned pants that he was currently pulling down. You clenched around nothing, your mind thinking only of the perfect dick that was going to be coming out of those pants. You licked your lips, this would be the first dick you saw in years and it was his.
His drooling cock slapped his stomach and you swallowed, your mouth felt unreasonably dry. The length of his cock always impressed you, standing tall at seven and a half inches, he shakes with laughter which snaps you out of your daze. “Now let me look at you.” His whispers and even though he already saw you, both years ago and right now, you can’t help but feel hot all over again. He’s staring – drawing his eyes down every inch of your body – focusing on your breast before getting to the stare of the show yet again. He smirks, laying you back down, pressing his body against yours to kiss you.
Your breath was caught in your throat, his tongue still tasted of you and his hands cups your jaw. He’s gentle, his tongue moving around your mouth messily before he stops, saliva breaking apart when he does so. His fingers make a ghostly featherlight touch on your clit that makes you jump, the head of his cock at your entrance. He holds out his hand, close to your mouth. “Spit.” Gathering up some, you spit in the palm of his hand and stroke it along his length, huffing at the sensation.
He pushes in, taking his time to work himself inside of you, a strained expression on his face. Hips pulled back, he focuses more on just the tip of himself fucking you, watching your pussy stretch with just the tiniest bit of resistance. Inching himself inside, you watch his torso flex and he groans, obscene noises plop and plap around the apartment, his heavy cock pushing in and out of you, your toes curling.
“Pussy still mines, right? Didn’t give it away, did you?” You’re struggling to talk - to fucking breathe - your eyes rolling back and your jaw slacked but you babble out a soft ‘no’ which makes him finally thrust in you harder, completely bottoming out. You feel him in your belly, feeling full and embarrassingly wide with him stretching you out, his balls sitting on the crest of your ass before he moves.
He moves you a bit, your bodies flush to each other and he moves his hips in harsh circles, his pelvis so close to your clit. His hands on your calves, he pushes your legs so that they rest on his shoulders, your knees touching your ears makes you tighten up and he groans above you.
“Nanami I-” You call out, eyes closed with pleasure shaking through your core, wetness slapping between the both of you.
“Nanami? No, call me what you used to call me.” His hips slowed down, a whine escaping your lips. His cock dragging inside of your walls, pulling out slowly, awaiting your response.
“Please…don’t slow down, Ken—” before the word even left your lips, his hand slapped your cunt, leaving your legs shaking a bit and your eyes snapping open. Drops of tears run down your cheeks and you sniffle, reaching for him… you couldn’t help but feel so small in his presence.
“Say it.” Then, you knew what he meant. A name that now feels foreign in your brain and even when it leaves your mouth, it comes out in a strange rattled whimper.
“Oh, oh… daddy, ‘m sorry. Please, keep fucking me. It’s so goooood!” He’s grinning before the words leave your mouth.
“Still my good girl huh? Always so fucking good for daddy.” He licks up your neck and it makes you tremble, your tongue lolling out a bit and he moves to suckle on it. “Did you skip over all those sex scenes or did you rub this pussy out to them?” He asks, his fingers digging in the back of your thighs.
You choked out, sobbing, “I did, daddy… But I-I don’t want to remember everything.”
“You don’t remember all the words I used to describe this cunt? This pretty pussy? That changed his life… my life? That made him always crawl back? That made him so fucking hard? The pretty words I used to describe you? To describe how pretty she always looked when he fucked her? How his heart felt like it was going to explode when she looked at him too long because he loved her so damn much?” He’s groaning in your ear, thrusting into you, his depth reaching your g-spot, your pussy spasming and begging for his cum at every word he uttered.
Pumping himself inside, you could see the white creaminess that was on his cock, most likely because of you, he was constantly fucking the cream inside of you, your nails digged into his arms and he moaned at the feeling. Your stomach tightens and you move to push him away, “I’m going to c–cum!” You felt him throbbing inside of you, signaling that he was close too. “Please, cum inside of me… I can’t take it.” You couldn’t stand it any longer, it’s been years and you needed him to fill you up. He stopped for a moment, changing positions so that you’ll be sitting on his lap, grabbing your hips and forcibly bouncing you on his dick, dangerously slow.
Wetness gushes on him as his tip hits you from a new angle, seeing the outline of him in your tummy, he’s stretching you again with each nasty thrust. Each drag of his cock making you go crazy and the aching between your legs continue, your body shaking and both of you moaning loudly and over each other.
Finally, your orgasm rattled and shook your entire body, your pussy sucking him in, milking him for all he’s worth and it makes his body shake and he releases inside of you, trying to stay quiet as his body jerks up, unable to stop himself from fucking you through both of your orgasms.
It’s quiet for a while, just heavy breathing with you laying on his chest. “I love you too…” Your voice is scratchy and your face tear stained. He doesn’t say anything, his cock still pulsing inside of you.
“I know. I love you too, never stopped.”
“Did you at least read the acknowledgements or did you just dive right in?”
“I never read the acknowledgements for books, thought you would’ve remembered that.” You watch him get up, walking around the living room, looking for something. You were both still naked and the entire room smelled of sex.
“I did remember that and when you barged in my door, I already knew that you still hadn’t changed when it came to that. Here, read this part right here.” He brings you over a copy and you run your fingers around the softback cover with a small smile on your face; this silly thing had brought you both back together and right now you could give less than a fuck about those reviews.
Feeling the spine of the book, you open it and can practically smell the scent of an unopened new book. Turning the first few pages, you go to the one page acknowledgment and read it aloud: “She might not read this book. But if she does, by chance. I hope she knows that I still love her.” You wiped your eyes and smiled. “You’re an asshole, you know?”
He lets out a hearty laugh, “I know baby.” Kissing the top of your head, he gets up and grabs his phone from the kitchen counter and you follow him. “I think I have enough material to write a third book now.” He grabs his phone and starts typing, his eyebrows furrowed as if he was deep in thought. Attempting to grab his phone he chuckles and uses his height to his advantage by standing taller.
Standing on the tips of your toes you snort, “Don’t even joke about that!” But a smile takes over your face and he can’t help but smile too.
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KNUCKLE VELVET, TORN ON MY TEETH
❝ VI!ONE SHOT ❞
pairing. pitfighter!vi x bartender!reader
warnings. eighteen+, nsfw content: arcane season two spoilers, soft angst, smut, bartender!reader, crashout!vi mends her cold heart, inexperienced!vi, switch!reader + vi, fem coded reader, coded alcohol addiction, slight spit kink, strap use.
KNUCKLE VELVET TORN ON MY TEETH, there's something charming about the pitfighter who doesn't stop drinking until she reaches the bottom of the barrel and the bartender who keeps walking her home.
wc. 7k+
rayray yaps. popping my vi!oneshot cherry, hehe, and i'm happy to do so. the vi brainrot has been real as fuck lately. i fear it's not going away anytime soon. but i wanted to give a special shoutout to @hypnagogics for proofreading this fic, means sm to me ily + my sweet bubba, @absfawn for the title name, i could kiss you until my lips fall off. the best people ever, i love them so much. okay, now i have yapped enough! happy reading, hope you enjoy.
Trapped in the abyss, just when everything had been taken from her life seems to sacrifice another offering on a silver platter. Something else that she thought could be hers, but wasn’t. In the end, all of it was the same. Life is the same. She takes three steps forward, circumstances out of her control take her apart like enforcers imposing their will on Zaun, and she’s forced to move five steps back. It’s all she feels, powerless.
Wanting nothing more than to drown her sorrows, forget all that she's lost. For everything that’s been taken, Vi feels an overpowering loss, threatening to take over everything she’s trying to build. But Vi thinks of none of it now, she can’t afford to think of one more thing. So, she doesn’t. All of her mind forgets. She forces herself to.
Zaun, Piltover, Jinx, Vander, Silco, and Cait.
She drowns in blood, sweat, and liquor for nights to come. She forgets everything and you are just the cherry top on this one shitty sundae. Anytime she’s here, Vi manages to get herself into a fight. Each time. Every time she tries to apologize or hold an ounce of guilt in her eyes, you see right through her crystal blues. From the very first night, you called her bullshit. Even if Vi didn’t give in, it was hard to hide her small smirk.
She lets herself think it’s because you’re a bartender. You practically get paid to read people, listen to them vent about shit you probably don’t give two shits about and break up the fights that erupt every thirty minutes. Overinflated egos and drunken assholes weren’t a great mix. The jury was still out if you though Vi was one. She could have both, she didn’t really talk much. Vi fought, drank until she couldn’t see straight, and you helped her up to her small apartment right across the street and up the steps into her said apartment.
No matter how hard she tries, it always ends the same. Vi looking like an imbecile and you, the pretty bartender who shuts down every advance she throws your way. Vi wonders who had a stronger shell, what you’re hiding in order to protect yourself.
Maybe she is just an asshole.
“You don’t have to walk me up here. I-I can make it just fine on my own.”
As soon as your fingertips let go of her fragile frame, Vi’s inebriated body collapses on the concrete steps, grabbing onto the metal framing as if her life depends on it.
“Really? Now you wanna prove a point?”
“For your information, I’m always in it to prove a point.”
Even if your words are harsh, with a soft smile and a hand open, Vi takes it as you let her lean on your weight as you assist her up the steps. There’s little shame to be had once the two of you make it in. It isn’t like the first time and when she noticed the scrunch of your nose in taking the smell, tequila and grease. Vi thought it was cute but she halts any further thought.
Quickly, Vi disposed of her leather jacket and pants she’s left in boxers and the wrap protecting her chest. The part of her life that seems to be kept together. She doesn’t really mind it though, you. Seeing her like this. Even more so, she enjoys it. You’re always so dismissive at the bar, hardly holding eye contact, turning down any flirting she hurls your way. Just like the vomit Vi had nearly thrown up on your shoes but made a quick diversion for the bush to the right of her instead.
This is truly the only time she knows you want her. Not so subtly, your eyes trace her like each pinpoint of your gaze is painting her on a clean canvas, one Vi wonders if she’ll like or not. When she’s been around you, she’s been wondering about a lot of things — thoughts she quite literally can’t afford.
It’s her, nothing ever ends well when her feelings can get crushed on the other side.
Everything she touches burns to ash before she can even hold it for a moment, a second of symphony retaliates with years of misery. How could you be any different? She wishes you would burn her underneath your gaze, put her out of the misery she feels growing every day, but you don’t. You’re always pulling her out of trouble when you truly don’t have to. It’s not your job to take care of her or hell, even look after her.
But you do and she can’t seem to figure out why.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Just shut the fuck up and let me help you. Not everyone has a motive. Some people just like to help when someone is so clearly struggling.”
“I’m not—”
You give her a glare that seems to shut her up. You draw a bath for her. It’s easy to find her towels in the only cabinet. It’s an acute studio apartment. More so of a small room with a stove stop, minimal counter space, and one bathroom enough to bathe and brush her teeth in. There isn’t much left of it but it’s hers. Grabbing the first aid kit, you kneel between her legs, the mattress sits on the floor, her legs spread and stretching out in front of you.
“Let me help you. Alright?” Vi grumbles, a incoherent complaint, but she lets you tend to her wounds.
It’s mainly just cleaning off her dry blood as she still complains in the process, but there’s a few cuts on her face and her cheeks are already beginning to bruise. It’s not a secret, she bruises like a peach but she always makes sure her opponent is leaving a lot more with just a few cuts and a bruise the size of a plum.
It’s then, when you’re concentrating on the cuts on her face, the busted lip she’s sporting; she looks at you. Maybe it’s the first time she has, but without even realizing it, she gets lost. Not in the way Vi doesn’t know who she is, that she’s completely lost on, but Vi sees you.
