#[💌] asks | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

omgkatherine01 · 6 months ago

Note

i neeeed a kraven smut where he’s warning the reader they can’t have sex because he won’t be able to control himself and he’ll hurt her. the reader is really submissive and innocent but he keeps smelling and sensing how turned on she is, the tension is too high and he gives in and they have really rough sex. i mean like him choking her, pinning her down, and maybe biting her. after he feels really bad for how rough he was, but he couldn’t help himself because it was all instincts from his animalistic side. i cannot stop thinking about it.

Kraven's Temptation

Pairing: Sergei Kravinoff x Fem!reader

Warning: Smut!, little bit of blood

Masterlist (requests are currently open for now)

Sergei's eyes flashed with a dangerous intensity as he growled, "We can't do this. I won't be able to control myself... I'll hurt you."

You trembled, a mix of fear and arousal coursing through your body. "I--I trust you," you whispered, your innocence only heightening his primal urges.

He inhaled sharply, catching your scent. "You have no idea what you're doing to me," he rasped, his control slipping.

Unable to resist any longer, Sergei pounced, pinning you beneath him. His strong hands gripped your wrists as he claimed your mouth in a bruising kiss. You gasped as he bit your lower lip, drawing blood.

Sergei's grip tightened as he trailed hungry kisses down your neck. You whimpered, both from pain and pleasure, as he bit down on your sensitive skin. His powerful body pressed you into the mattress, leaving you breathless.

"Mine," he growled possessively, one hand moving to encircle your throat. He applied just enough pressure to make you lightheaded as he roughly entered you. You cried out, overwhelmed by the intensity.

Sergei set a punishing pace, driven by pure animal instinct. His fingers dug into your hips hard enough to bruise as he took you relentlessly. You surrendered completely to his domination, lost in a haze of pain and ecstasy.

As the intensity built, Sergei's grip on your throat tightened. Your vision began to blur at the edges as he pounded into you mercilessly. Just when you thought you might pass out, he released your neck, allowing you to gasp for air. The rush of oxygen heightened every sensation.

"That's it, take all of me," he snarled, his voice rough with lust.

You cried out as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. Sergei growled in approval, angling his hips to strike it again and again. The coil of pleasure inside you wound impossibly tight.

"Sergei, please!" you begged, not even sure what you were asking for.

He leaned down, his teeth grazing your ear. "Come for me," he commanded.

With a strangled cry, you obeyed. Waves of intense pleasure crashed over you as your body convulsed beneath him. Sergei groaned deeply, your release triggering his own. He thrust into you a final time, holding you tightly as he spilled himself inside you.

For several long moments, the only sound was your shared ragged breathing. As the haze of passion faded, Sergei's eyes widened in horror at the marks covering your body. Bruises were already forming on your wrists and hips, and angry red bite marks dotted your neck and shoulders.

"Oh god," he choked out, scrambling off of you. "I'm so sorry. I... I couldn't control myself. I told you I would hurt you."

You winced slightly as you sat up, your body aching pleasantly. "Sergei, it's okay," you said softly, reaching for him. "I wanted it. All of it."

He shook his head, unable to meet your eyes. "No, it's not okay. I... I'm a monster. I should never have let this happen."

You reached out to gently touch Sergei's arm. "You're not a monster," you said softly. "Please don't say that."

He flinched away from your touch, his eyes filled with self-loathing. "Look at what I've done to you," he said hoarsely. "I could have seriously hurt you. I did hurt you."

"But you didn't seriously hurt me," you insisted. "I'm okay, Sergei. More than okay."

He finally met your gaze, searching your face. "How can you say that? After what I just did..."

You took his hand, placing it over your heart. "Feel that? My heart is racing, but not from fear. I've never felt more alive." You leaned in closer. "Or more wanted."

Sergei's expression softened slightly. "You truly aren't afraid of me?"

"Never," you breathed.

He pulled you into his arms, holding you as if you were made of glass. "I don't deserve you," he murmured into your hair.

You nestled against his chest, feeling safe and cherished. "Let me be the judge of that."

Sergei's arms tightened around you, his body still tense with lingering guilt. You nuzzled against his chest, breathing in his musky scent.

