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thexsilentxwordsmith · 8 months ago

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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Summary: Lt. Riley sure has been taking a lot of smoke breaks lately. Strange that you always seem to disappear at the same time too.

Author's Note: Just a quick little one shot I came up with to get me back into the swing of things and give you all a little snack for what's to come.

“Again?” Soap questions as he watches the lieutenant stand up from the back of the table, cigarette pack in hand. “Ye have a real problem mate. Swear yer married te those things these days, always havin’ te go out fer another smoke. Ye should get some help fer yer addiction, L.T.”

Lt. Riley doesn’t stop to reply, moving his chair back in without missing a beat. “Maybe I’m just tryin’ ta have an excuse to fuckin’ leave so ya can’t persuade me into stayin’ for more of your inane drivel,” he returns dryly. “ ‘Sides, it’s gettin’ late.”

Soap rolls his eyes skeptically at the statement. “Whatever ye say,” he chuckles, brushing off the comment like nothing and letting the lieutenant walk off without consequence, something rare for the mouthy sergeant, but Lt. Riley is too preoccupied to pay it much attention.

From your place at the table, you carefully sneak glances to watch as the hulking form of your superior locks eyes with you for only a second before he makes his way over to the door of the mess hall and opens it to step out into the night air. You force yourself not to linger too long in his direction, redirecting your attention back to your fellow operatives that still sit around you chatting even though dinner had ended some time ago.

It doesn’t take long for the conversation to pick right back up where it left off, though you stay silent as you slowly try to fade yourself out of the group without anyone noticing your absence. The heated topic of the best explosive types has everyone engaged and you see your opportunity to leave and slip out undetected.

Too bad you don't notice a couple eyes dart your way before they turn back to one another to share a knowing look and a smirk. Yet nothing is said out loud and you make it out with incident.

Stepping out into the cool night, you find it odd that there are no signs of life near the door, no 6’4” military officer propped against the brick smoking. The unexpected absence makes your heart leap, but as you let your eyes adjust to the dark you catch movement off to your side. At the edge of the building you can just make out the dissipating wispy trail of vapor as it floats up towards the sky. Bingo, that’s what you are looking for. Turning your feet in the direction of the smoke, you make your way over, the soles of your shoes crunching over the gravel scattered along the ground and echoing off the walls of the building. You don’t have far to go and as soon as your body rounds the corner, your wrist is grabbed up by long fingers into the palm of a large, rough hand.

You know this grip intimately.

“Lookin’ for somethin’, pretty girl?” the familiar gruff voice hits your ears as your body is pushed back first into the rough surface of the wall.

Tilting your head up, you look directly into that skull-masked face and instantaneously a smile spreads across your lips. “Was looking for someone, actually,” you answer confidently, a bit of playfulness to your tone.

Hooking your thumbs through the front belt loops on his jeans, you pull him in closer so that he is pinned against you. “And wouldn’t you know, I just found him,” you say.

Fuck, did you have to play on his one weakness so early?

“Was wonderin’ when you’d fuckin’ break away,” he chuckles to disguise that fact that your little maneuver has caused his pulse to race violently through his veins.

Those large, greedy hands find their place on the curve of your hips and he wonders if you can feel his thudding heartbeat through his touch as he stands there in the silence with you. He’s waiting patiently for what comes next, the simple ritual you've developed that you put into practice whenever you’re alone together. Right now he is still under the guise of Ghost and only you can bring out the man behind the mask.

Searching his chest to find the neckline of his shirt, you dig your fingers inside and find the edge of the fabric keeping his face hidden from you. You tug at the balaclava to free it before you pull it up and off his features, bunching it together and pushing it to the top of his head so that he wears it like a beanie. And suddenly there he is: not Ghost, not Lt. Riley, but Simon, your Simon in the flesh once again.

“Didn’t want to make it too obvious,” you return as you take him all in, fingertips following the line of his cheek, ��the others aren’t that oblivious; they’ll put two and two together if given enough clues. We could get caught, you know. How long till they figure out that I always seem to go missing whenever you go for a smoke?”

There is a coolness on your hip now as one of his hands finds its way around the back of your neck to hold you in place as his thumb smoothly caresses over the delicate skin of your cheek in long, slow strokes. “Don’t care anymore,” he mutters as his gaze lingers at your eyes before they drift down to your full lips. There is a yearning in his chest watching them part as he drags that same thumb heavily across the length and it blooms as he hears the quiet sigh you release at feeling his touch over that sensitive bit of skin.

“It’s gettin’ harder and harder ta keep my hands to myself whenever you’re ‘round.”

He leans in as he holds you steady by the back of the head, his face getting closer and closer until his balmy breath wafts over your bottom lip. It’s intoxicating the way the presence of your mouth lingering just out of reach makes the skin on his tingle with anticipation and he suspends you both in the tantalizing feeling of the moment for a few seconds without speaking, just letting the sensations play out.

The agonizing depth of his need pools in the pit of his stomach, making him clench his hand around your spine as it overwhelms his body. “Don’t wanna have ta keep holdin’ back.”

Being pressed against you, you can easily feel him take in a shuddered breath. “Get such a fuckin’ cravin’ for your lips sometimes it feels like I’m goin’ insane,” he whispers the words into your face, his nose gliding against the tip of your own as his mouth ghosts over yours until you tremble in his grasp as his temptation overwhelms you.

Your heartbeat pounds hard against your ribcage and you can hear it in your head. His intensity is enough to make you dizzy, your vision hazy at best as you are consumed with him and only him. No one has ever had this much control over you, but with Simon it is effortless the way he owns all the free space in your mind so that it takes the most minimal effort to have you falling apart, melting in his hands.

In the shadow of the mess hall, hidden in the dark with just you and him, the world seems to completely fall away. Whatever waits outside that moment for you both is forgotten, pushed aside to make room for the need you share for each other.

“Simon,” you moan his name, your eyes fluttering closed as your desperation overtakes you and leaves you begging for him to break the distance still between you.

God, the way his name falls so sweetly from your lips makes him just as feral now as it did the first time he heard you use it. He is insatiable in the way he is willing to do anything just to hear you say it again.

The air outside tonight is cool, but the atmosphere between your bodies is heated from the sticky, warm breath that you both share between your mouths, the proximity of your bodies, the rise in blood pressure that makes your skin hot to the touch. It’s getting harder to breathe and yet the thought of you pulling away from him before he can get his fill of you is torture.

“Swear I’ve never missed someone tha way I miss ya when I have ta stay away,” he says, followed quickly by a groan into your face as you place your palm on his sternum to feel the weighty rise and fall of his broad chest.

Your touch is exhilarating and suddenly his whole body is aroused as if struck by lightning. Unintentionally, his hips move on instinct and begin to grind into yours, the growing bulge in the crotch of his pants making him desperate for more friction and you immediately meet his need with your own. That last shred of his sanity is waning fast the more you both rub yourselves against each other until out of the haze filling his mind and distracting him from his goal he finally finds the last bit of clarity to speak before he completely falls apart.

“Christ, I will never get enough of ya, sweetheart.” And with a brief pause, Simon inhales and leans in hungrily to capture your lips with his.

His mouth dominates your own with urgency, as if at any moment you will be snatched from his hands and he will be left starving for the sensation of your mouth tangling with his.

Your back is slammed into the uneven texture of the brick, jagged bits of clay grating the skin of your back through your t-shirt from the force of your lieutenant aggressively capturing your mouth over and again. Sweet spit and heated lips mingling as he insatiably devours your kiss to leave a wreck of flesh behind on the lower half of your face that only burns for more of his embraces.

Shrouded in the dark your bodies melt together with yours being swallowed by the bulk of his, those bulging muscles along his abdomen pressing into you, pinning you to the wall until you can hardly catch your breath. You hold onto him to keep him from drifting, two tight fists balled up with his shirt as your need overwhelms every sense in an intensity that is shared like an electrical current through your bodies.

Large, coarse hands cup around your face, tilting your head upward to him as his tongue juts out from between his teeth and over his lips to prod against yours until you open your mouth and allow him to shove it in. That thick muscle fills the cavity full as he explores, feeling you, tasting you, memorizing the inside of your mouth. The nicotine on his breath is still pungent from the cigarette that is glowing discarded on the ground at your feet, its sharp notes dancing over the surface of your taste buds as you suck on his tongue.

His knee finds its way between your legs, pressing up into the wall behind you so that the bulk of his thigh is pushed against the mound of your sex, giving you access to something you can ride as your desire intensifies. The stimulation is like a catalyst and without hesitation you begin to roll your hips into it.

Simon is pawing desperately at your clothing to get beneath it and make contact with as much soft, warm skin as his hands can enjoy when a sudden loud clang somewhere close by breaks you both out of the spell of your lust. Two heads return side to side in search for the source of the noise, only to find that nothing is out of place. But the moment is broken and you are both now fully aware of how exposed you are just out in the open.

“Meet at mine after lights out, yeah?” Simon says through heavy panting, holding your face cupped between his hands as he struggles to gain back his composure, at least enough to cross base without drawing attention to himself and the bulge straining against the front of his jeans.

You nod, scrambling to regulate your own quick breathing.

He quickly pulls your face back in for one more feverish kiss before releasing you, pulling down his mask, and briskly heading off into the night. It's still about an hour you have left to wait and though you know that it isn't that long in the grand scheme of things, as you clench your thighs together, you know it won't come soon enough.

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cryptfile · 9 months ago

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𖥨᩠ׄ݁ holy terrain!!!!!!, [ homelander x supe!reader ]

SUMMARY— based on a request aka when you arrive to vought’s tower covered in blood, you certainly don't expect to enjoy John’s comfort after feeling so numb.

WARNINGS — +18 minors dni, implied fem! reader, homelander is a warning himself, usual the boys content, mentions of murder, violence, reader matches homelander’s freak ngl, always wash your hands before fingering #PLEASE, blood kink at it's best, degradation (blink and you’ll miss it), dirty talk, porn without plot sort of?? lmao blame it on my hormones.

SIDE NOTES — hi there, this is a result of me going feral in this new season. English's not my first language, so please be kind, any mistake it's my own fault sorry in advance. Hate this mf but wont deny I wouldn't fuck him to calm him down. Please interact if you like this, reblogs, comments, likes, all means a lot to me!

The smell is under your nose.

At first it didn’t bother you to feel the warmth of it, you’re not disgusted by blood. But it’s everywhere. Fucking everywhere. Sticking in your face, staining your damn suit, pooling beneath your feet.

You can feel your own breathing, yet, you're numb to everything else. The screams of terror and the sudden silence of the killing are now something similar as a long-time-ago memory, a distant thought you cannot bring yourself to care about.

And when you came out of the elevator, you don't care about the other people looking at you either. The Vought personal that were always running in the floor, Ashley, or fucking Noir at the matter thinking you're Carrie or something, no one dares to talk to you even when you’re a mere sidekick, too afraid of your explosive personality to even demand to know what happened.

It's almost like you asked for it, to be left alone, to not deal with anyone but your own judgment.

So when you cross the hallway to your dormitory dreaming about a warm shower, you don't expect to see him inside, your relationship with Homelander being too sporadic to even catalog it as one. Yet he's there like it's his house, and you're too tired to even ask why he's there in the first place.

"There you are," he says, but you hear his voice like he's talking miles away from you instead of the couch where he really is. "Something was telling me you were having a rough day."

"Don't remember anything about inviting you to my room" he doesn't care about your tone as he walks closer to you, usually, when he speaks, he only seem to listen to himself. "Didn’t give you a key."

He's oblivious at your words, instead, he seems to be too lost in his own way of seeing things, just waiting for you to say something similar to what you’ve already said in his mind. To admit something like you missed him all day long, that you've been thinking about him as much as he's thinking about you, to fed his ego like only you can do after only a few times of sharing intimacy.

The air is thick, making it harder to breathe as he plants himself in front of you, blue eyes scanning your face as his fingers touched your hair, toying with the strands glued together with blood — Even if it’s gross, he don’t seemed moved by it, mainly, you think, because he’s been through the same too.

"Don't need a key to show up," he laughs like it's obvious, and you look at him like he's having a rougher time than you. "This is my building."

It's almost a reminder for you, that you're living under his roof and have a place on his team because he just wants to. Even when you always do the dirty job no one dares to do, if you save his ass more times you can count, he still remarks you’re living in his world.

“I know,” you fight the need to roll your eyes to the back of your head while responding. It’s something you remind yourself sometimes, how most of them are just plain stupid, always treating you like you were no better than fucking Deep.

The stink under your nose is annoying and your skin feels sticky at the touch so you’re almost begging for just ten minutes of privacy.

“I just missed you” he says in a low voice, almost ashamed of admitting something he would never even dare to say out loud, a sudden verge of vulnerability, strange raw honesty as he looks at you. “Didn’t you miss me too?”

You know the only way of really control him, how to make him do exactly what you want to do, so you let him. Let him act all needy and weird cause you want John wrapped around your finger, unable to think on his own. You want him to believe, whole-heartedly, that in the end he’s the one coming up with the great ideas when it's you every single time.

You don’t find it cruel, he’s the same with you and he deserves it, so when Homelander bites his middle finger to grab the fabric of his gloves and pull it off, you let him touch you, treat you like this lost-dove-in-trouble he loves to see — “Had an awful day. Just wanted to see you,” like that. The correct combination of words and he looks like he got fucking shot by a celestial force, mesmerized. “Always missing you, babe.”

He’s sold by the moment, that tone you use, that little nickname that gets him, the sound of your heartbeat slightly faster than before, not enough to catch you lying, but enough to show you’re indeed, happy to see him as well.

He's pleased, so the next is unexpected to say the least, and you hate every second of it when he carries you like you two are married or something similar, sitting in the sofa with you on his lap.

“What are you-”

He shushes you, and you cannot finish what you’re saying when he pulls you to his chest, the fabric of his suit against your cheek as he, weirdly enough, hugged you close, the sound of his heartbeat instead, loud against your ear as you can feel him breathing beneath you, an steady rhythm as the silence filled the room. It's weird sometimes, to think he's human as well before the compound V.

“Comforting you,” he says in a low voice. His bare hand now grabbing your tight enough to bury his fingers in the covered skin, squeezing it lightly as first, nothing you cannot control. And it's beyond doubt what he truly wants, the way his nose inhales the scent of your body like it's fuel, the blood mixing with your fragrance — "M' here now."

He likes it almost more than his own smell. Almost is the key, cause he cannot help but wish you'd stink like him after waking up next to him that very same day. The thought wakes something new in the alleged superhero, something that stings in his stomach, plaguing his mind with the thought of getting all that he wants, to mark you as his property as he has done before.

He cannot get enough. Of course he can't, he's used to have it all now, to never ask but take. That's why he bites your shoulder, why he didn't mind getting his hands dirty with you and your sticky suit, why he's not grossed out by anything, but instead, turned on by how much you needed him.

But in reality it's the other way around, cause Homelander's the one that pulls you closer, that kisses you like you're something heavenly, just like he is. He's not gentle, yet he knows you like it that way, that you're into that rough force he's used to and would kill any normal person in result.

"Who let you go on that mission on your own, huh?" He asks, concentrated in your suit, pulling it down slightly just to reveal the naked skin under the fabric, clean skin in contrast of all the red. "Seems like they all forgot we're supposed to work together."

You don't get why it feels so nice at first, why the hand on your hip moves through your body like you need some kind of reassurance after all you went through the day.

"I'm okay" you manage to say, the pure need to remind him you're good enough to make things on your own, some kind of memo that explains clearly that you want the same benefits he has. It's useless however, when he has you like that, making you tilt your head to the side, placing random bites in any sight of exposed flesh.

"You're hurt" he says, making you aware of your own body as he presses one hand against the injury on the side of your ribs. He's fucking sick for it, and it doesn't give you any time to react when his fingertips are pushing against the cut, your suit staining with your own blood as you mewl on top of him. "Clearly hurt."

He's drunk on depravity, lost on the face you make when the pain hits you all sudden, stealing the air from your lungs. He's suddenly hard beneath you and his hand's now rest on your hip making you move on top of him, hungry for anything he can get out of you, any little sound you make so focused on keeping quiet, trying so hard to not to fed on his bullshit.