Bright-eyed, optimistic, helpful, kind — all attributes she couldn’t claim but wears like a badge of honor. As if helping others instills you with a sense of purpose, something that’s always been a lost cause to her. Fight until the next fight, and the next, and the next. That’s what she’s done, she's always been a fighter. She’s fallen back on it when needed. It’s clear to her. Like a vision she could see, crystal clear through some stupid ball, it’s always been about survival.
But how much longer does she want to fight and how much more does she have in her?
“Thanks.” Vi speaks softly.
Not knowing where to place her palms, she settles for her thigh. Silent as she watches, nearly analyzing every moment, every glance, every little thing you’re doing. It’s sobering to say the least. You don’t need to be delicate but you are. It’s more kindness than she deserves, nearly leaving a bitter taste on her tongue but when you offer a small smile and a soft whisper, you’re welcome.
It’s the sweetest thing Vi has ever seen.
There’s something different in the way you look at her. The soft omission exposes how sweet on Vi you may be. Definitely more than you’d let on, which was well…none. Up until tonight, she thought you hated her. With each word uttered in your direction, Vi assumed you’d rather swallow bile than stomach her slurred, flirty speech.
“Why do you want to help? It’s not like I’ve exactly been—”
“Kind?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
This time Vi lets the smile reach her eyes and your smile gets even sweeter. She can practically feel the sweetness rotting her teeth as she speaks. It’s the first time she feels something new, something as bright as the light radiating through your eyes.
“You just seem different. Even if you do try to hide it.”
With a flush of crimson coating the apple of her cheeks, she’s never been quite as exposed as this. The next few weeks are spent with less drinking, but Vi frequents the bar just as much as she did before. She orders a few pints just to talk to you. She’s learning more about you, slowly but surely, you’re opening up more. Divulging information you wouldn’t have before, trust is earned. It’s something you told her the first night you met and to this day, Vi still remembers it.
Regardless of how drunk she’d been when you said it.
It’s a typical night. Vi flirted with you but you aren’t being dismissive tonight but you’re careful enough to not let her know exactly how you feel. Everything you say is guarded enough you keep her on her toes, for a moment she thinks she might have to become a ballerina. It’s a slow night, Wednesday. Go figure Vi thinks. There was a woman who’d also been flirting with you all night. Vi thought she was beautiful, sweet, funny…certainly was making you laugh all night.
Part of Vi wanted to feel jealous but it feels too good hearing you laugh, she says nothing. Maybe you just don’t like women. Vi was known for reading into things too much, thinking everyone thought with their heart first just like she did, and assuming every hot and attractive woman was into other women — just like she is.
But the brunette left before closing, leaving Vi and a few other regulars paying their tab as they stumbled home with a belly full of liquor of their choosing.
“Alright Vi, don’t you have somewhere to be? Maybe getting some sleep for the night?”
“I don’t sleep much, it’s better if I don’t.”
“Keeps the nightmares away.”
All Vi does is nod.
“Story of the century.” You take Vi’s empty pint before washing it dispersing in the sink before cleaning up the remainder of the bar top. “Everyone’s got one around here and the new one is usually even more depressing than the last.”
“What about yours?”
“If you wanna hear that, I’ll have to be the one doing the drinking.” You smile but it’s the first one Vi recognizes as insincere.
“Yeah, seems to be the stone cold requirement for a heart to heart.”
Vi’s silent as you vent to her about the customer who refused to pay up tonight until you threatened to kick his ass and that wasn't enough, you threatened Letty on him. Vi found herself only slightly entranced as you spoke with such color, your animated voice doing impressions of the stubborn patreon, moving your hands as you speak, eyebrows furrowed as you finished the story.
You’re done cleaning and are ready to close by the time you finish, locking the door as Vi stuffs her hands in her pockets, “Can I ask you something?”
You cling to your bag like a lifeline. Vi notices how tight your grip is on the strap, almost as if you’re afraid. Of what? She has a craving to find out. “Why’d you turn her away? She seemed plenty interested. Not your type?”
You take a step forward, just as close as the last time you were in her apartment, tending to wounds she wouldn’t have really cared about but still she let you clean them.
You didn’t have to know that. Not yet, anyway.
“No, not really. I like my women a little rough around the edges, stumbling out of bars so wasted they can’t even walk home by themselves.” You smirk, grabbing the lapel of her leather jacket as you tug her closer to you. “Or is that what you want me to say?”
“Is it true?”
You both know the hope in her eyes is dangerous.
Hope.
A foreign concept in Zaun. If you get too close to the flame, you’ll get burned, dusting into ash as if you never existed. It’s what shimmer did to people, wipe them off the map until they reformed into a shell of what they used to be. You didn’t just get out of a place like this, not without some help. Vi could barely even help herself.
The both of you know it’s a bad idea. A terrible, god awful idea, but you still move in closer to her. Vi notices and she wipes the smirk off her face, your warm hands finding purchase on her exposed hips, drawing soft circles on her hip bones. She likes it, even when her heart feels torn from being blown to bits by a certain blue-eyed beauty.
Vi likes you.
“Your skin is softer than I thought it would be, smooth like pure silk. Not that I’ve ever touched it before but I’ve got to believe it would feel a lot like this.”
Vi feels a tingle up her spin, your touch is overwhelming, more than she bargained for really. A stumbling, messy kiss is all she really expected if anything. Not this. Clearly, you knew what to do. Leaving Vi a little clueless in that department, she’s knocked off her feet once again but this time in a way she wants to be. But actually bringing something this special to anything more than a few flirty quips? It never seems to be her strong suit.
So, she puts her best foot forward. Her big stupid mouth, one she can never quite fully silence. “I can guarantee my lips feel a lot softer.”
“Vi—” You speak her name like a warning, an unspoken law you’re breaking by entertaining your feelings and the bubbling sentiments you hold for her close to your heart. You know better than to keep it so close, but the halo in her eyes blinds you to reason and you let it.
“It’s Violet but you can call me whatever you want, sweets.”
You chuckle at the pet name.
“Just one night. That’s it. Just to get it out of our system.”
“One night, sweets. It’s all I need.”
—
It’s how you ended up here, the third night in a row since the first, trapped under the web of Vi and her eager mouth. Slender, perfectly sculpted fingers feel like a hex to your cunt, every moment causing you to fall further into her spell. To say she has a certain talent would be considered an understatement. It’s clear Vi’s enjoying herself, fuck, damn near suffocates herself in your weeping cunt. Last night wasn’t nearly enough, she needs to have you, again. Not that you were complaining.
As much as you hate to admit it, there has been no one as generous as her. As good as her, as sweet, as kind, and she did whatever the hell you asked for. Nothing has beaten the first night, her thumping clit nudging against your as she hiked one of your legs over her toned shoulders.
It’s not a secret how built she is, far from it, but it’s another thing entirely to watch her flexed bicep ripple with every grind of her hips. Each movement seems to be calculated with precision, focused on doing more than just making herself feel good. With pure determination, glazed over crystal blue eyes, and a pouty scarred lip, she makes sure you’re enjoying this as much as her. With each moan you let slip, her confidence only grows until she’s commanded full control over you. She takes what she wants from you and in return you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, constellations created in the shape of her name as you come.
“That’s it pretty girl, just for me, yeah?” Vi talks you through as she works you through your orgasm with her strong hips, not stopping even after you’ve cum. She wants more and Vi pulls three more orgasms out of you before she’s done for the night. You expected her to be good. There was no shocker there but you didn’t expect her to be so sweet afterwards. Vi is a drunk, an addict, whether she wants to accept it or not. You could be just another object she’s addicted to. Somehow, you convince yourself it’s just a one time thing. It doesn’t mean anything, it won’t.
Truthfully it feels much more than just a one night stand, more than an itch being scratched — the blossoming ache in your soul feels tethered to your heart every time Vi makes you feel an ounce of love — even when she tries to hide it behind a wall. Whether you’re aware, the wall can’t seem to stop crumbling. Brick by brick, it’s coming undone just as you have. Weak-willed and with purpose, you fall into her.
There isn’t an inch of your body Vi didn’t kiss. Her lips tattooing every inch of your skin with marked affection, almost as if she’s mending your skin with the burn of her lips. When she claims your soft lips, haunting you with the salvation of perfection as her velvet tongue invades your mouth, the taste of you melting from her tongue to yours. The silent declaration you didn’t ask for but craved, the carnal moan leaving her mouth as she chuckles when your hips pathetically grind into hers.
Vi enjoys your company, that much is clear, but this time you bring her to your place. It’s more or less the same. Both of you coming down from the highest of highs, you feel sticky, dirty, and damn right heavenly. Vi disappears into your bathroom, grabbing a wash rag before dampening the material underneath a warm faucet. Carefully, she kneels by your hips, legs twitching softly as her skilled fingers find your slit before Vi’s sucking the digit in your mouth.
“I just wanted one last taste before I clean you up.”
As she has before, Vi makes good on her promise and cleans you up. She enjoys when the pad of her thumb grazes against your clit, terribly overstimulated, your stomach twitches. All Vi can do is chuckle.
“I’m just a little—”
“Sensitive?” Vi smirks as you hide your face in the palm of her hands, the pad of her thumb gently caressing your skin.
It’s the lightest she’s felt in weeks. Almost as if she’s floating on a cloud, she wants to stay up there in the cloudiest of nines. Just you and her and an aging mattress as she offers you everything she can give. Albeit, it isn’t much but she’ll still freely give.
Like a dog with a bone, Vi corners you on the third night when it’s just you and her in the bar. Closing time has long since arrived and vanished into the crisp air of the night but Vi has you bent over the bar, desperation clawing at the weathered countertop of the bar as Vi’s fingers fucks your pretty little hole while her tongue laps at the slick that’s dripping out of you. Your pretty little skirt pushed up, your panties pushed to the side as she laps and sucks at your juices. She can feel you dripping onto her chin and it only makes her that much more eager to swallow every bit you have to offer.
“We shouldn’t be doing this—” Fuck. Vi starts doing tricks with her tongue, sliding in another finger, pushing against the soft spot buried deep as she toys with you in the way knows best. “We, um, Vi we said just one night.”
“Shut the fuck up and take it like a good girl. Or did you forget?” Vi moans into your cunt, the vibrations causing your thighs to shake under her mouth. “It’s not like you were complaining last night.”
Vi silences you as her pace picks up, her fingers fucking you at such a pretty pace, feeling the build grow in the pit of your stomach edging to come to a full bloom.
All of you begging for it to be released. Vi uses her free hand to slap your ass, sending you moaning and lurching forward. You push yourself back grinding against her tongue, before she removes her divine mouth as she kisses up your spine, her fingers stuffed inside you not faltering for a moment.
Vi continues to kiss up your spine until she reaches the nape of your neck, her breath kissing your skin, your body shivers into her touch. Full lips ghost over your ear before whispering quietly, “Are you sure you want me to stop? I will if you want me to. I just thought you might wanna, you know, take my cock tonight. Give it a good ride.”
The moan you let out would put Aphrodite’s to shame, needy and choked sobs escape you as her fingers thrust inside you faster than they have before.
“Oh? Do you like the sound of that, babygirl? Want to show me how good you can be for me?” Vi doubled down on her efforts, enjoying how much you arched into her body, your hips pushing back as you grind into quick fingers. She’s fucking you better than well…anyone.
“Vi, please.” Your voice catches in your throat, hoarse and full of need. An insatiable craving; one you fear only she can provide. A few mindless days and careless flirting to land in her sheets, her in yours, the details didn’t truly matter. A vampire out for blood, almost more venomous than precious canines breaking the skin, you yearned to suck on every last drop. But she didn’t seem to be in a mind frame to relinquish control.
