#because i sent them an ask saying i would like you to step back and think about why that was necessary | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heavenbarnes · 6 months

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anyways, as i was saying about older bf!simon and his willingness to please learn

pt 2 to this

“you ever heard of a nut video with sound on?”

obviously, he hasn’t- far as he’s concerned, if you haven’t told him about it then it doesn’t exist to him.

no skin off your nose, you’d spend the rest of your life teaching him about the ‘latest trends’ if it meant he kept sending those filthy fucking videos to your phone.

(your favourites on tiktok were purely filled with ideas)

he’s holed up in a remote location, killing time till he can be home and actually do something to you rather than send you a bloody video about it.

your instructions come through clear and concise, just how he likes:

“it’s what’s written on the can, si- you can pick the setup but i just want to see you cum and, most importantly, i want to hear it”

you’re lucky simon is such a practical guy and maybe you could thank price one day for making him so good at following orders.

when he’s got his alone time he’s setting his phone up to record on the edge of the window sill, moonlight fighting through the curtain to illuminate him.

he’s lost the bulkiest of his gear, down to his tactical trousers and a compression t-shirt. the images in his tattoo sleeve almost move when the light catches them right.

balaclava on (the one that just shows his eyes above the painted image of a skull) and he’s standing up to undo his belt (that you think looks like an airplane seatbelt).

you can hear his boots against the floorboard as he steps back to give you the full view of him undoing his trousers, taking his sweet time because he knows it drives you fucking batty.

he’s so big that the phone is working overtime to get all of him in the frame but you see exactly what you need to- thick thighs at your eye line and massive hands drawing down his fly.

on (you assume) the other side of the globe, you’re at home in your shared bed and you’re propped up right in the middle with the smell of simon engulfing you as you watch the video play out before you.

(if you’d thought about it you should’ve cast it to the bedroom tv, hoping the neighbours didn’t mind)

simon sits back down with his legs spread wide, one hand gripping his thigh as the other rubs himself over his boxers. his eye contact with the camera was fucking intense, like you’d hoped, just like when he’s on top of you.

he’s dressed in all black and the moonlight is obscured but you can still see him firming up in his pants. his eyes flutter, an infinitesimal amount but you’ve been tuned into his every move since you met him.

your thumb leans hard on the volume up button and you can hear the diegetic sound of the building expanding and that usual technical hum that comes with a video. but at this pitch, you could hear him.

his breathing was chopped, chest expanding visibly as he pulled his cock out into clear view. jeeeeesus christ, it was never something you just got used to.

long, reasonably straight, fucking thick. even his hand struggled to make it look smaller as he wrapped around it, giving one dry tug.

as he closed his palm over the tip, you saw him make a swipe before he brought his hand back down considerably smoother than before. you’d had your hands down his pants enough times, man leaked like a fucking faucet.

simon’s head tipped back as he started to pull himself off, balaclava raising just enough to expose some of his throat. if you were there you would be perched in his lap, letting him do the work but running your tongue under the lip of the fabric.

one of the best things about the videos simon sent was, he didn’t really understand how sexy he was. he didn’t think any of the videos particularly watchable so he’d just send them on first take. if you liked them, you liked them- yours was the only opinion that mattered.

what that meant was, you never got b-roll. everything he sent you was unbridled perfection. captured exactly as it happens with no faffing about.

always whatever you’ve asked for, whenever you ask.

(simon’s nothing if not inexplicably obedient)

he brings his hand under his chin to spit into the wide span of his palm, wrapping back around his cock and tugging. his foreskin moved over the head, rolling back down and thick veins bulging under his grasp.

you’d almost forgotten the conditions of your request, totally fucking enamoured by the sight in front of you when it caught you off guard.

a guttural moan ripped out of simon’s chest as he twisted his wrist.

his free hand moved to cup his balls, big and heavy, he rolled them in his palm as another groan sounded out of him. what you wouldn’t give to be knelt between his thighs with the whole lot in your mouth.

you knew how much of an ask this was, you really had to work him up to making noise when it was just you two in bed. these days? you couldn’t shut the man up when he was balls deep and his face was buried in the crook of your neck.

but this was another step, this was him on his own with his crew just through the walls. he’d be a plain liar if he said there wasn’t that rumbling trepidation in his chest. he’d put it to bed though.

all he had to think of was you, one hand gripping your phone and the other between your thighs as you watched him through with a hazy smile- that kept him going.

with the thought still heavy on his mind, you didn’t have to strain to hear your name drift off his lips. his hips bucked into his hand as he did, speeding up the motion of his strokes.

you were going to black out, his tattoos flexing and his chest expanding with every stuttered breath. simon looked like a god among men and he fucking sounded like one too.

“fuck, sweetheart- you’re so fucking filthy giving me orders like this”

your cheeks were burning, he wasn’t wrong but you weren’t expecting him to call you out quite like this.

“what does that make me? always so fucking eager to do what you say? make a dirty old man, yeah?”

wheeeeeew that’ll do it, your thighs snapped together around your hand as your eyes nearly rolled back in your head. whenever you thought you couldn’t take any more, he was always there to do you one better.

“only for you, pet- you can always get whatever you fucking want from me”

and you knew he was serious, that’s what made it all the more debilitating. simon was unshakeable, you’d seen him go out of his way to defy orders if he didn’t think the person worth his time.

when it came to you? you could tell him to kill and he would.

(he probably had)

simon’s hips were twitching, back arching in a way he’d rather die than have anyone else know about. his mouth was hanging open beneath the balaclava, your name and a string of expletives falling off his tongue.

so quick you nearly missed it, the hand that was cradling his balls moved to grip the fabric of his shirt and push it up his toned front. you couldn’t call his abs cut and defined, there was aged layer to them, but they were undeniably there.

you’d rested your head on them, pressed your palms against them, even ridden them enough times to know they were there. regardless, he looked fucking perfect under the moon glow as he stroked himself hard and long.

eyes locked onto the camera, broken moans on his lips, you saw his hips lift one last time as thick spurts of cum began to paint his stomach and chest.

scars illuminated under the night sky, mirrored by shiny patches of hot cum splattered across the same stretch of skin. the hairs on his chest were matted with sweat and were now being splashed with how far he was shooting.

you could only watch with your mouth hung open as he tugged himself through his orgasm. soon it was only the sound of his laboured breathing, chest rising and falling as he tucked his soft cock back into his pants.

just when you thought that was it, you found one of his hands lifting up the edge of his balaclava till his lips were exposed. two fingers of his other hand swiped up some of his spend before he lay them on his tongue.

knuckles in your mouth, biting down to suppress a scream, simon readjusted his clothes as he stood and took a heavy step towards the camera.

one hand braced on the window sill, the other gently gripping himself through his trousers- his voice was so fucking gravely it could’ve reverberated round your room.

“what’s next sweet’art? you name it, it’s yours”

#i actually went fucking crazy on this one i couldn’t stop writing #id give a fucking kidney to watch this guy jerk it on camera #anyways ANWAYS put a ghost mask in my bfs amazon cart- WHO SAID THAT?#simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #ghost smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley drabble #simon ghost riley drabble #ghost drabble #simon riley blurb #simon ghost riley blurb #ghost blurb #older bf!simon

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marvelwitchergilmore · 2 months

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Nobody Important

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> When you first meet Logan you tell him you’re nobody important. But it soon becomes clear you are a lot more important than you say.

Disclaimer: Contains descriptions of nightmares, couple of swear words, being drugged (nothing bad, just some chamomile tea). Mostly fluff moments with a hint of angst. I watched X-Men and wanted to write something for him. Reader has powers though they're not specified fully. Not Proof Read.

When Charles told Logan someone was going to pick him up from the airport, the last person he expected was, well, you.

Compared to the pristine and fancy cars that were held at the school garage, you pulled up in a beat up old station wagon that looked like it had seen more than a couple of scratches in its time. And you weren’t dressed…like the rest of them.

Rather than in some kind of pant-suit combo, you were wearing a long sleeve t-shirt, jeans, boots and a heavy brown leather overcoat.

“Hey, sorry I’m late. Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.” You began immediately as you stepped out onto the curb and rushed towards him. “I was at the back of the forest collecting some berries and lost track of time. Shall we get going?”

Logan looked you over. You seemed a lot more…energetic than he was.

“Who are you?”

“Professor X sent me. To collect you. You are Logan, aren’t you?”

“That depends. Who are you?”

“Your ride to the school, unless you plan on walking for two hours in the freezing cold.”

Logan grunted and threw his bag into the backseat. You still hadn’t answered his question but the licence plate of your car matched that of the one Charles had told him to look out for.

However, fifteen minutes into the drive, Logan asked once more. “Who are you?”

You smiled and looked at him for a moment before moving your gaze back to the road ahead. “Nobody important.”

“Okay, fine. What are you?”

You smiled again. “Nothing you need to be concerned about.”

“Alright, listen bub-”

“Logan, whatever information about me you think you’re gonna have me tell you; it’s not gonna happen. I work with Charles and that’s all you need to know.”

Logan furrowed his brows. “So you’re a telepath? Like him?”

“You don’t need to concern yourself with what or even who I am. But,” you reached down and pulled a file from the driver's side door before turning it over on the steering wheel and handed it over to him. “You should concern yourself about this.”

Logan took it, a little confused, and opened it up.

“He wants you to know what you’re walking into when we get back.”

After that, the rest of the drive was silent save for one question from Logan, only to have you reply with;

“All the answers you’re looking for are either in there or are with the Professor.”

He didn’t bother asking you another question after that. Not that you would have answered it anyway.

Once you finally did pull up to the school, it seemed you were beside him one minute and went the next into some unknown corner of the school because he didn’t see you after that.

But he still had questions.

Unanswered questions.

Like who the hell were you?

A week later, he still didn’t have his answers. But he did run into you again.

In the kitchens.

The entire place was a lot messier than the communal kitchen. It looked like some mix between a witches cottage and a mess hall in a school cafeteria. But it didn't smell as bad.

Instead it smelt of cinnamon, oranges, rosemary and cookies.

And somehow

It was relaxing to him.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Logan looked up to find you standing at the other end of the kitchen, a bowl under one arm and a spoon in the other. Flour was dusted across your face and your hands were splotched with food colouring stains. Which matched the batch of rainbow coloured cookies behind you.

“Err, no. I was just-”

“Here, sit. I’ll make you some tea.”

“I don’t really drink..tea.”

Logan was still taking in the room. Every time he looked back to a spot, he found a new detail to it. Extra herbs, or ingredients, or even flowers.

You smiled, placing down the bowl and spoon before moving across the kitchen to the simmering pot on the stove.

“Here, try this.”

“Oh, I, uh-”

“Just drink it.” You sighed a little, with a light smile. Nobody would have to meet Logan to know he wasn’t a tea drinker. But he was also polite enough to accept a drink.

And he did.

“Is this where you work?”

You nodded, going back to the fresh batch of cookies you needed to start scooping out.

“Do you usually work this late past midnight?”

You chuckled a little to yourself. “Sometimes. Mostly it’s because I think of a new recipe and want to try it out when no-one's gonna disturb me.”

“Am I disturbing you?”

“No. Plus, I heard you coming down the stairs. Figured it wouldn’t be long before you found another night owl.”

Logan grunted with a soft chuckle. “I don’t think it’s intentional being a night owl.”

You shrugged. “We all have our reasons.”

Logan nodded and took another gulp of his tea. If he thought he felt relaxed when he walked into the kitchen, he didn’t have a word for what he was feeling after the tea.

“Hey, what’s in this tea?”

“Not much. Chamomile mostly.”

Logan nodded. But then something shifted. He was getting drowsy. Not relaxed. Not sleepy. Drowsy.

“Hey, what did you put in this?”

Logan went to stand and repeat his question, but he was out like a light before he could finish.

Logan, for the first time…ever, woke up slowly. From the light that came flooding in through his window, to slowly turning over and feeling the bones in his body crack just right to allow his joints to feel at ease, to not thinking a thing as his brain slowly turned back into gear.

Then he jerked up.

With a grunt, he looked around him.

He was in his room.

The last thing he could remember was your tea and the kitchen.

Flinging the covers from him, he tore his way out of his room and down the hallways until he finally reached his destination.

The Professor’s office.

Walking inside, he found the situation entirely too calm.

“Ah, good morning Logan. Glad to see you’re finally awake.”

“What the hell happened?”

“You fell asleep. Y/n helped put you to bed before you collapsed on her kitchen floor.”

Logan turned at that moment to find you sat on the sofa by the window inside the office.

“You.” Logan practically snarled. “You did something. What did you do?”

Logan approached you but where anyone else would have flinched, you didn’t. In fact, all you did was sit back further and smile up at him.

“She didn’t do anything, Logan. You needed to sleep.”

Logan turned and looked at the Professor. “Don’t mean I have to be drugged.”

Then you stood. “It was just a little tea, Logan. The more exhausted you are, the faster and harder it works. But now you look more rested. Your skin looks less like you’ve been thrown into a washing machine for a couple spins.”

“Are you always this blunt?”

You smiled. “It’s part of my charm.”

“Ain’t nothing charming about this conversation, doll.”

“Really? Because I’m finding this thrilling.”

Professor X smiled. “Okay, that’s enough, you two.”

“She started it!”

You just smiled again. “You’re welcome. If you ever need more tea, you know where to find me.”

With a pat to his arm, you walked past him and said your goodbyes to the professor before heading for the door.

“Don’t worry about it, you can keep your tea.”

“Have to admit, though. I did help.”

Internally, reluctantly, he did have to. Because despite everything, it was one of the best nights of sleep he’d ever had.

Another week rolled by and despite Logan doing everything he could to avoid the woman that he still considered had drugged him to sleep, he seemed to see more of you.

Turns out, you taught cooking and baking classes to the students so they could at least make themselves a decent meal every once in a while instead of quick ramen noodles. And you also taught outdoor survival skills which Xavier had Logan help sub in with.

But this also meant, much to his chagrin, Logan was actually starting to like you.

Rather than wanting to storm off in the other direction, he wasn’t annoyed by your presence in the room anymore and you definitely had a way with teaching a group of rowdy teenagers who would rather do anything other than learn normal “camp” things.

It was actually entertaining watching you teach your students. And even he learnt a thing or two.

Another week passed and Logan found himself back in your kitchen, sitting at the kitchen island, watching you as you lent one palm on the counter top, a pencil between your teeth and two pens behind one of your ears.

“Want some tea?” You asked him after a few minutes of content silence.

“Are you going to drug me again?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s store bought, Logan. I just added a couple extra things.”

“Really, like what?”

Sighing, with a slight smirk, you turned around and pulled the box of tea from the cabinet before throwing it at Logan from over your shoulder. “Read it. It tells you what to add.”

“They actually sell this stuff?”

You turned back to your messy notebook with a smile. “It helps when your grandmother worked in the tea business for forty years. All the tricks of the trade, passed down through generations.”

Logan watched you work- no, dance around the kitchen. You didn’t even have to look at what you were doing and before he knew it, there was another tea in front of him, in a glass mug with hand-painted roasting logs on it.

Logan looked at it for a moment and then you spoke up, without looking in his direction. “Being a night owl means different hobbies can be created. Glass painting was one of them.”

Logan shrugged with a nod before drinking his tea. The effects weren’t as quick or as “violent” as the first time. Instead, it was calming, then relaxing, then just plain and simple tiredness.

“Go to bed, Logan. Before you crash into my floor again.”

“How did you get me to bed the last time? I’m not exactly all flesh and blood.”

You shrugged. “I’m stronger than I might look to you. But, go to bed, Logan.”

“Will you?”

“Will I do what?”

“Go to bed, too?”

You turned and faced him. “Soon. I want to finish this up first.”

“What are you even doing?”

“New recipe. I shouldn’t be long. Look, I promise. Twenty minutes, I’ll be in my bed, fast asleep.”

Logan raised his brow for a moment but then stood. If he waited any longer, he might actually crash onto the floor again.

“Okay, fine.”

And you stuck to your word. Logan heard your footsteps coming up the stairs less than ten minutes later and after that…he didn’t remember much other than just complete calmness and sleep.

The next couple of nights followed the same pattern. And even if he still wasn’t a tea drinker, Logan was growing a (small) taste for it.

Until one night he walked in and found you stood in the corner, changing your t-shirt.

You already wore a cami top underneath most of your t-shirts anyway – especially in the kitchen, but your first one had gotten too messy. So you were safe when changing. Except, you hadn’t expected Logan to walk in when he did.

He paused for a minute by the door, a little apprehensive to make himself known but also trying to do so, so it wouldn’t seem like he was just watching you change your top t-shirt. But at the same time, he didn’t want you to know he was standing there because he could finally look at you.

More so, when he saw your shoulder.

From your left shoulder spread and faded over the top and to your right, a mark similar to a burn. The skin was scarred, yet healed over. A forgotten memory. The strap of your top cut through the larger scar that ran directly across the middle of the scarred skin, almost in a wave. Parts were redder than others but you didn’t seem to be in pain as you pulled the t-shirt over the top of your head and down your body, covering it back up.

Logan coughed as he entered and you turned around, greeting him as you did every night.

“New recipe?”

You nodded, looking at the messy t-shirt in your hand. “Yeah, it didn't go over too well with the mixer.”

“Better luck next time.”

And then you both just…talked.

You were slowly telling him a little more about yourself each night, even if you didn’t know it yet.

“I just remember being thrown into the wall and waking up like an hour later, completely covered in green brownie batter.”

You both laughed as you told him the story, but then he asked.

“Is that where the scar is from? On your back?”

It was almost as if you had forgotten about it, having to take a moment to realise what he was talking about.

“Oh, that. No, that…that’s nothing important.”

Logan knew to drop his line of questioning. If you said it was nothing important, then there was no way of getting you to talk about it.

Until the day he found you napping on the sofa.

Everyone was outside for the day considering it was winter break and fresh snow had finally fallen on the ground. Except, you had opted to stay inside, and fell asleep on one of the central sofas in one of the quieter communal areas.

The large windows let a lot of natural light flood in, and the fire that was crackling away in the fireplace was enough to heat the room, especially when the door was closed.

And it wasn’t long before the quiet hum of the fire and odd crackle of the wood, mixed with the heat and your lack of sleep, overtook you and you fell asleep. You didn’t even wake when your book dropped from your hand and onto the floor.

“Hey, Y/n, they’re all-”

Logan stopped in his tracks when he saw you.

Fast asleep.

He was careful to remain quiet as he walked over to you, cutting between you and the coffee table to pick up your fallen book and place it safely onto the table, where he sat on the edge and took a minute to just…memorise you.

Since he met you, you had done nothing but be moving. All the time. From the crack of dawn to nightfall, you were constantly going and running and teaching and baking and doing and…hell, for all he knew, you could be something other than mutant or human – even those two needed sleep at some point.

Hell, even he needed sleep.

But you were just constantly forever going.

Lay on your left side, your elbow tucked under your head, you were lightly snoring. Logan brushed the stray hairs that had fallen in front of your face, away, his hand rested on your cheek for a moment, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone for a second.

You were fast asleep.

Your worn Beatles band-tee was twisted slightly around your middle, whilst the waist of your jeans had twisted in the opposite direction a little, leaving a small gap that showed Logan the redness from the indent marks of where you had been lay, probably, on your other hip for a while.

Logan thought about covering you up, and leaving you where you were, for a moment. But he also knew you could be like him when it came to sleep. And it was best to get it when you could. So, rather than chance the kids coming back in and waking you up, he made a decision.

You flinched a little in your sleep as he spoke to you and lifted you from the sofa. It wasn’t long before he found your room and laid you into bed before covering you up.

Once more, he brushed the hair from your eyes as you turned onto your side again.

He looked around for a moment before finding what he was looking for.

A heavy blanket.

He lay it over the top of your bedcovers and you, before moving across the room to light the fireplace.

Only, as he did so and placed the fireguard in front, you whimpered.

He turned around but you were still.

Then you whimpered again.

“No,” you whispered.

Logan moved over to you quickly and quietly as he could. You fell silent again.

He let out a small breath and covered you up a little more before leaning down. He didn’t know why, but he pressed a small kiss to your temple before walking away.

Except you reached out for his hand.

Logan looked down at his hand that was connected with yours, then to you. You were still asleep.

But it didn’t look like it was a good dream.

You were shaking. Your entire body seemed to be paralysed with fear, all the while you were mumbling words Logan just couldn’t quite make out.

Then the glass of water by your bed started shaking. Then the table it was on. Then your bed. Then the floor. Whatever was happening to you was spreading throughout your room.

A picture that had been hanging on the wall outside, fell to the floor.

Quickly turning back to you, Logan took hold of your shoulder. He kept calling your name but it was like you couldn’t hear him.

“Please…please don’t hurt them. Please.” You screamed and then grunted in pain. Whatever was happening in your nightmare, you were being hurt. Badly.

“Hey, Y/N! Hey, you’re okay! You’re safe! You’re in New York. You’re at school! It’s not real, Y/N. None of it is real.”

Your head shifted. You were searching.

“I’m right here. None of it is real. You need to wake up.”

“L…Logan?”

The violent shaking in your room slowed for a moment.

He was shocked. Maybe…

“Just follow my voice. It’s just a nightmare. I can’t get into your head and bring you out. Just…follow my voice.”

The shaking around your room gradually slowed, but you still were. Then your eyes opened.

And glowed.

They were still your eyes just…brighter.

“Logan?!”

He had stopped speaking. You were panicking.

“It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m right here.” Logan took hold of your hand and held it tighter. “You’re safe.”

The shaking slowed and your eyes closed again.

Then everything stopped.

Everything went silent.

Logan looked at the glass of water beside your bed. It was like it had never moved.