The friction is unbearable, the fresh blood coming out of your now-opened wound, the slight force he uses to tear your suit apart like its nothing, giving him more space to work with as he seemed desperate to have you close. It takes you far from where you were first, the numb feeling that grew like a parasite your stomach swallowing it all, now instead, too sensitive to his touch.

Yes. You hate him for it, hate that it's too easy for him, the traumatized hero with too many issues, the world's strongest man that somehow manages to make a mess out of you just with something so simple as sitting on his lap.

He's so pleased when you moan, when you say his name and you forgot about mannerisms, he needs to pull out his other glove in response as his blonde hair falls over his face, throwing it to the floor as his bare hand is now able to rip apart your suit effortless. The warmth of his palm cups your now bare breast for him, and he leans into your chest, tongue flickering in circles over your nipple as you let out a strangled moan.

"Common, need you to use your words here," he demands for a moment, almost annoyed as you can see the traces of saliva that connected you to his mouth: Why does he look so good? Fucker. "Cause if you don’t stop me now I’ll reduce your suit to ashes.”

“Don’t care,” you know Ashley’s going to be pissed, yet it's not enough to say anything about it. "Fucking hate the suit anyway."

"Such a dirty mouth" you're tugging his hair, hand on your kneecap pulling it slightly to the side as he forces you to open your legs for him. "What can I do with you?"

There it is, the ripped sound of his hands tearing the rest of the fabric apart, the pliable desperation in his touch, grabbing, kissing, and palming the curves of your body as it's holy terrain, unstudied land. He's caught in the smell of your skin finally mixing with his, the way your hips grinded in need for a deeper contact.

He laughs at you, laughs at that sight of defeat when he finally slides the hand that was on your knee under the ripped leavings of your now-destroyed suit. Of course he fucking loves the way you're speechless all thanks to his efforts, that you're unable to keep still as you straddle him now confident he's not repulsed by your dirty nature.

"Did you get turned on by killing?" He asks, and you try to respond something like he's clearly dumb. "Been smelling you since you've got here. All wet, covered in blood."

He's far from lazering you, but you can feel the weight of his gaze almost trespassing you when his hand finally reaches that nice spot between your legs and feels your drenched underwear beneath his fingertips. He can feel it all, and you are aware of it.

He's driven by the sounds of your heartbeat, the way your skin glimmers with sweat, he knows you're enjoying every second of it, his fingertips fondling on top of the cloth moments before pulling it to side. The warm contact with your cunt is enough to make him lose it, enough to make him succumb beneath you as he explores the folds of your aching core, his other hand holding your hip just to keep you in place.

John seems to forget, always does. Cause his grip turns beyond bruising and you can hear the crack when he moves you against his hand, a new broken bone to added to the list as he's unaware to the sound it produces, the pain that makes you shake violently blending immediately with pleasure.

You can take it. You're tough and a big girl who's taken worse, so you don't whine about it knowing you must be healing already, instead, you let yourself be trapped in that haze he created, the sounds of your sex when he hits that very spot you overly-enjoy, digits slightly curving inside as he’s experiencing the velvety feeling of your walls colliding against his hand.

"That's it, keep the show for me.” He loves praising so much since you told him he’s doing good one time, he needs to do the same for you at the first chance he got while you offered yourself to him, riding his fingers. “Such a good slut.”

He’s concentrated in the way his fingers disappear inside of you, the intense smell of blood and sex that now fills the air as you moan out his name, the red droplets in your face much like freckles, far more wicked than pure marks on your skin.

“So nice, so warm,” he says to himself, the slick sound of your arousal filling the room, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin of your chest as he marks your skin like you’re all his.

He’s sure he’s alleviating your problems, sure he’s making you feel so much better, thumb tracing circles in your swollen bud as he stole cries of pleasure from your parted lips.

You don’t let him know you’re close but he can sense it, the slight change in your breathing each time more erratic, your heartbeats quickening their pace as you got closer to the edge.

And when you really finish, when you’re done riding your high, you grab the remains of your teared suit and look at him with that damn smile he loves. You know he’s expecting to receive anything back, any favor you’re willing to give in return.

But instead, when you got off his lap, you just caress his cheek gently before saying — “See you later, John? Kind of busy now.”

my masterlist

#homelander x reader #homelander #the boys #homelander x you #homelander x fem!reader #cryptfile // the boys #homelander smut #the boys smut

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mind-intheclouds342 · 5 months ago

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Do it for them - Co-captain reader x Curly

Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

Warning: Mention of rape.

You let out a sigh, as if you had held your breath for a few seconds upon seeing him there.

The only thing you could recognize was that blue eye color he had.

You were in a conflict, you didn't know what to do at that moment, your eyes filled with tears in an instant.

Before you knew it, you were walking towards him, your body aching, but the pain was secondary at that moment.

You leaned over his bed to see him up close, kneeling to be face to face with him.

If he could express any kind of emotion on his face, you would say he was terrified that you finally saw him, your eyes were focused on him, and you didn't say a word.

Until you smiled.

"You're really alive..."

You murmured and covered your mouth when you started to laugh, the mix of emotions at that moment was a disaster, between laughter and sobs, you didn't know what to do, whether to feel happy because he was alive, or feel sad about the state he was in.

You slapped your cheeks hard enough to leave them red, trying to reason with yourself while listening to Curly's whimpers.

"Okay- okay- let me help you- I know they've been giving you painkillers for your pain, just let me give them to you"

You mentioned that upon hearing those sounds, you quickly looked for the pills and took one to be able to give it to him.

You moved your fingers nervously as you brought your hand closer to his jaw, his exposed teeth were something unpleasant to see, and the smell of burnt flesh was even worse in the room.

"I see why Anya looks so terrified... It must be difficult for her."

At one point, you pushed the pills down his throat and tried to move him a bit so he could swallow without choking.

In a short time, their whimpers ceased.

You noticed the robe you were wearing and decided to take it off to put on your uniform that was next to the bed where you woke up.

Curly inhaled sharply when you changed, seeing how almost your entire body was covered in bruises.

When you finished, you took a chair and sat down next to your husband.

They both looked at each other in silence.

"I understand why you didn't want me to see you like this... I really thought I would wait until you gave me permission to see you... I didn't expect to end up here in the nursery just like that..."

You looked at your hands and arms, well aware that they were covered in bruises that were now hidden by your clothes, but they were still there, and it hurt so bad. You took one of the painkillers and swallowed it, hoping the pain would go away soon.

"Do you have any idea why Jimmy hates me so much? Maybe he wanted to marry you."

You joked, leaning back in the chair, waiting for the medication to take effect.

"I think I found a way to get back, we are heading to a Pony Express station, it seems you were able to reactivate the autopilot in the cabin before the explosion, we will get there in three months, I'm sure we can communicate with someone so they can come and rescue us."

Even when he didn't respond, you enjoyed this conversation you were having, you were happy to be able to talk to your husband again, and you knew very well that he could hear you, by the way he looked at you attentively.

Anya: "Curly, I'm sorry for being late, I-"

You turned when you heard the door open and smiled upon seeing that woman, who immediately looked surprised to see you.

"Hey Anya~ woah-"

You were greatly surprised when she jumped at you to hug you, you pressed your lips together to avoid letting out a whimper of pain, reciprocating the hug in confusion.

Anya: "I was so scared—I thought you would never wake up! I thought you were bleeding inside - we didn't know what to do - it happened -"

Immediately, you took her by the shoulders to make her separate and looked her straight in the eyes.

"How long was I asleep?...."

Anya wiped her tears and took a breath before answering you.

Anya: "Three weeks..."

You immediately got up from your seat, ready to leave the nursery.

Curly immediately started making strange sounds, looking at the door and Anya, as if he were begging her to go with you.

The woman looked at him strangely but soon began to follow him.

Anya: "(Y/n) - please wait -"

"Where the hell is Jimmy?"

You stopped and turned to look at her seriously.

Anya: "Why are you looking for him?..."

"I'm sure that son of a bitch tried to kill me, I don't know what he's planning, but whatever it is, it ends here and now! Who knows what other damage he has done here on the ship and-!"

You fell silent upon noticing his face, a mix of sadness and hope now that you were saying that.

"Anya... please... no..."

Anya: "I told Curly but... He didn't do anything... I... I'm pregnant."

You opened your mouth, wanting to say something, but you just pressed your lips together, turned slowly, and took a few steps before starting to run in search of that man.

Daisuke: "Swansea, I don't think you should drink that-"

Swansea: "We have no escape from this place now! Bah! Without the captains, there's nothing left."

He commented, taking another sip of the mouthwash they had found in the cargo.

Jimmy: "I remind you that I am the captain now, so-"

"CAPTAIN MY ASS!"

You arrived furiously in the room where everyone was gathered, you didn't even wait for him to respond, you took a chair close to you and hit him on the back with it.

Daisuke: "Woah! What's happening?? (Y/n)! How long ago did you wake up? Why-?"

"GET OUT OF THE WAY!"

When the boy tried to approach you, you pushed him away, ready to hit Jimmy again, who was on the ground in pain.

"DON'T TOUCH ME! I'M GOING TO KILL HIM!"

You started to shake as you felt the arms of both males holding you, preventing you from continuing to hit the other.

Swansea: "What's happening with you?!"

"HE RAPE ANYA!"

You shouted, exposing him in front of everyone, all of them speechless at the revelation.

They slowly released you, and when you saw Jimmy move, trying to get up, you kicked him in the mouth, making him fall to the ground again.

"You are disgusting, disgusting! Aren't you ashamed?! You've already done too much damage, you're on my damn ship! You're not going to do anything else here. And when we return, I will make sure you ROT IN JAIL."

You shouted this last part in his ear, grabbing his hair to make him lift his head, and then you slammed it against the ground again.

"Killing you would be showing mercy on you."

You spat on his chest and left him there for a few seconds, you were going to have to find a place to lock him up.

#mouthwash #mouthwashing #mouthwashing game #mouthwashing x reader #anya mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #curly mouthwashing #captain curly #captain curly x reader #mouthwashing curly #do it for them mouthwashing

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puptrefied · 2 months ago

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cw: dub-con,　fingering,　sev’s mechanic arm vibrates,　 degradation,　 hair pulling, 　 overstimulation,　 cunnilingus (r!giving), no aftercare at all. | 2,3k words, barely proofread I'm sorry.

　coming back to the last drop after a rough deal, five in the goddamn morning, wiping blood that isn't hers off her clothes, a nasty cut on her cheek, thick eyebrows positioned into a nasty frown, a bottle of strong liquor she took from the counter ( even if the bar was open, the bartender would have not stopped her ) on her metallic hand as she went upstairs into silco's office, knocking heavily on the door, ready to speak about how jinx—living up to her name—almost turned the guy who's the usual contact for shimmer distribution into bones and ashes for whatever reason when she wasn't even supposed to be there, is definitely the worst part of sevika's job.

little shit, always getting on her nerves. sevika just wants to smack some sense into that fucked up brain but silco's the only thing that keeps her from doing so.

and of course she had to clean after the bluenette.

after all, you can't attack a trafficker without consequences. an eye for an eye turned quite literal when the man's eye popped because one of the window crystals from jinx's explosion flew right onto it and his men tried to jump at sevika. ‘bit stupid if you ask me…yes, their boss almost died and all but did they really think they could take this woman down with a few weak punches? they lack common sense, apparently.

now the drug dealer has one eye and five men nearly dead.

oh, great, just what she needed—silco is not even in his office. she wants to break something and rip her hair out.

“sevika? didn't see you coming in.” right, sometimes she forgets you come clean the mess the people at the bar make. taking care of the alcohol, the drugs, the shattered glasses, the unknown fluids, etc, that can be found on every corner just so they can do it all again the next day. cleaning up jinx's mess seems like nothing compared to your job. “everyone left already.”

she looks up from the couch to the door where you are standing with a surprisingly warm smile for someone who's working so early in the morning—god knows when your shift even started.

“silco also left like an hour ago, I was hoping I could secretly clean his office because it smells a little… funky.” you laughed gesturing to the mop on your hand before walking into the room, turning your back at sevika while picking up some bright neon, spray painted decoration from the floor to put it on his desk again. focused on getting the job done since she didn't seem in the mood to talk. ( rude but makes sense. )

how is the poor, pent up woman supposed to resist that heaven-sent view?

hand suddenly on your waist as she took one final swing of the strong liquor, pulling you closer even if you gasped and automatically tried to pull away. when did she even get up from the couch? “stay still.” she warned putting the bottle down on his desk to hold your hips more firmly against her front.

“I probably should go clean somewhere—” she could only scoff at your nervous words. yeah, like she'd want you to leave right now when all she needs is someone to pour her stress onto.

“shut up, what did I just say? stay still.”

this woman is one rough motherfucker and that applies to every aspect of her life, as you can tell by how tightly she's gripping at your hips as she moves you to bend over silco's desk. her calloused hand swiping away most of his stuff away, making sure your torso is flush against the wooden—and still dusty—surface, her fingers tangle themselves on your hair to keep your head down.

your legs go just a little weak. but hey, it's just you being tired from cleaning for hours now!

…or maybe it's the wall of pure muscle behind you sliding her mechanic hand under your pants, tracing your panties while she keeps talking.

“been a long fucking night.” her face buried itself on your neck, not even kissing the skin before nibbling on it. why would she? she doesn't owe you any gentleness. her body weight pressing you forward—the action making sure you can feel the cool metal of her fingers. the sharp tips lightly scratching the fabric of your underwear in a way that shouldn't feel this good, especially in the current circumstances but oh, well.

“are you stupid or deaf?” she pulled on your hair a little before pushing your head back down on the desk when she felt your hips moving away from her as soon as her arm made a loud mechanical sound, the rather strong vibration coming right after making you shudder.

you didn't mean to move like that, lifting your hips away from her, but you couldn't help it! the vibration was so out of nowhere it startled you. who's fault is that, hm? definitely sevika's. but I wouldn't say that out loud if I were you—you know, keeping in mind there's still blood that isn't hers on her clothes and body. just saying.

“hey, wait—”

your protests meaning nothing to her as she tugged ( ripped ) your pants and underwear down. “look at that, you whine but you're getting wet?” the most mocking scoff ever coming out of her lips while she pressed her vibrating fingers even more firmly on your now bare clit.

“it's not that much, you're just weak. get over it.”

she's right, it does feel like you're getting weaker by the second. the feeling getting more overwhelming as she gets meaner. “never thought of quitting? cleaning is definitely not your job, the brothel would work way better.” she's infuriatingly good at talking though, it's annoying.

“i mean, look at you. I'm sure people would pay more to see this ass than what silco does for you to clean his shit.” she squeezed one cheek to emphasize her own point, giving a slap to watch it jiggle, her lower lip caught with her teeth at the sight. she could get used to it, actually.

“there we go, see? wasn't so hard to keep quiet.” her fingers are no longer cold, now sticky and warm from your body heat—body heat she proudly increased by the way—while her hand starts to move back and forth to cause more sensations, moans and trembles.

you feel like it's too much? oh, baby, she hasn't done anything yet!

you realize she's actually doing something when you notice her sliding two thick fingers—lucky for you, real ones instead of the sharp prosthetics—stretching you out without a single warning as the vibration on your clit does not cease at all.

the wet sounds combined with the slap of skin and buzzing coming from in between your legs absolutely obscene in a way that's fucking humiliating. god, you shouldn't be this horny for a woman that treats you like a hooker she found in an alley but it would be a terrible lie if you said it didn't make your lower belly burn and tingle in a way you've felt before, but definitely not with that intensity.

her scent—blood, sweat, and that funky, smoky tang that always clings to her—feels pretty intoxicating, to the point it's impossible to think straight.

you bit your lip, frustrated at the way your own body seems to betray you with the moans you fail to hold back. no amount of deep breaths able to help you. the mixture of pleasure and pain seems to blur together, forcing an embarrassingly whiny whimper to escape before you can even stop it.