“Please what? I’m not sure if I understand you.”
All of it, so tantalizing, so fucking infuriating. Three fingers inside you, effectively making you silent, shutting you up as she brings you closer to the edge. That’s the thing, truthfully, Vi has you right where she wants. Only a few thrusts away until you come undone around her. The black haired succubus increases the pace, thumb playing with your clit, her calloused fingers increasing your high as she applies more pressure on the thousands of nerve endings on your precious pearl.
“Shit. You’re gonna pay for this.”
“What? For making you come? I hardly constitute that as a crime.”
Your hands reach for the counter top, you’re not sure what exactly you want, but Vi makes you come for the first time that night. It’s a game, the push and pull. Dangerous. Intoxicating. Some disposition falling far from your fingertips, a game to her and a downward hill spiral for you. Addiction festering next to an open wound and the only antidote can be found on her tongue. Tasting the devil’s mouth is one thing but swallowing the sensation of the woman you’re beginning to love is something else entirely.
Vi, despite her best efforts not to, makes you fall over the edge. It’s more than her eager tongue and expectant mouth slurping at the vindication of your taste. The craving builds like an exposed vein. Her confidence irrevocably soars like a raven through the midnight sky. Even if Vi acts like she’s done this before, you could pull the curiosity intertwined with naivety a mile away. Violet has never done this before, not with a woman at least, you’re sure of it. She’s a fast learner and such a great accomplishment should replenish such a reward.
With the energy you have left, you push your skirt down first, as Vi puts your underwear back in place. She doesn’t stop touching you. She can’t. There isn’t much she feels she has control over, this arrangement being one of them. She’s good at this and Vi enjoys it. Every other part of her life, failure surrounds her, her ability not to please anyone in her life.
In a constant loop, she finds herself caught in the crossfire. Tugged between sister and lover, family and righteousness. Her enemy becomes her lover and lover becomes enemy — all of it poisons her blood and cures her core — and all of it makes her hear a voice she doesn’t recognize but it’s just as true as the four walls surrounding her.
Oil and water.
Collecting like scars on her porcelain skin, Vi feels herself sink like an obliterating star. There’s a wonder settled in her chest, it feels heavy and weak, two incapable fists unable to surround her heart with anything but loss, betrayal even. She can’t punch her way out of this one.
All of it wakes a fire in her chest, a dagger being punctured in her heart by the one Vi thought she could trust the most. She doesn’t want to admit it so she doesn’t.
But this? It feels easy.
She needs easy, light, even good. Maybe she doesn’t deserve it.
Vi definitely doesn’t, the sentence flows like a never-ending stream of waterfall continuously drowning her. The blood on her hands stains her perception of all things pure, she wonders how she even sees you at all. How you see her more vividly than anyone, possibly even Cait. There’s no judgment, no snarky remark of where she comes from. Even if she thought there had once been love, Vi questions it now.
When you come, it feels like a breath of fresh air, a golden wave washing over her sinful hands. Each stroke of gold, your grit and blind hopefulness soaks Vi’s entity. This is what she wants. There’s nothing more than this, someone she could love, who loves her. It’s uncomplicated but the feeling flees as you come to it. Vi can’t help but feel regretful as you cover your ass, it’s such a pretty sight. She can’t stop that she’s greedy, you’ve fed her for the first time in her life and now Vi feels full but she’s only human.
A sinner always craves more.
She lets her touch linger on the gold between your thighs, pushing the white substance back into you before Vi lets you feel how wet you are, the dripping slick feels uncomfortable caged into cotton underwear and she wants you to feel it. The breath Vi hears are still heavy, impossibly heavy, and there’s pride in hearing you center yourself, back pressed against her chest as Vi keeps you in place.
The pleasure within your body begins to slither away as you come back into the angel you are and not the sexual deviant bent over the woman who never pulls her punches.
“Felt good, yeah?” Vi says. Her angelic, sweeter than the cotton candy stick in your teeth, voice penetrates through. You like it too much. It shouldn’t make you feel as good as it does. Desperately, you want to keep this casual but you’re even losing your footing.
You pride yourself on the lack of attachment; you don’t need it. Never really had. But then with her it seems to change even faster than the seasons, your wall breaks somehow in between from spring to summer. With intent, you move around, her bright eyes have darken a bit but the fading light looks brighter than you’ve ever seen it.
Fuck, Vi is making this difficult.
“You could say that.” You speak softly, a tremble in your voice occurs but Vi says nothing but she does smirk. “Can I ask you something?”
You turn around and suddenly Vi is staring at your exposed cleavage, the one you use to draw in patreons and to fill your pockets with as many tips as one can muster. Vi had been one, a faithful one trying to drink her away to the bottom of every bottle until she found something else for her. Something that didn’t leave a burn in her throat.
“What is it?”
“Was it your first time? The first night?”
Sheepishly, Vi blushes. For a second, she contemplates lying but you’d see right through it. Right through her. It would only take one look in her blues and you would know.
“That obvious?” Vi struggles with her words next but she manages to murmur a lame excuse. “Stillwater didn’t leave much time for this.”
“And after?” You tease but the sincerity in your eyes soothes her.
“There could have been but there wasn’t. Some things just don’t fit.” Oil and water is what she wants to say but she bites her tongue.
“You should have told me. I wouldn’t have been so, I don’t know, selfish?”
“There’s nothing selfish about it. I wanted to make you feel good. Did you enjoy yourself?” This time she makes your skin feel hot. Fuck.
“Yeah, I did enjoy myself,” you pressed against her as your arms loop around Vi’s necks to bring her closer “but I think it’s officially my turn to offer my services. Don’t you think so?”
It’s how Vi ends up here, in your place, in your bed — soaked.
If there was one thing you knew, it was how to please someone. You managed to pull whimpers out of her she didn’t even know existed. The desperate plea coming from her shivering body as she spilled in your mouth the first time sent a shiver down her spine, the band in her stomach snapping as you sloppily spit on her cunt, constant circles of pressure on her clit seeing nothing but your eyes look up at her.
Not letting a single drop go to waste, you fucked Vi through it, swallowing her completely. Vi shed the wrap covering her chest next. Her body bruised from the pit fights but you couldn’t think of anyone more beautiful than her. You paid attention to her collarbones, neck, and her tits. Sucking on her nipples as Vi tries to come down from the high you placed her on, she doesn’t think she ever will.
She tries not to think that she wanted these things with Caitlyn. Cait. Cupcake.
Vi only allows herself to think of her when she’s dreaming, visions of what that could have been, what she used to be. All of it so trivial, so senseless when she thinks of you. How you make her feel is different and she tries not to think of what it all means.
One night.
Then two.
Now three.
In another life, maybe she was stronger, and didn't need to be wanted. Hell, even needed. She could wait for someone who she thought loves her but the other part of her doesn’t want to think, she wants to feel. Vi likes feeling the softness of your skin, the light in your laughter, the swell of your exposed chest, the way your greedy eyes take in her abs, your soft lips kissing every part of her skin. The smooth, the scarred, the unworthy — you take it all in such stride.
“Do you want to stop? I think I lost you for a second.” You inquire to the pretty girl beneath you, her hands find your waist, creating makeshift circles on your hip bones.
“No, that’s the last thing I want.” Vi brings you to her lips, capturing your bottom lip, tongue invading your mouth. She tastes herself as your tongue melts with hers and the rest of her worries melt away. It’s just you and her. “I want to keep going.”
“Then tell me what you want, baby. I’ll do whatever you want. It’s yours if you want it.”
It’s spoken as a reminder. All of this is her decision. Vi decides when she wants this, how she wants it, and you’re letting her take all of it in the way she needs. Vi tried not to think the first couple times, she never wanted her first time to be a big deal. Maybe with Caitlyn it could have been, but then she changed.
Vi thought maybe she could too. So, she did.
“Can you—” Vi stutters. Yet again her attention gets pulled to your tits, the softness of your stomach, she can’t stop looking at you. As if she’s trying to remember everything about you. She’s committed to it. Vi wants to remember the soft curves of your hips, the way you moan when she comes on your tongue.
The sight of you looking down at her makes she lose every rational thought, she wants to commit to memory forever. It won’t be something she easily forgets.
“Gotta speak up, babygirl. Especially if you want me to keep my attention focused on this pretty cunt of yours.”
You sit between her legs, tilting your head, you look at her glistening pussy, the way it shines with her cum and your sloppy spit. It would look even more exquisite with a little more. Taking a beat as you take your time, you gather enough in your mouth before spitting slowly, Vi whimpering as your spit makes contact with her lower pair of lips. She couldn’t stop it, it slips and you’re grinning, hips desperately bucking to feel more of it.
“F-Fuck, need your cock. Please? I need it more than anything.” Vi confesses. There’s no need for dignity, especially if she keeps it and you won’t give her what she’s itching for.
“Yeah? Are you sure about it? Don’t want you backing out just in case you can’t be a good girl and take it.”
She can take it but she can’t take the countless teasing, trapped underneath the images drowning in her mind. This is what she wants, someone to dissolve into her, make her forget everything that has happened, just a pretty girl with some pretty tits who knows how to fuck. Right? That’s all this is. It’s all it can be tonight. Her lip is busted from the fight tonight, knuckles bloodied and bruised, but you don’t seem to mind all that much. It’s all the same to you. Vi is all the same, that’s been clear from the start.
Then, she decides to let her mind get shut off, let herself fall into you. You did know how to take care of her and tonight she would let you.
“Let me know if it’s too much, okay?”
“I promise.”
Once the harness is on, you wedge yourself in between her thighs, tattooed and toned, brave and brawny but she transforms into someone else entirely once you’re sinking inside her warm walls. You think about what it would feel like to feel her. Is she clenching around your cock? Would you feel the throbbing heartbreak of her clit? What you can hear is the whimper, uncontrollable and breathtaking, you slip further into her as you make home in her beautiful cunt.
She’s made it yours to take. You’d do anything and everything for her, the thought alone scares so you do what you do best, you grind your hips slowly. Not wanting to overwhelm her too quickly, it’s the first time she’s taking penetration and you want it to be good for her.
“You’re so perfect. Doing so good for me, taking my cock like a fucking champ.” You whisper out, taking too much enjoyment in her getting lost in your soft thrusts. Vi’s chest starts to heave as her hips roll into yours. Vi never even imagined wanting this, or that she could really have it with someone else. It’s not like she’s experienced, she has nothing to compare it to, but it feels incredibly intimate.
She likes how you’re being with her. Soft, gentle, delicate. Vi thought she’d never want to feel that way, but maybe it’s just under the right circumstance in the right light.
“Shit, shit, shit” Vi chants as your hand grabs the headboard, giving her one particular powerful thrust. Perky tits spring to life, jolting against the sudden movement, her moan so fucking load, as you continue your movements. This time not as hard, but you pick up your pace, wanting to see if she would have any arguments against it but Vi doesn’t. Profanities and whimpers leave her mouth as you split her on your cock. Face half-smashed into the pillow, trying to muffle her moans and you offer this one mercy.
She’s still shy.
Now is a good time as any to fuck it out of her.
“Do you want more Vi? Want me to go…faster?” Placing a hand on her abdomen, the abs defined and clenching as you halt your thrust for a moment. “Do you wanna feel me in your stomach, baby?”
“Can you even do that? I’m not so sure you’re even capable. Looks like the rookie knows more moves than the veteran.” Vi bites back. But it doesn’t last for long. Vi thinks she must have said the wrong thing, pushed you too far, you slipped off her but only to move her body to the edge of the bed, placing her on all fours right in front of a very convenient mirror.