"I meant what I said," you murmured. "I trust you completely."

He sighed, running his fingers gently through your hair. "Your trust in me is misplaced. I lost control. My instincts took over and I..." he trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

You tilted your head up to meet his troubled gaze. "And you gave me exactly what I needed," you said softly. "What we both needed."

Sergei's brow furrowed. "How can you say that? I was far too rough. I could have seriously harmed you."

"But you didn't," you insisted. "You pushed me to my limits, yes. But you didn't go beyond them." You traced your fingers along his stubbled jaw. "That's the difference between you and a true monster, Sergei. Even in the throes of passion, some part of you was still aware. Still in control."

He caught your hand, pressing a tender kiss to your palm. "I wish I could believe that," he said quietly.

You shifted in his arms, wincing slightly as your sore muscles protested. Sergei immediately loosened his hold, concern etched on his features.

"See?" you said with a soft smile. "You're still being gentle with me now. Your instincts aren't solely about violence or domination."

Sergei's expression remained troubled, but some of the tension left his body. He carefully traced the marks he'd left on your skin, his touch feather-light.

"I never want to hurt you," he murmured.

You caught his hand, bringing it to your lips. "Then don't push me away," you said. "That's the only thing that could truly hurt me."

Sergei's eyes softened as he gazed at you. Slowly, hesitantly, he leaned in to press a tender kiss to your forehead.

"What did I do to deserve you?" he whispered.

You smiled, snuggling closer to him. "You were simply yourself," you replied. "That's all I ever wanted."

As Sergei held you close, his guilt began to fade. In its place, a fierce protectiveness took root. He may not fully trust himself, but he would do everything in his power to keep you safe - even from his own darker nature.

#💌 asks #kraven movie #kraven the hunter #kraven oneshot #sergei kravinoff #kraven x reader #kraven smut #sergei kravinoff x reader #aaron taylor johnson #aaron johnson #one shot

1K notes · View notes

forever--darling · 1 year ago

Text

request: and for anakin I love the idea of how he comforts his girl. hugs, nicknames, cuddling together.

summary: being in the midst of a war came with many problems, but you had never accounted for the possibility of your general anakin skywalker being one of them, especially when a specific nurse seems to be all over him

pairings: general!anakin x jedi!reader

word count: 2.7k

warnings/notes: swearing, mentions of war, mentions of death, jealous!reader, fluff, mentions of sex, 501st clone trooper battalion, forbidden love

masterlist

It appeared almost out of thin air, like a billowing blow that seemed to almost knock you on your ass. It was worse than the battle you somehow had survived only a few hours before, sure to be stuck in the same predicament again soon. After all, when in an active warzone, it was always the reality, the scenery unable to escape but practically tattooed across your skin. It was means for disaster, of a bleakness that was sure to leave you depressed at night as you lay awake listening to the constant gunfire and screams from men and women meeting their fates.

That deserves your full attention, your care, and yet something else had appeared. It made you feel guilty, like a horrible person, at the way your heart tightened and ached. How had it come to be?

This thick grimy green monster that had latched upon your shoulders, interfering with the only mission you had been focused on for months. When you were assigned to the 501st Clone Trooper Battalion, you hadn’t even thought of the possibility, the mere ability to let your guard down, have it risk ruining everything. And yet there you were, in complete inept with your General, with a man you had been pulled towards as if the force was willing it to occur.

You wished then you could have run, somehow been taken captive, at least to save your heart from falling into the same fate. Captive she was, but not by the Separatist enemies; no, it was so much worse. It jeopardized everything it meant to be a Jedi, a knight, a warrior of the Republic.

It appeared, and now suddenly, it was all you could feel. Even more so as you found her delicate hands brushing along his bicep, eyes surveying the minimal cuts that littered his perfect skin, mixing within the dirt. Blood dried, but marks that would remain for most likely the rest of his life. As she did her job, you surveyed from the corner of the tent, the large tan tent you had spent a few nights in yourself, staring at the ceiling as a lamp crowded the darkness in the softest of golden light.