“what's wrong?” sevika murmurs with a mocking chuckle, her fingers curling just right, pressing against your g-spot as if she knew your body better than you and honestly with the amount of experience she has, she might as well. “guess you like being treated like a common whore, huh, is that it?”

heat goes straight to your cheeks and down yourq back at her words, and yet again your body completely ignores your internal struggles, hips rocking against her hand despite your best efforts to stay still. she noticed, of course she did, using that to give a punishing thrust that suddenly feels way too deep.

“yeah, that's what I thought,” she scoffed, voice dripping with disdain, but her movements became more purposeful. her metallic fingers pressed firmly against your clit with no mercy, the vibrations and the movements had you clutching at the edge of the desk.

“look at you,” sevika muttered, more to herself than you, as if fascinated by the way your body responds to her rough thrusts. “maybe I'll keep you here, bent over silco's desk, let him walk in and see what a filthy slut you are.”

the thought sent a jolt of humiliation and twisted excitement through you, and sevika definitely feels it, her lips turn into the most asshol-smirk you've ever seen ( if you were able to ), and she speeds up, the wet, obscene sounds of her fingers working you echoing in the small office.

"go on," she said, "are you gonna keep pretending you don't like it?"

sevika doesn't even think about slowing down as she felt the way your walls squeezed her tight enough to earn a small groan from her—your moans being her motivation to keep going through your orgasm—drawing every last tremor from your body until you're left breathless and boneless, slumped over the desk.

she finally pulled out after god knows how long, her fingers sticky and wet from your fluids. sevika raised them to her lips, absolutely shameless, eyes locked on yours as she licked the digits clean with a deliberate, slow drag of her tongue, enjoying the dazed expression on your pretty face while you panted.

“come on, to the floor.” oh, lord, she's still going?

she sat on the couch, pants lowered to her ankles before you could even register her words. shaky legs doing the best they can when you kneeled down in between her thighs. so tired that taking a nap on ‘em seems like the best idea ever, but you can't do that now—not when she's already manspread there, waiting with a cigar on her lips ( probably stole it from silco's desk or something, everything’s happening way to quick for your brain to comprehend ) while casually lighting it up like she didn't just rearrange your guts with her fingers.

free hand wrapping around your hair again, this time guiding your face to her lower abdomen, soft lips pressed on the happy trail that decorated her sweaty skin in a way that now felt sinfully good. “open.”

how could you say no when she's looking down at you like that, making you eat her out as she exhales the heavy smoke?

a low groan, almost imperceptible to your ears covered by her thighs, comes out of her when she finally feels your mouth trail down and down and down, her legs spreading further so you can taste her better.

the scent of her mixed with the smell of cigar was all you could notice. her grip on your hair tightens, not enough to truly hurt, but enough to remind you where you are. half naked, wet and sticky inner thighs, now a sticky mouth, kneeling down on some floor you were supposed to be cleaning while eating the pussy of a 185cm tall woman who disfigured a group of men a few hours ago.

almost in a trance, your lips part, tongue darting out to give her a tentative lick. the taste is overwhelming, consuming your senses until nearly all you can focus on is the feel of sevika,the taste of sevika, the scent of sevika. “that’s it, knew you were playing dumb.” huh, who would've thought you'd be doing this and liking it?

your tongue took another swipe at her dripping slit, this time lingering longer, trying to get deeper. a husky moan from her motivating you to keep going.

at the light twitch on her hips, you vary your technique—going from licking long stripes up and down to swirling your tongue around her already sensitive clit, before dragging it lower to spear into her weeping entrance. the sound of her breathing turns ragged as you lost yourself in the act of pleasing her, of tasting her, of being the cause of such raw feelings.

her hips start to move, grinding her achingly greedy cunt against your face, you grabbed at the tensing muscles on her thighs for support meanwhile she basically used your face like a toy for her own pleasure. not caring if you can breath or not. smearing your lips and chin with her own fluids just like you did with her hand. ( was it revenge? probably not since it's a win-win situation for sevika. )

lost in a haze of sensations, you barely register the heavy, strong hand pressing down on the back of your head, holding you in place—forcing you to feel every clench and twitch. the world narrows down to the taste of her, the scent of her, the feel of her, until you can barely recall why you ever resisted the idea of doing what she says.

oh?

oh.

she did not just come, make you lick all of it and then push you away. ( she absolutely just did, the motherfucker. )

“okay, that's it, enough.” the fucking audacity to get up, fix her pants and just leave you there, sat on the cold floor as if you were a simple stray dog who got its five minutes of petting from a stranger. “clean up the mess you made.”

“hold on—”

she just left without even listening?! great, now you're stuck having clean a messy desk, pick up the paperwork from the floor, your own panties and pants and having to get rid of the wet, creamy stain on silco's couch that apparently ‘you’ made as if it wasn't sevika's cum.

what a rollercoaster of a night.

masterlist

#pupi writes ᝰ #sevika #sevika x reader #sevika smut #sevika x you #arcane x reader #arcane x you #arcane smut #wlw writing #wlw smut #dom sevika #sapphic smut

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yukioos · 23 days ago

Text

katsuki got fed up with eijiro being too scared to talk to you

“why the hell are you so damn scared to talk to her?! she’s not gonna bite you, just go!” katsuki shouted as he hit a punching bag nonstop, annoyed with eijiro’s constant yapping and complaints.

the redhead lay on his camo sheets and sighed, “you don’t get it, dude! she’s busy right now, talkin’ to the girls or something—“

eijiro kept rambling, but the blonde thought to himself and smirked, an idea came into his head. he dropped his hands and was panting, but he turned around with a smirk on his face, and a cocky attitude, “being shy to talk to her isn’t manly.”

eijiro was stuck, silent. how the hell was he supposed to prove his best friend wrong without making a fool of himself?

katsuki smirked and crossed his arms. he continued, “quit being a pussy and go talk to her. she wouldn’t turn someone like you down.”

the redhead stared at the ceiling before sitting up on his bed, still avoiding eye contact. katsuki thought in his mind, he’s not that shy. he just doesn’t want to bother you, he’ll talk to you eventually.

then eijiro shook his head and stood up, “i am not interrupting the conversation—“

katsuki bared his teeth and grabbed his friend by the back of his neck, and dragged him out of his dorm. the redhead yelped and shouted, “the hell are you doing, bakugo?! let go—“ he was about to activate his quirk when you stood by in the hallway, raising your eyebrow as you watched the scene unfold.

you pulled the hem of your tank top down, sweaty from finishing your workout a few minutes ago. concerned, you asked, “eiji, are you okay?” the redhead stared at you with wide eyes, then slapped katsuki’s arm away, you had a certain look in his eyes.

he nodded and put his hands in his pockets, “yeah, i’m okay, explosion boy just got a little frustrated, so i’m out here now!” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he started to walk with you in the halls.

you hummed and muttered an apology, to which he changed the subject, “you know, you were really good at training the other day. beat me up pretty good, i’ll give you that. still got a scar and a couple of bruises on my back.” he showed you, taking off his shirt like it was normal for him, revealing a hand-sized scar along his back, swarmed with green and purple bruises as well.

your heart hurt at the sight, but you knew you had to beat him. speaking your thoughts, you muttered, “it wasn’t that easy, though. your quirk is powerful, but you already know that.” you paused, and silence filled the halls for a couple of seconds, before you randomly complimented, “i really like your costume too. black and red look great on you, you should wear them more often.”

eijiro smiled, showing off his sharp teeth, and blushed, “ah, thanks. i put some hard work into the whole costume idea and kept switching whether or not i should’ve added something to the outfit or not, whether i should change the colors…”

he ranted about his costume for a while before realizing you were staring at him in awe, listening to every single thing he said. he apologized, but you shook your head.

“don’t stop, i like hearing you talk.”

the redhead's cheeks almost turned into the color of his hair, he chuckled and continued talking, wanting to rant forever if you would look at him like that again. his body felt warm, and it was radiating off of him onto you, making you more nervous.

once he almost ran out of things to say, and you had passed his room seven times after taking laps around the floor, he suggested, “we should train together. with our quirks, i’m sure we’d make a powerful team, don’t you think?”

you grinned and sweetly agreed, “i’d like that.”

the two of you talked for a couple of minutes more before he dropped you off at your room. once he was done, he walked back to his room, where katsuki was still trying to demolish his punching bag. the blonde smirked and eyed him from the side, but eijiro walked up to him and ruffled his hair, earning a grunt and a slap.

the redhead stated, “thanks, bro! we talked for so long, and we’re even goin’ to train together tomorrow—“

that started the two-hour rant eijiro would go on about you.

hi guys! hope u enjoyed this! this is my first eijiro writing! i didn’t really know how to characterize him as if he had a crush on reader, so i tried my best!

divider creds: @cafekitsune

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iamsebastiansstan · 2 months ago

Text

broke you just to own you - NAC x fem!reader

summary - He’s like a man possessed, and he’s come to hunt down what is rightfully his: her first explosive full-body orgasm, the one she promised him, the one that seals his ownership over her sex, the one she’s desperate to give him. wc - 5k - MINORS DNI!

warnings - nasty nasty dirty talk, squirting, pussy slapping, MENTIONS of pee but only because he's so gone in the moment that he says something fucked up to make her cum, cockwarming, loving humiliation hehe

A/N - welcome to my depraved mind, we're only getting started. thank y'all for your continuous support and feedback, means a lot! love you, hope you enjoy <333

taglist - @hoffmansgirl / @blackynsupremacy / @emluvsuxo / @urlitttlevenicebitch / @niteskysx / @lalavenderangel / @nicholaschavezbby / @motherismotheringggg

PART 3 - SERIES MASTERLIST !

Bleary-eyed and messy-haired she stumbles down the stairs, crabby at having woken up all by herself in bed instead of wrapped up in his arms. She hears voices coming from the kitchen and follows that sound, finding Nicholas and Cooper sitting at the counter, sharing leftover fries and laughing about one thing or another.

Without saying a word, she steps up to Nicholas and buries her face in his neck, unabashed in her neediness, and whimpers when he immediately goes to hold her against him tightly.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, “you grumpy?” He chuckles through her nod. “’m here now, (Y/N).”

“Never mess with her post-nap,” Cooper provides helpfully, “or you’ll regret it.”

“Is that so?” Nicholas asks, the smirk evident in his voice, as he pulls her away to look her in the eye. “What’ll happen if I do?”

She glares at him, puts as much heat as possible behind it, making him have to suppress a laugh.

“I don’t think you’re brave enough to find out,” Cooper winks before getting up to fix her a plate of leftovers. “You must be starving.”

She nods. “Yeah. And ‘m cold.”

Nicholas immediately wraps her up in his arms, pulls her back against his chest, the sleeves of his hoodie warm on her exposed skin. Together they watch Cooper walk around the kitchen.

“You got any plans till Wednesday?” he whispers in her ear, making her shudder as he kisses the shell of it softly. She shakes her head no. “Good, because Cooper is letting me kidnap you to my place until you have to leave.”

Feeling her heart rate pick up and hoping he doesn’t notice, she turns to look at him.

“Really?”

“Really. I’ve got all the time in the world and you still in my system. I… I can’t let you go, (Y/N), not yet. ‘s that okay with you?”

She nods eagerly and pulls him in to press a hard kiss against his mouth, not deepening it but letting him know just how good she thinks his idea is. Cooper interrupts them by putting the plate in front of them, clearing his throat as he does so.

“You’ll come see me one more time before your flight, though, right?” he asks, and she softens at the sweetness in his eyes.

Pulling away from Nick, she steps into Cooper’s arms, hugging him tight.

“Of course. And as soon as my classes are done, I’ll be back here. Or you can come visit me!”

“We’ll arrange something for sure,” he mumbles against her shoulder before letting her step away to eat her dinner.

Soon enough she’s packing her suitcase, putting things she’ll be needing at Nick’s place in an extra bag so she can reach for them easier. She’s glad he’s decided to stay downstairs because she needs a moment to herself, needs to reflect on everything going on inside of her when she thinks about these past couple of days. Things seem to be going fast, they’re extremely intense, but she doesn’t think she minds. He makes her feel good, treats her well, fucks her like nobody has fucked her before and she sees no issue in basking in this situation for as long as she can.

It's not like she’s using him, not more than he is using her, at least. All the status symbols he possesses- the money, the fame, his job title- none of them matter to her, all she wants is him. No shame in that, she tells herself, silently checking the room to make sure nothing is forgotten. Even if, she’ll be back here in no time. That thought alone excites her more than she thought it would.

It doesn’t take long for Nick to get her stuff into his car, for her to hug Cooper goodbye, and then it’s just the two of them on the drive to his place, music playing softly.

“You had a good nap, at least?” he asks, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

She’s taking in her surroundings, the lights of the city bright through the darkness of the evening.

“Yeah,” she smiles, “I really needed it. You wore me out.”

He grins at that, shameless, takes her hand in his and kisses the back of it. It makes her stomach flutter.

“How’s your body feeling?”

“I’m wired,” she chuckles, “sore, but… y’know.”

A raise of an eyebrow, a tilt of the mouth, his question, “What?”

Feeling heat crawl up her neck, she decides to be truthful. “I could go again.”

The sound he makes is less of a chuckle and more of a groan, although a mix of both, and she wishes there was a discreet way to rub her thighs together.

“I’ve got plans for us, baby,” he smiles, doesn’t take his eyes off the road, “and most of them include fucking you over and over again. Are you okay with that?”

She nods, throat dry, knowing he isn’t looking at her, knowing he can see her reaction anyway.

“Yeah? You okay with me sending you home with a swollen, come-filled pussy?”

“Fucking hell, Nicholas,” she exhales, turning away from him to drive a shaky hand over her face, already greedy for it.

Through a smile he says, “Answer me, (Y/N).”

Swallowing feels like nails are scraping down her throat, but she does anyway, speaks, “Y-yeah, I’m absolutely okay with it. Need it.”

He hums.

“That you do, little girl,” he says, more to himself than to her, as he pulls into his driveway. "That you do."

When he’s parked his car, he immediately grabs her by the neck, pulls her into a searing kiss that leaves her whimpering in his mouth, pressing closer to get at him better, get the full taste of him, but too soon for her liking he’s pulling away, opening his door and getting out. She’s breathing hard, trying to collect herself, when he opens her door and helps her step out, ever the gentleman.

He grabs her stuff from the trunk and leads the way inside, her eyes widening at how beautiful his place is- warm colors and tasteful decorations, lots of windows to let the California sun in during the day. She adores it already. The house tour he gives her is quick, but she appreciates that he takes the time to do so anyways. Nicholas sets her suitcase down in the bedroom before gathering her in his arms.

“Wanna shower together?” he asks, kisses her after she gives him a nod.

The air around them is crackling with tension, although she feels comfortable in it, knowing it’ll pay off to be patient and go at the pace he’s set. She hasn’t known him long, but if there’s one thing she knows, it’s that there’s a reason for and a certain kind of expertise in everything he is doing, and he always exceeds her expectations.

Her stomach is in knots from all the excitement.

The way he undresses her is unhurried, isn’t even sexual, closed lips pressed against hers and a smile on his face. He makes sure the water is warm, makes sure her hair is up and out of the way, before he pulls her in after him, lets the water soak them both while they giggle into each other’s mouths.

Choosing from his collection of expensive shower gels isn’t easy, but she picks a vanilla scented one, groaning as his strong hands massage it into the tense lines of her back.

“You’re good at that,” she whispers, knows he’ll hear her over the noise of the shower stream.

He steps away to let the water rinse the foam off before pressing a kiss to her shoulder, turning her around to continue washing her front, her doing the same with his gorgeously toned torso. When it comes to washing their private areas, they each do it to themselves, grinning at each other at the strangely mundane way they’re behaving.

“And here I was, hoping to get my hand near your ass,” he pretend-sulks, laughing at the smack she delivers to his chest.

“Not like this, Mister!”

Her heart feels full when he towels her off, hands her his fancy body lotion with a raised brow, lotions her back after she does the same for him. She likes that they smell the same now, with a hint of themselves. Soon they’ll smell like themselves, with a hint of the other.

Back in his bedroom, he walks to his closet and pulls out a pair of briefs, pulls them up his muscular legs, fitting them snugly around his crotch. He slides the doors of his wardrobe closed, revealing huge mirrors on the wood, facing the bed.