“Fine. Thought I’d be sweet but that isn’t what you really want. If you want to get treated like a whore, I’ll fuck you like one.” You take a beat to appreciate her wonderfully sculpted back, the artwork is truly exquisite. It feels so much like her but the foolish girl is smirking at you through the mirror.
You know you’ve been caught ogling at her body, checking out every inch of her exposed body, you slap her ass in retaliation but she just grinds her ass back onto you.
“I’m waiting.” Teasingly, Vi arches her spine more. “Where’s the whore fucking you’re muling about?”
In one move, you’re inside her, fucking her beautiful face into the mattress. Never in her life has she felt so full, so good, so sweet. You grab her by the meat of her hips, bringing you back on her repeatedly. Vi wonders what she would give to have this, have you, and the thought scares her just as badly. She instead focused on you.
Tits bouncing as you thrust into her at a punishing pace. Divinely and so perfectly you, making her see stars, she feels trapped. Not in a punishing way, but in a way that has her never wanting to leave the entrapments of your coaxing cock. At this moment, this is where she’s meant to be, just a toy for you to use.
But it’s more than what meets the eye. If Vi was just a toy, you’d be done after the first night. Tonight, you weren’t using her for your own pleasure. You seemed perfectly content to give. The shine in her eyes gave you something only she could, edging you even further, a constant wave hitting Vi like a tidal wave making home on the shore.
“God, you’re just too perfect. Fuck, just like that, take what’s yours.” Bouncing back on the strap, the words fall from her lips before she can’t stop them. Overflowing like a water fountain, it’s before she really even realizes what she’s saying, it just feels right.
“Mommy, please.”
Vi has had those words on the tip of her tongue but not that you’re fucking her into a different dimension, she lets the aching plea slip from sinful lips. It’s only once but it’s enough to set you off. You pull Vi up, her gorgeous back pressed against your chest, sitting on your thighs as you fuck up into her. Brutally, she takes everything you have to give.
Sweat glistening across her body, accentuating her chest as she tries to compose herself but you don’t give her the option. No. It would be too easy, wouldn’t it?
“I want you to watch, Violet. Watch yourself when you cum, be a good girl and show me how pretty you look, hm? Wouldn’t wanna disappoint, Mommy, now would you?”
Vi sucks on your middle digit, tongues swirling as she feels the tight band in her stomach, threatening to snap. She’s close. When the sensationally soft pad of your thumb applies pressure on her clit, Vi’s done for.
“Shit, oh my fucking god, baby baby babbyyyyy.” Incoherent murmurs and moans come in abundance as Vi bounces herself your cock, falling right apart as you toy with her clit, fucking her through the impending high. Your other arm tweaks around and up, fingers squeezing her tits, over stimulating her as she slumps against you.
It’s the easiest task ever done. Submit to you, your skilled fingers, the power of your sinfully sensational thrusts, she comes all over you. The powerful demeanor weakens before your very eyes. When you gently move her back on the bed, slipping out of her, Vi’s eyes begin to water from the loss.
The first time getting strapped down is always a lot to handle, you’d still taken it easier on her, too afraid you would push her too far but by the blissed out eyes, she’d enjoyed herself. She had enjoyed herself and you couldn’t really ask for much more.
When the both of you are cleaned up, Vi cuddles into your frame and you let her. Even if your first instinct is to push her away, saying something you know that’ll hurt her, none of it finds any merit on your tongue. For the first time, you find it difficult to turn away a pretty girl, her lips kissing your collarbones, up your neck until she finds home on your own lips, sloppily invading your mouth with your tongue.
Hitting you where it hurts, she moans your name in her mouth, unable to contain the neediness she feels around you. It’s worse than Cait. This is pure addiction entangled with something carnal. Vi knows if she doesn’t get to fuck you again, you fucking her cunt again, she might as well give up on life now.
“I could go again.”
You chuckle. Of course she could.
“Don’t know rookie, that might be all you can handle for the night.”
It’s a challenge and you know she’ll bite the bait.
With ease she gets on top of you, and just as if she’s done it a hundred times, Vi sinks on your cock, “I think I can handle another ride, don’t you?”
#m'actually kinda proud of this one#i hope y'all like it :')#lmk what you think <3#vi#vi arcane#arcane league of legends#league of legends#vi smut#vi x reader#vi x you#vi arcane x reader#wlw post#wlw fanfiction#lesbian#violet arcane x reader#vi x fem reader#arcane x you#violet arcane
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Drunk Modern!Mizu with a Breeding Kink
(((Yup. I don't know what to title this short fic other than that. I let the demons win.)))
(((This turned out to have a bit of spice, a bit of fluff, a bit of my sense of humor. I will say it doesn't get smutty smutty but Mizu sure has a mouth on her. And she's determined.)))
You’re shooing Taigen and Akemi out of your apartment with a tipsy giggle at 2 am. Akemi turns and squeezes you in a warm hug. “Good night, doll! See you later!”
Taigen flashes you a peace sign before Akemi leads him, swaying and all, toward their Uber to take them away.
You watch them climb inside the car before closing the door and locking up for the night. You head into the kitchen, picking up the last of the beer bottles and tossing them in the trash.
You head into the living room where you last left Mizu, only to find her sprawled out on the floor with an arm thrown across her eyes. There’s a pink flush across the middle of her face.
“Too much whiskey, sweetheart?” you chuckle as you approach her.
“Fucking Taigen,” she mumbled, trying to angrily growl but it just sounds slurred and tired. “Fucking…drinking contest.”
You crawl over her, sitting on her hips. You do have to move carefully though, you’re just a wee bit unsteady from the amount of alcohol in your own system. “You could’ve just said no,” you hum.
Mizu remains silent. She’s probably telling herself she won’t grace your soft snark with an answer, but it’s actually cause she really doesn’t have a comeback for that.
Her arm lifts slightly higher, and she squints down at you. Her eyes drift to where you’re sitting atop her hips. Her legs shift under you.
She’s… really staring intensely at how you’re sitting on her.
You start to lift yourself up on your knees. “You good? Does it hurt?”
Mizu frowns as your weight leaves her. “No,” she says, and grabs your hips to pull you back down. “...It’s nothing.”
But you know that look. She gets it every time Taigen got under her skin about something.
“Nothing? Like a “just thinking” nothing or a “Taigen pissed in your metaphorical thinking cereal” nothing?”
Mizu’s nose scrunches up in disgust. “What?”
You press your hands to Mizu’s chest, bouncing a little for emphasis. “What. Did. He. Saaaaay?”
Your tone and actions were meant to be lighthearted, but something flashes in Mizu’s eyes when you bounce yourself on her hips. Her eyes flash back down to where you’re sitting. Her hands instinctively grab your hips to still your movement. The pink flush across her cheeks and nose seem to darken. “Fuck,” slips out from between her lips. She shakes her head. “S’ just being stupid and gross.”
You noted that little change in her voice. “Like what?”
Her thumbs run over the jut of your hips. “Some girl he hooked up with. Talking about how she had an IUD and let him cum inside.”
You sigh, “Jesus Christ, of course.”
“He’s gross.”
She keeps shifting her hips under you. “Are you sure you don’t need me to get up-?” You start lifting yourself again.
“Stop moving,” she says, and the flush on her cheeks doesn’t die down. She tries to look annoyed, but you can tell the minuscule differences in her expressions. That’s a pout more than a scowl.
You laugh breathlessly. “What’s got you so worked up?” You tap her totally not pouting lip.
She grunts, grumbling a little as her hands massage where they’re gripping your hips.
“Don’t be all huffy with me. Tell me,” you coax with a grin, your own tipsy flush complimenting your wide smile.
She rolls her head back against the carpet and is silent for a minute.
The amount of whiskey currently killing her liver is the only reason her inhibitions are loose enough to say it.
She mumbles something.
“Mizu-“
“I wanna do that.”
Your eyebrows raise into your hairline, lips parting with surprise. You need to clarify just in case you're misunderstanding. “You want to-?”
“I want to cum inside you.”
The raspiness of her voice is even grittier from the whiskey.
Holy shit.
Her irises are darker than normal, the bright blue having more the tint of stormy waters.
And whether it’s the liquid courage or Mizu’s determination to barrel through things to push through her fears, she keeps going.
Her hands are heavy as the slide up your sides. “I want to have something that I can slip inside you-“
Your heart is pounding harder in your chest from her words, her actions, the heat of her frustrated gaze. “You have several strap ons-“ you joke, but your voice is weak and airy.
“I want to feel you from the inside.” She makes a frustrated grunt, “I don’t want plastic. I want to feel you wrapped around something other than my fingers. I want to stretch you out-“
Her palms dig into your stomach. Her blue eyes flick up and meet yours, and you almost fall back away from her with how much unfiltered desire is in them. Her own breath is shallow, you can see how silently but rapidly her chest is rising and falling.
“I want there to be risk that I forget to pull out.”
Holy shIT-
“Mizu-MIZU-!”
Her hips bucked, throwing you higher up her waist with her strength. Your hands fly out to catch yourself, and your fingers hit her shoulders as she’s suddenly sitting up, face inches from yours. She’s supporting your weight in this position, hands and feet flat on the floor as you’re the unsteady one in so many ways. She looks irritated, like when she can’t bend something to her will no matter how much work she pours into it. But she also looks slightly mournful. Genuinely upset.
And very, VERY drunk.
She looks up at you with furrowed eyebrows. “I wanna see it dripping out.”
You gasp loudly as her teeth snap into your neck. It’s not a love bite, it’s possessive. It’s stinging.
But Mizu, being the complex and non one-note person she is, does let go and licks at the reddened skin in apology. “I want to leave myself behind. Inside you.” She nuzzles her nose below your ear, huffing.
Your brain is just on lag, taking several moments to catch up with each of her revealed desires. “And…” you swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth. “And if you got me knocked up on accident?”
Her arms squeeze tightly around you, burying her face in your shoulder. She’s silent for a heart pounding moment, you can actually FEEL her heart pounding with yours.
Her lips drag along the skin behind your ear. Her voice is low, dark. “Wouldn’t be an accident.”
Someone needs to take whiskey away from this woman. Or give it to her more. You’ll decide if you survive this encounter.
“Mizu-“ you don’t even know how to finish that sentence. You’re just… you don’t even know. You think you hear a faint ringing in your ears.
Her left hand dig into your side, gripping the fabric of your shirt. “Would you keep it?” she asks so softly.
“I-“ your brain is still on that fucking LAG.
Her breathing is slow, shuddering against your ear. “I wouldn’t make you, if you didn’t want to-“ she sounds so pained to say it your heart squeezes. You actually forget for a moment that that’s never gonna be an issue for you two.
Her grip on your shirt relaxes, before curling the fabric between her fingers tighter, clinging to you. “I’d just… beg for you to think about it,” she makes a wounded sound.
You swallow again, throat clicking. You’re becoming aware of a heat low in your abdomen growing warmer and warmer.
She holds you tighter against her, and her hips start rhythmically rolling up against yours like she’s mimicking how far she’d push inside to get what she wants. She’d work so hard for it, putting in all her time and energy and her unwavering determination-
“It’s selfish,” she’s murmuring against your skin, warm lips having traveling down to your neck. “But I’m selfish. I want it. I want it so much. I want to know there’s a little us-“ one hand goes between your bodies, fingertips pressed up under your naval like she’s obsessed. Her voice is strained. “I want to know it’s inside you. They’re inside you. I want to know they’re safe and warm. You’d keep them so warm. You’re always warm-“
You have never, in your life, ever heard Mizu babbling like this.
SHE’S STILL ROLLING HER HIPS UNDER YOU.
You finally grab her face with both hands in a rare moment of clarity to still her, forcing her head up to look at you in this haze of body heat radiating from her, from you, radiating everywhere between your bodies.