It felt diminished in some way as her eyes, so doe-like, innocent, unwilling to be caught up in a war, stared up at him through her lashes. A blush appeared on her cheeks, the same soft pink that you had so clearly seen even that first day when she had met him. She was smitten with the general, and you had never cared, and yet at that moment, you felt the rage swell in your chest.

He wasn’t paying attention, not to the way she oggled him or the small smile that appeared every time she noted the muscles of his bicep. He was too busy staring down at the latest casualty report one of the other soldiers had brought to him. It was long, at least five pages, three pages longer than it had been for most of the course of the time you had been here. Names and ranks littering them, sure to fade into the road of forgotten ones, only to be kept alive by the mark they left on wherever they came from.

Your chest ached then for a moment at the thought, but it only hardened further as you heard the nurse’s soft voice fill the tense air of the tent. “General Skywalker, I was told you experienced some impact that was quite severe along your abdomen. I’m afraid I’ll have to take a look.”

His blue eyes snapped up to hers, that stone-coldness commonly there met her kind ones, and you hated how your stomach turned involuntarily. You huffed slightly, brows knitting in so much anger. His glare flickered over to you, but only for a second, barely surveying your stiff posture.

He sighed then, almost of disappointment, before nodding, “Make it quick, will you?”

“Of course,” she replied, almost too enthusiastic.

Anakin peered back down at the list of his soldiers, but his face hardened again as the nurse cleared her throat awkwardly. He looked back up at her.

“I’m going to need you to remove your clothing, sir.”

He didn’t look at you again, and you felt your arms drop in defeat. You were crazy; you knew that much, but it didn’t stop you from turning on your heels and storming out of the tent. He had asked you there to go over some details of the battle, and yet the five minutes you spent standing there had you feeling so out of place even though you had spent the night there two nights before. He was silently staring down at the reports for the entirety of those few minutes, but you couldn’t care, and you couldn’t stay. Too blindsided by the anger that filled your chest, eliciting your veins on fire from the sudden rush of your blood going straight to your balled fists.

It was something that could surely wait because you were too afraid.

Afraid if you stayed any longer, you would do something that would have the nurse talking, sure to have the rest of the troop and brigade in a state of knowing. Sure, to go back to the Republic, then you both would be in trouble because, after all, Jedi had responsibilities, a code to follow, and work to do. And attachments weren’t allowed, even in a state of sadness, even in the darkest places where it’s the only form of comfort to have.

You found the only way to really deal with this sudden feeling that seemed to consume you was to take it out on anything you could. It was why you had gone and trained, your lightsaber stretched out, meeting the clashes of another soldier you commonly fought with. Your blows were more forceful, fueled by the sudden rush of feelings you hadn’t known you could even feel. You hated it, the way it seemed to never fade, never fall to the back of your mind even as hours passed. Instead, only the images of her possibly tracing his bare chest and stomach with her fingers remained.

It was hours upon hours of training, trying to tire yourself into a state of exhaustion, even with the possibility of having to go off into battle at any moment. You couldn’t care, knowing this had to be gone when that time finally came. Not only for your survival, for the mission but to keep him from ever knowing.

General Anakin Skywalker, the chosen one, the professed hero of this war, could never know. Never know of the sudden feelings that had befallen you.

That night, you stood in your own tent, far smaller than the General’s, you were getting ready to sleep. Bathed as well as you could manage, you were bundled in clean robes, ready to succumb to the darkness of sleep; it somehow more comforting than being awake. However, as soon as you were ready to do so, a soldier appeared at your door with a message.

“The General requests your presence.”

It had taken all day, hours, for Anakin to ask for you, to seem willing to want to talk to you, and that seemed to enrage you all over again. Perhaps, he enjoyed the comforts of the innocent nurse warming his bed rather than you. Perhaps she was some sort of light, untouched by the true grit and devastation of war, having never truly left the camp. She had not met death, had not drained life from someone so carelessly. You, on the other hand, were tainted, left in a wallowing sense of pain that only others could understand who had watched death parade day in and day out.

Yet he had called for you, as he did most nights, but you didn’t go.

You couldn’t.

Something you had never done. Something no one had ever done. When the General requested you, you went, no questions asked, and yet your feet were glued to the ground.