Then you gasped and shot up from your bed. You kicked your legs and brought your hands behind you to push yourself up and the covers from you.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, hey, Y/n. Hey,”

You were gasping for breath, dizzy from your nightmare.

“Hey, it’s me. Whoa. Hey, look at me. It’s Logan.”

He took you by your shoulders then your face.

“It’s Logan.”

You finally calmed a little, and he watched your eyes search his entire face until you finally recognised him.

“Logan,” you breathed.

“Yeah…”

Your shoulders relaxed and you leaned closer to him, wrapping your arms around him. His hand held the back of your head and his other round your back, pressing you further into him. He could still feel your body trembling.

“What happened?”

“You had a nightmare.” Logan told you. “The room started shaking and I tried waking you up.”

You took a couple of breaths before moving back and pushed the hair from your face and curled your legs up closer to your chest.

Logan, sat beside them, placed one of his hands on your knee and the other in your right hand.

“What happened?”

You shook your head. “Nothing-”

“The entire room started shaking and your eyes glowed. That’s not ‘nothing important’, Y/n.”

You swallowed and nodded your head before dropping your gaze and shifting until you were sat up, crossed-legged.

Logan remained where he was, sat on the edge of your bed.

“Before I worked as a teacher and cook here, I was one of them.” The last four words came out slowly, almost like you had to convince yourself you were saying them out loud. “I was an X-Man. I was a part of the team.”

“So what happened?”

“The usual. A mission gone wrong.”

“And that’s what the nightmares…”

You nodded. “It was the mission that made me retire. They needed me to do a job, and I couldn’t do it. There were kids, mutants, being held captive. Some rich dick thought he could duplicate mutants. As the team went it, I was meant to be holding ground outside, helping them find their way through. Only, I didn’t shut off my power. We knew they had someone who could detect me if I didn’t. I got so focused on trying to find the kids, trying to make sure the team got to them that the team almost…”

You paused for a minute. You hadn’t told anyone this story. Ever.

Logan took your hand. “It’s okay. It’s just me.”

You let Logan’s touch soak into your skin. A memory you’d never forget yet never truly remember why you never would forget.

“They almost died, Logan.” You looked at him and he could see the tears behind your eyes, threatening to come forward and fall again. “Everyone almost died, because I didn’t shut it down. You asked about the scar, the one on my back?”

Logan nodded. He didn’t like where this was going.

“It’s from that day. One of their scientists had set off some kind of power..thing. Sent me flying blocks away from where I was supposed to be. I crash landed into some old wooden panelling which knocked me down. But once I got up…their Superhuman had found me.”

“Was he the one that-”

You nodded, remembering it as if it was yesterday. “I was thrown, this time on my front. I tried to get up but then all I felt was pure fire. He was burning me. Giving me a reminder of why ‘someone like me, born with the powers of gods’ shouldn’t have them when I was clearly so ‘weak’. By the time he stopped, I realised where he was going. And by the time I got up, everything just…blew up.”

“Y/n, everyone’s safe. You’re all here. Don’t you teach some of those kids?”

You nodded. “Doesn’t mean I don’t forget that feeling. One of the kids had been watching the guards, tracking their materials to find a way out. If they hadn't done that…they wouldn’t have gotten out, Logan. And they almost didn’t. All because I couldn’t fight. I can’t be the reason why I lose my family and the people I love.”

The tears came forward now, streaming down your face at an unstoppable speed.

“I just can’t.”

Logan shook his head, pushing himself closer to you to hold you. And you let him. Leaning into him, you felt his arms grow tighter around your body. There was a small security in his arms, one that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“None of that was your fault.” Logan told you. “I know you and I know this team. You would never intentionally hurt people. And forgetting to turn your powers off? We’ve all made mistakes in moments like that. Sometimes you get so focused on one person, you tend to lose all sense of self. But none of that was your fault. They got out. They’re all here. They’re all alive. And rich dick is spending his life as dust in the fucking wind.”

“Believe me, I’ll be the first to tell you changing your feelings on something won’t stop the nightmares.” Logan continued. “But you need to find a way to let it go. Don’t let them control you. Not when you won. Not when you’re here, with everyone, able to drug me with some store bought tea.”

You laughed a little at that, wiping your tears away before Logan did the same thing, brushing his thumb underneath your eye and across your cheek. Logan smiled a little. Others might have called it a muscle flex, but knowing Logan; it was a small, brief smile.

“Don’t let them win.”

You nodded, your head still in his hands.

“Logan? Will you…Can you stay?”

It seemed to take Logan a second to find his answer. What you couldn’t see was that most of that time, he was trying to figure out why his answer came as fast as it did for him.

“You don’t-”

“I can stay.”

You looked up at him and nodded with a slight smile.

Moments later, Logan had kicked his shoes off and was lying beside you in bed.

“Logan?”

“Yeah?”

You took his hand that lay between you both and turned your head to look at him.

“Thank you for staying.”

It was his turn to turn his head and when he did, he felt something. The same feeling he’d been getting since the day you gave him his first cup of tea.

Logan just nodded before lifting his arm. “Come here.”

You moved closer to him as he lifted the covers a little so you could do so. Then he dropped his arm around your back, his palm flush against its centre before it slid a little lower to hold you by your waist.

As your head settled close to his chest, he dropped his head a little, leaning his jaw against the top of your head and as he felt you relax and close your eyes, he did the same thing.

The moment your breathing became even, and he knew you were asleep, Logan settled back down and held you just a little tighter against him as he closed his eyes and joined you in a dreamless sleep.

Hours passed and Charles hadn’t seen either you or Logan in hours. But when he spotted a picture frame that had fallen onto the floor, just outside of your room, he sped as quickly as he could down the hall, but paused when he saw the door open and a sight he didn’t think he’d get to witness for at least a few more months.

From the hallway, Charles peered in to find the snow falling heavily outside of your window. The children and other teachers were still outside playing. The fire had died down a little, but even he could feel the heat from the room.

And in the middle of the left hand wall through the door, was your bed.

Where yourself and Logan slept soundly, almost as one. With your face and hand on his chest, and his arm around your waist, whilst his other hand held onto your arm in a soft grip, keeping your hand on him.

Xavier could practically feel the serenity oozing from the pair of you. He knew Logan was troubled and that you yourself hadn’t felt safe or content in a long time.

And he would never have to tell Logan of the change you brought to him, or the one he brought to you. The change that helped you feel safe again, content again. Happy again. Without the added feeling that something was about to go off kilter.

Because Logan already knew.

And so did you.

And for Logan, no matter how many times you would tell him you were “nobody important”, you would always be important to him.

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endless-ineffabilities · 3 months

Text

chemical override (3)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

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Both having busy schedules and working in different cities, the reader and Ewan make an effort to keep contact with each other. Will Ewan ever make his feelings known? Will a possible scandal derail their budding romance?

A beautiful floral arrangement awaits you as you return to your hotel suite in LA.

Luxury red roses preserved in an elegant black velvet box, accompanied by a printed note on the side.

Congratulations on your new project, darling.

All my love, Ewan.

Your assistant had alluded to a special package having arrived just before you came in, and you're met with this.

It's the loveliest of gestures and you instantly wish to call Ewan to express your thanks. However the hour is late, the digital clock face reading 10 pm. You'd had a long day at work, having gone through the entirety of rehearsals once more. Filming will officially begin in September, and your focus is much needed as you step into a new role.

Noting the time difference - it would only be around 6 am in the UK - you decide to put off calling him for tomorrow.

It's only been a week since he first confessed that he misses you, and since then, he's had no trouble saying it each time you speak, almost as if the floodgates are opened and he's more confident in expressing himself with you.

I told you, Phia had simply said when you shared this with her.

The strong possibility of Ewan harbouring feelings for you has caused you to become distracted the past few days. If he does, why hasn't he asked you out yet? Granted, you'll be working long-distance for a while, but still.

You quickly wind down from a long day and soon find yourself comfortably huddled in blankets with your laptop propped open in front of you. Winding down, of course, includes some time scrolling on your phone or watching things without a care.

A new video catches your attention on Youtube's home page. One of the segments from Ewan's Vanity Fair feature.

Ewan Mitchell on his firsts and currents

You smile to yourself before you even realise it.

The video starts with Ewan introducing himself - "Hi, Vanity Fair. I'm Ewan Mitchell and I'm here to talk about my different firsts and currents." - He smirks at the camera. You smirk right back as if he can see you.

"So first ever role?" he says, directed by prompts behind the camera. "Technically, my first ever role was for a very small, short film called Stereotype ..." He laughs, remembering how young and inexperienced he was. "... and my current role - none other than the One-Eyed Prince. So far, my favourite as well I have to say."

He continues with his first and current favourite film, pets, song or type of music to get into character... and so on...

Then he gets asked about - his first ever and his current celebrity crush - "Uhhhmm," he looks to the side bashfully, clicking his tongue as he thinks of the simplest answer, "I don't think I had celebrity crushes growing up. It could have been some of the actors I admired, that inspired me... "

Such a classic Ewan answer, that one. You wonder how he would also dodge the question of his current celebrity crush.

"As for my current crush... well... it might be someone from the cast of House of the Dragon, actually." He smiles knowingly, as if he's aware that your stomach is in knots as you watch. Who will he say? Phia? Olivia?

"I really admire ... " He says your name, and your eyes widen like saucers. "She's an amazing actress - I think we can all agree - and a very dear person to me... "

Ewan, you sneaky charming bastard.

" ... so yeah," he shrugs, nonchalantly, but he surely knows he just sent you - and the entire fandom - into a tailspin. "I guess you could say she's my current celebrity crush."

Curious, you pick up your phone and get to scrolling. You've turned all your notifications off, not wanting to become occupied because of them during work.

Sure enough, it's an endless flurry of likes, comments, and messages.

In your most recent post, tons of people comment about Ewan's interview, trying to bring it to your attention.

hotdpolska29: girl, go watch Ewan's Vanity Fair video RIGHT. NOW.

melodygellerr: be honest, is this photo for Ewan???

peraltajake99: now she has to say that Ewan's her celebrity crush too !!!

cassiethemendler: forget Ewan... guys she's acc with jacob frickin elordi. Did yall not see the pictures

There's simply too many comments to go through. One statement and already everyone has formed their own opinion, their own conclusion about how things are in your personal life. It's one of the drawbacks of being in the public eye, and you still don't fully know how to handle it.

As part of PR for your new film, you and Jacob had been tapped to make appearances in public together, photographers hired to make it seem like the two of you are on a date.

The whole thing confused you. You're friends with Jacob, and naturally you hang out with him anyway. All this celebrity subterfuge seems unnecessary. But he was kind enough to guide you through it. "It's just part of the job," Jacob assured. "This whole Hollywood thing is silly, isn't it?"

Since you're both single actors, it wouldn't hurt for people to believe you might be dating. It attracts attention and any publicity is good as they say.

As long as you know what's true, then the public can believe whatever they want.

You end up liking and responding to some comments, and ignoring most of the other ones that pry too much into your private life. Never mind the haters, who also give their own two cents about your alleged involvements with Ewan or Jacob.

Suddenly, the screen is brightened from an incoming call from Ewan One-Eye . You are still pleased with yourself about the name. Your excitement is spiked as you press answer. Having a crush never gets old.

"Mornin', you," you greet him. 11 pm for you in LA, 7 am for him in England.

"Evening, darling," he says with a smile. He's still in bed, with one hand behind his head while the other has his phone pressed to his ear. First thing in the morning, and he feels compelled to call you. If that's any indication, the boy doesn't lie when he says he misses you every day. "You about to go to bed?" he queries.

"Mhmm," you hum, lying down and mirroring his position. "By the way, I think I've got a secret admirer or something."

"What? Who?"

Struggling to hold back a laugh, you continue, "I think you're missing the point of a secret admirer."

"Yeah, yeah," he sighs. "Anyway, what's going on? Are they bothering you?" He sounds worried already, but a bit more should be fun.

"No, but I found a box from them in my room."

"Did they break in?" He sits half-upright, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," you breathe out a tired laugh. "Ewan, I'm - " ... kidding, you want to confess, but he rambles on.

"If you need me, I can take the next flight out."

"Ewan - honey - I am messing with you. I do appreciate the floral arrangment box, by the way, thank you."

A beat of silence. He slumps back down on his pillows. A smile creeps up unrestrained on his lips. He fondly thinks that his girl almost gave him a heart attack at 7 am.

And he loves it.

"You're welcome," he replies. "And if I wasn't fully awake before, then I am now. Good work, darling."

You're pleased - he didn't deny the admirer bit of it all.

"Seriously now, thank you. They're the best surprise after a long work day."

"I'm glad you like them," he says sincerely. "Rehearsals still going on?"

"Yup, two more weeks of this, then a month-long break, and finally filming in Atlanta."

"Hmm," he says, then pauses, framing his next question as best he can. "Are you... do they... that PR relationship business, is that - "

You help him to it. "Well, technically, yeah," you respond. "But they're not laying it on thick with Jacob and I. Everything is alleged by the media and no one will make any sure statements."

When you shared the truth of the pap walk, he had a bunch of questions about it. He had sounded detached and cold at the beginning of that call. Then you complained about relationships for publicity, and he quickly got the gist. You'd think his mood took a complete 360 then.

From sounding completely disinterested with Jacob, Ewan then took to reassuring you that he's a good guy who would respect your boundaries. He's still not a fan of the whole thing, but it's your job.

And... well... it's not like he's your boyfriend or anything. What claim could he have over you?

"And something you said has the public divided," you add.

"What did I say?" he smirks, playing it coy.

"Ewan."

"You're going to have to elaborate, darling."

An idea pops up in your mind. Two can play at this game, Mitchell. "Listen, I'm flattered that I'm apparently your celebrity crush, but you can't say shit like that! I don't think my boyfriend Jacob would appreciate it. He's very protective, you know."

A full minute passes, you hear his heavy breathing on the other line. He wants to curse out at the picture you presented but holds back for you.

Then, "You're so funny, darling."

You laugh genuinely, and all his worries dissipate. "I know."

"A downright comedian."

"Thank you."

"I can't believe you're my celebrity crush," he sighs dramatically.

"You put that on to yourself, mate."

"Hmm." He sure did. He wasn't lying in that interview - you are his celebrity crush, but that seems reductive. He likes you, he misses you, he loves being around you. "The only right answer would have been you. You're the one I think about all the time."

He says things like this, so sweetly, and it's everything. It drives you off kilter that you get tongue-tied at work when you think about it.

But he hasn't said or done anything more. The flowers were a nice touch, sure. Maybe he's gearing up to it? Does he have something up his sleeve?

In the moment, it appears not. He's flirty, as he always is, but you've had a damn long day and the butterflies in your stomach are exhausted too.

"Ewan, I'm gonna go to bed."

"Oh. Right."

"Long day tomorrow. You know how it is."

"Of course. I... I miss you, darling. Sleep well."

"Mhmm," you find yourself responding, not mirroring his statement. "Bye, have a good day."

You end the call, wondering if he caught on at the end. Perhaps you sounded a bit too dismissive, but a voice in your head says, hey - if he wants you, he gonna have to show you. It'll take a lot more than flattery and banter to win your heart completely.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

That night in London, Ewan sits in a corner booth of a pub with Tom, Luke and Elliott and it's relatively causal, with the boys just catching up over a few pints.

Until Luke mentions you and Jacob, questioning whether that whole story was real or not.

"Absolutely not," Ewan says immediately, shifting in his Adidas tracksuit as if to take up more space so the boys will pay attention. "I talked to her about it and it's all just PR nonsense, trust me."

"Look at this one gettin' all defensive." Tom claps Ewan on the back in jest.

"Well it's true," Ewan just shrugs. "They're not together."

Elliott jumps in, eager to rile Ewan up even more. "For now at least. I've heard that these PR couple things eventually get a little too real, if you know what I mean. The lines tend to get blurred."

Ewan slings his pint back, before engaging. "What do you mean?"

"Well, look at it this way," Elliott explains. "She hangs out with the guy a lot. They laugh, dine and work together. Maybe they even have to make out several times for the film. It's easy for feelings to spring up from all that business."

"Life imitates art, innit?" Luke offers.

"Yeah, maybe soon it won't just be PR. I've heard of some celebrity couples who did that," Elliott says.

Luke adds, "Wasn't there that one PR couple that got married and all? Who was it - I can't remember now - "

Tom intervenes, wary of the way with which Ewan grips his pint glass. "That's all nonsense, come on. Surely that's not a common occurence. I worked with all you guys, and I can't stand any of ya. If anything, she'll be so sick of Jacob after they work together." That earns him a laugh from the twins, who then assign him to get the next round as payment for that jibe.

Ewan stays silent, his mind whirring. Usually, the boys wouldn't mind. They know it's just his way, being a focused and observant lad on and off set. But they sense something else underneath.

The twins share a look, a bit guilty due to Ewan's expression.

Ewan looks up and reassures the table, "Hey, it's alright. Whatever she chooses to do, I get it."

"But come on, mate," Tom says. "Everyone knows you like her. Literally everyone. Even she knows it, I bet. Why don't you just make the bloody move already?"

"I dunno," Ewan starts, not sure of the answer himself, "it just didn't seem like the right time, with her being off across the pond for the rest of the year."

"So what, you're just going to let it slide? Do you want her or not?"

"Mmm, I do." Ewan keeps to himself most of the time. But Tom's got a way to loosen his taut edges.

"Well, as promised, I'm gonna get us all another round," Tom declares, earning cheers from the twins.

Two pints turned into three, then six, seven and so on. Pretty soon, the lads get properly and well smashed. Ewan's never been the biggest drinker, but when the social situation calls for it, he can put them back just as well as the next guy from the Midlands.

"So come clean, mate," Tom drawls, his arm slung around Ewan's shoulders. "Are you in love with her already or what?"

Ewan laughs, rubbing a hand over his face to wake up a little. It doesn't work - the glare of the warm overhead lights is strong and make him feel woozy.

"Could be," he says. "But that's none of your business." Smirking, he points at Luke, "Or yours," then at Elliott, "or yours."

"Hey! C'mon," Tom protests, feigning hurt. "Am I not going to be the best man at the wedding?"

"No way, Aegon the Magnanimous," Ewan shakes his head. "My brother'll be the best man."

"So there will be a wedding," Luke says. "Does the bride know about it?"

"He hasn't even asked her out yet," Elliott teases. "I triple dare you to ask her out right now. Right fuckin' now, Ewan."

"No," Ewan says, but in his sloshed out state, he secretly considers just doing it. "I gotta go for a smoke, lads. Tom was right, I can't stand you anymore."

"Oh, boo!" Tom shoves him out of the booth. "Hurry back, lover boy."

Ewan makes his way to the alley behind the pub. He's thankful that a pub at midnight offers the perfect setting to disappear into anonymity. Everyone's just as drunk or they simply don't care about celebrity culture.

He takes a few puffs of his cigarette, the nicotine quickly reawakening his nerves. Thinking back to the twin's suggestion, he thinks, why the hell not? Why shouldn't he ask you out already? Who cares about the PR shite? If word gets around that you're his, the facade about you and Jacob will get shelved.

With his cig lodged between his teeth, he has to take extra care to call you, the glare of the screen not doing wonders for his inebriation.

The lines beeps, and he's met with your voicemail. You must still be at work or just getting off it.

Still with Jacob. Something in him stirs, and it's not just the bloody alcohol.

He clears his throat, prompted by the notification to leave a message - "Hey, darling. Hey... beautiful... I guess I'm missing you and I... I miss you, isn't that funny?" he starts, proud of himself for making the joke. "I'm out with the lads right now... had a couple of pints. Maybe one too many? I don't know. And... uhhh - "

He stomps his smoke under his shoe, nervous ticks getting the best of him. Here he goes, make it or break it. "I was thinking about you. As I always do. Because I've never felt like this about anyone before. Ever. And I'm sorry it took me this long to ask, but I want to be with you. No - that's not right, it's too quick... I mean, yes, I want to be with you, but I gotta do this right. I want to take you out, properly, on a date. Will you... will you please? I've got some business stateside and I could have that scheduled sooner, and I could come see you. And we could... I just want to see you. So fucking badly, baby. I - I - okay then, I suppose that's all. Good... good morning? No - evening. You're beautiful and I just..." he sighs deeply, because words will never do you justice. "... goodbye."

The line cuts off and he tucks his phone away. Smiling to himself, he feels euphoric from getting that off his chest. The message was coherent enough, he thinks proudly, and it couldn't have sounded better all things considering.

If he could pat himself on the back, he most definitely would. He can already see it, the perfect first date with you.

The lads are going to go nuts over this, he knows for certain. He makes his way back inside the pub, a boy renewed.

A lover boy, as Tom and Phia call him.

No truer words have been spoken.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

It's 10 pm yet again when you make it back to your suite. Having notifications on your phone turned off while you're at work, you're met with a barage of messages and the usual social media frenzy.

But only one thing stands out - a voice message from Ewan One-Eye, sent just around 4 hours ago.

You settle in for the night, making sure you're all prepped to go to bed before playing it, thinking you can maybe call him afterward.

You hear the beep, and the message starts - "Hey, darling... uhhhh so hey, I - uh fuck I'm missing you right now, must be at work eh? And I miss you - " You note how he sounds drowsy but his words are punctuated. Like he's making an actual effort to simply speak. You realise he must be drunk. What's a drunk Ewan doing calling you? " - that's so funny, innit? Which suits cause I'm just a bloody joke cause I took too long... to tell you... that I... I think about you all the time, I'mcrazyboutyou y'know... I wanna be with you... withyou - " He's drunk, you keep reminding yourself that he's drunk. But the effect of his words aren't diminished. He's got you hooked. " - I got work out there too... so I'll - uhhh - see you then and... take you out then and - fuck - kiss ya... I want to kiss you so fucking badly, baby. You're perfect for me, and so beautiful, and I wish Aemond would wed your character cause - as th'twins said - life imitates art!" He snickers at his own remark, and it's the most endearing thing ever. "So... yeah, good, darling. Goodb - " and the line cuts off.