“Baby.”
Her head lolls back, looking up at you and oh my god. She is just gone. Her red cheek flush has spread to her whole face. Her lips are wet and parted, breath now audibly heavy. Her eyes, her eyes, her gorgeous blue eyes are now a storm. A dark, hot storm.
“Let me put a baby in you, dove,” her voice is strangled, slurred worse than you’ve ever heard as her half lidded eyes gaze at you.
Jesus, she’s bringing out the rare pet nickname she’s so desperate.
And just when you think Mizu is done shocking your system with this new side of her, her expression crumbles into the saddest thing you’ve ever seen.
“Please?”
She’s pleading.
What the fuck was in her whiskey?!
“I’ll-I’ll take care of the two of you. Keep you safe. Just let me- just let me-“ she lifts her hips up under you again, as if trying to tempt you into it. She hiccups. “Just spread your legs and I’ll do all the work.”
With strength she should not have while she’s absolutely smashed, she lunges forward, shoving you to the carpet with your legs spread around her waist. Her hot breath fans over your face, tinted with whiskey. She wets her lips. “Have my baby. Say yes.” Her hips press down into yours again. She whispers your name.
You’re tempted to say yes, despite still being sober enough to remember the logistics of this. She makes a very persuasive case. And it’s not just cause she’s grinding into you like she’s warming up to do it.
"Say yes..."
Click!
You both slowly look up (you more tilting your head back) as the front door opens and Mizu’s roommate Ringo comes in. He freezes in the doorway, seeing Mizu crouched over you in a very interesting position with your legs still spread by her thighs.
She scowls at him. “You said you weren’t coming back tonight!” She sways over you.
Ringo blinks. “Mom has Bingo in the morning,” he says innocently. “… did something happen?”
“She’s pregnant,” Mizu hiccups, before passing out atop you without warning, shoving a strangled noise out of your chest as you yell for Ringo’s help.
“Oh? Congratulations!”
“….Wait…?”
“RINGO HELP!”
In the morning, Mizu drags herself into the living room looking like she was just brought back from the dead, face drained of color and eyes squinting at the light behind her tinted glasses.
“Hi baby,” you greet her softly, cautiously as you watch her head to the kitchen, aiming for the coffee pot.
“Hi,” she groans. “I’m never fucking doing a drinking contest with that bastard again.”
You nod, “That sounds good."
You pause, "Do you remember anything from last night?”
She shrugs as she passes you. “Barely.” She disappears into the kitchen.
“Oh,” you turn toward her retreating back, propping your chin in your hand as you lean against the back of the couch. You wait until she’s out of sight to oh so innocent call out “I wanted to ask about how you were begging to impregnate me.”
Several loud crashes in the kitchen.
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12:29 AM
- your normally sober husband comes home drunk out of his mind after a party, and you can’t say that he’s any less sweet. (robert “bob” floyd x wife!reader, fluff, honestly one of the cutest things i’ve ever written, ⚠️ obviously heavy themes of alcohol and being drunk, sexual innuendos but nothing graphic)
word count: 1,502
a/n - i haven’t written a fic with a timestamp as the title in… (checks old blog) over three years?!? in any case, i hope you guys like drunk!bobby as much as i do <3 he’s definitely an emotional/clingy drunk imo.
It’s not often that your husband stays out late, and it’s not often that he doesn’t text you while he’s out, but you trust him. He’s not the type to get blackout drunk or come home stumbling through the doorframe. Robert Floyd is a clearheaded and strong man.
Well, he looks neither right now, as he’s supported by Jake and Javy’s arms, glasses slipping off the bridge of his nose and a dopey smile brightening his face. Jake looks at you apologetically— as apologetic as he can get for a situation that’s likely his fault. “Sorry, hun.” He huffs, shifting around Bob’s weight. “There were a few too many fruity drinks ordered, and I guess he didn’t realize they were full of alcohol.”
“You guess?” You ask, rubbing the space between your eyebrows with your fingers. The two more sober men lead Bob into your bedroom, half-dragging him. They lay him down on your shared bed with a softened thump that has him groaning on top of the sheets. “I can’t believe you guys.”
Bob went out with the rest of the squad for some coworker’s promotion celebration, and he promised to come home perfectly sober, as always. He doesn’t even need to promise, if you’re being honest, because that’s just how he is; the most levelheaded person in the room. He would stay until it was socially acceptable for an acquaintance to leave, then he would head home and help you cook dinner to your favorite old school tunes. You never expected to see him shitfaced at 12:29 AM.
Javy shakes his head as he steps around you, taking Jake for a clean escape. “We tried to warn him. I hope he feels better in the morning, but until then, we’re gonna have to leave him with you.”
You sigh, eyebrows just as pinched as they were before. For the first time ever, you’re scared that Bob is going to die in his sleep, and the thought frustrates you to no end. “Thanks. It’s so great that he’s drunk out of his mind, but I have to give you credit for getting him here in one piece.” Your tone is sarcastic enough to get the two men cringing in shame, but you also know that without them, he might still be at that party.
Jake pats you on the shoulder. “Good luck, soldier. You’ll need it.”
With that, Javy and Jake walk out of your bedroom, past your living room, and out of your house like they couldn’t wait to leave. As you hear them close the door, you look down at your husband.
He’s still conscious, thankfully. His eyes are slightly unfocused, he’s blushing like a madman, and he’s groaning lightly, but he’s not completely gone yet. You brush the damp hair away from his forehead and he whines just a bit.
“Wife.”
You quirk your eyebrow in confusion. “Yes?”
“I… have a wife. Y’ can’t touch me like that.” He mumbles. It feels like he’s looking past you. Despite everything, you feel like laughing.
You adjust his glasses on his face and lean over him a little more, fully in his field of vision. “I am your wife.”
His eyes widen like he’s seeing you for the first time, and he smiles crookedly. He tries to sit up, but only manages to prop himself up on one arm as he takes in the sight of your face. “S’ pretty. You’re really my wife? My girl?” In combination with the slurred words of someone down in the cups, the slight southern accent he took so much time to push away is coming back as he speaks to you.
“Yes.” You confirm, kissing him on the cheek. He somehow smiles even wider and reaches out to touch the apples of your cheeks.
“Love you. I missed you.” He mumbles. “Spent that whole party wonderin’ when I could see you again.” He flops back down onto the springy mattress, throwing his arms up. He moves with the precision of a toddler, his limbs seemingly coated in lead. He almost smacks the glasses off his face as he motions to you with grabby hands.
“I missed you too, honey. Can we get you into your pajamas? I’m sure you don’t want to sleep in jeans and a polo.” As you ask that question, his fingers are already attempting to pull the shirt off of his body. It doesn’t work very well, considering he’s still laying down, but you appreciate the effort. “Sit up, my love.”
He sits up, winking at you heavily. It’s more like a slow blink with how long it takes him to do it. “Can’t wait to get me naked?”
A laugh escapes your mouth, and you smother the rest of your giggles with the heel of your palm as you gaze at his slightly crestfallen face. He’s funny when drunk, apparently, even when he isn’t trying to be. It’s like seeing him completely unhinged with none of his usual, careful filters. “Sure. You need to be in some state of undress to get your pajamas on, anyways.”
His face falls into a slight pout as you help him unbutton the top of his polo and slide it up his chest. He seems to notice how your hands hesitate when meeting the warm, taut skin of his abs, and the pout fades instantly. “Like it?”
“I always do.” You hum. He does have a great body, one that you’ve found to be extraordinarily hot. Strong arms, tight muscles, and yet a gentleness in the way his hands hold yours. Right now, though, it’s a bit of a problem as you’re attempting to get his jeans off. He’s still sitting, and you think you could lift weights for ten years and not be able to pull them out from under him. “Can you stand, Bobby?”
“Gladly.” He sings. You help him stand, supporting a bit of his weight. He seems to find a little bit of his footing as his other arm presses into the wall, allowing the both of you to shimmy his pants down his legs and kick them to some unknown corner of the room.
You gather his neatly folded pajamas, a soft shirt and some plaid flannel pants, and help him put them on. Luckily for you, he’s been revitalized by your touch and is a little more helpful now. He’s still moving awkwardly and shifting around like he’s constantly trying to get his balance straightened out, but it’s better than nothing. It would be hell to get him to do anything other than dress, though, so you settle for just getting him in bed. His dental hygiene routine will have to wait.
You lay him back down after he’s dressed and pull the blankets up to his chin, kissing his forehead gently and tucking his glasses in your dresser drawer. You’re already ready for the night (the perks of thinking he would come home three hours ago), so you slip in bed next to him. He immediately pulls you into his arms, his body comfortingly warm. He’s always run just a little hot, which is amazing on cooler nights like this.
He sighs contentedly before moving to stare directly into your eyes. “Y’know,” he starts, “I can’t sleep without your arms ‘round me, and your legs ‘round me, and you breathing all sweet on my neck. ‘M up all night when I’m deployed, at first anyways. My carrier roommates hate it.”
You shift just enough as to where your body is clutching on to him as tight as possible, and he hums in relief. It’s like the little tension that he was holding dissipated entirely. “I’m sorry, baby. That must be hard.” You soothe.
“Payback gave me his pillow once so I could wrap it in my arms, but it didn’t help. He threatened to ‘come up there n’ cuddle me himself’ if I didn’t stop moving.” He scrunches his eyes closed at the memory. You do your best to suppress another bout of laughter, but he makes it even harder when he shivers like he isn’t covered in three layers of blankets and you.
“Did he ever follow through?” You ask, pressing your lips together to stop from smiling. Bob shakes his head.
“Thank god he didn’t.” He utters. You turn to shove your face into your pillow to muffle your expressions. He just keeps his eyes closed, completely unaware of the fact that you’re losing it next to him.
When you finally come up for air, he is drifting in and out of sleep. “Love ya. G’night.” He whispers. It’s so soft that you almost start laughing again.
“Good night, Bobby. Love you too.” You say, kissing his cheek. You click off the lamp on your bedside table and snuggle deeper into his grasp.
He’s going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning. At least he’ll have his wife, breakfast in bed, and an aspirin to take care of him.
Taglist: @seitmai
#solar eclipse.#bob floyd x reader#robert bob floyd#top gun maverick x reader#top gun#bob floyd fluff#bob floyd fic#bob floyd#robert floyd x reader#robert floyd#top gun headcanons#top gun x reader#top gun fandom#top gun imagine#top gun fanfiction#top gun movie#top gun maverick#top gun bob
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THINGS AJAW HATES
CHARACTER … kinich and ajaw
SYNOPSIS … the title says it all, here are some things ajaw hates about you and kinich
NOTES … can’t help but think about these two, I doubt ajaw doesn’t actually see him as a friend (p.s. check out this kinich x f.reader fic >:))
CONTENTS … sfw , fluff , platonic (ajaw) , domestic , gender neutral reader , likely ooc kinich & ajaw
Word count … 1043
Ajaw is a simple dragon, if he hates something, he lets it be known to others; if he likes something, he tries to hide it to save face. A simple dragon.
There are many things Ajaw has hated ever since Kinich moved in with you. You; someone whom Kinich calls his significant other, his best friend, his lover even.
The longer he stays there, the more Ajaw realizes he really doesn’t like it. Everything just feels so different.
Ajaw hates how long it takes for Kinich to say goodbye.
Usually, Kinich wakes up in the morning, gets ready, and then they both leave to start their hunt. But with you, it changed.
Instead of simply leaving at the brink of dawn, Kinich starts to slow down his movements, as if he doesn’t actually want to leave the house just yet, something Ajaw finds really odd about this nimble guy.