A half-an-hour later, it seemed he became tired of waiting because he had appeared in your doorway, the tent falling closed enough that not even a sliver of the outside world could see inside. He stood in clean black tunics, grime washed free from his delicate features, but that stern look was still apparent.

He was so breathtaking, like sin itself.

“I called for you,” he said, voice breaking the air, sounding demanding.

You stood, fingers carding through your hair, pulling free a knot, back turned towards him. “Did you?”

His furrowed look only deepened, somehow confused if the message had gotten to you or if you had chosen to ignore it, “Yes, hours ago.”

“Hm, it seems I must have forgotten.”

He could hear the spite in your tone, it unable to be hidden. He became frustrated at that point, “Forgotten?”

Stepping further into the tent, he approached and you felt his presence seem to wrap around you completely, leaving your heart an aching mess. “You don’t merely forget. When your general fucking requests you, you come. Do you understand me, Y/L/N.”

You turned then, anger palpitating, sure to burst any second as you thought of just how much you were suffering. Your knitted brows met his glare intact, “I was merely giving you time, sir. Time for you to recover, have your wounds tended to.”

It seemed your words, paired with the spite in your tone, revealed something to him because suddenly his expression was waning, collapsing in on itself into one of wonder. A single brow raised, lips almost lifting in a smirk. His hard exterior disappeared, the General in him no longer there, but only Anakin himself. The true twenty-one-year-old man he was.

“Seriously?” he chuckled then, spotting how your chest rose and fell in frustration.

“What?” you spat.

He seemed to be enjoying it, evident in the way his smile only widened, a look of pure amusement appearing. “I wasn’t sure at first if I was imagining it, but damn it seems I haven’t.”

He had caught on, you realized then. You were unable to truly hide it, not when the fear filled you of what exactly this could mean. Caring for a man this much who you were sure to never see again one way or another when this war ended. Sighing, you turned away again, unable to face him.

“You can’t just call me whenever you need a woman to nestle yourself into, Anakin.”

It seemed your words had pulled all air of the room, the amusement he felt somehow falling away at the way your shoulders slumped into themselves. “Y/N.”

You couldn’t reply then, too shocked, too afraid to.

“Baby,” he corrected himself, the name only heard at night under the stars. You hated how it felt paired with the way his hands took hold of your arms, turning you to face him again.

You couldn’t meet his stare though, instead focusing on his shoes.

“Look at me.”

You denied him again.

“Look. At. Me.” This time, his thumb and forefinger took a hold of your chin raising it so your eyes were forced to meet his, the blueness the only comfort you had found in this life. He chuckled again, “You’re cute when your mad.”

“This isn’t funny.” You huffed then, willing to push him away but his hands stopped you, taking a firm hold of your wrists.

“Oh, but it is. You’re so clearly jealous.”

The word awoke something in you, because you felt your glare appear in a moment of defense. “I am not.”

“Are you sure about that?” he goaded and you felt your entire resolve crack, it so easy when his hands traced down your sides to your hips. They rested there comfortably.

A side only you got to see of the general somehow convincing enough.

“Does it always have to be her?” you asked then, letting it all out, “I mean, every time a nurse is requested to check you over after you return from the front, it is always her. Every fucking time, and she isn’t good at hiding it either. She is so fucking obvious with how she looks at you. How she even touches you. It’s…”

“Not anything to be worried about,” he finished then, his hand coming up to cup your cheek softly.

Your eyes met his and softened them almost immediately.

“You really think that I would do that to you? To us?”

“I don’t know what to think, Anakin.”

“Why is that?”

“This is wrong, and you know it. If the Council found out, what would come of you? Of me? It seems like a lot to risk just for sex.”

“Just sex? Since when have I ever given you that impression?”

You couldn’t answer, somehow feeling as if the weight of the world would crush you if you did. It was all too much once again. How you felt about him, about this predicament of life that had befallen you.

“You were never and have never been just sex to me. You must know that. The way that I feel is…”

He trailed off as if trying to find the words, find how to say the exact things he had promised himself never to say, because of the code, of his Master, of fear of what would become of him. Leaning forward, his forehead met yours, and suddenly, you could only squeeze your eyes shut, breathing unevenly.