Unsure, she moves to her suitcase to get her own underwear when he stops her in her tracks, “No, you stay naked. Get rid of the towel.”

Biting her lip, she does as he asks and pulls the material away from her body, hangs it on the doorknob. Standing there in front of him, stark naked as his eyes move up and down her frame, makes her toes curl in anticipation. If she were to reach out and touch her pussy right now, her fingers would come away wet.

“Fuckin’ stunning,” Nicholas breathes, leaning in to kiss her deeply, already letting his tongue come out to play with hers. She moans as he kisses over her jaw and down to her neck, licking a stripe up her skin until he reaches her ear, whispers, “Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” she confirms immediately, nodding shakily. “Always.”

His smile is small yet dirty, enjoying her admission immensely.

Hand in hand they walk to the bed, Nicholas letting himself fall onto the soft mattress and pulling her down until she’s seated between his thighs, her back to his chest, feeling the rise and fall of every calm breath.

Her eyes shut on their own accord when he starts kissing her neck from behind, nibbling at the skin softly, just how she likes. Smaller hands grip the forearms he’s got around her waist, making him tighten them, making her feel his body right there behind hers.

“Hey, open your eyes,” he whispers, nips at her earlobe, “look at us.”

Confused, she does as he tells her to before the realization hits her: she sees them, right in front of her, his thick thighs framing her hips, her legs open and pussy on display, their arms clutching each other, their faces red.

Embarrassment grips her, then, the lewd image of herself entirely new to her, but when she goes to closer her legs on instinct, his hands are there to keep them apart.

“No, don’t do that. I want you to look at yourself. What do you see?”

His voice is warm and encouraging yet holds an edge of authority, causing her stomach to clench. She wants to fight his command almost as much as she wants to fight her shame, and in the end, she wins the fight against the latter. She widens her legs again, looks at herself, bites her lip shily.

“I see… us. How good we look, how well we fit together.”

“Mhm. What else?”

An inhale, an exhale, she pushes on.

“I see my pussy… how wet you make me. I’ve been clenching since we got out of the shower,” she chuckles, a tinge of ridicule in her tone, “I’m so fucking desperate for you, and I’ve already had you today.”

He hums, letting two of his long, capable fingers drive through her slick folds, making her exhale harshly.

“You’re dripping, baby,” he notes, almost absent-mindedly. “But I want you wetter. I need you to be completely relaxed for what I’m gonna do to you tonight, okay?”

“W-what’s that?”

Unexpectedly he pushes those two fingers deep into her, curls them, punches a spot inside of her that has her entire body freeze up, staring at him through the mirror with wide eyes.

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby,” he soothes, pets at her until she relaxes enough to let him pull out, hand resuming the stroking from before. “I wanna make you come on my hand, (Y/N). You see what you did just now, how you clamped your pussy shut around me? Can’t have that.”

He doesn’t scold her, she knows, he’s stating the truth, but still, she feels vulnerable, feels admonished, eyes welling up with tears.

“’m sorry, Nick, I’m just not used to it, I don’t think I can-“

“Hey, hey, none of that, baby,” he shushes her, takes his hands off her privates and wraps his arms around her tightly, clean hand finding her face and stroking along the soft skin of her cheek. “There’s nothing wrong with being nervous, sweetheart, okay? You just tell me if you want this, and I’ll make it happen. I can get your body to do anything I want it to; you just need to let me guide you through it.”

She chuckles softly, presses a kiss to his lips. “Awfully confident, are we?”

Nicholas’ expression is serious as he says, “Look, (Y/N), I know it’s bad etiquette to talk about this, but I mean it. I have so much fucking experience with this, and I want to show you what your body can do, what you get to do for me if you just give in, okay? You trust me, yeah?”

Enchanted, she stares into his deep brown eyes, the kindness they exude, nodding dumbly.

“Good girl,” he kisses her, then, a lot of tongue and some sharp teeth, before guiding her to lean back against him, to open her legs and resume the position they were in mere minutes ago.

“Fuck,” she exhales as she watches his right hand move over her most intimate parts, as his left hand holds hers against her stomach, watches how he’s just stroking between her outer and inner lips before moving along her slit, alternating like that.

“She’s so gorgeous,” he says, right next to her ear, “and so sweet. Sweetest pussy I’ve ever had, I swear. The way she cries for me, fuck… I wanna make her drench me.”

His words make her want to double over with want, make her want to claw at her skin, create new ways for him to enter her system, stay there and corrupt her from the inside out.

“It’ll make a mess, though,” she pipes up, her eyes trained on where he’s playing between her hips, same as his, “your poor bed.”

He chuckles, kisses her shoulder. “This may feel like a fuzzy blanket, but it’s actually a waterproof cover.” A laugh escapes him at her accusingly surprised face. “Told you I’ve got plans, baby. Plans require, well, planning.”

“Unbelievable,” she groans, no heat behind it.

“What can I say, I love catching you off guard,” he smiles before focusing back on touching her, keeping the sensation light. “What else do you see, c’mon, tell me.”

She huffs, swirling her hips and getting more comfortable.

“You’re such a talker,” she snaps weakly, yelps when he pinches the inside of her thigh.

“Gets you wet as fuck, though, doesn’t it?” She nods reluctantly. “Exactly, and that’s what I need you to be for this to work. C’mon, now, say it.”

Nicholas puts his fingers in a v-shape, pulls her pussy up so the skin of her hood is out of the way, so her clit is exposed for him to see. Her stomach turns, the nervousness at being studied so intently getting to her.

“Ugh, m-my clit is so… swollen. She wants to be touched, w-wants to come.”

He chuckles, grazes the very tip of a finger on his other hand against her nub, holds her tightly through the shudder that passes through her.

“So hard f’me,” he whispers, tortures her with that one digit. “But we won’t use her to make you come tonight, will we, (Y/N)?”

“N-no,” she stammers, throws her head back for a second before looking back up.

“What will we use, tell me.”

“M-my spot,” she breathes, delirious with want, feeling her cunt clench around nothing as it pushes her wetness out. “Gonna come from my- my spot.”

“That’s right,” he husks into her ear, the praise making her skin erupt in a blush as he moves the v of his fingers down to spread her apart, moves a finger to her opening to tease it slightly. Looking straight at the slight gape of herself where he’s holding her open makes her mewl, resisting a thrash against his body. “This is where I’ll fuck into tonight, baby. This is what you’ll give me… you see how you’re gushing already?”

She nods before looking away, burying her face in the side of his neck, unable to look anymore. Shame curls along her spine, shame at being inspected like this, touched like this, shame at loving it so much she could start drooling. And the way he talks about her, sexual in an almost clinical way, God, how does he know just how to get under her skin? She never dared to admit how that objectification, that humiliation, made the spring inside of her core coil just on the right side of too tight.

“Hey, no, don’t do that,” he commands but she ignores him, whines into the sweat-slick skin of his neck while shaking her head no, ignores him until he pulls his hand back and delivers a soul-ripping smack to the oversensitive skin of her pussy, his palm connecting with her center and making a sharp slapping sound.

“Fuck!” she screams, throws herself against his chest as her toes curl, the pent-up tears streaming down her rosy cheeks. The ringing in her ears makes her feel like she’s losing her mind.

Nicholas holds her through it, of course, manhandles her so she opens up for him again, so she settles down and breathes in sync with him, so she calms down and surrenders to the game he’s playing with her body.

“When I tell you to look, you look,” he pants into her ear, tightens his arms around her until she feels like she can breathe again, “and when you don’t, I hurt you like you need to be hurt to finally fucking let me do what you’re craving me to do, okay? Do you fucking understand me, (Y/N)?”

She nods through a sob as he shakes her condescendingly, pushes herself back against him to feel the hard line of his body right behind her, needing to be as close to him as possible.

“Good girl, you’re my good little girl,” he whispers to her, reverence evident in his tone as he strokes her hair back from her sweaty face, as he kisses the tears away from her cheeks, kisses her drooling mouth softly. “Now describe your sloppy cunt to me, c’mon.”

She looks, opens her mouth to say something, groans as more tears leave her eyes.

“Fuck… Fuck, I can’t! I can’t, I’m so embarrassed, I-“

“Shhh, I know you are, baby, but this shit gets you hot, doesn’t it? Makes you so fucking horny for it, huh?”

She nods, unable to do much else, as he coaxes the filth right out of her.

“Baby, I need you to leave the shame at the door when you’re with me. I want you completely unhinged for me, I need you to give me that, do you understand me? I wanna, fuck, I wanna fuck you up, baby, wanna- need’a do bad, bad fuckin’ things to you.”

She’s been so engrossed with how she’s feeling that she never stopped to think about just how effected he is by this whole ordeal, but now it’s glaringly obvious in the way his words seem to rip right out of his chest, the way he stutters over them like even he can’t believe that this is what he wants, the way his breathing is labored and his body is rigid and how he’s keeping her back arched just enough so she wouldn’t be able to rub herself against his cock, his cock that is probably hot-red and leaking with need.

Taking strength from his vulnerability, she lets go, then, lets her mouth run wild with the fantasy she’s often had but never dared to voice out loud, scared of being the dirty girl he wants her to be for him. But this ends now. She’s not scared anymore now, not with him.

“She’s fucking pulsing for you, Nicholas, she needs you,” she whines, a breath punching out of her when he sinks two impossibly thick fingers into her, hooks them slightly for a pinch of the pressure but mainly gives her a delicious stretch. “I wanna feel you in my fuckin’- my fuckin’ stomach, my lungs, my- I don’t know, everywhere at the same time, fill me and claim me and rub your cock all over me so I smell like your come, so I’m- fuck, Nicholas, fuck!”

Crying comes easy to her, whole body feeling like a raw nerve as he shushes her, praises her, my dirty fucking girl, that’s it, give in, let me have you like this, holy shit (Y/N), yes baby, all the while his fingers are wreaking havoc on her insides.

“(Y/N), I need you to listen to me for a second, can you do that?” he asks, slowing his ministrations down until he’s just lazily fingering her, making her feel him but not overwhelming her with the sensation.

She nods dumbly, locks eyes with him through the mirror, doesn’t dare look away.

“’m listenin’,” she mumbles, purses her lips to kiss at his forearm that’s holding her down.

“I’m gonna have to fuck you really hard for you to come for me like this, okay? You’ll scream, and you’ll cry, and you’ll beg me to stop, but I won’t. We need a word for when you really need me to stop, though, okay? For emergencies.”

“Like- like a safe word?” she asks, eyes glazing over at the prospect of him ignoring her pathetic pleas until she exercises her full power and makes him stop.

The smile he gives her is full of pride, knowing. “Exactly, a safe word.”

Thinking is hard, her thoughts flowing slow like molasses, but she mumbles out, “How about red? Classic traffic light system.”

Nicholas kisses her then, a smile on his lips, presses close and smooches every inch of her face he can reach.

“My perfect girl, yes, we’ll do that. Red for when you need me to stop, and if that’s not the word you use, I won’t, okay?”

She nods, pussy clenching at what that means, how intense it’s going to be. If she had the energy to freak out, she probably would, would let her pulse spike and her chest constrict with anxiety, but her entire being is currently reduced to being Nicholas’ little plaything, to keeping herself pliant for him to work into.

His fingers find their way deep inside her again, find that spongy spot that has never been the cause of pleasure for her until he came and turned her world upside down, her body inside out.

Holding back her moans is not even an option as she watches him work her expertly, gaze switching between the point of view from above- where his palm is visible and slapping against her sensitive flesh, where his arm is flexing where it’s mustering up the strength to really abuse the pink insides of her pussy- and the view in the mirror, the front- where the veiny back of his hand is covering her most intimate part, the sight of her thighs shaking along the insides of his legs as he drives into her, obscene noises filling the room along with their heavy breaths.

A squelching noise reaches her ears, then, disgusting in its intensity but gut-wrenchingly hot in its obscenity, and she shuts her eyes tightly when he points it out, chuckles in her ear dirtily.

“You hear that, baby?” he grins, licks into her ear, “Your little spot filling up for me? God, you’re so fucking tight, getting so full… You’ll explode soon, huh? Just a liiittle bit more, c’mon.”

It’s a strange sensation, one that starts in her stomach and makes its way down, seemingly wrapping around her ovaries and forcing her to cramp her insides shut, fight against the onslaught of pleasure.

“Let it happen, (Y/N), don’t try to push me out.”

“C-can’t,” she whines, writhes and thrashes against his chest, kicks her leg out before he quickly reels her in, puts his stronger legs over hers and holds her steady, locked down against his hard muscle. “I’ll- Nick, I’m gonna pee, I don- I don’t wanna pee, I- I can’t-“

“You’re not going to, baby, you-“

“Please, please no more, Nick- hng- please, I’m gonna- no, baby, no-“

The movement of his hand increases and he’s really working his whole arm now, pushing at that spot inside of her, assaulting it with such precision and vigor that it makes her sick with desperation, stomach turning when she notices that she can’t keep it in, no matter how hard she tries. He’s like a man possessed, and he’s come to hunt down what is rightfully his: her first explosive full-body orgasm, the one she promised him, the one that seals his ownership over her sex, the one she’s desperate to give him.

Before she knows it, it’s escaping her: the wet flow of her juices, triggered only by his coaxing, only by the motions of his capable fingers inside of her, soaking his palm slowly but surely.

“Fucking let go for me, baby,” he grits through clenched teeth, brows furrowed as his laser-focused eyes look at her through the mirror, “you won’t pee, that’s just the wetness that’s been building up inside you, my sweet, because this little cunt hasn’t been treated right, has it, hasn’t been fucked like she deserves to be fucked, hasn’t been fuckin’ emptied out like she needs, huh? Ain’t that right, baby? It isn’t pee, don’t be shy, don’t worry.”

Just as she’s about to beg him to unhand her, her insecurity-riddled delirium putting that one word at the very tip of her tongue, the one word that will make him listen, he crashes her system with his hushed words, “And even if it was, you think I’d give a fuck? You think I wouldn’t lap up everything your body gives me, everything your pleasure-drunk cunt gives up for me? I wanna fucking break you, even if it means fucking the piss out of you,” he hisses, words barely audible over the way she screams as she lets go, her control snapping as her pussy sprays from the depth of her body and covers his hand, covers the bed, makes her see stars from how hard she’s clamping up, every single muscle in her body coiled tight.

It feels like it goes on forever.

It travels through her pussy, shakes her core all the way through her stomach up to her empty lungs, scratches at her throat and makes her eyes roll back. Even when he pulls out, lets go of her completely- only his chest against her back- she feels him still, feels that immense pressure inside of her not letting up.

Her hands fly up to cover her face as she starts to cry, heavy sobs wracking her entire body, and it only barely registers when he moves from behind her, lays her down so he can be right next to her, no point of their bodies touching except the hand he’s got in her hair. Nicholas isn’t even shushing her, not this time, instead just letting her cry it out as he provides a grounding presence, a slight pull of her hair so she can have something to focus on.

Time passes, but she doesn’t rush herself, couldn’t even if she tried. She lets her body calm down by itself, lets the sobs subside until they’re mere sniffles, until the breathless gasps for air turn into small hiccups. Only then does he scooch closer to wrap his arms around her, pulling her into his sweat-soaked chest and rocking her back and forth, legs tangled together, his face in her hair.

“You’re incredible,” he chokes out, and when she looks up, his eyes are full of unshed tears, pride oozing out of every pore of his being. “God, (Y/N)… Fuck.”

He pulls her in again and she lets herself be held, gives him the time to come down himself, the control he had over her body and how tight he had to hold onto it surely exhausting for his system.

“I’m so proud of you. So fucking proud. What you just gave me, that was… fuck, baby. My baby.”

“Yours,” she gasps, launches her entire body into his in hopes of being able to crawl under his skin, to wrap herself around his bones so she’d be a part of him forever, even when all that’s left of him is that ivory color and a sliver of her soul.