Kinich doesn’t just leave through the door after getting ready, not anymore. Instead, Ajaw always sees him helping you out with breakfast, always talking as if he’d never run out of things to say to you.
And when he’s about to leave, Kinich takes even longer when saying goodbye to you. Ajaw would always float there while the two of you kissed your goodbyes. It was painfully slow.
“We’re not going off to war here! Chop chop!” Ajaw would always voice his complaints loudly, always only receiving a small laugh from you before he and Kinich head through the door, starting their job.
Another thing Ajaw hates is that Kinich is harder to get annoyed now! He barely shows any annoyance nowadays, the rare times that Kinich would break out in irritation was starting to become nonexistent. Ajaw realizes it was all because of you.
The dragon doesn’t see that annoying scowl on the hunter’s face anymore, nor does he get scolded by Kinich whenever he’d mess with him. No matter how hard Ajaw tries, Kinich no longer clicks his tongue at him at all.
Oh and also—Ajaw hates having to share a space with your damn pet! He just hates it! Your pet is so energetic and loud, always chasing after his tail that he’s basically forced to hide behind you or Kinich.
You’d always shake this off though, telling him to get along with your pet, to treat it as a sibling or something. Your statement ticks off all the wrong buttons in Ajaw. He isn’t a pet. He doesn’t want to put up with any more of your pet’s shenanigans.
Not to mention, Ajaw hates it when he’s left alone in the house during your and Kinich’s date night. What’s he supposed to do all by himself? He can’t talk to anyone, tick anyone off, or do anything fun at all.
Ajaw has hated a lot of things ever since Kinich moved in with you.
Instead of his usual routine, so many things have changed so fast that Ajaw doesn’t know how to deal with it.
He hates it. He hates it a lot.
But whenever Ajaw thinks about wishing to return back to how it was back then, his little mind starts to think differently.
He will never say it, but Ajaw likes waking up early in the morning with a heavenly smell coming from the kitchen. He loves floating there to see you and Kinich, laughing at something you guys said while preparing the table.
Then he sees what you guys cooked, flavored slices of meat with beans mixed into the pot. Something he likes. When Ajaw went to the table, he saw three plates.
One for you, one for Kinich, and one for him too. He likes how full the table was, that there were three plates instead of none at all.
And on some occasions, Ajaw likes how you and him would gang up on Kinich and tease the hell out of him. Just innocent teasing, nothing more. Instead of the unbothered expression that Ajaw was too used to, Kinich would subtly laugh along with the two of you.
A laughing boy was something Ajaw was not used to, but he admits to himself that the smile suits Kinich quite well.
What’s more, Ajaw likes his new bed! Gone are the days he’s forced to either sleep on some hard wood or share a bed with Kinich. This time, you made him his own bed, paired with two soft pillows and a warm blanket to keep him warm during the cool nights.
You even placed a little lamp beside it if he ever wakes up in the middle of the night scared—oh what? I mean—the Dragonlord never gets scared. Why did you even put a lamp beside his bed? Not like he’ll need it or anything.
Ajaw likes having company all the time. No longer does he have to sit still in painful silence while Kinich naps the day away. Instead, whenever Kinich is resting, you’re there to accompany him. And even if you were napping alongside Kinich, Ajaw could always play with your pet (only when he’s truly bored though).
The Almighty Dragonlord is a big hater, a loud complainer, always wanting more than what he’s receiving. He is someone who used to pass his time by trying to pull out an expression from the inexpressive Kinich.
But Ajaw is also a sweet dragon, a fortunate friend, starting to accept the change you brought to his and Kinich’s lives.
He started to think that, maybe, change is a good thing.
After all, he wouldn’t have seen so much expression on his friend if it weren’t for you. He wouldn’t have such a nice bed if it weren’t for you. He wouldn’t be waking up to a tasty breakfast if it weren’t for you.
And, in a way, Ajaw thinks that he wouldn’t have anything at all if it weren’t for Kinich.
He has made up his mind.
Ajaw loves saying goodbye to you before going to work with Kinich.
Ajaw loves laughing alongside Kinich over something stupid.
Ajaw loves it when you two give him something after coming home from your date.
Ajaw loves it when he gets included in your outings.
Ajaw loves the two of you.
Not like he’ll say it out loud though.
rimi’s notes
I used to be a big fan of naruto back then and I screamed when I realized JP kinich and ajaw are the same as sasuke and naruto‼️‼️ Also, if you wanna read a kinich x f.reader fic, here! :) kinich is at college, ajaw is a lizard, mc is a designer
hearts / reblogs / follows are very much appreciated !
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(I'm not sure if I'm doing this right, but here goes nothing)
For Imagines and What Ifs, how do you think the 141 men would react to you wanting to keep your last name after you got married?
Would be they be chill about having separate names? Would they be hurt that you don't want their last name? Would they suggest a hyphenated last name as a compromise? Or (my personal fave) would they change their last name instead?
Greetings, anon! You absolutely submitted a request correctly! I adore this idea. I love thinking about any of these men as married men and what they're like in that regard. I can easily see this prompt having angst and fluff. What I would like to do is answer the last half of the prompt. Those are four distinct questions, and four distinct ideas, and I think each of them matches to one of the 141 guys in turn. That is how I would like to tackle this request (if you don't mind).
I'm sure my selections might not match up with everyone's opinion but that's why fanfiction is so wonderful. We can all have different ideas and HCs and they are all valid in their own way.
Enjoy!! I had so much fun with this one!! Presented in four drabbles.
For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE
Task Force 141 x Reader
Content & Warnings: established relationship, fluff, light angst, married life
Word Count: 400
ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist
John "Soap" MacTavish
“You don’t want to take my last name?” He sounds hurt, and that breaks your heart.
“It’s not personal, Johnny. I’ve earned my title.”
“I know,” he says softly. “You worked hard. But—” Johnny sighs and rubs his chin. He glances away, clearly growing agitated.
“I love you,” you murmur, kissing his cheek.
Johnny melts a bit, kissing you back. “I’d like to call you Mrs. MacTavish.”
“And you can,” you reply softly. “Sometimes.”
“Like when?”
You need to turn his mood around. Leaning in, you playfully nip at his bottom lip. “When we’re alone. In the bedroom.”
Johnny grins.
John Price
“We need to talk about this, John. I feel like you’re avoiding the conversation.”
John’s tea mug pauses just before reaching his lips. “Avoiding what conversation?”
“About me keeping my last name,” you reply, crossing your arms
John sighs and places the mug on the counter. “You can do what you want.”
“Does it not upset you?” you ask cautiously.
“Not upset, love,” he says softly. “You’re a grown woman. I’ll respect what you want.”
You step up to him, one hand pressed to his waist. “Sure about that?”
John leans forward, stealing a kiss. “I’m more than sure, love.”
Simon "Ghost" Riley
“I don’t want to change my last name, Simon. It’s…special to me.”
Simon stands stoic and calm. He understands. Names are important. They carry memory. Sometimes good ones. Sometimes bad.
��That’s your choice,” replies Simon slowly.
“You’re not upset?”
“I’ll respect whatever you decide.”
Your sigh of relief is soft and calming. This has been a burden for you.
“What if I take your last name?”
You frown. “What?”
Simon repeats the question.
“You want that?”
“I do,” answers Simon firmly.
Names are important. Names carry memory.
Riley is Simon’s father's name. It would be a relief to shed it.
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
“How do you feel about a compromise?” Kyle asks softly. “Instead of us keeping our last names.”
It’s a conversation the two of you have had repeatedly after saying “I do.” You want to keep your last name, and while Kyle respects it, you sense he’s not entirely happy about it.
“A compromise? What are you thinking?”
“Hyphenate them.”
“Really?” you laugh.
“Yeah,” he grins. “My name first or yours. Doesn’t matter. A bit of both of us.”
You rest your head against his shoulder. “I can see it.”
“Be the same for our kids.”
“I like it,” you reply.
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Knuckle Deep in the Backseat (Joel Miller x Fem! reader smut)
rating: 18+
word count: 3k
summary: Joel convinced you to learn how to drive and offers to teach you, but ends up in the back seat with you.
warning: Smut, age gap (Joel is in his 50s, reader is in 20s). Fingering, dirty talk, Daddy kink, pet names, car sex, established relationship.
A/N: Title is inspired but causal by Chappell Roan but the fic has nothing to do with the song. This actually was in my draft since last year and was "finished" but it needed work lol.
The sun is barely up bit its still too bright, and the birds are chirping too loudly. You can feel the crisp fall air as you stand outside. You hated being up this early. You don’t even remember how Joel got you to wake up this early. Joel knew you weren't a morning person, but he had convinced you with shitty coffee to practice driving after finding a couple of gas cans. Said it might come in handy, and he doesn’t want you to be unprepared. The thought was sweet, but waking you up at 7:00 a.m. wasn’t. You figured it would be later in the day like 12pm not the ass crack of dawn. You followed him to the truck, your eyebrows frowning due to how early it was.
“Good morning, baby. ‘You ready to drive? I woke you up ages ago. What took you so long?”
Joel greets you with a big smile. He's leaning against the old truck, way more energetic than you are. Over the years, he’s gotten used to waking up early, which you didn’t understand. You hated how chipper he was in the morning; you couldn’t relate. You’d be lucky if you rolled out of bed before noon.
You walk up to him, flipping him off before taking the coffee from his hand. He laughs and watches as you take a sip of coffee. You walk to the driver's side of the car, and he follows behind you. You watch as he opens the door and starts hot-wiring the car to start it.
You see him standing next to an old four-door black truck, holding the coffee he had promised, smiling. “You know I used to have a truck like this; it was black—” You nod, staring at him, not really listening to him go on about his old pre end of the world truck he used to own. You're still trying to wake up, zoning out a bit. You stare at him briefly, and he realizes that you haven't been listening.
He stops rambling about the mileage he had on his old truck and the deal he got on it. “You ever drove one of these before?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer. You give him a deadpanned stare, narrowing your eyes,
“And when would I have driven one of these, Joel? Considering most cars stopped working about 20 years ago.” You knew you were being cranky, but you didn’t appreciate being up before noon if your life wasn’t depending on it.
He looks up from hot wiring, mumbling under his breath, “fucking smart ass” You roll you’re eyes and watch as he continues messing with wires until you hear the car turns on; you stare at him as he walks around.
His ass looks particularly good in his jeans as he walks around the truck to get into the passenger seat. Normally, you would try to make your staring more subtly, but it was hard since you’re barely awake; he just looked so good. The greying hair, his pretty brown eyes, the wrinkles around his forehead from frowning for the last 20 years, the cuts around his face, his muscles peeking through his shirt sleeves. You’re broken out of your trance when you hear his deep Texas voice that had lured you out here in the first place.
“Are you gonna stand there and check me out all day, or are you gonna get your ass in the car.”
You stop daydreaming, his words snapping you out of your semi-dirty thoughts. You walk to the car and get into the driver’s seat. You’re sitting in the driver's seat as he asks, “Ok, so tell me what you remember.”
“Well, not much, considering the last time I was in a car that worked, I was a toddler,” You answer again sarcastically, rolling your eyes, still cranky and grumpy.
Joel turns his head to look at you, narrowing his eyes at your snark. He knows it usually takes a good 30 minutes or so for you to be yourself when he woke you up early, but today, you seemed extra grumpy.
The first time Joel woke you up early in the morning, you gave him short responses or cursed him out every other sentence all morning. It was earlier on when he met you. Joel thought you were pissed at him or that he did something, so he responded back with short responses and attitude, which led to a lot of tension the rest of the day. But after a couple of weeks of early morning runs, he saw that that was just how you are, and he eventually got used to it. He also realized that if he gave you coffee and was patient, you’d eventually wake up faster. Still, it didn't work every time, and it seemed like this was one of those mornings where you were extra cranky and a pain in the ass.