“When I go out on the front every fucking day, when I have to leave everything else behind to ensure that I am giving everything to these men, to this mission, to the prophecy, one thing still remains. The only comfort I have in all of this is returning so I can see you. Living for the possibility of hugging you, seeing you, kissing you. When I first convinced you to fall into my bed, it was never just for sex. It was because I felt as if you could save me. Save me from the darkness that looms too close to my heart most days.”

“Anakin,” you whispered in disbelief, in an ache of how much you truly cared, possibly loved this man.

“You’re the future, the only future I can focus on day in and day out. So understand when I say you have nothing to worry about. No nurse, no other woman, could take the place of that, okay?”

You nodded, eyes squeezed shut, trying to will the tears away, so desperately hoping they wouldn’t fall in front of him. You couldn’t let them, evident in the way your hands dug into his shoulders, as if afraid of him walking away. Leaving you as you always thought he would one day. Instead, he held you back just as tightly, his forehead pressed along yours.

You heard him chuckle again, though, remembering why you had been so upset. “I still think you’re cute when you’re jealous.”

You couldn’t help it, not as your own laugh appeared, the tears falling then as you opened your eyes to meet his kind and loving stare. “She was all over you.”

“I’ll make a note to ask for another nurse then. Or even better, ask that you are the one to take care of me. That way, you can be the one all over me.”

You smiled, that ache falling away, somehow being buried back where it came from. Simply cured by the man before you. How inevitably screwed you were one way or another.

“Now, can your general request you to his tent? Or are you going to deny him of that for the second time today?”

What were you ever to do? Compassion is one thing Jedi acted upon, something so completely unable to be avoided, and Anakin Skywalker had practically laid himself out to you. There was no way not to fall inexplicably for a man. No possibility or other life where you couldn’t have loved him. Especially when you didn’t know if you would be alive tomorrow.

#inbox #anon inbox #💌 asks #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader #blurb

380 notes · View notes

peppermintmochafem · 10 months ago

Text

Come nurse on me in bed and in exchange I will give you head scritches and soft kisses on the top of your head and hold you and rub your back and hum at you until we fall asleep

#love letters only #💌 asks #asks #yearning hours #I'm soft and sleepy rn if you even care

89 notes · View notes

2bitedust · 6 days ago

Note

got a q.

on ur DNI it says “anyone w harmful paras”, but since paras are a mental illness tbat can’t be controlled and needs therapy, r u good w ppl who have them but don’t enact on them and r trying to recover interacting?

Yeah, that's fine!

#💌 asks

11 notes · View notes

astroboots · 1 year ago

Note

Cici, wake up, Oscar Issac is going to be in a vampire thriller. Also starring Kristen Stewart as a vampire couple “who descend each evening from their luxury skyscraper condo and head into an electric nighttime realm of 80’s LA when they cross paths with a mysterious and enigmatic woman and her hard-partying cabal” and are “seduced into a glamorous, surrealistic world of hedonism, thrills, and violence.”

GURL I AM AWAKE!!

Resurrected from my death bed (have the nastiest case of the flu) thanks to your ask!!!!!

I AM SO DAMN EXCITED FOR THIS!

I'm a sucker for 80's vibe, and THAT MAN!?!?! AS A VAMPIRE?!?!?!

Who read my diary?!?!?!?! and willed this into real life?

#💌 asks

61 notes · View notes

mercicide · 8 months ago

Note

Oh my god oh my god holy fucking shit everyone shut up I have an IDEA

We literally always talk about Keigo eating pussy for fun, right?

V V V I need you to look me in my eyes as I say this time freeze quirk lets Keigo eat pussy for literally as long as he wants.

HE LITERALLY DOES NOT HAVE TO STOP.

- magpie anon ✦

HEAD IN MY HANDS.

Ugh. Yan!Hawks who needs it to be normal. Like genuinely, needs to get some stress relief for a couple hours. Like an unholy routine with darling. Surely they wouldn't mind if he helped himself...?

#💌 asks #tw noncon

21 notes · View notes

yanderestarangel · 1 year ago

Note

do you support self ship?

On this profile we support self ship as hell! be happy guys draw your ocs and make long lores about them, be creative.