Their tongues meet messily, desperately, consuming each other with shallow breath, but they don’t take it further. He’s exhausted everything she had to give him for tonight, and he knows it, doesn’t push her past any more limits. She’s grateful for that unspoken decision, although the need to feel him inside of her, satisfy him physically after enriching him emotionally, keeps gnawing at her.

“Baby, baby,” she whispers, grabs his face and digs her nails into his soft cheeks, licks at his bottom lip, “sleep inside of me.”

The widening of his eyes would be comical if it weren’t a moment so sensual.

“You want me to?”

“I can’t- I need it, I can’t have you just outside. You belong inside.”

Her chin starts to tremble at her disorganized thoughts, the inability to get her tongue to form the words properly, but Nicholas shushes her, understands exactly what she means, and he pulls down his underwear to free his cock, hikes her leg up his hip and glides inside of her with one hard thrust.

It feels as if she’s being lit on fire from the inside, but she bears it, takes it for him and for herself, and cuddles closer into his arms.

“I might want to fuck you during the night, baby.”

She nods. “You can. Not now, but later, I’ll wan’ it again. I need your come, Nicholas.”

“Fuck, you’re so sweet, my sweetest girl,” he whispers, kisses her one more time before settling down, nestled deep within her folds.

Sleep overtakes her then, pulls her under, and all she wants to dream about is this moment right here, lasting forever.

#mine #my writing #nicholas alexander chavez #NICHOLAS ALEXANDER chavez x reader #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas chavez x y/n #nicholas chavez x female reader #NICHOLAS ALEXANDER Chavez smut #NICHOLAS ALEXANDER chavez fanfiction #nicholas Chavez smut #nicholas chavez fanfiction #monsters the lyle and erik menendez story #grotesquerie #nicholas alexander Chavez x female reader #charlie mayhew #father charlie mayhew #spencer cassadine

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eatmyheartoutjpg · 4 months ago

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AMNESIA ;; Headcanons. Rom. SFW. Jayce gets amnesia and seems to forget you're in a relationship, queue him falling in love with you and trying to woo you all over again.

12.08.24 Masterlist

— Jayce’s amnesia was from an unexpected lab accident while testing one of his latest inventions (one Viktor said not to go through with)

— As usual, anything with Hextech has good odds of exploding. The explosion left Jayce with a few injuries, but nothing major as he was luckily able to scramble away before impact.

— One issue, Jayce hit his head hard. And it seems like his memories are fragmented, scattered about.

— Viktor is the one who informs you about his condition, and though he’s not one for sentimentality, he gives you a subtle "good luck" look, clearly amused by the situation

— When Jayce first sees you after waking up, he immediately recognizes you as someone important but can’t quite place why. His heart races, but he assumes it’s because you’re ridiculously attractive.

— “Wow, uh, hi. Do we… work together?” He stumbles over his words, completely oblivious to the fact that he’s greeted you every morning with a kiss for months.

— You quickly learn that trying to convince him about your relationship outright doesn’t work. He seems too embarrassed to believe it’s true without some "evidence."

— Even with amnesia, his personality remained the same

— Jayce quickly becomes enamored with your kindness and presence. Even though he doesn't remember your relationship, he finds himself gravitating toward you, making excuses to spend more time together.

— He gets flustered and awkward whenever you’re near, suddenly back to his old self before you were a couple—blushing and overthinking every word he says to you (you thought it was quite cute)

— Viktor watches the entire thing like it’s his favorite drama series, sometimes quietly muttering, “You’re pathetic” when Jayce nervously rehearses ways to ask you out (he's dealt with it the first time, doesn't need a second)

— Jayce goes full “romantic mode,” thinking he’s trying to impress you for the first time. Flowers start appearing at your desk, hand-picked (poorly arranged, but cute nonetheless).

— He invites you to “lunch meetings” that are just dates in disguise. “I thought we could brainstorm over some food?” he says, a little too enthusiastically.

— If you asked where Viktor was, his actual lab partner, he'd shrug and say "He's.. busy"

— His love for grand gestures definitely resurfaced.

— One day, he shows up with a personalized invention—a tiny mechanical gadget shaped like a flower that lights up when you touch it. You don’t have the heart to tell him it’s the same gift he gave you on your last anniversary, but it does warm your heart nonetheless

— Overtime,Jayce gets fleeting moments where things feel oddly familiar. When you instinctively reach for his hand while walking, he feels a spark of recognition but chalks it up to an imagination.

— At one point, you accidentally call him by an affectionate nickname you’ve always used. He freezes, a blush creeping up his neck, and mutters, “I… I think I like when you call me that.”

— And besides that, Jayce gets adorably jealous when anyone else seems to monopolize your attention, even though he can’t quite figure out why he feels so protective over someone he isn't even with

— If someone flirts with you, he awkwardly but assertively inserts himself into the conversation. “Oh, I think they’re busy with me right now.”

— He tries to subtly fish for information about your "type," not realizing he’s literally your type.

— Though tempted to tell him everything outright, you realize how sweet it is to watch him fall for you all over again. It’s like reliving the honeymoon phase of your relationship.

— Everyone else doesn't feel the same, Mel and Viktor both felt a mix of amusement and exhaustion at the constant lovesick rambling Jayce, always talking about you

— Jayce, when he first fell in love with you, was so apparent. But again? It's a romcom at this point.

— Sometimes you drop small hints about your history together. “Funny, you used to make me coffee just like this,” you tease when he tries to impress you with his barista skills.

— At one point, you jokingly ask, “What if I told you we were already dating?” His immediate reaction—widened eyes and a nervous laugh—makes your heart melt.

— After weeks of awkward flirting and unspoken tension, Jayce can’t hold it in any longer. He confesses his feelings in classic dramatic fashion, stumbling over his words but sincere.

— “I know this might sound crazy, but I think… I’m falling for you. Or maybe I’ve already fallen—I don’t know. I just know I don’t want to mess this up.”

— You decide it’s time to fill in the gaps, gently telling him about your relationship. He’s stunned at first but quickly shifts to a mix of relief and happiness. “Wait, so I already got to be with you? And I forgot?! I must be the luckiest idiot alive.”

— Once Jayce knows the truth, he’s even more determined to make up for lost time, showering you with affection and doubling down on all the little things he thinks he missed.

— The two of you create new memories while revisiting old ones, turning the experience into a fresh new chapter in your relationship.

— Jayce jokes that he’ll never take you for granted again, but you know deep down that he never did—even when he didn’t remember, his heart still knew where it belonged.

ˢᵉᵛᵉⁿ

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bambieyedoll · 16 days ago

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⋆·˚ ༘ * PAUL LAHOTE HEADCANNONS 𐚁̸.ᐟ

𐙚 arguing and making up with paul lahote

fights with paul are heated.

he’s passionate, and when he’s upset, he feels it in his bones.

he raises his voice without meaning to, his emotions running too hot, too fast.

his hands clench into fists at his sides—not because he’s mad at you, but because he’s trying to hold it in, trying not to shift from the intensity of it all.

“you’re not listening to me!” you snap, arms crossed as you glare up at him.

paul lets out a frustrated laugh—sharp, humorless. “no, you’re not listening! you don’t get it, do you?”

“then explain it to me, paul!”

his jaw tightens, chest rising and falling as he exhales sharply through his nose.

his temper is teetering on the edge, but the moment he sees the hurt in your eyes, his shoulders slump, and suddenly, winning the argument doesn’t seem worth it.

storming off? oh, absolutely.

paul’s first instinct when things get too much is to leave before he does or says something he’ll regret.

he’ll run—literally—shifting into his wolf form to burn off the frustration.

the air crackles with tension as he turns on his heel, muscles tight, every part of him screaming to get out before he makes things worse.

“where are you going?”

he doesn’t answer at first, just scrubs a hand down his face before muttering, “before i say something i don’t mean.”

“so you’re just gonna leave?”

his steps falter, and his shoulders tense. “…i’ll be back.” and he always is.

but if you try to walk away? nope. not happening.

he’s not letting you leave in the middle of a fight—not when he knows how stubborn you are, how you’ll stew in your frustration for hours.

“no. you don’t get to walk away from me.” his voice is lower now, rough with something desperate as he grabs your wrist—gently, but firm. “we finish this.”

“paul, i need space—”

“i need you.” his voice cracks, and for a second, his anger dims, something raw flashing in his expression. “please. just—don’t go.”

he never fights dirty.

paul may have a temper, but he never says anything cruel, never goes for low blows.

even in the heat of the moment, even when his voice is sharp and his chest is heaving, there’s a line he won’t cross.

“i don’t want to do this right now,” you mutter, rubbing your temples.

his jaw flexes, but when he speaks, his voice is quieter. “yeah? well, neither do i. but i’d rather fight with you than not have you at all.”

his anger burns fast and hot, but so does his love for you, and the second he realizes he might have actually hurt you, it kills him.

paul isn’t great with words—he knows that—but when the fire dies down and the weight of what happened settles, he hates the thought of you being mad at him.

so he makes it right, however he can.

and he will. because no fight, no matter how explosive, is worth losing you.

“baby, come on,” he mutters, pacing outside your door after you stormed off. “are we really gonna do this all night?”

when you don’t answer, he huffs out a sharp breath, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “…i hate this.”

space? paul sucks at giving it.

if you tell him you need time to cool off, he’ll try—he really will—but it’s hard for him to be away from you when things aren’t right.

he spends the whole time restless, running a hand down his face every five minutes, sighing loudly like he’s suffering.

if you really push it, he’ll leave. but it won’t last long.

twenty minutes later, there’s a heavy knock on your window, and when you open it, he’s just standing there—windblown, barefoot, looking like he’s been through hell.

“…i changed my mind,” he says, voice quiet. “i don’t wanna be away from you.”

the second he sees you upset, all his anger is gone.

the fight, the frustration, the sharp words—it all fades the moment he catches the redness in your eyes, the tension in your shoulders.

“shit, baby” he mutters, exhaling hard as he steps closer. “i did this to you?”

when you don’t answer, he curses again, softer this time, and suddenly his hands are on you, warm and solid, like he’s trying to anchor you back to him.

“baby, i—” his voice catches, and he swallows hard. “i didn’t mean to make you cry.”

paul isn’t one for long-winded apologies, but you feel it in everything he does.

the way his hands tremble just a little when he cups your face, the way his forehead presses against yours like he needs to feel you close.

“i was a dick,” he admits, voice low and rough. “i don’t wanna fight with you, baby. not like that.”

“you were a massive dick.”

“…yeah.” his lips twitch, just slightly, before he sighs and pulls you into his arms. “i’ll make it up to you.”

kisses. so many kisses.

his way of saying I’m sorry is touch—soft at first, like he’s waiting for you to push him away, but when you don’t, when you melt into him just a little, it’s over.

his lips trail over your forehead, your temple, down to your jaw, murmuring apologies between each one.

“still mad?” he asks against your skin.

“…a little.”

his grip tightens, warm and possessive, as his lips find yours. “yeah?” he whispers, thumb brushing over your cheek. “tell me what i gotta do, baby. i’ll do it.”

clingy. so clingy.

the argument may be over, but paul still has that itch under his skin, that need to keep you close after almost losing you to anger.

he doesn’t let you go for hours, arms wrapped around you like a second skin.

“you don’t have to suffocate me, paul.”

“yeah, i do.” he buries his face in your neck, voice muffled. “lost my mind without you.”

“it was, like, half a day.”

he just tightens his grip. “too long.”

at the end of the day, there’s never a doubt that he chooses you.

no matter how big the fight, no matter how loud the argument, it always comes back to this—paul holding onto you, like letting go isn’t an option.

“you’re my girl,” he murmurs against your hair, voice softer now, filled with something achingly real. “always.”

#paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote headcannons #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote x you #paul lahote twilight #paul lahote fanfic #paul lahote angst #paul lahote fluff #paul lahote x y/n #twilight #twilight wolfpack #twilight werewolves #twilight headcanon #twilight fic #twilight fanfic #werewolf #werewolves #fanfic

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tinkerbellknockoff · 3 months ago

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beautiful blue hair // jinx x fem! reader

jinx eased quickly into her new life at demacia, deciding to do something for the first time in her life- see a hair stylist.

-- a/n: had this idea after staring at s2ep9 jinx and realizing that haircut would probably grow out terribly. this was written at 3am, enjoy!

jinx found being at demacia good enough. it was a very different culture than the life in zaun that she was used to, but arguably, she thought that was great for her. she was free to be herself, with no repercussion because here- she had no weight of the past weighing her down.

the only thing? she mildly regretted the haircut of choice that ekko had given her. during her crisis back in zaun, ekko had came to her side- he helped her. and, even with jinx's hyperindependency, she knew she had bits to thank him for.

looking in the mirror, seeing the comically long bang hanging in front of her face compared to her bob length hair, she figured this was the one thing she wasn't going to thank him for.

it looked great when it was first cut, though, which was a bonus.

but jinx's hair grew freakishly fast. weekly in her workshop she'd give herself little trims to tame her hair. unfortunately for her, she grabbed a whole lot of things while packing her bag- one thing she didn't?

scissors.

jinx let out an annoyed huff, "oh, c'mon! seriously? out of all things?"

she spoke to herself, the walls echoing back nothing but the sound of her own voice. jinx's hands continued to brush through her hair, looking at the chopped layers in mild distaste. she had never been one to ever care about her appearance but for some reason, this peeved her. real bad.

during her examining, her eyes caught a glimpse of something. during her time walking and exploring demacia, she was given scattered flyers, business owners wanting to promote their stores. she chose not to throw them away, believing that since she was making a new life for herself, she might try to get out more. normally. without explosives, even though she'll find it significantly less entertaining.

"daffodil's," jinx muttered, the name slipping off her tongue as she picked up the flyer from the pile. she hummed in interest, eyeing the design, promoting a small salon that had recently opened.

jinx scanned it over one last time before sighing to herself, "... why not?"

☆☆

jinx slowly pulled open the door of the tiny salon. it was in the downtown area, tucked into a less busy area. she liked that a lot.

she was greeted with a soft smell of sandalwood, the sound of the heater in the building slightly humming, giving a background to the idle chattering of the few people that were inside.

a girl, possibly around jinx's age, sat at the front desk. the desk was a little bit to the side of the entrance, the person sitting there catching a glimpse of whoever entered first. but, the girl was too preoccupied.

the girl sat comfortably on a chair, slightly reclined back as she calmly chewed gum, occasionally popping a small bubble. her feet were elevated, resting on the desk, a magazine in her hands as she loosely flipped through the page.

jinx's eyes scanned her over, biting her lip almost nervously. why hadn't she just decided to go out and buy a damn pair of scissors? would've been much less work. she walked up to the front desk, her boots clanking against the floor in a rhythmic, melodic kind of way. this caught the girl's attention, causing her to look up from the magazine, her chewing stopping for a second.

as jinx finally got up to the counter, the girl adjusted, sitting upright and giving the blue-haired girl a grin. she tilted her head, her (h/c) hair tumbling to the side as she looks at jinx.

"hi there! how can i help ya? do you have an appointment?"

the girl's relaxed, bubbly demeanor was almost nauseating to jinx. she never once dealt with someone so... she doesn't even know. she took a deep breath in, calming her nerves she didn't realize existed, giving the girl a grin in return.

"hi! i was wondering if you could do... erm..." jinx's voice trailed off for a moment. she doesn't know terminology. an appointment? is that the word? no, those are in advance-

her thoughts stopped yelling at her as the girl gave jinx a soft smile. "we do walk-ins. you looking for a new do?"

the girl giggled at her own terminology, moving the chair back to stand up. jinx nodded, "yup, one of those."

"great. i'm free to take you back," the girl beckoned jinx with her hand, leading her to the furthest chair in the corner, patting the seat as she grabs an apron from the side. "what can i do for ya?"

jinx slipped into the chair. it was so comfortable to her, it almost felt foreign. it was wood but it was lightly cushioned, and had a slight modern feel. jinx's reflection greeted her, one that she only recently got used to with having a new unbroken mirror.

jinx cleared her throat, "just.. wanting it fixed. or whatever."

the girl lightly ran a finger through jinx's hair, bringing it up to assess the layers in her hair. jinx slightly tensed at the new touch, but didn't let it alarm her too much.