You take another sip of his coffee and sigh, realizing you were being too bitchy; you hand the coffee back to him. “I’m sorry. That was a bit much. I’ll tone it down. Promise.”
He looks at you as he puts the coffee in the cup holder, unsure if he believes you. He replies dry and sarcastically. “I'm sure you will.” He starts talking about something, but honestly, you weren’t listening, too lost in those brown eyes of his to focus on what he was saying again.
You see him motion to the thing with numbers above the steering. You know it's probably important, but you're far more interested in how good his hands look as he gestures to the different parts of the car. Fuck why did he have to be so hot?
“So, um, 20 years ago, you would’ve had to take a test and worry about a lot of different rules of the road and deal with people riding your ass, tailgating, and a lot of other shit, but um, now I guess the important thing is just getting somewhere as fast as possible isn't it? You’d probably not gonna drive often, but it's good to know.”
You nod, paying attention to his words now instead of all the dirty things you want him to do to you, trying to focus on getting ready to drive.
“Alright, you feel those two pedals down there. The one on the left is the brake, and the one on the right is the gas; you only want to use one foot while driving; you can really mess up the car if you press both at the same time. See these here are your shifts to D for drive, P for park, R for reverse.” He pauses, thinking about anything he might’ve missed, but he remembers you weren’t gonna be driving like he used to, “Thats all you really need to know.”
You watch as he explains everything to you. He tells you to put it into drive, and the car starts moving forward slightly. You shakily put your hands on the wheel, gripping it tightly, and press down the gas pedal, nervously chewing on your lip. He guides you through an old road that wasn’t too overgrown or hard to navigate. After a few minutes, you feel like you're starting to get the hang of it. You feel Joel place his hand on your thigh, resting it there. You look over at him slightly, wondering if you have messed up or done something wrong. Still, he says nothing about letting you drive, resting his hand on your thigh, and occasionally squeezing it.
“Am I doing okay?” you ask quietly as his hand continues to rest on your thigh, slowly rubbing further up your thighs. You feel his hand creep up higher and the air in the truck getting hotter as his hand makes you feel warm. You lose focus on what you are doing and feel the car drifting off the road as his hand reaches further up your shorts. You feel the arousal building in your core.
“Doin' great baby, just try to keep the wheel straight; you're drifting sideways a little.” He leans over you, grabbing the wheel to make it straight before letting you take over again, “Atta girl, see, you're doing perfectly.”
His hand lightly squeezes your thigh reassuringly. You swallow hard, trying not to let his actions and deep voice affect you, trying to focus your attention back on the road. But that went out the window once you felt his hand rub the place you needed him most through your pants.
“Joel,” you whisper his name. It comes out more of a moan than you intended; he leans over the gear shift, kissing your neck and sucking on your skin. You close your eyes, feeling your body getting hotter and your heart beating faster. You had forgotten you were supposed to control a vehicle until he moved his lips off your neck.
“Focus on the road, baby; after all the shit I’ve been through, I don't wanna die because you drove us into a damn tree.”
You open your eyes, listening to him, and focus back on driving. At least you try to, but you fail once his fingers start unbuttoning your jeans. His hands go down your pants and slowly caress against your pussy over your panties. You feel your face heat up, getting wetter, more turned on by his fingers teasing you.
You don’t know how you’d manage to drive this much without crashing the truck, but you lose what little self-control you have left when Joel moves your panties to the side. Your foot moves off the gas pedal, the car stops, and you can't take it anymore. You close your eyes, feeling yourself get wetter.
“Joel! I can't–ah– I need you please, please, please, I need you,” you beg and whine to him, wanting him to do more, but all you hear is his deep voice laugh at you as he removes his hand from your pants.
“All of a sudden, you have manners, and bein’ polite.” he mocks you as he moves back into his seat, watching you get a bit mad.. “What happened to all that attitude and snark you gave me 10 minutes ago.” He continues as you look at him, your face flush and hot. No way you continue with this driving lesson after feeling his fingers against your core.
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry I won't be a pain in the ass anymore.” You try to apologize, hoping he’ll accept it and put his hand back. You look at him with soft eyes, practically beginning him to fuck you.
He looks at you for a few minutes before shaking his head and giving you a smirk, not being easily won over by your apologies or the 180 in your attitude.
“What?. You think a few sorrys gonna have me forget how much attitude you gave me for no reason?” You frown as he continues, “No, sweetheart, you’ve been an extra wiseass this morning, and I don't think you deserve it.”
You shake your head to apologize again, hoping to convince. “Joel… Please, I said I was sorry. You know I’m not a morning person, and I never mean it.” He doesn't say anything as he looks at you. You can tell he’s debating whether to drive back to Jackson or go to the back of the truck. “Alright, fine baby, get in the back. But I ain't letting you get that easy,” he grunts in a deep Texas voice. You smile, glad he had given in.
You unbuckle your seat belt and crawl into the truck's back seat. You're about to leave the car, but Joel places a hand on your shoulder, stopping you.
“You gotta put it into park, darling, or we’ll go rolling into a tree.” He gently reminds you as he opens the passenger door.
You glance at the gear shift, remembering you were supposed to be a driving lesson that had taken a turn.
“Oh, right.” You sit back in the driver's seat, putting the gearshift into P. You couldn't turn the car off since it was hot-wired, so you watch as Joel reaches over and pulls another small lever thing up, not exactly sure what it is for.
“The emergency brake. Just to be safe.”
After parking the car and making sure the car wasn't going to roll backward, You hop over the console and crawl into the back seat, waiting for him to join you. You watch as Joel gets out of the passenger seat, closing the door behind him. Your eyebrow frowns slightly, confused as to why he was not hoping into the backseat with you. “Aren't you- where are you going?” Your frown confused why he wasn't hopping over the seat like you. He smiles at you before closing the passenger door; he opens the back seat door, closing it behind him, and climbs in, sitting in the middle seat, getting into the backseat,
“I ain't as young, and with my bad back and knees. There's no way I’m hopping over the console and crawling into the goddamn back seat like that. My knees are already bad enough.”
You smile as he sits next to you, forgetting about your age difference, “Guess thats the con of dating an old man, huh.” You joke as he grabs your hips, gently pushes you down on the back seat, and unbuttons your jeans, hovering over you as you lay on your back.
“Yea, but who's getting in the back seat with said old man and begging this old man to fuck you.”
You laugh for a bit at his very valid reply. You feel him pull your jeans down and your underwear all at once. You sit with him as he tosses your clothes to the backseat floor. He moves a bit to sit on the seats, pulling you next to him, and his rough hands grab your hips. You feel him rub up your thigh with one and place his index and middle finger on the other hand against your lips. You open your mouth, sucking on them, gazing up at Joel.
Joel lets out a groan under his breath as he looks at you, “Fuck sweetheart, look so pretty sucking on my fingers.” His praise gets you wetter as he takes his finger out of your mouth and slowly pushes them inside you. He starts off slow but gradually increases his speed as his fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot deep in you. You shudder under his touch, grinding against his fingers.
“Fuck baby, you’re soaking my fingers.” he drawls out as he continues fucking you with his fingers. You whimper at his words, hearing the sounds of your wetness as his finger fuck deeper into you. You grab onto his bicep to steady yourself, clenching around his fingers as you get closer to your release. Your moans grow louder as you feel his fingers rub against your clit.
“Yes! Yes! Daddy, I’m so close!” You feel the pressure building, your breath gets shakier, and your moans get louder, filling the old truck, until you feel his hand cover your mouth, muffling you’re growing moans. He leans over, hovering over you more, his fingers stopping inside you.
“You need to shut the hell up before you attract a whole hoard of clickers.” His stern tone still turns you on more, his eyes staring into yours intensely. Making sure you understand him, you give him a nod with glossy eyes staring back at him.
He slowly started moving his finger again, curling up as he reached the spot each time he slid his finger inside you. Your eyes roll back as you move your hips against his fingers. You felt his hand come out of your mouth, and you bit your lip, trying to surprise your moans. You feel you’re self getting closer, your brain getting fuzzy as his fingers move faster.
“Is this what I have to do every morning, gotta make you cum on my fingers, then you’ll be nice?” He taunts you as you continue moaning. Your lips desperately clash with Joel’s messily making out with him. Joel’s other hand spreads your thighs further as he continues to finger fucking you.
You nod absentmindedly, leaning your head against his neck as he continues fucking you with his fingers; his thumb rubs your clit and brings you over the edge. Joel knew, too. He knew your body like the back of your hand, even outside of sex. He always knew when you were scared when you were pissed.
“You’re close, huh I can tell. You wanna cum, sweetheart? You’re gonna cum on daddy’s finger?” He asks softly as he sits beside you, fingers moving deeper inside your dripping cunt.
You immediately nod, “Yes, daddy, please, please. I’m so close.” Your release slows as his fingers pull out of you. You feel your orgasm fading and your eyes open, looking at him disappointed, watching as he puts his two fingers in his mouth, tasting your wetness. He gives you a slight smirk as she shakes his head.
“I don’t know. I’m not sure you deserve it, after how you were this morning, all those smart-ass remarks after you asked me to teach you to drive.” He slowly traces his finger over your clit, teasing you as you whine against him.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll be nice!” you apologize frantically, hoping he’ll move his fingers again. Joel smiles before he slips his finger inside your aching pussy accepting your apology, and moves his finger again, the arousal building again. Your moan grows louder as his fingers bring you to your release. He brings his lips to your mouth, sloppily kissing you to quiet your moans. You moan against his lips.
“As pretty as those moans are, you really gotta keep it down, sweetheart. Once we get back to Jackson, you can be as loud as you want. Okay?”
You nod, knowing he’s right. You really don't wanna lure a group of infected or clickers with your moans. In this situation, you’d rather not die mid-sex from clickers. you close your eyes, feeling his fingers move faster. He brings his other hand onto your clit, rubbing it slowly.
“I know, I know but-fuck baby, I’m close, I'm so close.” The sounds of your moans and your wetness from your entrance fill the rundown truck as you get closer to your release.
“Come on baby, atta girl, soak my finger, baby.” He coaxes, his voice guiding you through your orgasm. eye closing as you dissolve into pleasure. you gasp before moaning his name repeatedly. “Joel Joel Joel fuck daddy!” His hand comes over your mouth again to keep your moans quiet. You feel your stomach twist, your wet pussy clenches as you feel your climax. you move, laying your head on his shoulder as his fingers help you ride out your orgasm.
You feel him remove his fingers from you. you breathe heavily, coming down from your high. Just you open your eyes; Joel puts his dripping fingers in his mouth. You watch desperately as he moans at your taste. He smiles, laughing slightly at how you look at him still recovering but, obviously still wanting him. He leans forward, planting a kiss on your forehead, and looks at you.
“You better?” you nod silently. “You awake?” you nod again, feeling a bit weaker between your legs than before you had entered the truck. Joel laughs, gently giving you a soft kiss on your lips. “Good, now get back in the driver’s seat and take us home so I can fuck you. ”
You nod, getting up and hopping back into the front seat. You look back at Joel, watching him get into the passenger seat. He starts the car again, and you start speeding back to Jackson.
“You know, maybe you should give me an orgasm in the morning every day to wake me up.” you smile, making a joke but also being serious.
Joel shakes his head at your words, laughing a bit. His hand comes back to your thigh, rubbing it. “Just focus on driving the damn truck first.”