Just have fun, no one cares if you ship a certain character or change some of their characteristics to suit your narrative.

Be happy without fear of what people will think.

#yanderestarangel #self ship #🎀｡ﾟ･｡ﾟᐠ( ᐢ ᵕ ᐢ )ᐟ｡ﾟ･｡ﾟ🎀#🎀 anon #🎀#asks 💌#inbox 💌#💌 asks #💌#💌 anon #ask #answered 💌#🍒 anon #🍒 talks #🪻 anon #🪽 anon #🪽──𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋

52 notes · View notes

dying-marshmallo · 9 hours ago

Note

Okay!

So you are the one to hurt my emotions with your zombie au!

That I totally forgot about!

It's beautiful.

☆ HEJFHEJD THANK YOU,, @jellyvibes710 is honestly really carrying the au on their back with all the art they are making aahhh AHHH IM SO GRATEFUL ;; I really do need to work more on it but i'm not entirely sure where to start paw on the wall and sighs

#💌 asks #i need people to ask more questions but i really dont want to ask ahah

16 notes · View notes

takami-takami · 1 year ago

Note

UHHHH so like Keigo getting wholeheartedly distracted from his daddy issues on Father's Day because he has a single passing thought about making you a parent and now the baby fever + breeding kink combo are beating his ass

Thoughts?

- magpie anon ✦

Keigo's hell begins over coffee.

Coffee and a mindless, paltry comment.

Keigo has always been chipper in the morning, if not a little understimulated by the rest of the world taking its sweet time catching up to his trademark speed. Like most mornings, your boyfriend is a blur of red and gold, flitting about the kitchen to prepare the perfect breakfast for you two to start off the day.

Pots and dishes click and clatter around you, and you swear you see a dollop of pancake batter go flying as a stray feather does its work mixing the bowl to free Keigo’s hands to cook.

You, on the other hand, are perfectly content sulking by the coffee machine.

You take a sip. Your coffee is dark roast— a little reminiscent of the bags under your eyes, as you force yourself to keep them open long enough for the caffeine to hit your system. If they close for more than a second, you fear they won't open again.

Perhaps letting sleep take you would be preferable. You want nothing more than to crawl back under the quilted covers, to drag your boyfriend back in bed with you for ‘just five more minutes’ and bury yourself in his warmth; but judging by the way he’s bouncing off the walls today, you don’t suppose convincing Keigo is an option.

Breakfast looks practically gourmet as Keigo drizzles strawberry syrup in creative shapes. He arranges fruit slices in the shape of a heart for your plate.

You’re doing your part, though. You dunk sugar in Keigo’s coffee and rub the sleep from your eyes.

“I’m bored,” Keigo suddenly asserts.

“Mm,” you hum, warming your hands against the mug.

“We never do anything this time of year,” Keigo says.

“Do you want to,” you respond, with a raised brow.

Keigo hums. He gets it. You both do. Still, every year, something unknown itches and claws at the back of his throat.

“Tsukuyomi asked for the day off today,” Keigo continues, almost shyly. He stares into the crackling eggs that are about to char on the frying pan and pokes them with a spatula. “Wanted to spend it with his folks again.”

“Yeah? He deserves it, honestly,” you say. “Good kid. What, are you jealous or something? Want a day off too, huh?”

Keigo shrugs. You almost snort as you make your way to leave the kitchen and set the table.

As you pass Keigo by, you push his mug into his chest and plant a peck on his cheek.

“If you’re that bored on father’s day,” you yawn. “You could always just knock me up.”

Keigo forgets to flip the eggs.

He forgets a lot of things, actually.

You could always just knock me up.

Several of his interns ask Keigo to write letters of recommendation for them at work; and his handler reminds him today is the last day of the week, so he needs to look over the particulars in the database for his agency to be sent to the higher ups.

Thus, even as he dons the visage of the hero Hawks, Keigo is confined to the torture chamber that is solitary confinement in his office with his thoughts.

He could always just knock you up.

Several chewed pen caps litter the expanse of his mahogany desk, another falling with a thunk to join its brethren among the pen cap graveyard.

I could always just knock them up.