"at home hairdo, huh?" the girl spoke humorously, meeting jinx's gaze in the mirror. jinx huffed, refraining from giving the girl a glare. she didn't want to be made fun of for her decisions, and before she could make a retort, the girl started speaking again, "i get it. once i accidentally cut my hair up to my ears- wait i shouldn't be telling you that."

the girl cut herself off, and that got a laugh from jinx, giving you a lopsided grin in the mirror, "don't tell me that when you're gonna be chopping at my hair, toots."

the girl gave a sheepish shrug, before asking, "anything in particular in mind?"

jinx pursed her lips for a moment. did she? no. "just... whatever you want, yeah?"

the girl rose her eyebrows, "trusting a complete stranger with ya looks? bold. i dig it."

jinx found the girl funny. jinx watched the girl begin to even out the layers in her hair, chopping her hair to a length just right underneath her chin. jinx liked it so far.

eventually, the girl came around to the front, bending slightly to meet jinx's height as she grabbed at the long strand of hair, evening it out as she chopped a pair of bangs on jinx. the position got jinx to awkwardly clear her throat, looking away.

even with the avoidance, the girl started speaking up, "ya know, people say that hair holds memories."

jinx didn't know that.

"so what was so special about this one piece of hair?" the girl grinned in a playful manner, and jinxed watched the long strands fall onto her lap. she looked in the mirror and there were a pair of bangs just falling right above her eyebrows, nicely blending in with the rest of her hair.

"aren't you nosey?" jinx quips back, though without malice. jinx thought this girl was nice, even without knowing her for that long at all. and, seeing her new hair, she couldn't but have some approval.

"just makin' conversation, yeah?" the girl giggled. "let's get you washed?"

jinx hadn't realize how long it'd been since she washed her hair.

feeling the girl's hands and manicured nails shampoo at her scalp was almost a moan worthy, toe curling experience as the girl didn't speak, but only chewed on the piece of gum that had been in her mouth. she could tell jinx was enjoying it, but she didn't judge. I mean... who doesn't like getting their hair shampooed?

time passed quickly as eventually jinx ended up back in the salon chair, the girl eventually wrapping up blowing out jinx's hair, leaving her hair straight and soft, the heat nice against jinx's neck.

jinx couldn't believe who she saw in the mirror. this is what she needed. what she wanted. when she saw herself in the mirror, she didn't think "jinx" or "powder". she just felt.. like herself.

the girl eyed her expression in the mirror, giving a soft grin, "ya like it?"

jinx stopped admiring herself for one moment as she met your gaze in the mirror, nodding vigorously, giving you a grin, "love it, toots."

she paused for a moment, "what's your name?"

the girl tilted her head, telling jinx her name, "recommend me to your friends, yeah?"

jinx repeated your name, letting your name roll off her tongue. she wasn't going to let you know that she has no friends, but she gave you a grin, "definitely."

jinx became a regular after that.

#jinx x reader #jinx #powder #wlw #wlw post #arcane #arcane x reader #arcane x you #arcane x y/n #arcane x female reader

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starkwlkr · 13 days ago

Text

i gave so many signs | mark webber

an: instead of mark announcing this retirement in early 2013, it’ll be announced at the end of the 2013 season

part 1

2013

For the past week, Y/n and Mark had avoided each other. It was complicated since their place of work required them to see each other daily, but somehow they didn’t speak one word to each other.

After the race, while Y/n talked with Sergio Perez, a Red Bull strategist approached them interrupting their conversation.

“Mark needs to speak with you.” The strategist told Y/n.

“Tell him he can come tell that himself.” Y/n tried to continue her conversation, but the strategist insisted.

“He said it’s very important and to bring the papers . . .” The strategist wasn’t sure what ‘bring the papers’ meant but either way he delivered the message.

That was enough for Y/n to apologize to Sergio for cutting their conversation short and leaving to find Mark. Well, her first stop was to retrieve her bag then find Mark. How did he know about the papers? It was a mystery to her.

She knew Mark was in his drivers room so she made her way to him. She also knew he wasn’t in the best mood. One word. Multi-21. Y/n had witnessed it. It was heartbreaking to watch so she would occasionally look down at her wedding ring and play with it.

When she finally made it to Mark’s room, she lightly knocked. “Yeah?” She heard Mark’s soft voice call out. Y/n opened the door and saw a worn out Mark seated on the floor. Once he saw her, he sat up straight and cleared his throat. “I didn’t think you would come. . .”

“How do you know?” She got straight to the point.

Mark knew what she was talking about. Last month he had found divorce papers on the kitchen counter of their shared home. Y/n was out running errands and Mark had come back early from the Gym.

Mark didn’t look up right away. He exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face before finally meeting her gaze.

“I know you’re not happy,” he said, voice thick with exhaustion. “And I’m not either. So let me sign them, and we’ll each go our separate ways.”

Y/n tightened her grip on the papers. For a moment, she hesitated. She had come here fully expecting this outcome—after all, Mark had sent a strategist to find her, to tell her to meet him here and bring the papers. He was ready. He had made his choice.

A part of her still believed there was something to salvage. That maybe, despite all the fights, despite the growing distance, they could fix it. That this—whatever this was—wasn’t the end of them.

But then she thought about what Mark really wanted. What he had always wanted.

A family. A home. Something she wasn’t willing to give up everything for. She had worked too hard, fought too long to be where she was, to have a career that meant everything to her. And the truth was, she knew Mark wouldn’t be the one making the sacrifices.

So she swallowed the lump in her throat and took slow, measured steps toward him. Without another word, she held out the papers.

Mark took them, his hands steady as he flipped to the last page. The only sound in the room was the scratch of his pen against the paper as he signed his name.

And then it was done.

They sat in silence for a while, both staring at the floor, neither one sure what to say now that the inevitable had finally happened. It wasn’t an argument, it wasn’t explosive—it was just over.

Mark turned his head slightly, looking at her with something unreadable in his expression. “I hope you can be happy,” he murmured.

Y/N swallowed hard before nodding. “You too.” She hesitated, then added, “Maybe with someone who can give you what you want.”

Mark shook his head, a sad smile ghosting over his lips. “No,” he said softly. “That won’t happen. Because I want that with you.”

She looked at him then, really looked at him, and for a fleeting second, she thought about what could’ve been. But it was too late. It had been too late for a long time.

So she nodded, turned on her heel, and walked out the door.

2023

The air was thick with tension and anticipation, the sound of engines roaring down the straight filling the garage as McLaren’s pit crew stood ready. It was the first race of the season, and Oscar’s rookie year. Y/n felt the familiar pulse of adrenaline coursing through her veins, but beneath it, a layer of nerves simmered.

As she moved to step into the garage, someone else did at the same time. Their shoulders brushed, the unexpected contact making them both pause.

Mark.

For a second, neither of them spoke. They hadn’t spoken in years, hadn’t even acknowledged each other in the paddock despite the countless times they had been in the same space.

Y/n muttered a quiet, “Excuse me,” and stepped aside to let him through, treating him like he was just another person in the garage, just another face in the paddock.

Mark didn’t like it.

"Y/n," he said firmly.

She sighed, already exhausted by the conversation she knew was coming. “Mark, I have a job to do.”

“I know. And you’re brilliant at it. But I need to talk to you.”

She shook her head. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“There is,” he insisted, lowering his voice. “I miss you.”

Her breath hitched slightly, but she didn’t let it show. “Mark…”

“I don’t care about kids anymore,” he cut in before she could protest. “That was years ago. We’re older now. Things are different.”

She inhaled sharply, stepping back. “You can’t say that.”

“Why not?” He tilted his head. “It’s the truth.”

“Because—” Her breath hitched, her vision blurring. “Because I ruined everything.”

Mark’s brows furrowed. “Y/n…”

She shook her head, her hands trembling. “I didn’t even think about it, Mark. I could’ve had both—I could’ve had a career and a family, but I didn’t even try. I was so fucking stubborn, so afraid of losing what I worked for that I didn’t see that I was losing you.”

Mark’s face softened, his expression pained as he reached for her. This time, she didn’t pull away. His hands settled gently on her arms, grounding her.

“I would’ve waited for you,” he murmured. “I would’ve figured it out with you. I didn’t want just a family, Y/n—I wanted you.”

A shaky breath escaped her lips as she shut her eyes, trying to hold herself together, but it was no use. The years of regret, of what-ifs, of missed chances—they crashed over her all at once.

Mark pulled her in without hesitation, his arms wrapping around her as she broke down against his chest.

“You didn’t ruin everything,” he whispered into her hair. “We’re here. Right now. We can still—” He swallowed hard. “We can still try.”

She clung to him, her mind racing, her heart aching. She wanted to believe him. She really did. But could she forgive herself? Could she let herself have this again?

She didn’t have an answer.

But for the first time in a decade, she let herself hold onto him, just for a little while longer.

Y/n didn’t know how long they stood there. Seconds? Minutes? It didn’t matter. Because for the first time in ten years, she wasn’t just existing alongside him—she was with him. And it hurt. God, it fucking hurt.

She pulled back, wiping her face with the sleeve of her McLaren jacket, her hands unsteady. “I should get back,” she muttered, her voice still thick with emotion.

Mark frowned, reluctant to let go, but he dropped his arms. “Y/n—”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “This—whatever this is—this conversation shouldn’t be happening.”

His jaw tightened. “Why not?”

Y/n’s breath was unsteady, her chest rising and falling as she struggled to get a grip on herself. She needed to leave before she said something she couldn’t take back.

But Mark wasn’t letting her go that easily.

“Why do you do this?” he demanded, stepping closer. “Why do you push me away and then act like it hurts you just as much?”

Before she could think—before she could stop herself—her hands shot up, grabbing his face, and she kissed him. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was desperate and angry, all clashing teeth and bottled-up regret.

For a moment, Mark didn’t react, frozen in shock. And then he did, his hands moving to her waist, pulling her closer like he was afraid she’d slip through his fingers again.

And then reality hit.

Y/N pulled back, her lips tingling, her mind reeling.

“Oh, fuck,” she whispered, eyes wide.

Mark barely had time to process before her palm connected with his cheek in a sharp, stinging slap.

“What the fuck?” He staggered back, touching his face in disbelief.

She was just as stunned as him, her hand trembling. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

His nostrils flared, his frustration bubbling over. “I don’t understand you, woman!”

“Neither do I!” she shot back, throwing her hands in the air.

They stood there, breathing heavily, both looking like they wanted to strangle each other and kiss again all at once.

And that’s when Oscar appeared at the entrance of the garage. The poor rookie froze, wide-eyed, like a kid who had just walked in on his parents fighting. He looked at Mark. Then Y/n Then back at Mark.

Neither of them acknowledged him.

Oscar awkwardly cleared his throat. Nothing.

Alright. Cool. He’d just . . . pass through.

With the stiffest posture known to man, Oscar walked between them, silently making his way to his car, pretending he was not in the middle of some extremely personal, possibly violent lover’s quarrel.

The moment he was gone, Mark threw his hands up. “See?! Even Oscar thinks we’re fucking insane!”

Y/N groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t!”

“Yes, I do!”

“You kissed me!” Mark accused, pointing at her.

“And then I slapped you!”

“What kind of insane logic—”

“I panicked!”

Mark dragged a hand down his face. “You are impossible!”

“And you are unbelievable!” Y/n’s voice cracked, all the pent-up emotions clawing their way out. “You show up here, after years, and act like—like we can just fix this? Like none of it mattered?”

Mark’s nostrils flared. “It did matter.”

“Then why did you let me go?”

Mark exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Don’t do that, Y/n.”

“Do what? Speak the truth? Say the things you don’t want to hear?” She let out a hollow laugh. “I gave you so many signs, Mark. So many signs that I wasn’t happy, that I needed you to fight for us. But you didn’t. You just—let me go.”

Mark scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “You really think I didn’t see it?” His voice was lower now, rough. “I felt it. Every time you pulled away. Every time work came first. Every time I looked at you and wondered if you even wanted this anymore.”

Y/n’s breath hitched, something inside her cracking. Silence fell between them, thick with everything unsaid.

Oscar, still sitting awkwardly in the car, looked between them again and let out a quiet sigh. Yeah, they’re definitely still in love.

She looked at Mark—really looked at him. The sharp crease between his brows, the tired weight in his eyes, the way his fists clenched like he was bracing for her to say something he didn’t want to hear.

And for the first time, she saw it for what it was.

They had spent years running in circles, trying to fix something that had been broken long before either of them admitted it.

“We weren’t good for each other back then,” she finally said, her voice quiet but firm.

Mark’s jaw tightened.

“And we’re not good for each other now.”

His expression darkened. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth, Mark.” Y/n exhaled, shaking her head. “We tore each other apart without even meaning to. And we’re still doing it.”

Mark stared at her, the fight in him flickering—fading into something worse.

Acceptance.

For a long moment, neither of them said anything. The only sounds in the garage were the distant hum of engines and the occasional radio crackle.

Finally, Mark swallowed, nodding stiffly. “So that’s it?”

Y/n’s chest ached, but she nodded. “Yeah.”

And that was the cruelest part of it all.

They had loved each other. Really loved each other. But sometimes, love wasn’t enough. Sometimes, no matter how much you wanted to rewrite the past, the ending was already written.

tags!!

@hc-dutch

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #f1 #mark webber fluff #mark webber x reader #mark webber imagine #mark webber fanfic #mark webber #mw2 x reader #mw2 x you

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unconventional-lawnchair · 2 months ago

Text

I am not writing this because I could not mentally take it but...

Imagine… being an Obscurus and best friends with Barty Crouch Jr.

You were eight years old when you met him.

A Muggle girl, too loud, too wild, too alive- a stark contrast to the quiet, polite boy with a sharp mind and a father that loomed over him like a shadow.

But with you? He wasn’t a Crouch. He was just Barty.

You built forts out of logs, ran barefoot through the pond, and shared a locket- two halves of a whole, a symbol of forever.

Imagine… falling sick the moment he turned eleven.

It started with headaches. Then nosebleeds. Then days where your limbs felt too heavy to move.

Barty didn’t understand. No one did.

One day, you were climbing trees and stealing sweets from the corner shop.

The next, you were shaking, feverish, slipping through his fingers.

And then- he left.

Hogwarts. Magic. A world you couldn’t follow him into.

He promised to write every day.

He did.

But no letter could stop the way your bones ached or the way the shadows in your room whispered.

Imagine… Barty researching Obscurials.

He was fourteen when he figured it out.

When he read about children who grew sick and died because they suppressed their magic.

Except- you weren’t suppressing it.

You never had magic to begin with.

But somehow, it was still killing you.

Imagine… Barty growing more desperate.

He tore through the Hogwarts library like a man possessed.

Potions. Enchantments.

He tried everything. He talked to anyone- everyone. He promised anything for answers. Anything for help.

Ancient texts. Dark rituals. Forbidden spells.

Once- he even tried to give you his own magic. Like a childish fever dream, something to awaken yours. Take yours. Fix yours.

It failed. Of course it did.

But that didn’t stop him from trying again. And again. And again.

Because Barty Crouch Jr. was a lot of things.

A prodigy. A disappointment. A son with too many expectations.

But to you- he was just a boy who couldn’t stand to lose his best friend.

Imagine… your final conversation with him.

You were eighteen, frail and pale, sitting in your childhood bed as Barty paced beside you. He had spent every year of his life loosing himself to try and regain you.

And it was tearing you apart inside.

He told you about his latest discovery, about the ritual he was planning.

He swore he was close.

You smiled. Soft. Knowing. Because he was always close.

And then you said it. So soft. So sweet.

So scratchy.. so quiet..

“Barty, it’s okay.”

And it broke him.

He fell to his knees beside your bed, clutching your frail hands, begging you not to go.

Because who was he without you? What identity did he have if you weren't there? What was all the Outstandings for? The letters? The years he spent learning every nook and cranny of magic- if he couldn't stop it?

Not yet. Not when he still had so much to fix.

“I can’t,” he whispered. “I can’t watch you die.”

And so, you gave him one final gift. Because he had give you so much.

Too much.