"What the fuck," is all you can speak out into the quiet room. Lying back on your pillows, you actually laugh out loud and kick your feet like a puppy-love drunk highschooler.

The sun is rising across the pond and Ewan has probably just made it back home, immediately collapsing in his bed all wasted.

But he's getting a call tomorrow - and you pray to the fictional Westerosi gods that his intentions are clear, drunk or otherwise.

Kismet is a funny thing. Once a fan of the show, you're now an actress on it, about to date the Aemond Targaryen.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Ewan's eyes flutter open. The sunlight is weakly coming in from the window shutters in his room. Confused, he glances at the digital clock face and it reads 6:18 PM.

So he slept through the whole day. Brilliant.

It's unlike him to mind his phone first thing after waking up, so he trudges to his bathroom to douse his face with cold water and brush his teeth for a good long while, trying to recall the events of the previous night.

It had the usual workings of a proper pub night with his lads, and he barely remembers the last night he got that sloshed. But anyway, all in good fun, and he genuinely enjoys their company so it must be worth the pounding headache he feels right now.

The lads... an unknown and possibly excessive number of pints... Oasis playing on the speakers... Tom generously buying a round of drinks for everyone in the pub... and of course, you.

The memory has his attention, and he thumbs through his phone as he makes his way to his kitchen to prep his staple black coffee with seven sugars.

He remembers it - kind of - leaving a voicemail, and he's pleased that he finally, finally asked you out. Never mind that it took him getting drunk off his noggin to do it.

But there's nothing from you. Not a message, nor a missed call, nor a voice note.

He tries not to let it worry him right away, but it does. Maybe you didn't hear it yet. Maybe you were too tired from work and weren't checking your voicemails.

Maybe... maybe...

His phone suddenly buzzes in his palm and he mumbles, fuck's sake, out of surprise. But it's not you calling. It's his publicist.

"Hello, good evening. How are you doing?" he greets cordially.

"Ewan!" she exclaims. "Finally! I've been trying to get a hold of you all day."

"Oh, right," he says guiltily, "I'm so sorry, I just had a long night and - "

"I know, Ewan, I know. The whole country - no - the whole world knows by now. Bloody hell, it's always The Sun, isn't it? Those idiots, I swear."

He straightens at that. If a tabloid is involved, it can't be good news. "What's happened?"

His publicist sighs, ready to relay the news, "The Sun did a story on you and the other cast members. About having a wild night out in the pub. It's useless fodder, really, nothing wrong with having a night out."

"Right, right... but - " Ewan says, sensing there's something more. Something worse.

"There's a picture of you with a girl - "

"What?"

"I think I've seen her before. She must be a cousin of the Tittensors? You know her, of course."

"I... I don't - "

"Anyway, according to the paper, you and her were flirting it up a storm at the pub. She had her arm around you and everything. Do you want to look it up now? I can give you a moment. I'll stay on the line."

"Fuck," Ewan mutters to himself as he does a quick search of his name. The headlines make him wish he never did so.

House of the Dragon Stars On A Wild Night Out: INSIDE SCOOP!

EWAN MITCHELL SPOTTED WITH MYSTERY LADY

Aemond Targaryen IN LOVE? See PICTURES Inside!

"I don't think I remember her," he swears to his publicist, "I was just drinking with the lads and there might have been others that joined us but I - what the fuck - I don't - "

"It's okay, Ewan," she reassures him. "We can deal with this. This bullshit just comes with the job, as you should know. It'll be fine."

No, it's not fine.

Because it dawns on him why he hasn't heard back from you.

"Fuck."

💌 next chapter

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Not drunk Ewan thinking his voice message sounded a lot better than it did! 😂

The story will extend further than 3 parts, as it turns out! In the next one, the reader and Ewan will be reunited - any guesses on what will happen?

Comment and let me know if you wish to be added to the taglist 💕

#ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell imagine #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #chemical override #aemond targaryen x reader

1K notes · View notes

theemporium · 10 months

Text

[3k] the season is over but the marriage remains. max starts to see little leclerc in a light no one in the world has ever seen before. and daniel is stirring the pot because he is bored. but in a concerned way, obviously.

series masterlist

“When did you say he was coming?”

“Maman.”

“Sorry for being excited to see my son-in-law.”

“Ugh, don’t call him that.”

“That’s what he is, Charles. Grow up, please.”

You couldn’t help but let out a snort as you watched the way your brother argued with your mother, both on very different sides of the spectrum as you awaited Max to show up. Despite his best attempts, whatever plans Charles made to try and ruin the dinner, Pascale would always be one step ahead of him, leaving the boy pouty by the time six o’clock was approaching.

And whilst you knew your mother would be excited to meet the man you impulsively—and drunkenly—decided to marry in Vegas, you hadn’t expected her to reach this level. You don’t think you had even ever seen her take Christmas dinners to this level.

The fancy plates and cutlery had been taken out of the kitchen cupboard you and Arthur were forbidden from opening, and you had spent all morning polishing them with Lorenzo. Pascale had been running around the house like a headless chicken, as though Max would step into the house and notice the specks of dust on the top of the bookshelves and doorways. Charles had been sent out the house on a goose chase that you indefinitely knew was your mother’s way of preventing him from poisoning any dishes. And Arthur was sent along with him for good measure.

And when the clock hit five, she had practically ordered each and every one of you to put on something presentable and nice before the guest of the night arrived.

Truthfully, it felt like a funny fever dream until you were sitting in the living room, fingers tugging on the hem of your dress as you tried to fight the pit of anxiety in your stomach.

You hadn’t spoken to Max since earlier that morning. He had tried messaging a few more times: first asking what caused the sudden shift in tone, and then to ask for opinions on different bouquets. But you couldn’t bring yourself to reply to either.

You were angry. Not at him. Never at him, You were just angry at yourself. You were angry for letting such a small, meaningless comment get in your head. You were angry that you were taking your emotions out on Max who was clueless and didn’t deserve your sudden cold shoulder. You were angry that despite logically knowing all of this, the sight of his contact name and the mere idea that he was going to be in your house in the next few minutes didn’t help the pit in your stomach.

You tried to focus on Charles’ tantrum. You tried to focus on the jokes Arthur kept making to wind him up. You tried to focus on the way Lorenzo was calmly trying to persuade your mother to put the photo albums away before Max even arrived.

You tried to pretend you were okay when you were far from it.

“I want all four of you on your best behaviour,” Pascale told each of you as she anxiously glanced over at the clock, practically vibrating on the spot as the big hand neared closer to twelve with each passing moment. “No nonsense.”

“That means no sneaking away to make out with your husband,” Arthur teased, only to let out a wince when Charles slapped him across the back of his head.

“There will be nothing of the sort,” Charles grumbled, only to let out a wince when Pascale slapped him across the back of the head.

“Don’t hit your brother,” she said in a stern voice before adding. “And stop being such a buzzkill towards your sister.”

Charles rolled his eyes.

Pascale opened her mouth as though she was going to continue scolding her middle son, only to be cut off by the sound of three knocks at the door. Her face instantly lit up as she clapped her hands together, grinning widely as she rushed towards the door.

Maybe it was the anxiety or maybe it was something else, but your chest tightened when the door swung open and you saw Max on the other side of the door.

He arrived right at six on the dot, though you guessed the punctuality didn’t surprise you. What did surprise you was the lack of Red Bull merch. It was stupid to think he would have worn it to dinner, but then again, he had worn it to plenty of other events shamelessly so you never knew what to expect.

But no. Instead, Max stood in the doorway in black sweater with the collar of his white shirt sticking out the top. He wore dark jeans that didn’t look like they were painted on (a miracle) and he held a large bouquet of peonies that were the prettiest shade of pink you had ever seen in your life.

“Mrs Leclerc,” he greeted her with a charming smile on his face as she opened the door. “Thank you for inviting—”

“Oh enough with the formalities!” She laughed before she brought him into a hug, the act clearly catching the boy off-guard if the wide eyes were anything to go by. “We are family now. Call me Pascale.”

“Oh. Right,” Max murmured, expertly keeping the bouquet to one side as he wrapped his other arm around the older woman. “Uh, these are for you.”

“My favourite,” she said with a genuine smile when she pulled back to take the bouquet from his hands. “What a gentleman you are, Max.”

You could have sworn you saw a light blush spread across his cheeks.

“Please, come in,” she ushered him in as she closed the door behind him. She turned on her heel, her smile still so wide, it was almost concerning. “Make yourself comfortable. Dinner is almost ready.”

Max nodded his head in thanks and turned to look at the others in the room. But his gaze completely missed your brothers and landed on you, something in his eyes shifting as he stepped forward and opened his mouth to say something.

But you were already up and out of your seat before he could say a single word to you.

“I’ll help bring the food to the table, Maman,” you said suddenly as you rushed towards the kitchen.

Arthur only snorted in response. “Trouble in paradise already.”

...

“You’re ignoring me.”

You almost jumped out of your skin, the phone that was previously in your hands now clambering onto the counter. You pressed your hand to your chest, the feeling of your wildly beating heart thundering under your skin as you tried to clear your throat.

“No, I’m not,” you denied, though you hadn’t turned to look at him.

Max raised his brows. “So you’re just hiding out in the kitchen when the rest of your family are outside for no reason then?”

“I’m not hiding out. I was checking on the chicken,” you said aimlessly, your cheeks heating up under his intense gaze. But still, you kept your eyes on the counter and the random dishes of food rather than the Dutchman who taking a few steps closer to you. “And I was texting Yuki. He was having some marriage issues so—”

“Guess you can relate then,” Max deadpanned.

Your cheeks burned warmer. “You should head back out to the party, Max.”

“At least fucking look at me,” he whispered, something almost pleading in his voice.

You weren’t used to it with the Dutchman. Even from a young age, Max was oddly self-assured and confident in what he said. The media said he was rude, but he was just blunt. He knew what he wanted to say. He didn’t sound apologetic when he said it. And he certainly didn’t sound so distressed when he demanded things.

And yet here he was, the three time world champion who had never sounded so desperate and anguished before in his life, just aching for you to lift your head.

You swallowed the ball lodged in the back of your throat before slowly turning your head to find Max a few steps away from you. He looked oddly concerned and maybe that’s what really caught you off-guard. You weren’t sure what you were expecting—maybe some annoyance or some anger—but it certainly wasn’t this.

His brows were furrowed together, the crease between his eyebrows deeper and more prominent than you had ever seen it. He looked a little lost and bashful, like for the first time in his life, he didn’t know what to do and he didn’t know what to do with that piece of information.

Max Verstappen had never looked so hopeless.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he spoke in a soft voice, and it didn’t help the pounding in your chest.

“Nothing is wrong, Max,” you said to him, and you tried to flash him a smile. But it was strained and wrong and he hated the look of it on your face.

“Don’t bullshit me. You said this marriage wasn’t going to work if I wasn’t enthusiastic, well it won’t work either if you lie to me,” he said in a slightly more firm voice, and this time he took another step towards you. “Tell me what I did.”

Your chest tightened again. “Max—”

“Was it the comment earlier?” He continued, that pleading note in his voice so loud and clear again. “It was a joke, I promise you. I’m not ashamed to be married to you. I could never be ashamed of you.”

“Max—”

“Yes, I know the circumstances of our marriage are a little unconventional and a little inconvenient too but,” Max’s hands rested on your upper arms, the touch warm and overwhelming but you didn’t think you wanted him to let go of you just yet. “If I had to marry someone in Vegas, I am glad it’s you.”

And it hurt.

It hurt so fucking bad that the boy was standing in front of you, laying himself on the line and blaming himself for something that wasn’t even his fault. It hurt because no matter what you did, you couldn’t bring yourself to open your mouth and tell him. You couldn’t bring yourself to say that his agreement to your comment struck a nerve. You couldn’t bring yourself to say that you were feeling stupidly self-deprecating when you made the comment in the first place and his response just felt like he kicked you when you were down.

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him about the countless articles. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him about the comments made throughout your life, throughout your brothers’ careers, throughout your own career.

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that he had practically chained himself to a PR manager’s worst fucking nightmare with no way out any time soon.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say any of it. Not when you hadn’t even confessed half of your feelings to the people in the other room. Not when a part of you was scared he would agree with every single fear that laid lingering in the back of your head.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you finally managed to say, and something quite like relief washed over the boy when he realised you were actually answering him, that you weren’t going to run off and hide in another room like you had done before. “Just…it was something else that upset me. Not you. I promise. You did nothing wrong, Max.”

The concern returned. “What upset you?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you said simply, and you were grateful enough that the boy dropped the topic—even if he wasn’t particularly happy about it. “We have a dinner to enjoy. It’s not worth ruining when Maman has spent all day making sure Charles didn’t slip some arsenic into your soup.”

Max snorted, shaking his head. A few beats passed before he squeezed your arms slightly. “We’re good?”

You smiled. “We’re good, Max.”

He nodded, seemingly pleased with that response as he let out an exhale. “Good, because now you can come out and help me. If Arthur makes one more sex joke, I think Charles might serve my balls for dessert.”

You snorted. “Maman would have his balls on a plate first if he tried to ruin the dinner itinerary she set up.”

...

“Can we talk?”

Max paused what he was doing, the pile of dishes sitting in front of him from where he was trying to help tidy up after dinner moments ago. Despite Pascale’s insistence that he was a guest who didn’t need to assist, Max still found himself joining the oddly domestic dance of working around the Leclerc’s to clean away the table and take everything back into the kitchen.

He could hear you and Arthur giggling in the other room, quickly followed by soft scolds from Pascale—the kind where you could still hear the smile in her voice. He could hear Lorenzo stepping outside for a phone call, his voice muffled by the balcony whilst Arthur made some joke that he was probably going to throw himself off after watching his baby sister make heart eyes at her husband all night. That was followed by another scolding from Pascale.

There was an odd sense of contentment deep in his chest as he collected the last of the dishes on the dining table when he heard somebody step into the room, expecting it just to be Pascale or maybe even you.

He wasn’t expecting Charles.

“Uh, yeah,” the Dutchman muttered, shifting around so he was facing the boy instead. “What’s up?” He almost cringed at his own words the second they left his mouth.

“Tell me this isn’t a tactic.”

Max paused, wondering for a few moments if he had heard the boy correctly. However, Charles didn’t seem to repeat himself as he stood there on the other side of the table, staring blankly at the Dutchman as he waited for his response.

“What?”

“Tell me that this whole thing isn’t just some ploy made up by Red Bull,” Charles said, his face remaining straight as he spoke.

“What is a ploy? This dinner?” Max questioned, utterly baffled by the words leaving his mouth.

“I need you to tell me whether you are just messing with my sister as some weird, twisted way to get to me,” Charles said, his arms crossed over his chest. “I need you to tell me if this is some fucking game to you and your team.”

And Max’s stomach churned at the allegation.

He thought this was all planned. He thought Red Bull had sent him out like a spy to get involved with the Leclerc family and exploit them. He thought this didn’t mean shit to Max beyond a mind game to assure him the championship next year.

And the worst part was that Max could see why he would think that. If there was anyone who risked being his biggest competitor on track—car aside—it would be Charles. Not his own teammate. Not Mercedes. Not McLaren. It would be Charles Leclerc, like it had always been when they were younger.

It had always been Max Vertsappen versus Charles Leclerc. And it always would be until the end of their careers.

For Charles to assume it was one thing. But for Charles to actually believe Max would go through with something like that? To agree to such a plan?

The Dutchman couldn’t deny that it really fucking stung. It fucking stung that Charles assumed the worst of him—even if it was to protect his little sister—and it fucking stung to wonder if the other Leclerc’s assumed the same.

“Charles,” a disbelieving scoff left his lips as he shook his head. “I would never—”

“Because I don’t give two fucks about a championship if you are messing with my sister,” Charles interrupted. There was a rage in his eyes, a rage he had never witnessed in the boy before—not even during his worst races. “She cares deeply about people. She loves hard and fast. And if you become one of those people and break her heart?”

Max didn’t say anything.

“There’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for her,” he said in a softer voice, but the underlying threat was still clear. “And there is nobody I wouldn’t hurt if they hurt her.”

“This isn’t some mind game,” Max said to the boy, because he didn’t think the boy would believe anything else he said. “Vegas was a mess, I know that. But I would never do something like this. And I would never bring your sister into our rivalry or on-track business.”

Charles’ jaw clenched a little, like he was contemplating whether he believed Max or not.

And for a few moments, Max wondered what would happen if he confessed his true feelings. He wondered what the Monagasque would say if he learnt that Max had spent the better part of their early careers either trying to beat him in a kart or ogling his sister. He wondered what Charles would think if Max told him he was almost pretty sure his little sister was his first love, even when they didn’t have a proper conversation until Charles finally joined Formula One.

Max wondered what Charles would think if he knew the truth.

But now was not the time nor the place to tell him. To be completely honest, Max didn’t think it would ever be the time or place to tell him. He didn’t think he would ever confess that to Charles, he didn’t think there was any reason to. There was only one person in this world that deserved to hear his confession, but Max would rather throw himself in front of the RB19 before he told you how he felt.

“I swear on my life, my cats’ lives and my mother’s life,” he added after a few moments, watching as the boy’s shoulders sagged a little like he finally realised Max was telling the truth.

“Good,” Charles nodded, pausing for a few moments. “I mean everything I said. For as long as it takes to sort out this mess, if you even upset her once, I swear to God—”

“Image loud and clear, Charles,” Max assured the boy with a single nod of his head.

“Good. Remember it, Verstappen.”

And with that, he left the room and left Max staring blankly at the pile of dishes on the table, a dull ache in his chest that he wasn’t really sure how to ease.

...

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant and 372,933 others

yourusername breaking news: max verstappen does wear something other than red bull merch!!!

view all 17,932 comments

landonorris how much did you have to pay him to wear it?

danielricciardo he had a bit of a tantrum before he left the house but i promised him two bedtime stories

maxverstappen1 you both suck

user OMG THE DINNER ACTUALLY HAPPENED

user meeting the in-laws!!!

user okay but those flowers are so pretty???

pascaleleclerc it was lovely having you, max! we must make these a regular thing!

charles_leclerc MAMAN???????

user this is my roman empire fr

user i need to know how close charles was to poisoning max

arthur_leclerc so close

maxverstappen1 i do own other clothes. you've just not seen them yet

yourusername is that an invite, mr verstappen?

oscarpiastri there are children on this app. please.

yourusername what children

logansargeant ME! I AM CHILDREN! THIS IS HORRIBLE!

yourusername grow up

user this is everything i needed and more

user okay but when do we get the solo max and little leclerc dinner date?

yourusername i would like to know too. my husband is lacking

maxverstappen1 maybe i'll wear my red bull polo

yourusername i take it back, i don't want to go out to dinner with you

#max verstappen #formula one #f1 #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen fic #max verstappen one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

3K notes · View notes

d0rothydraws · 4 days

Text

After a night out things get heated and Sylus can't control himself, revealing a new side of him.

content: f!reader, monster cock, porn without plot, public sex, multiple orgasms, Inappropriate use of Evol, after care, just a lot of smut idk

w/c: 3.7k

Ao3: Here

a/n: This took so long i'm so sorry works been wearing me out so much I haven't been able to post much. I hope this satisfies all the monster fuckers that wanted this from my one post.

Tonight had been.. A lot. You and Sylus were at a dinner banquet. Apparently a very important man was hosting the event and Sylus was looking for information about something. You didn’t really know or ask. You don’t really ask many questions these days. Sylus had custom fit you one of the most beautiful dresses you had ever seen. It was made of the softest silk, the neckline was low yet tasteful, showing enough to catch some looks but not enough to feel exposed. The skirt had a high slit that went to the top of your hip, exposing your leg once in a while. As you walked, the long skirt looked like it was flowing around you like water. You wore matching blood red heels that looked like they were carved out of ruby. The light catching them in a mesmerizing way. Your hair was done in a way where it framed your face, pulled in an updo that bounced slightly every time you took a step. And on your neck was a crow pendant embedded with a ruby.

To say it simply, you looked beautiful. Elegant.

And Sylus couldn’t keep his eyes, or hands, off of you.

As you walked, his hand was draped around your waist, hand on your hip. Or his hand was on your lower back, or when you sat his hand was on your thigh, fingers drawing patterns that sent a chill down your spine. He looked at you from the corner of his eye, meeting yours once in a while. You almost could feel the hot breath that left him when this happened, exhaling every time as if he was trying to control himself.

You couldn’t lie, it felt good to see him like this. It wasn’t like he didn’t know what you would look like in the dress, it was custom fit, custom designed just for you. He had seen it on you before. And yet when anyone looked over at you, giving you just the smallest bit of attention, you felt his hand tighten, body pulled closer. Your hip flush against his. You could feel heat radiating from his body.

Part of you wondered if he was going to end up dragging you into the bathroom. A couple times you thought he was considering it, especially as his hand moved to the inside of your thigh halfway through the banquet. His rough fingers trailed higher, brushing against your panties. He leaned over whispering in your ear, his voice thick as honey.

“You look delicious.” His words sent a shiver through your body as your hand tightened on the fork you were holding. You looked around, everyone was talking about something you didn't understand. Nobody knew what was happening under the table. And in a bold decision, you parted your thighs just a little bit more. Moving your hips to press against the fingers that were tracing your folds through your panties. You heard his breath catch, his hand pausing for only a second, Sylus’ lips returned to your ear.