Keigo decides to take the train ride home, opting to give his wings time to recover from a recent fight against a particularly tricky villain. He watches the scenery blaze by in a fog, pensive as the raindrops plop against the window.

He should probably just knock you up.

#💌 asks #hi magpie!!!!#hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #mha smut #bnha smut

648 notes · View notes

sunniewr · 2 years ago

Text

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❨꯭🦢 ❜ ⠀꯭𝒯໋ׅ꒱ ͘ ﹙࣪𝗉ᥱ⍺ֵׄᥢ𝗎᪾ֵ ᭄ֿׅ ㅤ͜🫧𖦹➧⠀໋❥ꨳ

313 notes · View notes

forever--darling · 1 year ago

Text

summary: after three years spent away from home because of nasty divorce between your parents, you finally come back & realize that this time you might not be able to keep sam monroe away any longer.

pairings: sam monroe x reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings/notes: swearing, mentions of death, mentions of past feelings, mentions of childhood trauma, divorce, daddy issues, allusions to sex

masterlist

There was a lot of things you could attest to even only at twenty-one. After experiencing everything you had under one roof, it wasn’t hard not to grow up fast. To learn just how horrible it is loving someone because of what it can do to you. Something that still remained true even if both of your parents remarried because everything still sounded the same within that forsaken house.

The walls spoke the same languages that your parents would as they whispered, which eventually would become yelling. The indents still lingered with chipped paint near where your height marks resided in the doorframe. It was just as it had been at six and then eleven. Yet at twenty-one, having come home for the first time in over three years, to a house that now only is full of your father’s stuff, it only felt more vacant. More sad and debilitating.

Your sister never seemed to really accept any of that though, instead choosing to ignore it in favor of the free meals your father cooked or the platinum credit cards he would hand over. Something you were sure would pass along to you as well, anything to try and make you forget it all. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Which was why you still hadn’t ever been in a relationship, let alone ever hangout with anyone long enough to form an attachment. It was the only real reason you had never made a move on Sam Monroe when you were seventeen and in high school. Even as you both sat on a dusty couch littered with weed and beer in some abandoned basement. Even as he stared at you the way he had from behind, the black eyeliner and shadow, blue eyes practically undressing you, almost pulling you forward by a string. You had been a little high and a lot drunk, and yet, you still couldn’t. Not even after having had a crush on him for well over three years. Three years and you left that basement without one kiss or his fingers even tracing along the inside of your underwear.

Seventeen and even then you couldn’t let yourself like someone let alone get to the point of loving them.

So, how would it be any different? Sam Monroe stood in front of you that afternoon, under the hot sun, just outside the new house he and his father had built. Sweat stuck to his shirt, dark hair still present but void of blue dye. His piercings were there but left empty, and you couldn’t see any makeup. It hadn’t even looked like him at first.

But it was, and the shirt gave him away, that in the way your stomach immediately clenched, the familiarity of him enough to make you fall back into that last summer spent in that town before you left for college.

“Y/N?” his voice was deep, deeper than you had remembered, a sudden twang of confusion filling your ears as he processed your presence.

Standing in your father’s driveway, boxes scattered at your feet, hair pulled back messily out of your face, and beads of sweat appearing along your shoulders and neck. Still beautifully you.

“Sam, hi!”

You were just as surprised as him. Even more so as he seemed so different and yet still completely Sam; just taller, broader, even more like his father than you were expecting.

“You’re here.”

It sounded so much more like a question than a statement.

“Yeah.”

“Like you’re here in your dad’s driveway.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “Yes.”

“It’s been three years.”

You stiffened, feeling as if your bones would break like they really did feel how long it had been and how much time had passed. It really had been that long. “I know. It’s been a while.”

“Too long, really,” he admitted, and somehow it had never sounded so charming before than it had then. That sudden shock seemed to melt away, and what only remained was a softness you hadn’t seen in him before. A teasing smile appeared as he took you in again.

You felt the lump appear in your throat, somehow matching the tightness in your chest. It was only Sam who could ever make you feel that way, even after three years.

“How are you?” he asked, stepping forward, his hand extending almost as if he wanted to touch you, possibly pull you into him. You didn’t know, but some part of you wished it would be the latter. A part of you craved a touch you had never met before.