“Then don’t,” you whispered. “Close your eyes.”

He did.

“Picture me."

And he did. And when his face twisted in anguish, you tutted. Running your small- much too small hands, through his black locks. “Not like that. Like me.”

And there she was. The vibrant ten-year-old who once dragged him through the streets, laughing like she had all the time in the world. Tugging him into alley ways and sneaking away from his parents.

“Write to me,” you said, voice barely a breath. “Write to that girl. That way… it will be like I never left.”

So he let go of your hand.

And he left.

He left you alone in that bed.

He walked away, fists clenched, locket pressed to his palm.

He didn’t look back. He forced himself through the meadow in your back yard, the bond you used to run in when you were younger, the swings that rocked.

And then- the explosion.

The shockwave knocked him to the ground.

The sky split open behind him.

And as he lay there, gasping, the locket in his hand felt heavier than ever.

You were gone.

Imagine… Barty writing letters to you all the time. From his years in the war, tales of Voldemort and his friends.

Even in Azkaban he made use of the walls and his nails.

Then under his imperious curse it was like a safe haven in his mind.

At first, they were daily.

Then weekly.

Then only when he could remember your face.

One day, he woke up and couldn’t remember if your eyes were green or blue. Brown or black. Purple or red.

Then your hair.

Your smile.

Your laugh.

And then, finally- your name.

He tried to write to you that night.

But the ink wouldn’t flow, because his hands hesitated.

Because for the first time in his life-

He didn’t know who he was writing to.

And that- not Azkaban, not the Dementors, not even the war-

That was the moment Barty Crouch Jr. truly died.

And the cruelest thing; in this form of death; he still wouldn't see you. Not yet.

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whatdoeseverybodywant · 5 months ago

Text

What We Used to Be - Jey Uso x Black!OC

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

❤ Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

All OC Characters belong to me

Main Masterlist

This will remain a ONESHOT, no part twos ❤️

April 11th 2017

JaiFelix_WWE

liked by trinity_fatu, sashabankswwe, and 300,000 others

JaiFelix_WWE: If you're not watching Smackdown tonight, what are you doing??!

view all comments

user: dreaming about us being together

trinity_fatu : JAI- JAI 💖

carmellawwe: looking good girl!

jonathanfatu: can u delete this plz! got my wife licking her phone!

↪JaiFelix_WWE: @jonathanfatu LMAO!

Jaiania held her breath as she walked past Josh and his twin brother Jon. She kept her head down, hoping they didn’t notice her walking by them. She absolutely did not want to have a conversation with either of them - especially Josh -. After their failed relationship and trainwreck of a breakup, she would rather play in traffic than have a conversation with him.

She almost made it past them without being noticed. “Damn girl you just gon walk right past us.” That was Jon. Jaiania forced a smile on her face and turned around to face them.

“Oh, hey.” She said, keeping her eyes on Jon. “Didn’t see you there.” She shrugged when he gave her a ‘yeah right’ look. Josh crossed his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes when he realized that she was trying her hardest to not look in his direction.

This is awkward she thought as she rocked back on her heels before pointing in the direction she was walking.

“I gotta go. Nice seeing you though,” She said to Jon, still ignoring Joshua’s presence.

She hurried down the hallway feeling their eyes on her.

Jon turned to his brother once she rounded the corner. “Look at what you did,” He said, smacking Josh on his chest. Josh rolled his eyes.

“I ain't do shit. Come on, we gotta get ready.” Josh did not want to hear that bullshit. He was in the wrong just as much as she was but since everyone loved Jaiania he took all the blame.

Jaiaina groaned as she saw Jon and Josh walking her way a couple of hours later. This must be my lucky day, two times in one night, she thought bitterly. She could normally avoid Jon and Josh but they seemed to be everywhere she was today.

“Congratulations guys.” She said referring to the Smackdown tag team titles they had just won from Chad Gable and Jason Jordan.

“Thank you, Jai,” Jon said, trying to give her a sweaty hug. She pretended to throw up and moved away from him. “Is your arm okay tho? That rinpost spot looked pretty rough.”

“I’m totally fine.” Jaiaina lied. “Looked way worse than it actually was.” She said, smiling at him.

“Yeet!” He said, making Jaiaina roll her eyes. “We goin’ out to celebrate our big win tonight, you in?”

Jaiaina let her eyes cut over to Josh who thankfully wasn’t looking at her. “Uh. I can’t. I have plans already.” That got Josh’s attention. He looked up from his phone and squinted his eyes at her. He wasn't normally one for gossip but he had heard some things about Jaiaina and another one of their co-workers recently.

“So the rumors are true huh?” He said with a scoff. “You move on fast.” Jaiaina cut her eyes back over to him and glared.

“Excuse me?” She asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Josh sucked his teeth and narrowed his eyes at her. “You heard me.”

Jon let his eyes ping pong between the two of them. He knew he needed to stop them before they became explosive. “Uce, come on. It ain’t worth it. ” Jon said trying to pull his brother along but Josh wasn’t budging. “Josh, stop. Let’s go Uce”

“Yeah, I think that's a good idea,” Jaiaina said as she rolled her eyes and turned to walk away from them. 6 months of silence and the first thing he said to her is something about some bullshit ass rumors?! Pathetic

“And then he had the nerve to talk about me moving on too fast,” Jaiaina said to Trinity and Carmella as they sat in the VIP section of a club. “I mean, he broke up with me. What does he care if I moved on or not.” She said as she downed another shot. Carmelle and Trinity shared a look but didn’t say anything. “And what fucking rumors?!” She turned to her best friends. “Yall heard rumors about me?” She let out a scoff and rolled her eyes when they both nodded.

“Yeah, but we obviously don't believe it,” Carmella said.

“What's the rumor though?”

Carmella shrugged and sipped her drink. “Something about you and AJ”

Jaiaina's eyes widened. “AJ STYLES?!” She asked louder than necessary. “Ew, what the fuck. Where did that fucking come from?”

Carmella sighed. “Okay, here's what I know. Apparently, someone saw you and him leaving a hotel room together a couple of weeks ago.”

Jaiaina scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Do these people know that he’s married and I would never do that to Wendy or his children?” She sighed. “And Josh knows that Allen was my mentor during my time in TNA.”

“Girl you know how Josh is. He’s being an ass because he misses you.” Trinity said and Jaiaina rolled her eyes.

“Yeah well, he shouldn’t believe rumors about me.”

“And you miss him too, right?” Trinity questioned.

Jaiania rolled her eyes. “Of course I miss him, I never said I didn’t.”

“ Do you still love him?”

Jaiaian took another sip of her drink before answering. “Yes I still love him, but it is extremely obvious that he never did. We break up and the first thing he does is go fuck on one of our coworkers? That’s foul. Now every time I walk past that hoe she got a fucking smirk on her face that I wanna smack off. ”

Trinity and Carmella found themselves nodding along with Jaiaina’s statement. It was an extremely foul thing for Josh to do.

“I still don’t know what possessed him to do that. “

“I do.” Jaiaina rolled her eyes. “He been wanting to fuck Dasha. Surprised he didn’t do it while we were dating.”

Trinity rolled her eyes at her friend. “Josh may have been an asshole but we all know he wouldn’t cheat on you.”

Jaiaina hummed as she took a sip of her drink. She then eyed her friend. “Shouldn’t you be out celebrating with your husband?”

“Oh, about that.”

Jai narrowed her eyes at Trinity before letting out a gasp. “You didn’t !”

“I’m sorry! I know we already planned this girl's night and I didn’t wanna flake on y'all.”

Jai scoffed and turned towards Carmella who was already looking at her with guilty eyes.

“I invited Corey too.”

Jaiaina had to stop herself from throwing a temper tantrum. “You guys” she whined. “Girls night mean just girls.” She pouted.

Trinity and Carmella burst into laughter. “We’re sorry! But look, we can have a girl's night once we go back to Florida. Just us.”

“Fine,” Jaiaina said, still pouting. Just as she was about to take another sip of her drink, Jon, Josh and… Dasha fucking Jackson. Jaiaina scoffed and adverted her eyes from the couple.

“I’m sorry,” Trin whispered as stood and greeted her husband and Corey purposely ignoring Josh and Dasha. Carmella did the same and Jaiania couldn’t have been more grateful for her friends.

Don’t let it get to you, Don’t let it get to you. She repeated in her head as Dasha made a point of showing she was Josh’s girl now by placing a kiss on his lips. Once Dasha looked in her direction, Jaiaina stood from her seat and walked over to the bar. The drama was something she did not need nor want tonight.

She let out a heavy sigh as she leaned against the bar. She had successfully gone months without being in the same space as Josh because it hurt. It hurt to look at him and not be with him. She said some foul things the day they broke up and so did he, but she never expected him to literally go and fuck another woman THE SAME NIGHT.

“C’mon, you too pretty to be frowning.” Jaiaina had to stop herself from swinging on the slimeball that just slithered his way next to her. She turned her head to the side to face him and he smiled thinking he got her attention. She cringed at the food he had stuck in his teeth.

“Thank you,” She said referring to the compliment. “But, uh no thanks.” She said referring to his advances. The bartender set down her rum punch, Jaiaina grabbed the drink and tried to walk away but the guy grabbed her arm.

“Don’t be fucking rude.” He scoffed. “You didn’t even ask me my name.”

“That’s cause I don’t wanna know your name!” She said, trying to pull her arm out of his grasp. Just from how tight his grip was, she knew she was going to have a bruise. “Let go of me!”

“Don’t be such a bitch!” He spat at her, Just as Jai was lifting her knee to hit him in his balls, he was forcefully grabbed, which caused him to release her arm.

“The fuck is you doin’?!”

Jaiaina let out a gasp as Josh pushed the slimeball down to the ground. By now, more than half of the bar had turned their attention to them. “Don’t put ya’ fucking hands on her like that. Fuck is wrong witchu?!”

Slimy McSlimerson tried to kick his feet at Josh but Josh sidestepped them and then kicked slimeball in his face, knocking him onto his back. Slimy let out a groan as he started to hold his now broken nose.

“You alright?” The bartender asked coming around the bar and taking Jai’s arm in his hands, inspecting it. “You want me to call the cops?”

Josh gently pulled Jaiaina away from the bartender, making him drop her arm. Jaiaina’s eyebrows furrowed together as Josh wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer, tucking her into his side. “Nah, we good,” Josh said eyeing Slimy on the ground. Josh was tempted to knock Slimy’s teeth down his throat but decided against it as he led Jai out of the club and into the night's cool air.

Jaiaina said nothing as she let Josh lead her outside. She momentarily allowed herself to lean into his familiar touch before remembering their current situation. “I’m fine now.” She said, taking another step away from him. “You can go back into the bar.”

“And leave you out here?” He asked. “Bab–Jaiaina, you shaking.”

“Okay, so send Trin or Mella out here. Go back inside.” Josh sucked bus teeth and pulled off his black bomber jacket he was wearing and handed it to her.

“Just take the damn jacket Jai”

“I don’t want your damn jacket, Joshua. And I damn sure didn’t need your help back there. I had it.”

Josh scoffed and grabbed her arm, making them both look down at the purple bruise that was forming. “Yeah okay.” He snorted. He hated that she was so stubborn. “You can hate me all you want Jaiaina. But if you gon’ wait out here in the damn cold, take the damn jacket.”

Jaiaina huffed and snatched the jacket out of his hands. “Happy?” She asked with a sarcastic smile and she slid her arms into the jacket.

“Very.” Just as he said that the side door to the bar opened and her group of friends and Dasha spilled out. Dasha eyed the jacket and then narrowed her eyes at Josh, who was still looking at Jaiaina.

“Girl! Are you okay?!” Trinity cried out as she and Leah rushed over to their best friend. Jai broke eye contact with Josh and turned her head towards her friends.

“I’m fine. Just some weirdo who doesn’t understand the meaning of No.”

Trinity, being the emotional drunk wrapped her arms around Jai’s head and pulled her down, so Jai’s head was resting on her breast. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to help you friend.” She whispered as a few tears slipped down her face. Jon and Josh sucked their teeth.

“Man, Trin get off her.” Jai let out a soft laugh as Jon pulled Trinity away from her.

“Did I ruin the mood? Or can we go back in?” Jaiaina asked.

“Hell no! You didn’t ruin the mood! C’mon!” Leah said as she grabbed Trinity’s and Jaiaina’s hands and started to lead them inside.

“Actually. I’m not in the party spirit anymore… We’re gonna head back to the hotel. Dasha said as she walked over to Josh. Jaiaina hated the way her heart tightened in her chest. Jaiaina watched as Dasha slipped her hand into Josh’s, her fingers curling around his in that intimate, effortless way that people who were in love did.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for a bit longer?” Josh asked, his voice soft but laced with that familiar warmth Jaiaina had once loved.

Dasha's hand tightened around his. “I’m sure. Come on, let’s go.” There was a finality to her words that Jaiaina couldn’t ignore.

Jaiaina’s chest tightened. It shouldn’t hurt this much. It shouldn’t hurt at all.

She and Josh had broken up for a reason—no matter how hard it had been. She told herself she was over it. Jaiaina forced herself to look away from the couple.

“I think I'm gonna head back too. I forgot I have an early flight to Birmingham in the morning.”

Birmingham? Josh arched his eyebrow at the mention of Birmingham. He knew there was only one reason why she was going there, which meant she lied to Jon earlier when he asked about her arm.

Trinity and Leah shot her playful glares, but their smiles quickly softened into teasing hugs. After making Jaiaina promise to hang out once all three of them were in Florida, Jon, Trin, Leah and Corey walked back inside the bar.

Jaiaina stood there awkwardly. She pulled her phone out of her clutch and ordered an Uber. She could feel Josh and Dasha’s eyes on her.

“Oh, your jacket,” Dasha said as their Uber pulled up.

“She can keep it. It’s cold as hell out here Baby.” Baby.. just hearing that Josh had a nickname for Dasha made Jaiaina sick to her stomach.

“It’s fine..” Jaiaina trailed off as she took the jack off and handed it back to Josh. “I should have brought out my own coat.”

“Yeah, you should have.” Dasha scoffed and snatched the jacket out of Jai’s hands.

Be the bigger person Jaiaina thought, don’t beat this bitch’s ass.

“C’mon man, you ain't have to snatch it,” Josh muttered as he walked towards the Uber. Dasha rolled her eyes and stomped after him.

“Well, why did you give her your jacket? Could have let the hoe freeze for all I care.”

Jaiaina gritted her teeth as the door to the Uber slammed shut and they drove away. She closed her eyes and tried to remember the deep breathing exercises her therapist told her to do. Forcing herself to take slow, deliberate breaths in and out. In through the nose, out through the mouth...

It didn’t work. Not this time.

Dasha was so lucky that Jaiaina actually enjoyed her job, cause Jai would have BEEN beat her ass by now.

Jaiaina’s head had barely hit the pillow before three sharp, rhythmic knocks echoed through the room. Her stomach twisted into knots at the sound of the knocks.

There was only one person in the whole world that knew three was her safe number. Sighing, she threw the covers off of her, grabbed her pink Versace robe, and opened the door.

“Why did you lie to twin earlier?” Jaiaina blinked.

What?” she scoffed, a quick laugh escaping her. “What are you talking about?”

“Earlier, Jon asked about your arm. You said you were fine but you not. Why you going to Birmingham in the morning.”

“What I have going on in my life doesn’t concern you anymore Joshua,” Jaiaina said firmly, trying to shut down the conversation before it could go any further.

“Don’t do that.” He muttered, his eyes never leaving hers. “Don’t act like you weren’t a major part of my life.”

“I was. Not anymore Joshua. Go back to Dasha and leave me alone.”

Josh’s jaw tightened as he took a deep breath trying to compose himself. “Look, I know –”

“No,” Jaiaina said as she started to shake her head. “I’m not doing this with you.” Josh looked confused as she started to close the door in his face, at the last second, he put his foot in between the door and the fame. Jaiaine huffed as he easily overpowered her and gently pushed her away from the door.

She stomped over to the bed and threw herself down on it, while Josh shut the door behind her and went to sit in the armchair that was placed between the bed and the window.