“Try not to squirm too much, kitten. I’m not sure how much longer I can hold back.” He said as his fingers dipped under the fabric, calloused fingers grazing the sensitive skin. You took a bite of food to hide a moan, your face red as a shaky breath left your lipsticked lips. You wanted nothing more than to ride his hand. To throw all caution to the wind and thrust your hips against his fingers until you were clenching and twitching around him, begging for more.

And suddenly, his hand was gone. Your disappointment must have been audible because he chuckled, bringing his finger to his lips. Swiftly he liked them as if he was licking off a stray drop of sauce that fell onto his hand. You caught the look in his eye as his right eye started glowing slightly. Glancing down you seen the red and black tendrils of his power snake its way around your leg. It felt warm and you tried to not shiver or make a sound as you felt the weight of it move between your thighs. Your panties pushed to the side and as a reflex you tried to close your legs. The tendrils pushed your legs back open gently, like a pair of hands and as you felt the warmth against your core, you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching a hand out, putting it on Sylus’ thigh, nails pressing into the thick meat.

It felt as if it was Sylus himself between your thighs, just a different version. The feeling was like a warm tongue licking at you, lapping up every bit that you provided as you tried your damndest to not moan, or at least, too loud. You never felt anything like this before. You almost forgot you were in public until you heard his voice in your ear again.

“Quiet, kitten. You’ll get caught.” His voice was low, strained. A rush of adrenaline flooded your veins as you choked back a whine. The energy pushed inside you, curling exactly where you needed it. Licking your sensitive, throbbing clit. Your hand on his thigh tightened, nails digging in more making him give a low groan deep in his throat.

“Sylus-” You said, trying to be quiet, but the sound was choked out. Your breathing was heavy, face red and eyes were starting to get glossy. “I can’t. P-please, I-” You let out a choked gasp, louder than you wanted as your orgasm rushed through you. You clenched around the thick mass of energy inside you as you panted, blushing so dark that you probably matched your dress. A few people turned to look, eyebrows raised in curiosity as they saw your out of breath expression.

“We will be taking our leave now.” Sylus said, the energy around your lower half dissolved as if it never happened. Your legs felt numb as you tried to steady your thoughts, your heart pounding and blood rushing. Your body moved on its own as Sylus stood, as if being willed by him to follow. You had no complaints about this, your anticipation was as high as ever to get him alone. His hand was firm on your lower back giving you much needed support as you walked to the car.

The drive home was quiet but the tension was thick. His body was tense as he pulled into the driveway and before you could even open the door, the red-black tendrils of energy embraced you again. Your body was moved by a force you couldn’t fight even if you wanted to. A thrill ran through your body. He had never used his Evol on you like this before.

You were placed in the middle of the bedroom, Sylus following you through the door as his eye glowed. His hands in his pockets as he looked at you with a hunger you never saw from him before. You let out a slow breath, feeling the energy dissolve into the air as he towered over you, a hand moving to your chin.

“Sweetie, you almost made me lose control, looking like that in public. It’s dangerous, you know.” He said, fingers trailing your skin as his other hand trailed down the curve of your waist, admiring the figure hidden under the dress he picked out.

“I guess you could say I had a good stylist.” You said with a half laugh, he chuckled, a low sound that warmed your core. His hand moved behind your neck, fingers making quick work of the tie that held the light dress on your body. With a flick of his fingers, the fabric fell to the floor around your feet. Your hand moved to his chest, trailing up to wrap around his tie.

The tension broke as you pulled him down into a rough kiss, one of his hands curled in your hair while the other moved to your hip. He guided you as you felt the bed hit the back of your legs, one of his legs coming to rest on the edge of the bed as you fell back. His kiss was hot, hungry. Teeth bite your lip, tongues pushing against each other as your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. He took your hand from his tie, his fingers wrapping around yours as he pinned it above your head.

“Do you trust me?” He breathed in your ear as he pulled back, panting softly. You could feel the hardness of his cock against your thigh, straining his pants. You arched your hips up to apply some pressure, making him groan. You knew there was only one answer to his question.

“Yes.”

The grip on your hand tightened as it was pushed harder into the soft mattress, his other hand moved to your face bringing your lips to his as he kissed you. Slow, deep. Different from the kiss you just had. You felt hot breath on your cheek as he breathed out through his nose asif he was holding his breath waiting for your answer. In turn, the kiss took your own breath away as you pulled back, your lips slightly red from how he bit your lip as you pulled back. His fingers traced the outline of your lower lip as his eyes stared down at you, red orbs swirling.

“Darling,” His voice made a low sound as his eyes looked into you. A serious look that brought you back to reality for a moment. He didn’t give you that look often. “I’m not sure if I'll be able to hold back tonight.” Sylus sounded just as breathless as you felt. “If you need me to stop at any point, tell me. Promise me.” He said, the hand on your cheek gently tracing the skin under his fingers. “I don’t want to hurt you.” Your heart fluttered as you looked up at him. Your cheeks flushed as you took a deep breath, processing his words.

You two had a safe word. It was well established when you started becoming physical. There was one time you did have to use it, not because of anything horrible but you weren’t in the right mindset for what he had planned that night. So instead of putting yourself through it, knowing that he wouldn’t want you to do that, you said it. He stopped instantly followed by a warm bath, snacks, and your favorite show.

“I promise.” You breathed, looking into his eyes as he stared down at you. There was something that you couldn’t tell, that you never had seen before. “I trust you, Sylus.” You whispered, bringing your free hand to pull him into a slow kiss that matched the last one. You put your whole soul into that kiss, as if hoping he would understand just how much you cared for him. How without a thought you would put your life in his hands, knowing damn well that he would do the same for you.

As the kiss continued, the energy began to change. Once soft and gentle was becoming something more. His lips were hot, hungry as he straddled your hips. His clothed cock grinded against your thigh making your body twitch and shiver with need. His hand on your face became rougher, holding your jaw firmly as his kiss devoured you. He pulled away with a soft growl, licking his lips.

“You’re like a drug to me.” Sylus said as his hands moved to pull at his clothes, buttons unfastening to reveal his chest. Your mouth started to salivate at the sight. Your hands moved up to help him, guiding your palms over the surface of his skin. Sylus let out a low sound, watching you as you made your way to his belt. He didn’t stop you as you undid the fasten. The sound of metal was loud in the room as it fell from its hold as Sylus pulled the belt and tossed it on the floor.

His lips were on you again. Hungry, hot. You felt your breath be taken from your lungs as your hands were pinned above your head. His tongue pushing into your mouth, devouring you whole. He pulled away with a low growl, looking down at you, his eyes dark and his lips red from the kiss and the stain of your lipstick.

“Roll over kitten.” Sylus purred as he let go of your hands and instantly you followed his direction. You felt the slick of your arousal as you moved, making your need even more known to you as you turned. Now with your ass to him, arched as your cheek laid against the pillow. You felt his fingers wrap under the lace of your panties, pulling them down to your knees. You looked over to him, your view obstructed but still managed to match his eyes.

No words needed to be said, both of you needed the same exact thing and he wasn’t in a mood to tease you, at least not at the moment. His hands worked on his pants, letting them fall to the floor as he stood off of the bed, his boxers following. Your mouth watered, moaning into the pillow at the sight of him. Hard, dripping. His hand wrapped around his cock, pumping slowly as his thumb brushed against the angry red head. You felt your pussy clench as if trying to draw him in. He was beautiful. He didn’t even look human. No human could be this beautiful.

As he climbed back onto the bed he wasted no time in positioning himself. He kissed your back, one hand on himself to adjust while the other was on your ass, sinking into the soft flesh. He kissed your back again before speaking into your ear, his voice was rough, deep.

“Remember our promise?” He whispered, his voice strained. Reminding you that you would use the safe word if you needed. You felt his tip slide against you, eager for the final confirmation. You nodded into the pillow, shifting your hips as you grinded against him. He groaned, the hand on your ass getting rougher as he held you still.

He began to push into you slowly. You felt your body stretch to accommodate him, your moan loud as your body felt like electricity was pulsing through your veins at the feeling. Fuck he always felt so good. So thick, so heavy inside you. Your eyes rolled as he bottomed out his hands gently rubbing your back, your ass, the back of your thighs. He waited a moment, his breath strained as he tried to contain himself. But as he started to thrust it was a lost cause.

You cried out moaning as he pulled out, thrusting back in. Your body shook as you felt him fuck you, his thrusts started to get faster the louder you moaned as if the sound of your cries edged him on, which was very much the case. You tightened around him, gasping as you felt his hand coming to rub against your clit, his rough thumb brushing the sensitive skin.

“You sound so beautiful darling. Let me hear how you sound as you cum on my cock.” He purred in his ear. His voice sounded.. Different. Deeper somehow, more primal, needy. It drove you wild. You moaned gasping as you moved your body against him, fucking yourself on his cock while he pressed his thumb against you. You felt the sensation take over your body as Sylus hit that spot inside you that made you cry out and see stars. Your orgasm flowed through you as your pussy fluttered and clenched around him, pushing him to the brink as he filled you with his hot cum.

You caught your breath, your forehead sticky with sweat as you felt your body tremble from the release. Sylus on the other hand, was still inside you. Cock hard, twitching as if he didn't just cum inside you. His hands gripped your hips, his lips moving to your back as he kissed your sweaty skin. You could hear his heart pounding, as fast as ever.

“I’m not done with you yet, sweetie. That was a warmup.” He said as he started to thrust again, slowly at first. Your body shivered and moaned at the sudden movement, sensitive from your orgasm as he stated to fuck you. You felt his cum inside you, being fucked deeper. You blushed gasping, your head spinning with pleasure.

As he fucked you, you swore his hands on your hips felt larger. His nails were digging into your skin as if they were talons. Not cutting into you, but more noticeable than before. You gasped, your mouth opening against the pillow, eyes widening as you whimpered.

“Sylus!” You cried out as you felt your pussy stretch more than before. You felt his cock, which was already big and thick, get even bigger. The girth stretching you out more to the point your legs were shaking. You felt him hit places inside you you didn't even know existed. You felt tears fall from your eyes, sure it hurt a little but god you never felt so good in your life. You felt his tongue lick up your spine, long, thick. His mouth moved to your ear, sharp teeth nipping the skin. You could hear your heart pound. What was he? How did he become… like this?

“Wow kitten, you took me so well.” Sylus purred. He wasn’t even moving yet and you were a whimpering crying mess. “I bet you love being stretched out on my cock like this, don’t you? I’m not even moving and it feels like you’re about to cum again.” He teased as you felt a rough, larger than normal thumb brush against your clit. “Careful, if you do, you might boost my ego. I could get addicted to this.”

Your head spun as you whimpered and moaned. You couldn’t see him. Even if you tried to turn, he was pressed against your back. But he wasn’t wrong. You were close. So agonizingly close that when he touched his thumb to that damn spot between your legs it was instant. You cried out, clenching around him and he hissed at the feeling. His cock twitched inside you as he felt you cum on his cock from nothing more than just being inside you. Filling you up completely. Stretching you to your limit to the point you weren’t sure if you’d be able to walk later.

“Good girl. You’ve been such a good girl for me, haven’t you?” Sylus purred into your ear as he started to move. Your eyes widened as you cried out, hands clawing at the bedsheets as you felt how massive he truly had become now that he started moving. Your legs shook as you struggled to keep yourself propped up on your knees. His hands came to grab your hips as you whimpered and moaned mindlessly into the pillow. His hands felt so big, so strong. He had always been strong but this was different, otherworldly. He held you exactly how and where he wanted you as he began to fuck into you. Your body bounced and shook as if you were a ragdoll.

“That’s it, sweetie, just like that. You’re a perfect little slut for me, aren’t you. Taking anything I give you, no matter how big. You’ll stretch your tight little pussy for me, won’t you?” Sylus growled in your ear and you gasped, eyes rolling back at his words. You couldn’t control the sounds coming from your lips, or the drool that spilled out onto the silk pillowcase. You couldn’t stop the loud needy whimper at the things he said to you. His nails pressed into your soft flesh as he continued to ravish you.

His thrusts started to get unsteady as he panted, one hand groping your ass as the other curled into your hair, turning your face for him to kiss you. His long tongue forced its way into your mouth, his teeth were sharper but it felt more like fangs now that you could feel him better. You opened your eyes for a second, catching a glimpse to see that he looked normal. As he pulled away and opened his eyes though, you noticed how both eyes were glowing red. It looked like orbs of the red mist of his Evol flowing inside his eyes. It was beautiful. If you weren’t getting your brains fucked out you would have more time to appreciate it.

The hand returned between your thighs, drawing circles against your sensitive nub. As he felt you twitch and whimper, his hand continued until he pulled another orgasm out of you. Your scream was muffled by the pillow but the sound made him take in a sharp breath. Even when he was like this, the sounds you made affected him more than you could ever know. You felt as his cock twitched, his thrusted uneven before he came inside you. The feeling was different than before. It was thicker and it felt like there was more than usual. You gasped, moaning as you felt him thrust a few more times, the thick globs of cum running down your thighs.

Slowly, you felt him begin to pull out. Your body was too weak and tired to turn around and look at him but that was the last thing on your mind right now. You didn’t care what form he took. He was still yours. And you were still his. You felt him shift around you, his arms pulling you into his chest as he kissed your head. The smell of him flooded your senses as a sense of calm you never felt before came over you.

His hands were so gentle as he carefully checked for marks and scratches. You felt a warm cloth on your thighs. A cold bottle of water pressed to your lips. You opened your mouth and the bottle tipped so gently. His hands were still on you, gently touching and caressing you. As you opened your eyes gently you saw the oh so familiar black and red mist surrounding you. Cleaning you, giving you water. You felt a kiss on the top of your head as Sylus pulled you closer.

“Relax, kitten. You’ll need to recover. I’ll take care of everything.”

~•~•~•~

some people on my post asked to be tagged or really seemed to want this so here u guys go i hope you dont mind the tag

@lunacielooo @in-too-deepspace @sefynarose

#love and deepspace #sylus #lads #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #l&ds #monster #smut #sylusposting #sylus love and deepspace #lads smut

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vettelsvee · 2 months

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ALMOST CAUGHT | Oscar Piastri

f1 masterlist | wattpad | ao3 | requests or let's talk!

oscar piastri x gf!reader

word count: 1151

summary: oscar and his gf get a little bit horny, but they need to do things quick before someone catch them having sex

warnings: +18, smut (p in v, protected sex), dom!oscar, risk of getting caught

a/n: idk how this turned out because i don't think i'm good writing smut. however, i'll try to improve! feedback is appreciated, as well as reblogs <3

You were lying on the sofa, in your living room, watching a movie as your family had gone shopping at the local mall. Oscar wasn't there either because he had taken Blueberry, the puppy you both recently adopted, for a walk. You had decided not to go because you weren't feeling well. Nevertheless, you were lying on that sofa, eating M&M's and watching a Turkish TV show out of sheer boredom, where the newlywed couple protagonists argued about who would do the shopping.

"When will you be back, Piastri?"

Just as you were thinking about that, Oscar sent you a video of himself and your pet along with a message:

"I might have a little surprise for my girl :)"

You didn't know what he meant, so you asked him what for. Minutes later, he replied that he was saying nothing until the correct moment. Despite your desperation to know what the Australian man had planned, you resisted the urge to keep asking him.

You fell asleep and didn't even realize it, so it was the sound of the front door opening that woke you up. Then, you noticed how small but quick steps were moving back and forth. Alongside them, larger steps slowly approached the couch where you lay.

"Hello, love," you composed yourself a bit from sleep and noticed it was Oscar. "Are you okay?"

"What... what time is it?" you asked curiously. You had completely lost track of time, and you didn't know when you had fallen asleep or how much time had passed since then.

"It's eight twenty-five," the brown-eyed guy replied with a smile.

You noticed he kept smiling, so you kissed him. It was a short but passionate kiss, in which both of you realized that every day you were more in love.

"And what's that about?" Oscar smiled again and positioned himself on top of you, while you couldn't stop telling yourself that he was perfect for you and wondering what you had done to deserve him.

"I'm waiting for the surprise you were going to give me."

You were giving him a too enticing look, and slowly he was starting to get aroused. He wanted to have sex, just like you, and both of you knew each other's thoughts as if they were your own.

"You'll have to wait, darling, but I think we can do something else while you wait."

As soon as Oscar answered, he began kissing you, something that as it progressed became faster and more desperate. You followed along with your tongue, but you were worried that your parents and siblings might appear at any moment.

You decided to stop. Or at least try to.

"Oscar…," no matter what you said, he kept kissing you, now going all the way down on your neck, making you release small moans every time you spoke. "Piastri..., stop..."

Seeing that he wasn't going to stop, you forgot about the possibility of your family catching you having sex and that became the least of your concerns.

With a quick change of position, now you were the one on top of your boyfriend, making movements to further provoke his excitement. Meanwhile, he began to remove your shirt, leaving only a pink bra with blue teddy bears exposed. You knew that wasn't the best attire for situations like the one unfolding, but at that moment you didn't care because there was enough trust - besides, there would be other moments to wear better lingerie.

His kisses trailed down your neck again, but with the main difference this time being that he was leaving marks. You removed his sweater, but it wasn't enough for you: you wanted more, so you didn't hesitate to unbutton his pants, struggling a bit to take them off.

You immediately started playing with the waistband of his boxers, and both of you felt the nervousness growing, although you didn't pay much attention to it. In the end, it wasn't the first time you risked getting caught, and to be honest, you got very horny at that thought.

He removed your pants just as you had done to him earlier, taking the opportunity to position himself on top of you. You knew it was about to begin when he took a condom from his pocket.

You were eager for him, so you removed his underwear, leaving him completely naked, while you remained in your underwear.

"This can't keep going on like this, babe..." the boy said, eager to enter you.

He started removing your bra, immediately moving down between your legs, where he began to touch over your underwear before taking it off.

"Oscar..." you moaned once again.

"For God's sake, shut up already," he demanded, which only aroused you more. "I need you to stay calm, not acting like a desperate whore. I thought you were better than that."

At his words, you got absolutely in shock, but in some way it turned you on hearing Oscar speak like that.

"Are you sure you want to do this? Will you stop acting so desperate if I enter you this quick? With no previous games and…"

"Of course. You better shut up now and start fucking me," you interrupted him, answering without hesitation.

Once again, and as if he didn’t kiss you on the forehead and began to insert himself into you.

At first, he was going slow, but as the minutes went by the speed increased. Unfortunately, you tried to control your moans, something that Oscar seemed to do perfectly just in case your parents arrived, but you couldn’t hold them. It was great, and you didn’t want it to end.

"Damn it, Oscar!" you screamed, but you still hadn't reached orgasm.

"Wow, I didn't know I was that good at sex," he said proudly, surprising you. "I thought you always faked your moans."

"Shut up and keep going," you answered with a voice slightly interrupted by Oscar’s moves. "I'm close."

A few minutes later, both of you were lying on the sofa, after cumming without much difficulty.

However, your post sex kisses and talk ended as soon as, after getting dressed, you saw you twins brothers standing next to the living room door, seeing you both in absolute shock.

"Come on, you gotta be kidding me!" Louis, one of the twins, yelled, while you kept signaling him to be quiet.

He started running up the stairs quickly and shouting without hesitation while Liam, your other brother, was sending a voice message to his best friend telling him that he caught his sister and her boyfriend having sex.

"I guess we won’t be having any more surprises at home for now, love," you said, seeing the commotion you had caused in a moment. "I hope they don’t tell my parents, because if they freak out…”

“We’ll freak out, I know,” Oscar said. “Really, I get it, Y/N. I guess I’ll have to take you to Disneyland to fuck you in one of those Marvel hotel rooms full of Spider-Man merch. Maybe we could try something with some kind of costume on and...”

“You’re taking me to Disneyland?!” you screamed, interrupting him fully surprised.

“I couldn’t keep it anymore so… surprise, babe? Any ideas on what I have just said to you?”

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eilidh-eternal · 9 months

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You need a favor

SingleDad!Johnny x f!reader | 18+ MDNI | Part 1 Here | Masterlist

You’re out of milk.

You’re out of milk because you hadn’t had the mental bandwidth to finish your shopping three days ago after Johnny, with help from a certain puppy-eyed five year old, convinced you to have dinner with them after you made your very awkward introduction. Isobel had long ago told you his name but you’d pretended not to know for formality's sake.

“Neighbors shouldn’t be strangers,” he’d declared. That’s what you’re telling yourself as you hesitantly step up onto his front doorstep, empty measuring cup in hand. It takes several moments of controlled breathing and a fair amount of you rocking back and forth on anxious feet before you work up the courage to knock, a timid rap of your knuckles. You’re just asking for a cup of milk. Neighbors do that all the time. You’re just being- “‘S it Friday already?” His voice interrupts the silent conversation you’d been having with yourself and you nearly stumble back and off the narrow stoop.

“Oh, n-no. I just-” You take a beat, a breath, to calm your nerves. “I um, haven’t got any milk.” You lift the measuring cup, as if it wasn’t already obvious in your hands, and he leans with his shoulder against the doorframe. “Was wondering if I could borrow some?”

“Makin’ more sweets?” There’s a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips, and you nearly drop the measuring cup when you spot the dimple hidden beneath a few days worth of stubble.

“Oh, no. It’s for combat corn.” The smirk remains but his brows draw together with a curious tilt of his head, and eyes the color of lochs in the summertime flicker with amusement.

“Combat corn?” he echoes, and it takes you a few beats to remember the distinctly American dish and the family joke that named it isn’t common knowledge in Scotland. So, you find yourself explaining to the man–who nearly gives you an aneurysm when he folds his arms and the muscles in his chest bunch deliciously beneath the corded muscles of his forearms–what scalloped corn is.