“I’m good. Really good, actually.”

“Yeah, it looks that way,” he replied, enough to stain your cheeks with a newfound pink. “How in that time did you manage to grow up?”

“Me?” you giggled, pushing him lightly, your fingers lingering where they touched his forearm, “Look at you.”

He chuckled, that glint evident as ever, “What about me?”

“You have a house, Monroe. An actual house that I’m sure you pay taxes on with a job.”

“Yes.”

“And college?”

“Online classes, yeah,” he confirmed and you coudn’t deny the wide smile that appeared.

Almost like a swell of pride had formed — a sudden amazement that he really had done it proved everyone wrong in that fucking town.

“That’s great, Sam. It really is,” you smiled, that urge to touch him again appearing, but it somehow waned at the thought, “I was sorry to hear about your dad.”

He cleared his throat, the light diminishing but only briefly as his eyes danced across yours, almost trying to find something in them, “Yeah, thanks.”

“I can’t assume it was easy.”

“No.”

“I wish we could’ve been here for the funeral. I wanted to, but my professors wouldn’t let me reschedule my exams.”

“It’s okay, I understand. Both your parents sent very kind letters to us. I really appreciated them.”

You nodded, not knowing a response to it other than you should have done more. Texted, called, or tried to come back earlier, earlier than now, when you were only moving home for the summer. It was Sam. The way you felt about him was everything, really. Yet you were too consumed in the comfort of the distance and hiding. That was what you had focused on for so long.

Your head bowed, eyes unable to meet his, instead finding comfort in his sambas, and the green grass. Inhaling, you glanced up at the house. The house you never even saw complete until then. You took it in. “It truly is a beautiful house. You guys did a great job.”

“Yeah I think so too. Plus, it looked like it needed an adult to live in it.”

You looked back at him, the teasing demeanor having completely taken over his expression in the form of dark knitted brows and his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. “Adult?”

“Yes, since you think I’m so grown up.”

“You are, and I never thought I would see the day, Monroe. But, it seems I have.”

“It seems so. Finally, Y/N Y/L/N is home.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, somehow feeling a small sliver of the universe realign. Perhaps by the way he was looking at you or the reality that would become of you because of him. Feelings you were sure never really left in the first place. “I will say not much has changed around here. Well, except for one thing.”

His brows furrowed, lip lifting in interest as you took in his clean face.

“The black eyeliner. I'm not lying when I say I might miss it.”

“Really?” he chuckled.

“Yeah, it was totally working.”

“Working?”

You nodded, a teasing look of your own apparent, “Yeah. It was hot. Hm, just never thought you would be so different.”

“Different?” he scoffed, the words somehow completely wrong as they left your lips, “I’m not that different, Y/N. I’m still me.”

“Right,” you nodded, eyes following how his chest rose and fell, the t-shirt alone catching your attention, the bright yellow words somehow something you would expect to be said, “Well, I’m glad some things stayed the same.”

He smirked, following my gaze to the front of his shirt. It was black with bright yellow bolded writing which said, ‘I’m good in bed. I can sleep all day.’ The same type of fucking shirt that seventeen-year-old him would wear, seeming unable to part from the looks he would get when people would read them.

“God, you wore stupid shirts like this all the time.”

“Hey! I find them pretty funny. They’re charming if anything.”

“Charming?” you laughed, the word fitting Sam exactly though you were sure no other girl would have described it that way back then. “It can only be charming if it’s true.”

“True?”

“Yes,” you replied, the word a mere mumble as you truly noted how it felt with him standing so close, looming over you.

“Well, how about you can be the one to decide if it’s charming. Let you tell me if I am good in bed or not. Would make for an interesting summer, wouldn’t it?”

You knew then you were fucked. So completely and inevitably because you had waited that long. Since you were seventeen sitting in that hot gross basement, him only a few inches from you. You had waited, and suddenly Sam seemed so much more tantalizing, enough so you would maybe give in. Just this once.

#inbox #anon inbox #💌 asks #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader #blurb #sam monroe imagine #sam monroe x reader

340 notes · View notes