#joel <3#angel writes#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller one shot#tlou fanfiction#tlou fic#joel miller fic#joel miller x fem!reader#joel miller x reader smut#joel miller x female reader
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you kiss the back of my legs and i want to cry
only the sun has come this close, only the sun
gojo satoru x wife!reader; tooth-rotting domestic fluff; gojo LOVERBOY™️ satoru; you aren't any better than him [but less poetic abt the predicament]; tw: pregnancy, 1 tiny mention of throwing up; satoru calls you 'cookie'; and he redefines the word besotted here; his thoughts are also a little yandere-ish but tht's cute, methinks; 2.3k wc; i just wish satoru was real and in my arms rn T-T
belongs to the series 'you make my heart flutter and fibrillate' but can be read as a stand-alone fic if you wanna
the fic title and summary don't rly hv a very strong connection to the fic plot— except the fact they fit both satoru's & reader's characters in this series to a tee ^_^
fic title and summary from 'gps' by shauna barbosa // header frm pinterest // divider by @/benkeibear // jjk isn't mine
you are clingy.
always have been, in fact, now that gojo thinks about it. long before the two of you were married. long before you were engaged. quite a long time before the two of you were anything apart from friends at best, acquaintances at worst.
yet now, as he feels a pair of arms squeeze tighter around his middle, not really still very much squeezing the air out of him— your husband reckons you've grown loads clingier now—
and he loves you for this. loving you even more when he feels kisses being pressed into the space between his shoulder blades.
soft lips, a tad chapped. not without the shy grazing of your teeth.
just how he likes it.
very much how he adores you.
affection, settled deeper than should be feasible into the hollow of his chest, flutters a little when you nuzzle into his back; that pleased little hum of yours quick to follow it. smiling, gojo turns his head a touch to catch a glimpse of you. it takes a beat before you remove your face to lock eyes with him, before returning your face to his back.
he huffs a chuckle, sounding incredibly fond all the same. his feelings for you can never be suppressed anyway. time has proved this to him enough number of times.
he runs a finger down the length of your arm, relishing how it leaves a line of goosebumps in its wake—
"you wanna tell me something, cookie?" your husband finally asks.
your reply doesn't come immediately. and when it does, it is nothing more than a noncommittal noise. too spoiled. too stubborn. a bit too satisfied as well, the emotion further expressed when you nuzzle his back yet again.
gojo's smile grows bigger. his cheeks hurt a little.
he thinks he can live forever with this kind of pain, not even a sigh of complaint ever leaving him.
"aha—" he exclaims loudly, still soft enough to keep the quiet of this sweet bubble you've pulled you both into, "so it's just my irresistible charm that's making you so clingy tonight, hm?"
another beat passes.
and just when he thinks he might have to do with another one of your indistinct sounds for an answer, you speak. to be more precise, whine and grumble, everything so sweet in your adorable voice.
"it's not me being clingy, 'toru— it's the baby— the baby is making me so clingy. making me feel as if i can't live even for one second without squishing you like thisss!!!"
the first reaction your tightening grasp brings out is the wind getting knocked out of his lungs— the second reaction being all that oxygen, nitrogen and carbon dioxide being replaced by a feeling so fierce and so tender— the strongest thinks his knees would have buckled under its weight had he not been lying down but standing—
not that he really minds that, though.
for you, he's always on his knees. whether you ask it of him or not. the only light in this world he is willing to bow his eyes before.
it takes him not too much effort but gojo makes a point of struggling whilst he shifts in your hold. and grins when he finally comes face-to-face with you, drinking in the way your brows are puckered and lips a little parted in an incredulous expression.
his grin simmers down however, when his six eyes notice the spark in your tummy. so tiny. so blinding. so priceless— to him and you both— he knows this, surer than he is of the scars on his palms.
thumbing the hem of your t-shirt, he hums, dragging his eyes back to be drowned in yours, "how many weeks along are you, wifey?"
"satoru," you start, voice turning sharper and just as skeptical as your face was, still is— only to be shushed by a finger to your lips. the man addressed feels his heart skip a beat at your confused big scowl— it's got to be a crime to be as cute as you— really!!!
he pinches your cheek lightly.
"it isn't like i don't remember that, cookie. i just wanted you to say it— c'mon, tell me quickly!" he presses, noting then utilising the moment your face begins to lose its cynical hue over his words.
the scowl lingers there however, twisting your delectably pretty lips—
"nine weeks," you say, hooking a leg over his waist to pull him closer. can he be any closer to you, though? your answer is always a yes, he knows you well enough to know this.
"thirty-one weeks more before we meet our baby."
it's not exactly thirty-one weeks; it's thirty weeks and five days before either of you can meet the baby, but gojo decides not to point out the error. you always hate it when he points out your tiny errors and make a point of snarking about it every time he opens his mouth to speak a word next— the man is wary not to upset his wife, yes, thank you very much.
he offers a sage "hm" in response, one he observes you accept slowly. the scowl lifts itself into a curve so fond— gojo thinks once before he vaults his next query your way. not wanting to see that smile vanish in front of him—
the ask won't cause anything so. but he can never be too sure. he has read too many books and articles to not grasp how fragile pregnancy hormones can make one be.
he tucks a strand of hair behind the shell of your ear.
fingers tarrying there when he sees you lean into his touch— not akin a moth to a bright flame, no. he can never hurt you. not even for once in his wildest dreams—
but how the north pole of a magnet hurries towards the south pole of another magnet. so different in their nature, a perfect pair of opposite crafted by the nature— maybe that's why nothing can ever stop them from rushing to each other once they're proximated, the lines of their mutual attraction existing even when thousands of miles apart.
just like you and him.
contrasting, complementing, completing each other every instant, in every facet of life.
he lets his fingers dance through the tangles in your hair, unravelling the knots in there. that pleased little hum of yours reaches him once again.
stowing the sound away, later to be placed on a pedestal in an ornate glass case as the most valuable praise ever given to him for his effort, he runs a gentle hand, nails scratching your scalp carefully.
"and at nine weeks old, just how big might our baby be?"
"i think there is a chart comparing our baby's size to fruits..." syllables unhurried and a pinch mumbled, you press your heel to draw him in a little more. "i did not really read that too attentively— oh. but. yeah!" a grin forms on your features, sleepy still twinkling in excitement.
"shoko sent me a link to this website earlier today— any ideas, 'toru, what it might be about?"
gojo does have an idea. he has a very, very good idea.
but he chooses not to say that aloud. you look so extremely adorable when you are being this excited. he would hate nothing more than to see your amped up self getting interrupted by him.
he shakes his head. your grin brightens. eyes crinkling with a glint, he can tell even without looking, is knowing.
the tips of your fingers caress his bare back, softer than a breath. "it's about when our baby forms which organs— our baby's eyes are being formed now!!! isn't that too cute, 'toru?"
"it is, cookie," he hums without any hesitation, six eyes activating one more time to zero in on that teeny-tiny spark. then deactivating when he looks back up to your sleepy eyes. a terribly tickled, equally wicked glimmer creeps into his grin. "so our baby is just like a tiny ball of cells with two big blue eyes, huh? they must look so scary, heh— ouch!"
your pinch did not really pain him, but gojo does his best to mimic an awfully wounded puppy, sogging wet from the rain and waiting at the doorstep with his moving blue eyes— it takes less than three seconds before you let go of your glare with a sigh.
you massaging the sore spot on his arm, your husband watches you give yet another sigh.
"first of all, there's no guarantee our baby will have your eye color and not mine, 'toru," you explain, pinning him under your drowsy stare, "it is very difficult to predict that for sure— and secondly: i'll punch you if you ever call our baby scary— sure, they don't really look like a human in this moment, but they'll slowly get there in forty weeks— as per the website, their face, hands and feet are forming in the ninth—"
"okay, alright!! i get your point, my insanely smart, insanely beautiful, insanely sexy wife," gojo cuts in, smiling while warning bells chime in his head at the faintest gloss in your eyes—
but maybe they weren't noisy enough. that is why he doesn't bite his tongue, rather continuing, "but you weren't actually blaming our poor human-ey baby for your clinginess, were you? it's not like they have a telepathic communication set up with you— hell, maybe they haven't even started forming their brain!"
"the baby's brain starts forming by the fifth week, satoru," your quiet reply reaches him exactly when he gets his last giggle out. the moist sheen in your eyes grows more prominent.
and his insides begin to twist—
one-third helpless. two-thirds contrite.
you don't stop talking, tone lower than he has heard you use in nearly forever, "and you better not comment on my bond with our baby— i'll punch you twice if you—"
"i wasn't doing that and i promise to never make you feel that way, my cutie-pie cookie," gojo interrupts, voice far gentler than earlier, just as low as yours, "but feel free to throw me out the house if i ever do that, even accidentally. okay?"
you're not okay.
you never are, when it comes to you being actually harsh to him, even when he's the one asking you to be— shakespeare once called love to be blind— your husband doesn't think you're blind, however. it is your well-contemplated decision to see his mistakes and see each of them as excusable, perfectly pardonable, no matter how silly or serious the world might regard them to be—
you make a noise. somewhat annoyed. unhappy too, yeah. before you push your face into the crook of his neck, nose nuzzling into the flesh there.
you would have bitten him by now. but he reckons you might be a bit too tired for all that. you couldn't even finish your dinner before facing the urge to throw up tonight, yet again.
feeling sorry, almost, gojo resumes his ministrations to your hair, half because you need to fall asleep now; the hands on the clock are close to striking midnight. the other half because he just loves playing with your hair— only to still when you suddenly pull your head back.
brows furrowed as you peer at him, eyes big and earnest.
"you don't really mind when i hug you like this, do you, 'toru?"
"no, cookie!! of course not!!" the man wastes not even a breath before he rushes to explain— because seriously, what!??
sure, he wasn't the first one to fall between you two. but ever since he did fall, he has never not expressed how every second away from you, every fraction of an instant away from you, causes him pain.
and yeah, he might have been a tad too dramatic whilst doing so, but you've always been so good at reading him— then why on earth can't you read him now? why don't you read, he loves it when you seek him out, he loves you more than anyone and anything else??
"good," your satisfied little chirp gives him a light shove away from his frantic thoughts. something tells him he should be put on alert by the way your lips curve into a smug smile next.
but gojo finds himself uncaring. just immensely relieved as he trails his fingers from the back of your head to your chin. thumb reaching out to brush the corner of your infectious smile. you continue.
"but even if you did mind, sorry not sorry— you were the one who put the ring on my finger, so you have to deal with everything i'm, mister!! no refunds nor complaints can be filed here, gojo-san~"
and neither refunds nor complaints he wishes to file, satoru muses to himself as he cups your cheek in one hand. bending down to steal the taste of your beam, your tease, your love for him on his tongue—
not when he has received the world in exchange for letting go of that poor splintered mess of a heart, he used to call his, but is now yours.
and will always stay yours—
"hey 'toru— what will you do if i chomp on your fingers right now, like really hard? will you yell? or will you be the freak that you're and enjoy it, huh?"
gojo pauses.
and wonders.
is there any binding vow one can make to secure oneself to another in every lifetime, for all eternity?
he hopes there is.
your husband really, seriously hopes there is—
'cause no way in heaven, earth or hell, does gojo satoru want to let go of you— and he will not let go of you.
this idea was ROTTING in my brain for ages, but wht gave me the spark– the boost to write this was the wonderful sukuna fic written by ari @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat ❤️❤️❤️ i seriously love u & ur writings sm, babes 🥹🥹 everyone pls go check their masterlist out. it's studded w diamonds and pearls 😌😌🥰
and this is also for my sweet & sour bestie mimi @avatarofstars 🤭🤭— u 🤝 me in being clingy af towards our fictional hubbies 😂😂🥰
hope this was an enjoyable read! pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this ❤️❤️
masterlist
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