“Someone made a joke that it was like the food in the army, anything you could find just thrown together—combat corn. Called it that ever since.” You fidget with the measuring cup, tapping the pads of your fingers against the glass, overly aware of your rambling explanation. “It uh… you have to bake it. With milk.” There's a beat of silence and then he’s pulling away from the doorframe,

“Cannae say I have much time f’r bakin’ in the army.” He reaches for the measuring cup and your arm works independent of your brain to hand it to him, functioning on autopilot as your mind works to absorb the unexpected revelation about the man next door with the muscles and darling little girl. Your fingers brush, just barely, as you hand it over, and you can feel the confirmation of this newfound part of him, callus pads of his fingers glancing over yours to retrieve the glassware. “Never left a man behind though. C’mon in then.” Thank fucking god he’s holding the glass because the wink he shoots in your direction before retreating inside, leaving the door wide for you to follow, surely would have sent it shattering against the pavement at your feet.

Their home is both exactly what you thought it would be and somehow the complete opposite. None of the living room furniture matches, like it’s all been collected over many years, and looks well loved. As does the room itself, littered with toys and costume clothing, a small shelf in one corner near the television overflowing with bins of more colorful blocks, stacked high with books, and crammed full with stuffed animals.

“Sorry f’r the mess, Bell’s no’ fond of pickin’ up after ‘erself.” The clink of glass against stone countertops echoes from the kitchen.

“I can’t imagine she would be at her age.” Pictures line the wall leading into the cozy space. Some you recognize of Isobel. Some you think might be a younger Johnny. There’s one of the two of them, a very young Isobel balancing on top of his shoes and holding onto his hand in front of him, and Johnny stands with the other arm draped around the shoulder of the woman holding Isobels hand at his side. She has the same hair, wild and curly. Her mom. Something bitter coats your tongue at the realization, sour and unpleasant. You feel like an intruder.

You fidget with the sleeve of your sweater, struggling to put the pieces together. In all the time you’d lived next door, you’d never seen the woman in the photo. Never saw a ring on Johnny's finger. Never saw anyone but him walking her to and home from school. The sound of the fridge opening and closing precedes Johnny’s appearance at your side, measuring cup full of milk in hand, and you’re acutely aware of how close he stands, shoulder nearly pressed to yours as he follows your gaze to the photo. He smiles but it feels forced, like doing so hurts him.

“Havnae stopped to look at that one in a while.” The remark only confuses you further. Why does such a happy photo make him look like he just took a beating, like he’s smiling through the pain? When you don’t say anything he continues. “She passed. ‘Bout two years ago.”

Oh. The bitter taste on your tongue curdles into something rotten and rife with shame. You’d been jealous of his late wife. For all of about three minutes, but still. The realization twists your stomach into knots and it roils with guilt and embarrassment.

“I had no idea, I’m so sorry.” Sorry for feeling jealous of a dead woman. A cautious glance up at his face reveals a stoic expression, one he’s probably learned to carry on with from the military if you had to guess.

“‘S hard, ‘specially on Bell. Still too young to understand why she’s gone.” Too young to grasp the concept and finality of death. Far too young to endure the loss of a parent. Silence stretches long between you, thick with grief and the admission of a once beautiful life lost. Her life. Their life. Guilt nestles itself between your ribs, taking up space between flesh and bone and it makes your chest feel tight, lungs constricted by writhing tendrils of the ugly thing. He always looks so happy, always smiling and laughing with Isobel. Always strong for her. Who smiles for him? Who takes care of him? Does he hold it all in until he drops Isobel off for school, filling the silence of their home with muffled sobs and silent tears as he picks up toys and clothes?

“Bubby?” Isobel stands at the end of the hall near the stairs, hair tousled and eyes still half-lidded with sleep, and a little bear wearing a skeleton hoodie dangles from her hand. Johnny’s eyes immediately soften, cold fractals of sorrow melting when they land on the sleepy little thing, toddling closer to wrap her arms around his leg.

“Did ye have a nice nap. leannan?” He holds the cup of milk out to you, something you’d nearly forgotten about, and passes it off so that he can lift Isobel, settling her on his hip.

She mumbles something that sounds like an ‘uh-huh’, cheek squished against his shoulder where she lays her head. “Hi miss neighbor.” Little lips curl up at the corners to smile lopsidedly at you, and you give her a small wave.

“Hi honey. I like your bear.” It’s pressed between her and Johnny, little hood pulled over its head to make it look like it’s wearing a mask with a cartoonish skull printed on it. “Does it have a name?”

“Ghost.” Johnny’s own lips tug into a half smile. “Bubby’s friend uncle Grumpy gave ‘im to me.” He chuckles at that and gives her a little squeeze.

“Are ye hungry?” A nod and a toothy yawn tells him yes.

“Well it was very nice to see you, Isobel. And very nice to meet Mr. Ghost. I’ll see you in a few days on Friday, hm?” She nods and Johnny carefully lowers her to the ground.

“Go get washed up, Leannan, and ye can help me make supper.”

“Okay. Bye miss neighbor!” She lifts the arm of the bear, waving it at you before running off to the washroom. You wave one last time and turn your attention to Johnny.

“I should leave you to it. I need to get my own dinner going.” You raise the cup of milk for emphasis.

“I’ll walk ye out then.” He does so with his hand on the small of your back, guiding you past the living room-turned-warzone by Isobel and her toys, and surprises you when he follows you out the door, hand still lingering on your back, and walks you all the way to your door.

“Thank you. Uh, for the milk, I mean. And walking me over. You didn't have to do that.” His hand leaves your waist and fixes itself on the doorframe beside his head, leaning against it with his forearm and shoving his other hand in his pocket.

“What kind of gentleman doesnae walk a lassie home?” Any remnants of the grief that shone in his eyes moments earlier has been replaced with the warmth Isobels presence brings to him. It makes them look like the hottest part of a flame, bright and mesmerizing blue in the golden rays of the setting winter sun, apricity blooming a faint pink on his cheeks that mirrors the warmth creeping into yours for an entirely different reason. “Cannae let ye slip on the pavement. Bell would have my heid if ye got hurt and couldnae make it to dinner wi’ us. She’s been talkin’ ‘bout it all week.”

“Oh.” Really? ‘Oh’? That’s the best you can come up with?

“Been thinkin’ bout it too.” He shifts his weight, leans forward, and you have to look away for fear the flames flickering behind his eyes might burn right through your head to peer into your mind where he can see all of the inappropriate imaginings inside it. Your back to the door and him towering over you, one hand around your waist and the other braced against the doorframe as it is now. All that warmth in his eyes because of you. Burning for you. “Can’t stop thinkin’ of how ye’d look in our little kitchen, bakin’ yer sweets with Bell.”

“I could bring something, if you’d like.” He shakes his head.

“Ye’re sweet enough on yer own, lass, just bring yer bonnie self. Besides, if ye do all the bakin’ here, how’m I s’posed to sneak a lick from yer spoon, hm?”

Next>>>

©️Eilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 4 months

Text

Clownfall: the Election Cometh

It's a long one, lads. Buckle up, get comfy, but the circus is in town for its final run. Ambient music as you read can be found here or here, take your pick. Get popcorn. Get snacks and water and a blanket.

Are you sitting comfortably?

Wednesday 22nd May

7.12am

Household favourite and queen of our hearts Pippa Crerar of the Guardian (her who did the investigative journalism that revealed PartyGate to the world) reports that UK inflation fell to a mere, paltry 2.3% in April. The lowest level in three years! Huzzah! But … still smaller than the decline that was expected.

Nonetheless, Rishi Sunak and Jeremy Cunt whoops I'm so sorry I meant Cunt haha whoops said it again make a big fuss about how brilliant this news is, and how it shows that they are Good At Maffs after all that trouble with Liz Truss and Kwasi Kwarteng, who defined themselves as being Good At Maffs and then obliterated the economy in a single day. Remember that! Good times. But hey, look, THIS PM/Grand Vizier combo are great at this! Inflation has fallen! Stop looking at the predicted rate! A fall is still a fall!

Crerar wonders whether people will actually feel better off, though – prices and mortgage rates are still high, after all. Food for thought.

10.04am

Jeremy Hunt is asked on the Today programme whether Sunak will call a general election.

Now, the logic here is that the government is likely to do better in an election if the economy’s improving; which, SunakCunt are now shrieking from the rooftops. So, is now the time? It's a win, and they've had so few of those, but historically people really do like to fall for the right wing = better economy myth...

BUT – the Tories are doing so very badly in the polls. Journalists favour the idea of an autumn election. Tories do better when the weather’s bad, because fewer people go out and vote.

“Well that’s a matter for the prime minister, it’s not a matter for me,” says Cunt.

... Well. Not ruling it out, then? Diddorol.

10.30am

It's Wednesday, aka the date that Tory cabinet ministers have their weekly meeting. They are duly sent the agenda.

There is no mention at all of an election announcement, nor any plan for an election.

Fair enough! 'Twas an idle thought. Plus, it would actually be bad timing from a logistical perspective - David Cameron, Foreign Secretary and Bae of Pigs, is currently flying out to Albania for an important international meeting, and Jeremy Cunt is on TV all day today - ITV next.

12.18pm

Sunak is asked at Prime Minister’s Questions whether he’ll call a general election. He doesn’t rule it out.

12.56pm

Fun tweet alert!

2.31pm

Pippa Crerar asked Sunak’s press secretary whether he was calling an election. She refused to comment.

Surely it’s a terrible time to call an election! Everyone hates them! But suddenly …

A Cabinet meeting is scheduled for 4.15pm. David Hameron suddenly u-turns in Albania and comes straight back home, his meeting un-met. Jeremy Cunt cancels his ITV appearance. The afternoon meeting is cancelled. Number 10 stops responding to journalists. Manifesto work has stepped up. Sunak’s chief-of-staff is spotted wearing a suit and tie WHICH IS UNUSUAL. Senior ministers have spent the last few days doubling down on dividing lines. And Tory bosses had a meeting this week to discuss how much money they could spend before a summer election.

The UK press sense blood in the water.

3pm

Okay.

There’s something you need to understand:

People suspect Rishi Sunak doesn’t actually want to live in the UK. He’d prefer to be in California. He’s here because he’s an MP.

You need to know this to understand this truly historic incident.

Nadine Dorries has produced a good tweet.

...

No, we all need to sit with this one for a minute

(For the record... to us, that is an excellent joke. But I strongly suspect she wasn't joking and was trying to make a catty accusation instead, which coincidentally appeared like a roast.

Scientists are referring to this as Stopped Clock Syndrome.)

5.17pm

With great dignity, Rishi Sunak stands outside Number 10 and announces a general election on 4 July.

And by “great dignity”, I mean he’s soaked by rain, while “Things Can Only Get Better” plays in the background courtesy of an anti-Tory protestor with a big speaker and a dream; the song adopted by he Labour Party for the 1997 election, where Tony Blair famously won a landslide victory after 18 years of Tory rule. Eventually, the volume of it is raised so high Sunak is, on more than one level, drowned out.

5.37pm

According to Gabriel Pogrund of the Times, Labour can’t believe Number 10 allowed this to happen.

One Labour insider texts: “Umbrellas are woke”

6.06pm

Good tweet alert!

8pm

A later Guardian article reports that Sunak greeted around a hundred Tory activists – still wearing the same rain-soaked trousers from the announcement.

No word at all on why he doesn't have aides capable of fetching him dry trousers. Perhaps those, too, are woke.

8.14pm

A Sky News reporter is at Sunak’s campaign launch. But, bafflingly, he’s forcibly removed. Extraordinary scenes

Elanor's Pro Tip: Removing a journalist may not be the best PR move for the start of an election trail.

8.27pm

9.36pm

A GBNews reporter claims that some Tory MPs are trying desperately to replace Sunak as leader in order to call off the general election. For this to work, they’d need a vote of no confidence before the dissolution of parliament on Thursday 30 May. Except actually, that would have to happen before the proroguing of parliament on Friday 24 May.

So … this won’t work. But how very incredible - and hilarious - that they’re trying.

10.39pm

Let's take a look at the evening headlines!

A great start to Sunak’s campaign, with newspapers - including the Tory giant The Telegraph - celebrating the triumphant launch of his campaign:

Well! WHAT a day! Let's see how Thursday goes.

Thursday 23 May

8.00am

The BBC takes a moment to gleefully throw off the shackles of political oppression of the last 12 years to reveal that Rishi Sunak's announcement of a July election, the single most important announcement for a sitting government, the most sensitive and vitally-timed event in their calendar...

Was a total surprise to the rest of the party.

Tory party MPs found out when we did that they were about to have to campaign again. For a snap GE. Three weeks after having just done it for the council elections, in which they experienced the greatest single loss of their councillors in history. Even the damn meeting agenda was fake.

Still. Perhaps this explains the lack of umbrella or trousers.

9.09am

Nigel Farage confirms he will NOT stand at the general election.

*pause for applause*

That’s because he’s helping Trump get re-elected in the US right now.

*pause for screams*

This is good news for the Tories! And the rest of Britain, actually (commiserations to America. Please shoot him). Farage’s right-wing populist party - Reform UK - is the spiritual successor to UKIP and the Brexit Party, who’ve been splitting the right-wing vote for years. Farage is popular; it’s bad news for Reform if he’s not part of their campaign, but simply fantastic news for those of us who think queer folks, women and people of colour deserve human rights.

9.19am

According to BBC News and others, Sunak has hired Isaac Levido, the election strategist behind the Tories’ landslide win in 2019. Levido knows his stuff, and advised Sunak to stick with an autumn election.

Sunak ignored this advice. Lol.

9.20am

In the Guardian, Sunak says there WON’T be planes of immigrants flying to Rwanda before the general election. Good news for those of us who think it’s monstrous to deport immigrants to countries with unsafe governments. Bad news for Tory voters who were hoping to get racists to vote for them.

Now, this is particularly funny, because promising to deport refugees to Rwanda in spite of overwhelming legal opposition on human rights grounds is probably the single hill that the Tories have chosen to commit genocide on. This bill has been in and out of every court in the land since they promised it in 2019. It's been on again off again more than a tawdry tabloid romance. But, they finally managed to push it through, and the first planes were set to fly in July.

This means! That Sunak's strongest cards going into the election were the drop in inflation, and the Rwanda bill. He could sell it as "In spite of those bleeding heart liberals, we persevered and managed to tenaciously get rid of these browns and thus fulfilled our promise", and the fact that it won't actually affect the immigration numbers wouldn't be clear until after the election. And make no mistake, it is VITAL that those planes fly before any election - quoth one influential Conservative MP on the right of the party to the BBC:

“I know what question you’re going to ask us again and again. "You’ll say we’ve been banging on about Rwanda for years and we’ve only managed to fly one migrant out there - and we paid him to go”.

It took a single day for that gamble to dramatically fail.

Lol. Lmao, even. One might almost say rofl.

9.21am

Sunak is emphasising his own role in managing the economy.

The Guardian’s Rowena Mason points out that it might be better to sell this as a Tory victory rather than a Sunak victory, considering how badly Sunak’s doing as an individual in the polls.

10.45am

I'm obviously giving a lot of attention here to the funniest and most ridiculous stuff, but let’s take a moment to celebrate some genuinely brilliant journalism:

0_o

The whole article’s worth reading. It confirms that at least one more hi-vis wearer was a Tory councillor in disguise (in this case Ben Hall-Evans). Perhaps this is why they started by removing all the real journalists.

12.42pm

Sunak’s campaign takes him to a brewery in Wales! He attempts some Bonding With The Working Man and asks the workers if they’re excited for the football.

Top tip: if you don’t realise the country you’re in hasn’t qualified for the Euros, maybe don’t even mention the subject.

6.55pm

... here is a new problem. Ish.

As mentioned, three weeks ago, England held local council elections. In that time, the Tories lost over half their councillors; an unprecedented and staggering loss in one event. We are all still bathing in the schadenfreude.

But, many of those then left the party (probably fairly, actually - monsters though Tories are, that cannot have been fun.) But, the way politics in the UK works is that when you vote, you don't vote for the party - you vote for your local representative, and then it's a numbers game as to which party gets to rule. This means, with this sudden last-minute possibly-impulsively-declared-by-one-soggy-madman election now six weeks away, those candidates all need replacing so that the Tories will have a shot at getting the numbers they need to form a majority government.

Channel 4’s Paul McNamara reports that Conservative HQ have emailed asking for candidates in almost 100 seats. The deadline’s tight for this – and apparently, joining the lengthening list of people who weren't informed of this stupid election plan, Tory associations are livid at being left so unprepared.

Now, a lot of these seats are Labour strongholds, so you don’t necessarily need more than a token Tory candidate for them. Phew! A great relief.

But some of them are actually good Tory seats. Uh oh! Basildon, Bury St Edmunds, Wellingborough and Rushden … It’s a bad hit to the Tories to have so little time to find good candidates for these seats.

8.59pm

Labour launch a campaign video. It’s long, but the message is, “Remember life before the Tories got into power? Wasn’t it BRILLIANT?”

And to prove how great 2009 was, they’ve included a clip of David Tennant’s Dr Who saying “I don’t want to go.”

Lol.

9.57pm

Filmmaker Richard Cubitt jokily suggests he could stand as a Tory candidate, and immediately defect to Labour as soon as possible once elected.

I don’t know if the deadline’s closed, but I am now speaking to the chat. Lads: the time will never be better. Do it. Tell the Tories you'll stand for them. Immediately defect. You have the opportunity to do the funniest thing. Be the rot in the barrel. The time is now.

ANYWAY. Oh boy. Day one of campaigning was quite bad. Ah well! Onwards and upwards for Wali Heb Broli. Let's see what Friday brings.

And of course: the losses are staggering (100 candidates!), but it could be worse.

At least it's not senior MPs.

Friday 24 May

7.00am

Over 70 MPs confirm they will not be standing for re-election.

7.35am

It’ll be lovely to see this election get rid of some truly awful Tories. But no need to wait that long! John Redwood stands down. I haven't mentioned him before, but let's look at his clownface eggshell.

He opposed reducing the age of consent for homosexuality in 1994 and 1999, he voted to keep Section 28 in 2003, he opposed same sex marriage, he voted to reintroduce the death penalty in 1988, 1990 and 1994, he’s argued against Greta Thunberg over the UK’s climate emissions.

Although English, he became Secretary of State for Wales in 1993, and at a Tory conference, had to mime badly to the Welsh national anthem which he hadn’t bothered learning. In 1995, he cheated Wales out of a £100 million grant by returning it unspent to the treasury, so it could go back to England.

So, John – if by some fantastically rare chance you’re somehow reading this – it’s wonderful to see you step down. I wish you a very warm fuck you. And I hope the rest of your life is absolutely horrible and filled with immeasurable pain. Kisses.

7.58am

Vicky Spratt of the i newspaper announces that, with an election announced, the Renters’ Reform won’t pass.

This is a big deal, actually - this was a rare good promise in the Tories’ 2019 manifesto to protect renters by ending no-fault evictions. A good promise! With cross-parliamentary support, only slowed as much as it was because most Tory backbenchers are landlords and so tried to block it. But the fighting raged on, and it was finally agreed.

And now it’s broken. Wasting months of work by stakeholders, and thus forming another election promise that would have sailed through if only the election hadn't been called for July.

8.09am

Jeremy Corbyn – remember him? Former Labour leader, who was expelled from the Labour party in 2020 – confirms he’ll be standing as an independent. He’s continued to be a member of Labour despite being an independent MP – but standing against Labour in an election means he’ll have his membership revoked too.

9.26am

So where are we at? How do you reckon the normal Tories in the party are faring? Do you think they're positive of a win? Do you think they expect to lose?

Great Guardian article here:

Highlights - one government minister happened to bump into his equivalent opposition member, and immediately thrust his official folder towards them, saying, “You might as well have this now.”

Another Tory MP hugged a Labour colleague and cast their arm around the room. “Good luck. This is all yours.”

One Tory backbencher was asked if it was a good idea to call an election. “It’s a disaster. I can’t understand it.”

Even when they’re being optimistic, the Tories seem a little glum. One long-standing MP said: “Of course I’m going to fight it, I don’t believe in just giving up like the prime minister has obviously decided to.”

A former minister raises an interesting point. It’s not long, after all, since the Tories suffered those major defeats at the local council elections. That's impacted the number of candidates, of course - but, local canvassing is largely done, on all parts of the political spectrum, but activist volunteers.

That loss was three weeks ago. If you were a volunteer who just spent weeks knocking on the doors of your neighbours and community, trying to convince them to vote for the dead horse, and then lost – maybe you won’t feel like hitting the streets again so soon. Maybe you'd prefer to be able to meet your neighbours' eyes when you bump into them in the bread slicing queue at Morrisons.

Some MPs have even admitted they won’t be cancelling holiday plans to fight the election. On top of that, there's over 70 MPs that have already confirmed they’re quitting and won’t be seeking re-election!!! Absolute scenes.

Interestingly, some anti-Sunak Tories report frustration. They reckon they were close to calling a vote of no-confidence, in the hopes of replacing Sunak with a different leader. No idea if this is true – and if true, whether Sunak knew it. But given the panicked speed at which it seems to have been called...

11.08am

The campaign takes Rishi Sunak to the Titanic Quarter, to be interviewed by Belfast Live.

Elanor's Pro Tip: if you’re the leader of a failing political party, maybe don’t let journalists interview you on a site named after history’s most famous sinking ship.

11.57am

How’s the campaign going, Rishi?

Oh, Rishi. Looks like someone else is not meeting anyone's eyes in the bread-slicing queue.