“Josh, it's been six months since we last talked. Let’s just go back to that.”

“I don’t want to. I fucking miss you Jaiaina.”

Jaiaina laughed making Josh scoff.

“The hell so funny?”

“YOU!” She exclaimed as she jumped from the bed and pointed at him. “You think you can just come swoop in like some type of Superman after what you did?! Fuck off, Joshua!”

“Jai, I know I said some fucked up shit but -”

“Said?! No nigga. It's about what you did!” She cut him off. “The fact that you fucked that bitch the same night we broke up was foul as hell Joshua!”

“Woah!” He called out, jumping to his feet. “I ain't do no shit like that. Fuck is you talking about.”

Jaiaina let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah okay.” She said mockingly with a roll of her eyes. “The bitch already told anybody who would listen. The same night you walked out of our hotel room, you went to her! And you fucked her.” Jaiaina couldn’t hold it back anymore, the tears that threatened to spill since the bar came flowing down her face.

"Jai, I swear to you, that's ain’t what happened," Josh said, his voice low and urgent. He took a step towards her, but Jaiaina backed away, shaking her head.

“Don’t Joshua. Just leave.”

“Hell no. I’m not going anywhere. I lost you once, I’m not doing It again.”

Jaiaina childishly covered her ears. “I’m not listening to any of the bullshit you are spewing tonight Joshua!” She uncovered her ears and narrowed her eyes at Josh. “Okay let's just say, you didn’t have sex with her the same night. You’re still with her now! And don’t deny it, I heard you call her baby.” When Josh didn’t deny it, Jaiaina felt her heart break even more. “Please just go. Go back to your girlfriend and go back to ignoring me.” She whispered as she lowered her eyes to the ground.

Jaiaina heard him sniffle but she didn’t lift her head to look at him. “I never wanted to hurt you Jai.” Jaiaina didn’t say anything back, she didn’t have anything to say. She was exhausted. She just wanted to go to sleep and forget all about Josh by the morning.

Josh sighed and started walking towards the door, the silence between them was too much. It was suffocating. He wanted to fix it. He wanted to make things right. But he didn’t know how. With one last glance at Jaiaina, he turned and walked out the door.

As soon as the door shut, Jaiaina broke down, she covered her mouth with her hand to try and hide her sobs. Outside, Josh leaned against the closed door, his forehead pressed against the cool wood. He could hear Jaiaina's muffled cries through the thin barrier, and each sob felt like a knife twisting in his gut. He wanted nothing more than to burst back in, to take her in his arms and explain everything. But he knew she wouldn't listen, not now.

April 18th 2017

Birmingham, Alabama

Jaiaina knew it was stupid to go through this surgery alone, but WWE provided the best doctors so she knew she was in good hands.

Waking up from surgery was a feeling she would never get used to. She let out a groan at the dull ache in her right shoulder and immediately she heard someone shh her and place a straw at her lips. The comforting sensation of the water helped clear some of the haze, but as she blinked her eyes open, the shock of who was sitting next to her hit her like a ton of bricks.

“I gotchu, relax.”

“What are you doing here?” She whispered, her voice scratchy and weak from the anesthesia.

“Making sure you alright and not alone.”

“Josh please –”

He shushed her again. “I broke whatever I had with Dasha off. Imma be truthful and say that yeah, I got with her to fuck with you after I heard the rumor about you and AJ but, I did not have sex with her that same night. To be honest, I never had sex with her, I haven’t had sex with anybody since you.”

Jaiaina’s jaw dropped open. She didn’t know how to respond to that. She had spent the past six months hating Josh because she thought he was a slimy asshole. She didn’t know how to feel right now.

“Josh I-” She started,

“I’m not asking you to forgive me, Jaiaina,” Josh continued, his voice soft but firm. “Not right away. Aight? I know I messed up, and I know it’s not gonna be easy. But I’m willing to work this out, but only if you want to.”

Jaiaina stared into his eyes, no matter how hard she tried she would never get rid of the love she had for this man. It was a big relief to finally hear the truth about the night that they broke up but he still hurt her by ignoring her for six months.

“Please.” He whispered. “I always seen you in my life. Always seen you as the mother of my kids. Just give me one more chance.”

Jaiaina’s breath caught in her throat. This was the most vulnerable she had ever seen him in the three years they had dated.

“Okay,” She whispered, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “But I swear on everything I love, this is your LAST chance.”

Josh's face lit up with a mixture of relief and hope. He gently took Jaiaina's hand, careful not to disturb the IV line. “I promise you, I won't mess this up again. I love you too damn much.”

Jaiaina stared at him for a second before a small smile came across her face. “I love you too.”

Authors Note: I'm sorry if this sucked 😮‍💨😫

I've had this halfway written for about a year and just decided to say fuck it and finish it. I really do hope you all enjoy it! ❤️

Side Note:

Jaiaina had torn rotator cuff.

Josh definitely bribed and threatened an intern to tell him what was wrong with Jaiaina LOL!

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xvysarene · 11 months ago

Text

𝕋𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕎𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤

Pairing: Rafayel x Fem!Reader Prompt: “You left me to drown.” Words: ~2.2k Genre: Light Angst, Comfort, Suggestive (mild)

[ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST]

The sky was awash with streaks of crimson and gold bleeding into the indigo expanse, signaling the impending dusk.

You stopped beside the colossal sea stack, admiring the breathtaking view. Waves crashed against the weathered rocks with gentle tranquility, a stark contrast to the turmoil within your heart.

“Are you done running?” a whispered voice carried away by the salty breeze.

Voice that you hadn’t heard for almost a year.

You couldn’t help the wry chuckle escaping your lips. “Last time I remember, I was the one waking up to an empty bed after a night of giving myself to you.”

Your skin involuntarily tingled with the residual sensation of his touch. His lips, warm and insistent, had traced a map of pleasure across your skin, exploring every curve and contour with a thoroughness that left you breathless and wanting more.

Months-long restrained emotion bubbled up to the surface. “Thomas couldn't find you, your aunt couldn't find you, even your bodyguard couldn't find you. So pray tell Rafayel, are you done running?”

Even in the fading light, you could see him taken aback by the hostility dripping from your words.

“I thought you would be happy to see me after all of this time.”

Exasperatedly you turned towards him, finding him standing several steps away from you.

He looked the same, if not even more handsome, and you hated that it made the fury inside your heart momentarily dim.

All-white button-up and trousers hugged his figure, one he knew that you loved as if it was a tactic to unravel you. He was a blank canvas in the explosion of colours surrounding you both.

“No notes, no messages, all I'm left with is a ridiculously priced ring adorning my finger.” You rubbed the now empty ring finger, still feeling the phantom weight of the gemstone.

He didn’t miss the gesture. “Did you not like the ring? Is that why you threw it away to the depth of the sea?”

“Is that all you can say after walking out of my life?” Your voice rising, annoyed at his nonchalance.

Annoyed at the absurdity of this situation like you hadn’t seen each other for months.

His brows furrowed at the accusation. “I did not walk out of your life, didn’t you receive the stuff I sent you?”

If he was referring to the plethora of stuff stacked inside a box under your bed collecting dust, then yes you did receive them.

You had attempted to decipher the meaning behind the items he sent each month, desperately trying to connect them with his whereabouts, but to no avail.

Even with the resources and connections Thomas had, Rafayel seemed to be always one step ahead, not leaving any breadcrumbs of where he might have gone next.

“You are present in all of my paintings; you remain a constant in my thoughts,” he continued when you remained silent.

Since his departure, new paintings arrived biweekly or monthly at Mo Art Studio, each delivery serving as a soothing balm for Thomas's weary soul.

It wasn't until his manager pointed out certain colour choices and what you had always considered random lines and patterns that you began to notice elements of yourself in his paintings; the shade of your irises, the main lines on your palms, the arch of your eyebrows watching his antics.

You gritted your teeth. “Provide a reasonable explanation for your lack of verbal communication.”

He tore away from your gaze, suddenly looking timid, hand rubbing the back of his neck. It was a habit of his whenever he felt nervous. “I embark on a self-discovery,” he began.

“I needed some time for internal reflection. It allows me to really dive deep into my thoughts and emotions without any external distractions—just let me explain first,” he said rapidly before you could chide him on thinking that you were a distraction.

Honestly, you couldn’t even voice out any response as that wasn’t the answer you were expecting.

“I've been overly reliant on you, and limiting our communication forced me to depend on my own. I want to be someone you can rely on instead; someone you can lean and depend on.”

“What about that woman, then?” you blurted out, the question heavy on the tip of your tongue ever since you had first come across the article.

It had been seven months and two weeks since his absence when you stumbled upon the article.

Normally, you weren't particularly tuned into the fashion industry, but somehow the news from Nexusburg had found its way onto your daily curated feed.

You had vaguely recognised the designer’s striking face and figure. Your attention, however, zoomed in on those unmistakable tendrils of dusky purple hair, despite most of his head being obscured by the dark tint of the limousine’s window.

“I commissioned her to create… something of great significance.” You sensed ambiguity lacing his words. “You know how reporters constantly fabricate stories that lack truth.”

“Do they, really? Lack of truth?”

Rafayel approached you with hesitant steps, fearing you might slip away from his advance.

“You left me to drown, Rafayel.” The words pierced through him like shards of glass. “Drowning in ‘what if’s’, drowning in my insecurity.”

As he drew near, he took in the multitude of emotions playing across your face: hurt, confusion, anger.

“You were gone for eight months. Eight months! Did you believe that merely slipping a ring onto my finger would make me feel better for your absence?”

The anger drained your body of energy as you sank onto the rock behind. Jagged edges kept you painfully aware that this was reality, not a mere figment of your imagination.

“I'm sorry,” he pleaded.

“You're selfish, Rafayel,” your voice trembled with a mixture of anger and hurt. “You know my insecurity gets the best of me at times, and yet you didn't even stop to think for once on how I would feel…this is not the first time.”

You could see the moment realisation began to flicker in his bluish-pink eyes.

When Rafayel hired a new female bodyguard and began spending a significant amount of time with her, it left you feeling uneasy.

It wasn’t until his own bodyguard confronted him in front of you, chastising him for neglecting your feelings and the lack of communication as she noticed your distress, that you finally felt at ease with their relationship. You understood their brother-sister dynamics.

But this time, days turn to weeks, and weeks turn to months since you last saw him. Doubts began to plague your mind.

“It was nothing like that,” he protested. “Nexusburg was my last stop. I had thought of returning as soon as the designer finished her work.”

The article's prominently highlighted phrase 'SECRET ROMANCE' had stirred your restless heart to its breaking point that day.

You recalled standing atop the very sea stack towering behind you, witnessing the light glinting off the ring as you cast it into the unforgiving waves below.

"You went on a journey of self-discovery, but it seems like you've forgotten why you needed it in the first place.”

Rafayel's heart constricted with guilt. “I never meant to make you feel that way, I—I thought you would understand.”

Then, he retrieved something from his pocket, causing your breath to catch in your throat.

“How…?!”

The marquise-cut lilac tanzanite glimmered with a captivating hue, casting a hypnotic light against the backdrop of twilight skies. Delicate accents of soft pink pearls surrounded the gemstone, lending a gentle touch to the intricate design.

It still managed to steal your breath away, its beauty as enchanting as ever.

“I specifically requested the bijoutier to blend my crushed scales into the band. It brings me comfort knowing that you’re safe, and knowing that you think of me whenever you touch it.”

He traced his finger along the smooth surface of the gemstone, the memory of him quietly placing the ring while you slept was as clear as yesterday in his mind.

The outline of your figure etched against the soft glow of dawn. Vivid shade of pinkish-red blemishes against your skin, evidence of the intense night shared between the two of you.

“It motivates me to finish my journey, so I can return to your embrace as soon as possible… Until you threw it away and I thought of the worst.”

You gazed at him in disbelief as he unveiled that the ring held far greater significance than you had ever imagined.

Who would have thought that he could charm the ring that way? Everything slowly made sense why he had immediately called you repeatedly moments after you threw the ring.

Then there was Aunt Talia rushing towards you, tousled and wide-eyed, far from her normally immaculate appearance as you made your way back down.

Barefooted, as if she had rushed out of her nearby house in a hurry.

He returned just two days after you had discarded the ring. When calls were left unanswered, he enlisted Thomas and his bodyguard.

You had threatened to call the police on Thomas when he couldn’t stop appearing in front of your front door. His bodyguard, the only one with a working mind it seemed, nodded in understanding and promptly ushered Thomas away from your doorstep.

“The ring reminds me of you,” longing laced your voice.

As you glanced down at the beauty, the sparkling gemstone and pearls seemed to reflect his hair and eye colour. Its elaborate design mirrored his complexity; intricate and beautiful yet multifaceted.

“And here I thought that you didn’t like the pearls I handpicked… I knew that it was too good to be true when the oysters were being friendlier than usual.”

Pale skin crimsoned as he snapped his mouth shut. His flow of thoughts always seemed to have a mind of their own, escaping from his mouth before he could rein them in.

It was frustrating how you still found it endearing, even at times like this. Perhaps the lover you knew hadn’t changed much after all.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips, “Rafayel, you can't just waltz into my life again as if nothing happened.”

“I know I messed up, Y/N,” he admitted, his eyes pleading for understanding. “But I couldn’t stand away any longer.”

Despite your anger towards his actions, you couldn't deny how much you had missed him too.

He inched closer, giving you plenty of time to move away, however, you remained rooted to the spot.

Familiar strands of dusky purple hair, the very ones you had passionately tangled your fingers in as he ravished you the last time, just within arm's reach now.

A hand reached out, moving away your salty-breeze ruffled hair from covering your face.

“Why did you choose to see me again at last?”

Aunt Talia had invited you for a high tea, weeks after Rafayel's persistent attempts to see you finally ceased. Deep down, you knew that this was another attempt made by him.

But you remembered how the older woman had opened her doors whenever the insecurity became too strong during his absence, and it felt disrespectful to sever ties just because you weren't ready to face her nephew.

“Rafayel is coming,” Aunt Talia calmly said moments earlier.

The clink of her cup meeting the saucer caused you to jerk, tea sloshing around your rose-adorned cup dangerously.

“You’re free to leave anytime, I’m not going to force you to meet him.”

Looking up, you found orchid-coloured eyes boring into yours.

“Just keep in mind that he will never stop searching for you. Yes, he’s selfish, but you know how us, Lemurians, are,” she sighed then, “ We're relentless when it comes to protecting what we cherish. And you, my dear, hold a special place in his heart.”

“I needed to understand why you did what you did, why you left without a word,” you finally admitted.

Regret flickered his eyes. “I should have been more considerate.”

As his long fingers traced the curve of your jaw, your breath hitched. It had been too long since you felt his caress against your skin, and you found yourself longing for more.

Laboured breaths and dilated pupils told you that his body had reacted similarly. Finding the mutual desire in your eyes, he closed the gap between you without any word.

Lips collided in a fervent kiss. Fueled by a mix of pent-up pain and yearning. Each brush of his lips against yours was a plea for forgiveness, a desperate attempt to mend the fractures in your relationship.

Bodies molded together, fitting like pieces of a puzzle long overdue for completion. There was an insatiable hunger for each other that needed to be satisfied.

“I will wait for you, whenever you're ready to accept me again in your life,” he murmured gently as his lips parted from yours.

You met his gaze, seeing the sincerity in those bright orbs you loved so much, and felt a tug at your heart. Silently, he took your hand and slid the ring back onto your finger, to its rightful place.

The same lips that you had just kissed earlier were now on top of the lilac gemstone.

“Keep this so I know that you’re safe, and whenever you’re ready—” Artist's palms cradled your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks lovingly. “I’ll be waiting for you at the end of the aisle, witnessing your beauty wearing the veil I've designed just for you."

As the light faded on the horizon, you realised that perhaps this love was worth fighting for, even if it meant navigating through the perilous waters of forgiveness and redemption.

⤷ ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST

#ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐱𝐞𝐩𝐡'𝐬 writing nook #love and deepspace #lads #l&ds #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace x y/n #love and deepspace x you #rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel x y/n #rafayel x you #light angst #comfort #suggestive

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