1.12pm

Politics UK reports that 75 Tory MPs are now standing down at the election – the same number of Tories who stood down ahead of the 1997 election.

2.49pm

Sunak’s campaign takes him on board an aeroplane.

Elanor's Pro Tip: if you’re the leader of a failing political party, maybe don’t be photographed in front of an exit sign.

7.07pm

MICHAEL GOVE ANNOUNCES HE’S STANDING DOWN AS AN MP!

I could honestly use that gif like seventeen times in this write up. You can all thank me for my restraint in choosing just one.

The 79th Tory to do so at this election – an all-time record exodus. Hey gang, would you like to see some familiar names joining him in this?

Theresa May

Sajid Javid

Dominic Raab

Matt Hancock

Ben Wallace

Nadhim Zahawi.

It’s just … not a great sign for the party, is it? That so many prominent MPs don’t reckon it’s worth sticking around.

7.50pm

Hey, remember those parody videos of Hitler getting angry with funny subtitles? Someone made a good Sunak one:

vimeo

10.48pm

The Guardian’s Kiran Stacey reports that Sunak will retreat from the campaign trail, spending the next day at home.

Honestly... that's probably best. Let him recover from the bread excitement.

10.50pm

We round off the day with Andrea Leadsom announcing she too is standing down as an MP. Bye, bitch.

WHAT A DAY! Still, Saturday will probably be better.

Saturday 25 May

12am

New episode of Doctor Who drops! It contains Welsh faeries. I later write a post explaining this. You're all welcome. Back to the circus.

10.06am

Good tweet alert!

11.14am

Keir Starmer promises to lower the voting age from 18 to 16 if he wins the election.

2.43pm

Hey remember how David Hameron was supposed to be in Albania? And actually went there? And then had to come back because of Rishi's totally-planned-for election announcement?

The Mirror reports that David Cameron spent £60,000 of taxpayers’ money getting to Albania for that trip. He was there for 89 minutes, before he had to come back in light of the general election announcement.

This means it cost the country £674 a minute for Cameron to be in Albania for about as long as it takes to watch The Lion King.

6.14pm

Labour and the Tories put candidates forward for 650 seats in a general election.

Of course, that's not quite all of them. The Times’ Patrick Maguire understands that Labour have only 13 candidates left to select, which is pretty good. The Tories are missing slightly more than that.

They need to find around 190.

(The number is rising. Chat, you know what to do.)

9.29pm

According to the Telegraph, Theresa May has said if she was still PM she would have used an umbrella to declare the election.

She probably would have, too.

10.11pm

Now then!!! Gather round boys and girls and all the rest!

Remember: the election was called based upon the following main cards in Sunak's hand:

The Rwanda bill

Inflation falling

The Renter's Reform Bill

Inflation fell, but not by as much as it should have. The Rwanda plan fell through a day later. The election itself has blocked the Renter's Reform bill.

Rishi needs a new set of promises stat, in order to shore up votes from his most important bastions of support. What can he offer?

The evening brings the answer!

At 10.11pm - note the time - in spite of having taken the day off, Sunak promises mandatory national service for every 18 year old if he wins the election. Either a year-long army placement, or a weekend a month volunteering for a year.

Sounds like a good pledge, if you’re hoping to motivate 18-year-olds to vote against you.

10.16pm

The Financial Times’ Jim Pickard reveals that the National Citizen Service (David Cameron’s legacy project) had its funding slashed by two-thirds in a 2022 review of government youth funding - when the chancellor was Rishi Sunak.

Five minutes. That’s how long it took a journalist to melt Sunak’s new pledge.

Still; Tories never let facts get in the way.

10.27pm

Politics UK reports that leaked documents suggest teenagers would be jailed for refusing this national service.

11.47pm

Sunak's bad ideas generator works hard, but the meme makers of the internet work harder:

Still. Sunday is a day of rest! Hopefully Sunday will be better.

Sunday 26 May

9.50am

Let’s check the Sunday tweets.

Starting to think whoever is in charge of optics for Rishi Sunak may be a Labour plant.

10.21am

Fantastic tweet alert:

I Agree With Gabby

3pm

And then... PLOT TWIST!!!

FT’s Lucy Fisher reports that Sunak’s national service pledge - including assigning up to 30,000 18-year-olds to the military - was rejected this week by one of his own defence ministers.

Defence personnel minister Andrew Murrison warned of a hit to morale, headcount and resources if “potentially unwilling national service recruits” were introduced alongside Britain’s professional armed forces.

EVEN THE ARMY DON'T WANT THIS.

6.47pm

And then:

Incredible story from Gabriel Pogrund of the Times.

St Paul’s School, if you haven't heard of it, is an expensive and famous private school in England somewhere (I forget where and don't care). As with other private schools, they’d be subject post-election to a Labour plan to remove their VAT exemption.

Tory MP Greg Hands took matters into his own Greg hands, and messaged the school’s parents’ WhatsApp group to try and drum up anti-Labour sentiment.

I can see the logic. These are parents with money, who have chosen to send their children to a private school that often means an easy track into politics generally and the Tory party specifically. I see why he thought he was safe.

Tumblrs, he was not safe.

Parents intervened, complaining about Hands spamming the chat, and claiming his use of the chat was “inappropriate”.

One parent messaged: “Can we stop assuming everyone is a Tory in this group. A return to more morality, less corruption and more social conscience in British politics is not something to oppose necessarily.”

Another expressed that some parents will “feel it is hard to defend private schools being vat exempt.”

Ouch. Swing and a miss, Greg Hands.

Anyway. New week, new campaigning. I am writing this on Tuesday, and so our tale is nearly at an end for now; so let's see what happened on Monday.

Monday 27 May (Yesterday)

7.40am

Britain's teenagers respond to the national service plan. I love this tweet and the video it reposts:

And here, for your viewing pleasure, is the video:

8.17am

Tory MP Steve Baker (more on him later) actually tweets a public criticism of Sunak’s national service plan. You might be thinking "Well yes, obviously"! But no! For you see, when approaching elections, parties need to be united. Divided parties generally find it harder to win elections.

Naughty Steve.

8.41am

Foreign Office Minister Anne-Marie Trevelyan, having seen the absolute shambles of Sunak’s campaigning, wakes up this fine Monday morn and invites him to hold her beer.

Appearing on Times Radio, she’s asked whether the parents of teenagers could be prosecuted if the teens refuse to take up national service.

And she doesn’t rule it out.

NO BUT WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT ARE YOU DOING ANNE-MARIE. IS THIS YOUR FIRST DAY OUT OF THE HOUSE.

Parents are NOT prosecuted for any wrongdoing of their ADULT CHILDREN. How do you not understand this basic legal concept. The answer to that question was “no”! You say “no” because it makes your party more likely to be elected, and you say “no” because the answer is no.

Oh dear. What a gaffe, as the papers say. Gosh, I really hope Anne-Marie Trevelyan’s gaffe stays contained.

8.56am

The Telegraph duly reports that parents of 18-year-olds might be fined if their children refuse national service.

Anne-Marie Trevelyan’s gaffe did not stay contained.

10.55am

Looks like the Tories are unhappy that the press revealed that Sunak took a day off from campaigning.

But that’s okay, they have a new strategy! Reported by Politico, they’ve decided to suggest that Keir Starmer is too old to be a good Prime Minister.

They called him “weary” yesterday afternoon;

Tory Party Chair Richard Holden says it’s “bizarre” for Starmer to rest at home the day before a speech (but not for Rishi to - ? You know what, never mind);

A Tory aide tells the Sun that Starmer should be dubbed “Sir Sleepy” (what a Zinger, as those conscripted into national service say);

Another Tory aide calls Starmer “Sleepy Keir” according to the FT.

Keir Starmer is 61 years old.

11.17am

Let's check Tory candidate numbers!!!

Now last we looked it was 190, but obviously, as this is possibly their most urgent priority, they've been working flat out and recruiting across the land and so they have, fair play, managed to reduce that number.

The Spectator therefore reports that the Tories have 12 days to select 160 candidates. Would you like to see the maths?

This means, on average, they need to select one candidate every 100 minutes. Which is slightly less time than it takes to watch Toy Story 3.

#ChatYouKnowWhatToDo

12.41pm

The FT’s Lucy Fisher reports that Tory HQ has accidentally sent out an email criticising Tory MPs for failing to campaign, and warning of financial concerns in some seats.

Cannot stress this enough: even if the Tory campaign was going really well and they were predicting a landslide their way, this would be a terrible blow.

5.02pm

The Mirror reports that Tory MP Steve Baker is on holiday in Greece. That’s pretty irresponsible, isn’t it? What does Baker have to say for himself?

"The Prime Minister told everyone we could go on holiday and then called a snap election. So I've chosen to do my campaign work in Greece."

… this is the greatest Tory campaign in history.

(And once again... when exactly did you decide to do this, Rishi?)

5.15pm

In an absolutely baffling move whose motives I still cannot entirely fathom, Tory MP Lucy Allan - a repugnant, malignant liar of a woman who once altered an email from a constituent so she could claim it contained a death threat against her - is suspended by the party, for telling voters in her ward to vote for Reform UK instead of the Tories.

...

...wwwhyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

6.18pm

Good tweet alert! Here's political journalist Jonn Elledge:

6.30pm

Meanwhile, a Tory chooses to contact journalist Theo Usherwood over WhatsApp, criticising the election strategist Isaac Levido:

Now this is particularly interesting, because Levido is the guy who managed to swing the last GE to BlowJo, even though Labour were riding high on Corbyn. And I don't know, maybe he is actually shit at this and all that was luck.

I just... wouldn't have said he was the reason for this one going the way it is. Necessarily.

Finally, let's finish off Monday with a last good tweet:

10.06pm

***

That's all for now, folks! Thank you for reading, enjoy the circus playing out this week!

#politik #clownfall: endgame #Vimeo

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httpdwaekki · 2 months

Text

skinship | s.c

summary: you thought changbin hated you, but that all changed one day when you showed on his doorstep, moments away from an anxiety attack.

wc: 1.8k

warnings: descriptions of an anxiety attack

a/n: happy binnie month! i'm so happy to be doing this not only for one of my favorite boy but with one of my favorite people @straykeedz ! please don't forget to check out bee and her half of binnie month! i hope you enjoy! remember to eat, drink water and take your meds, ily <3

(p.s. if u get the reference ily <3)

my library | bee's vers. | binnie month

please consider donating to this fundraiser!

(pictures are not mine! credit to owners!)

you didn’t think changbin hated you per say, however you did notice his hesitancy towards you, so that definitely didn’t make you think he liked you either.

you noticed he’d keep his distance when you would hang out with the boys and forget about skinship, he avoided you like the plague. you were a very touchy person, similar to felix, you tended to cling to your friends. so you’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt your feelings even a little bit, especially because of how he clings to your other friends.

you brushed it off though, you know not everyone was going to like you but it stung a bit coming from changbin. truth be told you had a lil crush on him when you first met him but you had given up a while ago.

this changes one day however, you found yourself outside of the 3racha+hyune dorm, seconds away from an anxiety attack. you don’t remember how you made it to the building but you knock regardless hoping anyone but changbin would open the door.

luck was not on your side as the rapper opens the door, coming face to face with your panicked expression. “h-hi-“ quickly wiping your tears, attempting to plaster a small smile on your face. “sorry- is chan home?” you were fiddling with the hem of your shirt, attempting to calm yourself long enough to get to your best friend.

“no he’s at the studio- are you okay?” he asks, concern lacing his voice. “yeah! sorry to bother you, i’ll just go to the studio, sorry again!” you say quickly, turning around to make a quick exit.

“hey wait, are you okay?” he steps out, grabbing your wrist, stopping you.

you pause, attempting to collect yourself, “yeah, i just need to find chan.” you go to leave again, his grip tightens slightly. “please let me go.” you whisper, a lump forming in your throat, as you focus on the concrete below your shoes.

“y/n, what’s wrong?” he starts panicking, never had he seen you so distraught. you were usually a ray of sunshine, kind-hearted and smiley, but this- this sent a shock to his core and he knows he can’t let you leave.

he moves in front of you, going to grab your other arm when your head whips up as his hand makes contact with your skin. your eyes are wide and full of panic, unshed tears line them as the panic took over your body.

your reaction has him dropping your wrists immediately. “i’m sorry- i’m sorry, i just want to help.” his voice soft, as if he were speaking to a scared animal.

“can i help you? please, i don’t want you driving like this, it’s not safe.” he explains gently, holding out his hand, trying not to let his panic show. “no- it’s okay, i’m sorry to bother you.” you plaster a fake smile on your face as you stumble backwards, changbin catching you before you could fall. he wraps his arms around your middle before pulling your back to him.

“i’m sorry, i’m just gonna go.” you attempt to free yourself from his arms, feeling the anxiety building in your chest, weighing down on you with each passing second.

“y/n.” his voice stern as he tightens his hold, keeping you in your place. you freeze, locking eyes with the floor, refusing to look at him.

“please,” he begs softly, “let me help you.”

your facade breaks. your knees weaken as sobs wreck your body, changbin tightens his grip, pulling you closer to him. once you regain your footing, he circles around you pulling you into him once more.

you become inconsolable as your arms wrap tightly around him, shoving your face into his neck. “i’m sorry-” he cuts you off with a gentle shush. “don’t apologize. you’re okay.” he rubs soothing strokes on your back as you calm down.

once your breathing was semi-normal he pulls away, almost missing the pain that flashes in your eyes. almost. “come on, let’s get you inside.” he grabs your hand, carefully pulling you into the home.

he leads you to the couch, “sit.” you didn’t know what came over you but as he pulled away your gripped on his hand, stopping him in his tracks.

your eyes wide, gasping softly, “i’m sorry!” quickly releasing his hand. “oh my god, i’m so sorry, i don’t know why i did that.” you suddenly realize the reality of the situation, it washes over you like a wave of cold water. you get up and make your way to the door. “i-i’m so sorry changbin-” you feel your chest tighten, the grips of your anxiety tighten with each passing second.

all you could focus on was getting out of here as quick as possible. but changbin wasn’t letting that happen.

he panics and all he can think about is calming you down, so he did the one thing he can think of. he grabs your wrist once again, turning you to him placing his lips on yours. you freeze before melting into him, placing your hand on his hip, him placing his free hand to your cheek.

once he felt you relax he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. both of you taking a moment to catch your breath.

“why did you do that?” you whispered, still not moving. “uh, i read somewhere that if you hold your breath, you could stop a panic attack.” he pauses, taking a breath. “so when i kissed you, you held your breath.” you nod, pulling away slightly, still processing the fact that he just kissed you.

“oh, that’s really smart.” he nods with a shy smile. you quickly realize you’re still holding on to him, pulling away quickly, “oh!” you backed away slightly. “sorry-” you clear your throat, “thank you,” you make a circle motion between the two of you, “for that.” you smile shyly.

“uh yeah, anytime.” your cheeks warm as a light pink brushes his. you both stand there for a bit before you speak. “can i ask you something?” you ask suddenly, causing him to look to you.

“yeah anything.” he says, prompting you to continue. you hesitate, “do i make you uncomfortable?” you ask quietly, fiddling with your shirt once more. you glance towards him, catching the confusion on his face.

“no not at all,” he furrows his brows, “why would you think that?” he wants to move towards you but he hesitates.

“i’ve just noticed, you just always seem,” you pause, trying to find the right words, “i guess, closed off? like you’re really open with everyone else but with me you always seem to avoid me a bit.” you can see him processing the information but the lack of response was making you panic a bit.

“well! i guess not avoid but like kinda closed off? which would make sense because you’ve known everyone a lot longer than me but you just always hug everyone and then kinda just avoid me, which is fine! totally okay! i just-” he cuts you off with a kiss.

while your rambling was super cute, he couldn’t watch the panic again. his hands on your cheeks once more, he waits for you to relax into him before he pulls away.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers out of breath, “you’re just so cute when you ramble.” you let out a breath as you smile. you place your hands on his wrists, keeping his hands on your skin, basking in the closeness of each other.

a few moments of silence pass before he moves to kiss your forehead, bringing you into him. he wraps his arms around you before he speaks, “you don’t make me uncomfortable, and i certainly wasn’t avoiding you on purpose.” he pauses as you wrap your arms around him.

“i’m so sorry i made you feel that way, i just didn’t know how to approach you.” you tighten your arms around him as he speaks. “i now see i had nothing to worry about huh?” you giggle, shaking your head before pulling away.

“i don’t know if you could tell but i like you, i have for a while but i thought i made you uncomfortable so i kept my distance.” you say looking into his eyes, his coming up to rest on your soft cheek once more.

“not at all, i’m sorry i made you feel this way.” he says, eyes sorrowful. you give him a shy smile, “it’s okay, i’m glad i know why now.” you place a quick peck to his lips, as if it was a seal of confirmation.

he gives you one in return but that quickly became many more… all over your face. you squeal as he continues his attacks, “bin! okay okay, mercy mercy!” he giggles stopping his targeted attacks before quickly picking you up, pulling a noise of surprise from you.

you quickly wrap your arms around him, “where are you taking me?” you giggle as he walks through the dorm, taking you along for the ride. “i’m taking my girlfriend to my room to cuddle because she was having a rough day.” he states proudly, planting a big kiss to your kiss as he enters his room.

“your girlfriend huh? not even gonna ask me?” you tease as he lays you on his bed. “i figured the two passionate kisses and the other kiss attack was enough to solidify that.” he shrugs, looking down at you.

you take a moment to ‘think’. “yeah that’s pretty fair.” you nod, giving him a cheeky smile. he gives you a big kiss before deciding to lay on top of you. “oof!” you giggle as he settles his weight on you.

you look down to find his boba eyes staring back at you, big grin plastered on his face. “move up more, what are you doing all the way down there?” you give him a teasing smile, as he realizes what you meant.

“yah! you’re not allowed to tease me any more.” he whines as he moves up, closer to you. “oh no?” you wrap your arms around him and he lays down once more. “says who?” he nuzzles his head into your neck before relaxing. “says me.” you can’t see his face but you know he’s pouting regardless.

“okay, i’m sorry bub.” you giggle placing a kiss to his hair. what you don’t see is the light blush that dusts his soft cheeks at the pet name. another moment of silence passes, “i’m glad you answered the door.” you say softly.

he lifts his head to look at you, small smile on his face. “me too.” he places one more kiss to your lips before melting back into you where you both fell asleep, smile gracing both of your lips.

this doesn’t last long before hyunjin and han both wake you up with their surprised screams when they find you two.

#seo changbin #changbin #changbin x reader #changbin fic #changbin oneshot #changbin fluff #changbin imagine #changbin drabble #stray kids #stray kids drabble #stray kids oneshot #stray kids fic #stray kids fluff #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagine #stray kids one shot #ash's archive ‧₊˚✩彡

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satorusugurugurl · 4 months

Note

HOW WOULD SATORU/ SUGU / NANAMI/ CHOSO react ti reader being cheated on. My bf of 3 years just cheated on me w his dumbass coworker. And I want to die

Cheated

Summary: JJK men react to finding out you were cheated on!

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Choso Kamo, FAB!Reader

Word Count: 6,285

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, confessions, consensual photos, oral sex (female receiving), bathtub sex, public sex, chair sex, hot damn

A/N: Hi Nonnie Im so sorry that happened to you, cheaters are the worst!! Ah, I love this trope. There's nothing like getting sweet revenge and having a sexy new boyfriend to go with it!

Gojo Satoru:

When Gojo’s phone starts buzzing with your ringtone, he answers it instantly, turning his back to the first years, who are bickering over where they want to go for dinner, on his dime. He steps away, holding the ear up to his phone with a gentle smile.

“This is Gojo; how can I make your every dream come true?” The line is silent before he can hear a slight sniffle on the other line. All of the humor and playfulness leave his tone as he steps into an alleyway to keep things a bit more private. “Sweetheart, hey, what’s wrong? Who do I need to teleport to the middle of the ocean?

“M-My cheating scumbag of a boyfriend.” You manage to get out in between hiccups. Satpru grits his teeth. He never liked the asshole, never in the entirety of your one-year relationship. “I-I was going to shop for some supplies for Yaga, l-like yarn and shit. And his coworker sent me a video of them fucking..”

“Where are you?” He asked, hurrying back to the group of first years, tossing Megumi his card. “I’m coming to meet you right now.”

After sending Gojo your location, you hung up the phone just as he teleported right in front of you, scaring the ever-loving shit out of you. “Jesus Toru, you sca—” His arms are around you in an instant, holding you tight against his chest. The sudden affection leaves you speechless, but the warmth of his body and the sweet, musky smell of him comfort your broken heart. Smelling him, feeling his warmth, had tears flowing down your cheeks. You hugged him back, arms wrapping tightly tightly around his waist.

“I always hated that dick; he was a total scumbag, sweetie," Satoru whispered gently, rubbing his hands up and down your back. “You don’t deserve to be treated the way he treats you. You deserve someone who’ll give you the world.”

“If you find anyone like that, let me know.”

“Well, you're sort of hugging him right now.”

You blinked, eyes going wide as you pulled back, looking at the blindfolded man. "Wh-wait, what?” He chuckled, one hand remaining on your waist while the other reached up, rubbing at his undercut nervously.

“I'd treat you like royalty, sweetheart. God, I've liked you for years now."

"Years!? How long are we talking?!"

"Since we were third year.”

"Third year? Toru, why didn't you wait so long to tell me?!”

"Because you were already dating Jerks, you didn't seem interested whenever I flirted. Do I gave up and decided to stick to being your friend?”

Thinking back to the times he flirted, he had been so boisterous, and in your head, you thought he was joking with you. When it turns out he genuinely wanted to go out with you. If you hadn’t been so dense all these years, you would’ve realized that you would’ve said yes to going out with him in a heartbeat.

“Oh my god, all this time, I thought you were just joking around! I’m such an idiot.”

“Don’t say that; I probably should’ve been more straightforward.”

Satoru gently squeezed your hand before you interlaced your fingers together. He was feeling your hand in his hand, which made his heart sore. His eyes glanced down, confirming what he felt was real, before his cheeks flushed a deep red.

“Is it too late to acknowledge your flirting?”

“For you? Never.” He began leading you out to the street as you pulled out your phone, deleting the message from your exes mistress. “Say ~ what do ya’ think about dishing out some cold, brutal revenge?”

“I would say I like the way you think.”

“You still have that Polaroid camera?”

The smell of sex is thick in the air as Gojo fucks into you from behind. You're gripping the sheets as he holds the Polaroid camera above him, snap-shotting the perfect back shots he’s giving you. The camera spits out the photo, and he snatches it, shaking it violently before looking down at it. He smirked, grabbing a handful of your hair and yanking it, lifting you from the pillows.

“Look at this, fuck, you’re so pretty. I know we’re doing this for sweet, beautiful revenge, but I don’t know if I wanna show the world these pictures.” Hearing him being so possessive over you has you groaning and pleasure. “I think I want to keep these pictures all to myself, maybe take a couple with me so I have jerk-off material on missions.”

“Fuuuuck Toru!” you rock your hips and back against his hard cock that’s twitching inside your wet pussy. “Yeah, that them, keep them; I don’t want anyone else seeing me but you!”

The tone of your voice, the submissive words that leave your pretty fucking mouth, has Gojo pulling your hair harder as he keeps your head held up as he fucks into you harder. “Yeah, baby, do you want me to keep these pretty little pictures? Pretty pictures of you that my cock twitch and I’m still fucking inside you.” He pulls you up so you’re back is pressed firmly against his chest, both of you on your knees as he rams his cock into your g-spot.

“Gah! Fuck~oooh fuck Satoru~!” You reach a hand back, gripping the back of his head, pulling him down to your mouth so you can kiss the life out of him. “Yes~ yes~ keep them all~!”

“Mhmmmpm!” White eyebrows knit together as he kisses you back as hard as he can, lips bruising against yours, making them swell even more. “Fuck~ fuck sweetheart, you are so fucking hot.” He turns the camera so it’s facing the both of you and snaps a picture as he kisses your neck, nipping and sucking on it, marking you up so everyone will know you are his and he is yours.

The bed is covered, and Polaroid pictures depict your sexual debauchery over the last two hours. From you sucking him off to his head buried between your thighs, making you come so hard you experienced an out-of-body experience. The proof of your sexual encounter has your cunt throbbing, hugging his cock so hard it has him whining.

“Oh my god, you're so tight! Fuck!” Gojo’s jerking his hips up into you, hitting every spot that was a weak point for you. He’s a whimpering fucked up, pissy drunk off of you.”Nnngh baby~ baby sweetheart!” Hot breath fans against the crook of your neck as he nips at your skin.

“Toru! Toru! Oh my god! Ooooh, my fucking god, I'm going to cum! Oh fuck!”

“Oh please~ please cum on my cock~! Please! Fuck I wanted this for so long! God fuck!”

Satoru’s peace quickened as he slammed the head of his cock over and over into your g-spot. You squirt all over the bed and the polaroids that covered the sheets. Watching you come for the first time in real life and not in his fantasies had Gojo stealing his hips as his thick cum filled you. He weakly thrust in and out of your heat, leaking out with each time he slid out of you. He only stopped once he felt his balls unclench, and you both collapsed forward onto the bed.

“Oh my fuck.” Polaroid pictures moved across the bed under your conjoined heavy breathing. “Fuuuuck, I've dreamt about doing that for so long.” His lips pressed against your back with dozens of kisses, leaving you a giggling mess underneath him.

“Satoru~”

“Yeah, baby~?”

“Let’s go again.”

You could feel his softening cock twitch within your walls. “Again?” Satoru’s tone is thick as honey, excitement clear as day.

“Yeah~ we have ten years to make up for.”

You and Gojo made up for last time and then some, and while your ex never received any of the Polaroids you both took, he did receive the biggest fuck you when Gojo teleported all of his belongings into the Atlantic ocean. Dating the strongest sorcerer of the modern age came with several perks, a big dick, and scary dog privileges. As you lie in bed with him, you were never more grateful for receiving such a video of your ex cheating because you gained the best boyfriend in the entire world because of it.

Geto Suguru:

“I cannot wait to eat these cold soba noodles! It’s so hot outside. They’re gonna taste so good.” You looked up at your best friend as you exited the elevator. “Aren’t you excited, Suguru?”

“Ecstatic.”

“You know what would make these noodles taste ten times better? If my asshole boyfriend wasn’t at home.”

Suguru shook his head before heaving as you searched for your keys inside your purse. “I honestly don’t know why you won’t dump the dickhead.”

“Ya’ know, I’ve been asking myself the same question.” your asshole of a boyfriend had been blowing you off for weeks now. He complained about everything you do, and you were getting sick of it. “I should just dump him and date you instead!” your chicks burned as you stopped at him, a teasing smile over your lips.

When you met his eyes, you weren’t met with the soft grin he gave you whenever the two of you joked around. Instead, it was an earnest look; his eyes narrowed as he nodded before grabbing your shoulder and turning you to face him. Your mouth was suddenly very dry as he kept your cheek with his thumb.

“You should.”

“W-wait, seriously?”

“Yeah, I would treat you so much better than this asshole.”

You blink before opening your mouth to respond when a moan sounds from the other side of the door. That did not belong to your boyfriend. Suguru’s eyes were wide, his head jerking towards the door as you saw red. Flinging it, you rushed in, finding your boyfriend balls deep inside his coworker on your couch.

“You son of a bitch! That’s it. We are done!” Suguru gently took the bag of food from you, putting it on the counter, allowing you to throw your purse at your scumbag boyfriend. “Get out of my apartment!”

“Your apartment?” Your now ex-boyfriend asked as he and the bitch got dressed hastily. “Don't you mean our apartment? I live here, too!”

“Haha! Not any fucking more! I can't stand your ass!” You shriek, looking for something to throw at him. “You scumbag! God, you're both such terrible, horrible, nasty people! You deserve each other!” Having had enough of the conversation, you turned to storm out, and your ex scoffed smugly.

“Yeah?! Well, at least I have someone.”

That was it; you were going to jail. You turned to commit several crimes, but just before you could, Suguru stopped you. His lips crashed against yours. His lips moved feverishly against yours as he backed you up against the wall, slamming his hands on either side of your head. The initial shock of the unexpected knee-buckling kiss wears off, and you're like melted butter. You throw your arms around your best friend's neck, pulling him closer.

The fluidity of your kisses and moans would have had anyone assuming that you had done this countless times when, in fact, it was your first kiss. A kiss that was fueled by yes of pent-up desire. Suguru put everything into that kiss, ensuring you knew how he felt. You had never been kissed so passionately in your life. It was an array of tongues, the lingering taste of brown sugar milk tea, and pure lust. It made you want more, and for once in your life, you would be selfish.

You broke the kiss first, freeing yourself to stare at Suguru’s tan, flushed face as he panted roughly against your lips. A breathless giggle full of excitement and relief rose in your chest as Suguru kissed you again before turning to sneer at your ex while you trailed kisses down his neck.

“Ahhh~ fuck would you look at that.” His eyes rolled back as you nipped at his skin. “Looks like she does have someone~” Suguru picked you up by your thighs, lifting you to his hips. “Now, I’m going to give you ten seconds to get out of here before I start ducking my girl.”

“Why the fuck would I care?”

“Because I’m going to make her scream so loud you’re going to know what a real orgasm sounds like.”

“Suguru!” You squeak as he carries you to the kitchen table, tossing the placemats to the ground before laying you on top.

“W-What?! fuck you, Man-Bun. I’ve made her cum before!”

“Mhmm~” Suguru kisses down your neck, making you gasp. “Sure you did—just like this chick right who just sounded like some B-grade actress and a bad softcore porno.” His hands trail down your body, squeezing you gently.

You were so lost in the pleasure that you barely noticed the girl stuttering as she dressed. Your ex asks if she faked it as they hardly exited the apartment. The sound of shocked, angry yelling you in that she had faked it like you had done almost every time you had sex with him.

Suguru nipped at your collarbone before pulling back and looking at the door. “They’re gone.” He gasped as you yanked him back on top of you, kissing him deeply. The groan that left him as he rocked his hips against yours had your legs trembling in anticipation as you worked at his belt.

“So make me scream so loud they can hear it down the street.”

When you ask Geto to make you scream, he makes you cry. He fucked you on the table, his fat, thick cock, sliding in and out of your tight little hole, making you cum so hard you soaked his pants. Before he bends you over the couch and fuck you again, this time even harder, making you scream even louder. Before he dragged you into your bedroom, where he fucked you against the door.

The benefit of being one of the strongest sorcerers was that Geto had stamina. And even when his dick was limp and needed a break, his tongue did all the work for him. For a man’s curse technique was swallowing curses, he knew how to eat pussy like a champ.

“Oooh, what the fuck!?” You screamed as Geto Slid his tongue inside of your cunt, curling it expertly against your g-spot. “Wh-Whoa~! Fuck! Fuuuuuck me!”

Your hands dug into the dark raven strands of his hair, pulling on it roughly. Suguru growled, hands grabbing your hips and bringing you closer to his mouth. His nose rubbed up and down over your clit as he fucked you with his long tongue. Your upper body convulsed, shaking up and down as the pleasure rippled through every nerve in your body. Geto Suguru eats you out like you were his last meal on death row, from the tips of your toes to the top of your head.

“Mmmm~,” he hummed, “mmmhm~!” his eyebrows knitted and concentrated as he felt your sweet, tangy slick coating his tongue. he loved the way you tasted and how you withered against the bed as he pleased to deal with his mouth. He got off on getting you off. Tasting your dripping pussy, enough to have his sore dick rising to attention, ready for the fourth round of your insane sexual escapade.

“S-Sugu! Ooooh fuck yeah~ fuck oh my god!” Tugging his hair made him groan as you rocked against his nose. “Yes, yes!”

Suguru pulled back, panting like a madman; he used both hands, slamming back down against the mattress. “Stop—how can I enjoy my meal when you’re bucking against my face like that.” the sound of protest forms in the back of your throat., but Suguru is back between your legs, lapping at your wet folds. “By a good girl.” but being good was so hard when you were right on the edge of cumming. You wanted to know you needed it; you needed to cum all over his tongue.

“Plllease Sugu~! Please, I wanna cum~”

“Yeah, wanna cum all over my tongue, baby?”

“Yes! Please, please, I need it~!”

That single word had him melting. “Then,” he gripped your thighs, desperately flipping you both so you were straddling his face, “take what you need.” His tongue slid out of his mouth, resting flat against his chin.

Suguru had dreamed about you sitting on his face several times. He’d had countless a wet, wet dream about the scenario. For you to finally straddle his face and start humping his tongue while you played with your tits, Was almost enough to send him over the edge. Watching you use him, it was so fucking hot. You rocked and rolled your hips, fucking your face against his mouth as you gripped the sheets, grounding yourself as you fucking cummed all over his face.

The raven-haired man underneath you sucked all of your juices, willingly letting it fill his mouth as he groaned and whined at your taste. The taste alone, cock twitching once, then twice before a spurt of white-hot cum splattered against your back coding alone, cock twitching once, then twice before a spurt of cum hit your back. Feeling him cum untouched just from eating you out was enough to extend your orgasm, leaving you a trembling sloppy mess above him.

“Oooh fuck.” His voice muttered against your twitching pussy before you pulled back, laying down on his chest. “You are utterly insatiable. Do you know that?”

“Me? Good sir, you’re the one that just literally sucked the soul out of my pussy.”

“I’ve wanted to do it for so long I got excited.” his hands gently rubbed down the sides of your body. “You know, I’m not even sorry that we walked in on your ex cheating on you today.”

“Strangely, I couldn’t agree more with you.”

Suguru pushed her back out of your face, smiling as you nipped and kissed at his pecks. “The second I get the feeling back in my legs, I’m getting those soba noodles for us to eat in bed.”

“That sounds like heaven.”

“Mhmm, if you're here with me, it is.”

Nanami Kento:

Nanami stood outside your favorite restaurant, searching the sidewalk for any side of you. He was planning on treating you to a warm meal and a bottle of wine as a thank-you for your help on a recent mission together. You were running late and starting to wonder if you got caught up at the school before he could pull out his phone to call you; he heard you.

“Leave me alone!” you shrieked, running towards Nanami; while you’re moronic imbecile of a boyfriend was close behind.

“It was an accident, I swear!”

Without thinking, your best friend since high school rushed forward, and the second he saw tears flowing down your cheeks, he pulled you behind him, allowing him to face the man he knew as your boyfriend. Your hands gripped his suit jacket as your boyfriend tried to get around Nanami, but he would not allow him the chance.

“She has asked for you to leave her alone. Stop harassing her.” Nanami’s tone was cold and stern.

“Babe, it was an accident, I swear to God!”

You scoffed, your head around Nanami. “An accident?! you call fucking your coworker an accident?!” Nanami felt a vein pulse in his forehead; how could someone hurt you like that? “You expect me to believe that you accidentally tripped and your dick accidentally slid inside of her?!” when you rationally put it like your boyfriend didn’t know what to say.

“Babe, please—”

“No, we’re done. I will leave your shit in front of my door. Get the fuck away from me, delete my number, and never reach out to me again.”

“B-But—”

“You heard her. You should leave because you won’t like it if I get involved more than I already am.”

You watched your ex-boyfriend heading down the street, his head hung low. The instant he was out of sight, you pulled away from Nanami with a sigh. “Thank you, Kento.” a giant hand stroked some of your flyaways against your head.

“You're welcome. I know this question is foolish, but are you okay?”

“I'm fine—?” Now that you are away from your exes hustling, you can process your emotions. “I'm more angry than sad.”

“That's understandable and a very rational way to react.”

“It's been a long time. But—” A broken sigh left you, “him cheating on me was the final straw.”

Hearing you say your relationship was finished made Nanami happy. “Good, I never liked him. You deserve so much more than he was willing to give you..”

You smiled weekly, gripping at the sleeve of his jacket. “That's very sweet. Thank you, Kento. I’m sorry, but could we rain check on dinner? I need to go pack up his shit.” you released his jacket to head back towards your apartment. You weren’t able to step forward before Nanami grabbed your hand, preventing you from moving further.

“Let me help you take out the trash. We don’t need to go to a restaurant, but I can cook dinner.”

“Oh, you don't have to do that.”

“I know I don't, but I want to.”

Knowing Nanami, he wouldn’t take no for an answer, not when he knew how upset you were and that your heart had just been broken. You didn’t want to be alone. So that’s how you found yourself on the floor sipping wine as you ate the pasta Nanami had prepared. You both were having such a great time laughing and chatting with each other. No one would’ve guessed you had broken up with your boyfriend hours before.

Nanami Kento always made you happy. He was the best thing that happened to you in high school. You had a major crush on him, but he never seemed interested. That was a shame to you. Do anything to be with a genuinely great guy like him.

“Say, Ken,” You were leaning against his side. “If we’re both not married by the time we hit thirty. What do you say we just get married? We’re both good friends. I think it would be a good marriage part—”

“It’s so incredibly frustrating with how oblivious you are sometimes.”

His remark has you sitting up, turning to watch as he sips more wine. “I’m sorry, what?” the blonde snickers ran his hand through his hair.

“Have you ever stopped and asked yourself why I never liked your ex-boyfriends?” you’re too stunned to answer his question. “It’s because I like you, and I always have. It’s always been you.”

“Kento.”

“Seeing you in tears tonight being cheated on has me feeling a little more blunt.” His honesty has you breathing heavily as he puts his wine glass on the coffee table before he cups your face with both hands. “I don't want to wait until we’re thirty to be together. I want you now and forever.”

“N-Not like a one-night stand? This wouldn’t be a one-time thing?”

“No, this would be the beginning of a hopefully very long life together.”

There was no hesitation or second thoughts as you grabbed Kento’s face, kissing him hungry deeply. Your best friend hummed, pulling you onto his lap as his hands arrested on both of your hips, making you slowly rock against him. The sweet wine smell of his musk and plum made your head spin as you rocked faster. The pent-up desire finally allows you the courage to take what you want.

The sweet smell of your favorite bubble bath mix filled the air as water slowly spilled over the edge of the tub as you rocked up and down on Nanami’s cock. His head was tilted back as honey, brown eyes roamed over every inch of your bare, wet skin. A glow danced over your beautiful skin in the low flicker of candlelight, making you look like a goddess.

Nanami grunted, hissing through his teeth as his hands groped and gently massaged your breasts, his mouth coming up, latching onto one of your nipples. Your back arched as you gently guessed, leaning against him harder, pressing your breasts into his face, encouraging him to keep sucking. With each time you lifted your hips off his cock he’d suck the bud, and with each time you slammed yourself back down on him, he nibbled around your areola.

Although you have never been intimate, you move with a particular flow. You were like ice skaters who had been skating for decades. You knew each movement and how the other liked it. And perhaps that was because you had known each other for so long. You knew each other like the back of your hands. But there was something more between you. Something that was a more profound feeling, almost like the two of you were made for each other.

“Ah~ fuck honey.” Kento’s hot breath tickled your wet breasts. “Can I help you? Please, I want to be a little selfish.”

“Y-Yes Kento~ I want more! I need all of you.”

Sliding his hands off your breasts, Nanami reached down, grabbing your hips, holding them gently as he began thrusting up into you, slowly, sensually. The way his hips rocked into you was gentle, full of passion at the same time. The intensity of his slow thrusts had you gripping onto his broad, muscular shoulders for support as he began sliding down in time with his pace.

“You feel so good~I can't get enough of you.”

“Then consider me all yours.” You breathe out against his kiss, swollen lips. “Take me, Kento~ make me yours one million times over again.”

So that’s exactly what he did. Nanami pressed his lips firmly against yours, sighting his tongue into your mouth. You were both a tangled mess of limbs and tongues as you both fucked each other toward the edge of orgasmic pleasure. He moaned into your mouth, pulling away, resting his forehead against yours as he stared into your eyes.

“Look at me.” his voice was gruff and so deep. “Look at me when you cum on my cock.”

Gripping onto the blonde strands of hair on his head, he stared into his eyes as your walls were convulsing around him. “Kento~ Ken ~ ooooh fuck I'm cumming~ cum with me~!” he didn’t need to say anything for you to know that’s exactly what he did. Warmth spread through your body as he filled you, and you came together.

The intensity of the orgasm had you both shaking and trembling as if you were stuck in the snow. His lips move against yours, secret your hips with a satisfied snarl. “I could get used to this. Coming home to you, enjoying a hot meal and bathing together.” his hands gently groped your ass, squeezing it.

“Mmm~ As long as you’re cooking, I think we have a deal.”

“Mhmm, that’s fair; I’ll cook.” His hips jerked up into you, his cock still fully erect. “And you’ll be the dessert.”

Choso Kamo:

Choso walked with Yuuji to his class, eager to see you. The two of you had become best friends over the last few months. Telling each other everything, going to dinner, taking walks, and training together, you were inseparable. The only downside to being friends with you was that Choso longed for more. He didn’t want to be your friend. He wanted to be your boyfriend. But he would never make a move because of your current boyfriend.

He was a sorcerer and a scumbag who didn’t treat you the way you deserved. Choso had been so confused about why you wouldn’t break up with him, but his younger brother told him some people accept that sort of treatment. They feel like they can’t do any better, which is asinine because. Choso would love to treat you like a princess but wouldn’t push you to leave the man you were dating.

“Good Mornin’ teach—” Yuuji announced as he and Choso entered your classroom. Brown eyes met yours, and Choso felt like his heart would stop.

You were gently sitting at your desk; Geto and Shoko rubbed your back as tears streamed down your cheeks. For a second, both Cho and his younger brother thought something horrible had happened. Maybe someone had died, or you were hurt.

“Itadori, Kamo—” Geto straightened, shoving his hands into his pants pockets. “Gojo was supposed to catch you, too. He’s taking over your class, Itadori.”

“Oh! Yeah, we didn’t see him on our way here.”

“Yo Yuuji, Choso, let's get to the field!” Speaking of the devil, Gojo shredded forward, towering over Megumi and Nobara, who followed behind. “Your talisman class was canceled because your sweet teacher got her heart broken.” Heartbroken?

Choso’s head snapped in your direction. He'd experienced heartbreak himself after the deaths of his younger brothers. Was your heartbreak so bad that Shoko needed to heal you?

“Are you going to be all right? I know how painful a broken heart is.”

“Satoru!” Geto chastised as Choso rushed forward, gently examining your face, waiting for you to ensure you were okay.

“Cho—I’m okay—I just—”

“Hey, it’s not my fault. She got cheated on by a Playboy sorcerer who was notorious for sleeping around.”

Cheated? Like in a video game, it was possible to break your heart by cheating like that? The questions reeled, and Choso’s mind evaporated as you stood up, hissing as you tossed one of your talismans at Gojo. The glowing blue paper hit the white-haired sorcerer’s infinity and violently shook before exploding into blue cursed energy.

“Oh shit, I didn’t know she was still here!” Gojo grinned, pointing at your flailing talisman paper. “You seriously thought this would get through my infinity? That’s hilarious.”

“Fuck you, Gojo! It’s not your right to go around telling people what happened!”

“Sorry! Sorry! I'll leave you to wallow in self-pity. Yuuji, let’s get going.” Choso watched as the strongest sorcerer of the modern age grabbed his younger brother by the back of his hoodie and dragged him down the hall.

For a moment, Choso tried to think of what to say or what questions he could ask without coming off as insensitive. But those thoughts came to a heart as Geto cleared his throat and motioned towards the door at Shoko. The two friends left, heading off in the direction Satoru turned, leaving you and Choso alone.

Your dark-haired companion shut the sliding door to your classroom before strutting towards you. You were wiping useless tears when he threw his arms around you, hugging you. The sudden affection caught you off guard, making you stumble back against the wall as Choso squeezed you tight. His warmth and the sweet smell of spices were much more comforting than your friend's backrubs. So, of course, more tears fell from your eyes, staining Choso’s robes.

Seeing you in such a distraught state, the marks on Choso’s face shifted into the shape of arrows. You could hear him gritting his teeth as he clenched his jaw tight. His hand slowly stroked your hair back, and you sniffled into his clothes as he rested his chin on your head.

This was exactly what you needed.

For someone to hold you tight and let you cry into their chest. You didn’t need to hear about how you had made a mistake; you knew that. You just wanted a hug and were so glad it was Choso. He was always so good to you; he was perfect.

Pulling back, you sniffed at Choso’s thumbs and brushed tears away. “What happened?” he spoke softly as if he thought his words would break you.

“I found out my ex was cheating on me with several different girls.” You sighed, resting your chin against his sternum and looking into his eyes. “I saw all the messages and pictures; one of the girls found my account and messaged me. When I confronted him about it, he didn’t even deny it.” Choso’s hand twitched. “I asked him why he would cheat, and he claimed I was bad at having sex.”

“That’s ridiculous! A terrible excuse for a terrible human!” Choso’s brash anger made you blush. “Even if a person was bad at it, which I doubt is possible, it’s no excuse for breaking your heart.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Cho—“

“I know I’ve been sealed, but that’s ridiculous! Even if someone was bad at it, I'm not saying that you are; there are so many more qualities to a person than just sex. How beautiful and smart you are, compassionate and open-minded you’ve been. Especially with me.”

“Choso.”

He gently stepped forward, slamming his hands on either side of your desk. “You are so incredible. I would never hurt you like that!” He inched closer to the smell of dragon blood spice wafted off him, making you dizzy. “Can I please show you how much you mean to me?” He stood firm and tall, waiting for your answer.

“I-I—yes, you may.” The second those words

The second the word yes leaves your mouth, Choso slams his lips against yours. You gasp as he presses you against the wall, your back against the window. His hands grab your wrists, pinning them above your head as he kisses you harder, his eyes shut tight as he groans against your mouth. The kiss has your eyes rolling as you kiss his back, and your tongue flicks at his bottom lip.

Your friends eyes open wide as the feeling of your tongue against his lip. He hesitantly opens his mouth, allowing your tongue to enter. He shudders, eyes rolling back as he tastes your favorite drink on his tongue as you massage it against his own. He kisses the sight of everything as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss, trying to match your pace.

You both pull back for air, gasping into each other's slightly parted mouths, a string of saliva connecting your lips. There was something in the kiss, how Choso’s gently held your wrists, that made you feral. He was so cute and sweet. God, he made you feel like you were going insane. There was always an attraction for him, but since you were dating someone else, you never acted on those feelings. Now that you were single, you could finally give in to the carnal desire screaming at you to act.

“Cho,” you pant, pulling your wrists free, resting your hands on his chest, “I want you, no, I need you.”

“I need you too.”

You grab his hand, pulling him towards your office. “Promise you’ll be honest if I suck at sex?”

Choso’s hair clings to his forehead an hour later as he bites his lip. He’s sitting in your chair, and you're straddling him, burying your face in his neck, breathing heavily as you ride him. He’s a whimpering mess, his arms wrapped around you, pressing your breasts against his chest as you thrust his hips up.

“Haaaaah~ haaah haaah.” He breathes heavily, digging his nails into your neck with a gasp. “Y-You’re so good~ sooo good! So wet, so tight, sooo good!”

“C-Choso~ Choso~” you’re littering hickeys all over his pale flushed skin.

“Y-You—fuuuck fuck!” He hisses out, throwing his head against your shoulder as he bucks up into you faster, whining, crying softly at the immense pleasure of you clamping down on his cock as he hits your cervix. “Y-You’re so good at sex! Oh my god, I love this. Can we do this again?! Please, I wanna do this all the time!”

Pulling your face away, it suddenly became evident. “Choso, you’re a virgin?” He nodded, his eyes rolling back into his head, and he shuddered at the feeling of gushing around him. “O-Oooh~ fuck Cho~!” You slam down on him faster; being the first woman he’s been inside of had you feeling absolutely feral. You wanted to ruin him for all other women; you wanted him to be yours and only yours. “W-We haaah, we can d-do this all the time!” Your sweet friend gripped onto your bare back tighter, gasping and gritting his teeth as his balls tightened.

“H-Honey! Honey, please, going to cum~! Gonna cum!”

“Yes~ yes, fill me up, Choso~ give it all to me!”

He shudders and slams up into you, dragging you over the edge with his. Your walls flutter around him as he kisses you deeply as he fills you with his cum. It’s hot and thick, coating your walls as you both hold onto each shaking from the intensity of your orgasms. You hum happily, your lips grazing his skin as he gently shifts, grunting softly.

“Honey,”

“Hmm?”

“You don’t suck at sex, you—you were like a goddess.” Pulling back, Choso cups some of your hair behind your ear. “I want to worship you.” His sweet, gentle voice has you leaning into the palm of his hand.

“You can, only on one condition.”

“Name your price, honey.”

You gently press your lips against his. “I get to worship you too.” Choso felt his smile widen as he kissed your lips over and over again.

“This is the best day of my life!” And you had to agree completely, because it was the best day of your life too.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks

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serpentandlily · 4 months

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Beneath the Ashes (I/II) - Azriel x Reader

Beneath the Ashes Part I - Azriel x Illyrian!Reader

Summary: Azriel finally finds the girl he’s been looking for all these years—his mate. But unfortunately for him, his mate happens to be an Illyrian who, upset over the fact that he’s turned his back on his own people, wants nothing to do with him. (Enemies to lovers vibes, angst)

a/n: based on this REQUEST. This is going to be a two part story because I kind of went a little too hard writing this haha. Thank you for your request and the inspiration! (Also I know a lot of you asked to be on a taglist for this story but since it’s only 2 parts I’m not gonna make one)

warnings: misogyny, sexism

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Part I of II

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Azriel was not happy, to say the least. Not as he landed on the cold, hard ground of one of the Illyrian war camps in the northern region of the mountains. He internally cursed at Cassian for still being on his mating honeymoon with Nesta because now he was being forced to do things Cass would normally be in charge of—primarily dealing with the Illyrians.

It wasn't a secret that Azriel hated Illyria and all its people. Hated that he came from such a barbaric, backwards culture. He knew Cass was trying to do all he could to break the traditions Illyrians held, but Azriel had always told him they were a lost cause. If he could never see these damn mountains again, he'd consider it a blessing.

But, evidently, that was not a blessing he'd be allowed—at least, not until Cassian returned. For now, he was the one who was being sent out on these missions by his High Lord.

Rhys had gotten word that some commotion was happening in the camp that had its people up in arms about something. He had asked Azriel to go check it out and who was he to turn down a request from his brother? So here he was. He was just hoping to get this over with soon.

He had tried sending his shadows ahead of time to collect intel, but they had been acting weird ever since they returned to him. They had swarmed him with their cryptic messages.

Beautiful.

Our master must see.

Permission to kill, master?

Needless to say, Azriel had no fucking idea what any of that meant. He had given them no such permission to kill, at least, not until he could see for himself what was transpiring here.

He was passing by the training rings, ignoring the stares of the brutes who were working out and sparring within them, when he heard several sets of loud voices. He quickened his pace, following the voices into the residential section of the camp until he finally beheld what was causing the commotion.

Three males were on the porch of one of the cabins, restraining a female Illyrian, who was thrashing around like a wildcat, screaming, "Let me go, you assholes!"

Another male Azriel recognized as the War Lord of the camp was standing on the steps leading up to the small cabin, arms crossed and a sneer on his face. A male next to him was holding a blubbering Illyrian toddler, whose arms were outstretched towards the female with tears pouring down her chubby cheeks.

None of them had noticed him yet which Azriel used to his advantage. His shadows were already wailing when he let them loose. They spiraled towards the group, swirling around the males holding the female and yanking them away from her. All of their heads snapped in Azriel's direction except for the female. She tumbled to the ground but quickly scrambled to get up and rushed towards the male next to the War Lord, not even sparing a glance at what had caused the males to unleash her.

She went to grab the little girl from the male holding her but was quickly held back by the War Lord with a growl. The War Lord twisted her arms behind her back, holding her in place, but his glare was firmly set on Azriel.

Azriel's face displayed no emotions as he stalked forward, his hand ghosting over Truth-Teller.

"Shadowsinger," the War Lord bit out in greeting. The other males quickly got to their feet and stood at attention.

"Silas," Azriel said, not bothering to address him properly which made the male bristle, "Care to explain what is happening here?"

"None of your business, Shadowsinger," Silas hissed. "I have it under control."

"Doesn't seem like it," Azriel replied, coolly.

The female was still trying to break out of Silas's grip, cursing under her breath. He tightened his hold on her, causing her to hiss in pain as he twisted her wrists in his hands. Azriel's shadows seemed to hiss in response, poised to attack as soon as Azriel gave them permission.

Azriel's gaze fell on the female, noting the frustrated tears in her eyes. It seemed like there had been a scuffle. Her hair was half falling out of her braid, she had scrape marks on one of her cheeks, and a bruise was beginning to form on her jaw. One of her wings was flared out proudly while the other drooped to the floor at a weird angle. His fists clenched at the sight and when she finally looked up at him, her eyes meeting his, the breath was completely knocked out of his lungs.

Despite her tattered appearance, she was single-handedly the most beautiful female he had ever laid eyes on. He stood frozen for a moment, taken aback before he shook himself out of the spell she seemed to cast on him, realizing how inappropriate of a time it was to be ogling her.

"Let her go, Silas," Azriel commanded in a dark voice.

"I don't take orders from you," Silas spat out. "Besides, this female has been breaking the law for months now. We're taking her into custody."

"Fuck you," the female barked out, stomping on Silas's foot. The male cursed and went to strike her on the back of her head but Azriel's shadow caught his wrist in their grasp before he could.

"I said," Azriel growled, lowly, causing the males to shift in place, "Let her go."

"Fine," Silas sneered, though a tiny bit of fear flashed in his dark eyes. He pushed her to the ground in front of him. She was quick to spring back to her feet and rush towards the toddler who was still screeching. The male could hardly keep hold of the little girl.

"Let the babe go, too," Azriel snapped. The male scoffed but set the little girl down. She immediately ran to the female who bent down with her arms wide open, catching the little girl and standing with her firmly on her hip. The little girl's cries quieted down and she buried her small face in the female's neck.

"Would anyone like to tell me what the hell is going on here?" Azriel snarled, taking another step closer. Half the males mirrored his step back and he fought the urge to chuckle.

"Like I said," Silas snapped, "This female has been breaking the law—”

“What law?” Azriel asked, firmly.

“Females are not permitted to live alone nor own houses,” Silas barked out. “She has ignored our warnings—”

“My father left the cabin to me in his will!” The female shouted, causing the small toddler in her arms to whimper. She stroked the girl's hair, shushing her. “It belongs to me.”

“I don’t care what your father promised you,” Silas growled. “It is against the law for you to be living here alone. You must surrender the cabin and go live in the barracks with the other unwed females of marrying age. Your sister will be placed under the care of the matron.”

“Like hell I’m leaving her under the care of that female! You’re just going to have her wings clipped and force her to do grueling chores all day! She stays with me!”

“You are out of line! I knew your father wasn’t raising the two of you right. Ever since your mother passed away—”

“Don’t you dare say another word about my parents!”

The War Lord lunged towards the female with a growl but Azriel shadowed between them, unsheathing Truth-Teller and pressing it against the male’s throat.

“Lay a hand on her and I’ll gut you right here in front of all of your brutes,” Azriel snarled.

Silas stepped back with a scoff. “You want to stick your nose in our business? Fine, then she’s your problem. I expect her out of this house by the end of today, Shadowsinger, or there will be worse consequences.”

He stormed away, his entourage trailing behind him while sending glares to the female. Azriel waited until they were out of view before he turned to look at the female but she was gone from next to him, already walking up the steps to the cabin with the babe—her sister—on her hip.

Azriel went to follow her but she stormed into the cabin and slammed the door in his face before he could so much as utter a single word. He let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before he knocked on the door. When Rhys had mentioned a problem happening in this camp, he hadn't expected to deal with something like this. It would’ve been much easier if it had been a problem he could solve with his fists.

When she didn't answer, he knocked harder—nearly causing the door to shutter.

It flung open a second later, a seething female behind it. "I already told those assholes I'm not leaving. If you're here to tell me to pack up and move, you can kiss my ass."

Azriel had to stop his lips from twitching into an amused smirk at her words. He wasn't used to dealing with female Illyrians that had attitudes. Most of them kept their heads down and stayed quiet. His mother had been like that....

"I'm not here to tell you that," Azriel answered. "May I come inside?"

She leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms and staring him down. He found himself even more amused at how she was trying to intimidate him. Most fae avoided him and his gaze. But a female, whose head barely reached his shoulders, seemed to be completely unfazed by him.

"No, you may not," she snapped. "Anything you need to say to me can be said perfectly fine from where you're standing."

“Can I at least bring a healer to come check out your injuries?” He eyed the scrapes on her face, the bruise and her drooping wing. Azriel’s chest ached at the sight and anger pulsed under his skin. He wanted to turn around and go rip those males apart limb by limb for laying a hand on her.

“I don’t need your help, shadowsinger,” she spat out.

"Fine," Azriel sighed. "I was sent by the High Lord because there's been reports of someone here causing disarray. I'm going to assume that someone is you."

She shrugged, nonchalantly, her eyes flickering between his own and the shadows swirling around him that wouldn't shut up about how beautiful she was, how brave....They were singing her praise. It confused him. His shadows had never acted like this before.

When she failed to answer, Azriel cleared his throat, uncomfortably. “Will you answer my question?”

“Aren’t you the spymaster?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Shouldn’t you be able to gather intel yourself and not rely on a lowly Illyrian female?”

“A lowly Illyrian female?” Azriel raised an eyebrow at her crass words towards herself.

“Isn’t that how you and all the High Lord’s dogs view us?” Her tone was biting, her eyes filled with hate.

Azriel shifted, at a loss for words. He was used to being met with hostility by the Illyrians, but never usually from the females themselves. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

It was a lousy response, but he truly had no idea what to say. She scoffed, rolling her eyes at him and moved from the doorway, grasping the door.

“Even if I could help you, I wouldn’t care enough to do so,” she snapped. “Now, if that is all, you can kindly escort yourself off my property, shadowsinger. Thank you.”

The door slammed in his face a second later.

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Azriel returned a few hours later with a letter from the High Lord in his hands. He stormed through the camp, once again ignoring all the glares sent his way. He pushed his way inside the main war tent where Silas was sitting at his desk, twirling a dagger in his hands. His dark eyes looked up at him as he walked in, narrowing.

“You’re back,” Silas said, voice dripping with disdain. “I noticed that the female has still not been relocated from the cabin.”

Azriel strode forward and slammed the letter down on his desk. Silas’s eyes dipped down to it, quickly reading the short message before he looked back up at Azriel with a sneer. “What is this?”

“A notice from the High Lord and Lady,” Azriel answered, face unreadable. “Any laws that forbid a female from living alone or owning property are hereby revoked. This repeal shall be set in motion immediately.”

"I can read just fine, Shadowsinger," Silas snapped. "I meant what the fuck is this? Does Rhysand think he can just snap his fingers and remove laws that have been around for centuries? I refuse to allow this."

"You'll address the High Lord properly or I'll cut your tongue out for your disrespect," Azriel growled. "The High Lord and High Lady can do whatever they want. You will abide by these new laws or your title of War Lord in this camp will be revoked."

Silas looked like he wanted to say more, a vein in his forehead pulsing, but he only tightened his hands into fists and let out a long breath. "Very well then, Shadowsinger. I assume you've already informed Y/n of this?"

"Y/n?"

Silas smirked. "You ran to tattle on us to the High Lord and didn't even know the name of the bitch you—"

Before anything else could come out of the War Lord's mouth, Azriel stalked forward and kicked his desk over, causing both Silas and all his paperwork and trinkets to smash on the floor. The War Lord let out a pathetic gasp in fear, scrambling to his feet and pressing himself against the back of the tent.

"Talk about her like that again," Azriel snarled. "And I'll rip out your throat."

Silas quickly tried to school his composure but Azriel could still see the lingering terror in his eyes. Silas straightened out his leathers before glaring at him. "It's nice to see the Illyrian is still in you after all this time, Shadowsinger. Once a brute, always a brute—isn't that what you like to say?"

Azriel felt his pulse spike at Silas's words. He hated being reminded that he was Illyrian, even more so being compared to the worst of them. He wasn’t even sure why such rage had sparked in him in the first place. Silas's lips twitched into a smirk as he saw the way his words striked through him. But Azriel didn't wait around to hear what else the asshole had to say, letting his raging shadows swoop him into their darkness.

He stepped out of the shadows and onto the porch of the cabin he had been at earlier. He took several breaths, trying to calm himself before gently knocking on the door. After no one answered for a moment, he lifted his fist to knock again but the door was pulled open, leaving his hand to hover in the air. He dropped it to his side, narrowing his eyebrows as he was met with no one.

"Hewwo."

Azriel nearly jumped in fright before his gaze dropped to the toddler that stood in the doorway. It was the little girl from earlier, Y/n's sister. He swallowed harshly, eyes darting around the foyer of the cabin in hopes that her sister would pop out any second but no one came. He wasn't good with children, and wasn't used to being around them. Nyx was the only child he had ever really been around and he was still a baby.

Azriel sighed and crouched down on his haunches, making him more eye level for the little girl. Her shoulder length hair was the same color as her sister’s, her eyes too. The resemblance between the two of them was undeniable.

"Hello there," Azriel said as gently as he could. "Is your sister home by any chance?"

“Mhm,” the little girl hummed, busy watching the swirling shadows all around him.

"Do you think you can go get her for me?"

She shook her head no, her hair bobbing with the motion.

"Why not?" Azriel asked, keeping his voice light.

"Cause I'll get in trouble," she said with a little lisp. "Mm not 'pposed to open the door."

Azriel smiled at her, trying to appear friendly. He was surprised that she didn't seem scared of him or his shadows, as most kids were. "Don't worry, I won't tell her you opened the door for me. It can be our little secret."

She looked to be contemplating his promise, her little nose scrunched up. One of his shadows whisked forward and started swirling around her tiny frame. To Azriel's surprise, the little girl giggled, swiping her hand around to try and catch it.

"Suri, what are you—Get away from her!"

Y/n came thundering down the hall, yanking her sister away from the doorframe. Azriel stood to his full height, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as she glared at him before turning to look down at her sister.

"Suri, go to your room."

"No," Suri pouted, crossing her little arms. "I wanna play with the shadows."

Azriel's lips twitched. This was quite possibly the first time a child had ever seemed anything but scared of his shadows. It was oddly endearing.

"Go to your room," Y/n commanded in a stronger voice. "Now."

Suri stomped her foot but did as she was told, disappearing from his view.

"What are you doing back here?" She hissed, once her sister was gone.

Azriel pulled out the other parchment paper he had brought with him, the same notice he had given Silas. He held it out for her. "I came to deliver this."

She took the paper from him, glancing at him suspiciously. Azriel watched as her pretty doe eyes scanned the parchment, reading Rhysand's elegant script. To his surprise, she started to chuckle to herself. She handed it back to him, her face twisted into a mocking smirk.

"Do you honestly think this is going to stop them from trying to kick me out of this house?" She asked him, sarcastically. His eyebrows furrowed. "I'm guessing you're going to patrol this camp for a week or two to make sure they're adhering to the notice and then you'll wipe your hands clean of this all, pretending the High Lord solved everything. But you know the day you stop showing up here, Silas will be at my doorstep."

"I can assure you that we'll do everything we can to make sure all the WarLords follow these new laws," Azriel said, his face unreadable and his voice detached. She shook her head with a smile that lacked any warmth. “I promise you that.”

"Right," she drawled out, "Well, thank you so much for your help, shadowsinger."

She went to shut the door but Azriel stuck his hand out, catching it before she could. His gaze fell to her drooping wing, still bent at an awkward angle. "Please, let me bring a healer to attend to your wing."

Her wing could heal on her own. It would probably only take a day or two, but just seeing it made Azriel's chest ache. He knew the pain she must be in.

Her eyes narrowed. "Don't pretend like you care about my wings."

"I've broken a wing before, too," he explained. "I know how much it hurts. Please, let me help you."

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Do you want to know the difference between my wings and your's, shadowsinger? Your wings healed. You get to fly. Mine will never heal."

Azriel's gaze dropped back to her wings, now noticing the two scars—clipped. Her wings had been clipped. His heart dropped into his stomach, rage bubbling to the surface instead.

"Who?" he growled, his voice ice cold.

"Like I said," she bit out, "Don't pretend like you care."

"I do care," Azriel replied, fists clenching. And it was true, he did. Wing clipping was a heinous crime, one that had been outlawed since Rhys was sworn in as the High Lord of the Night Court. Of course, sometimes the practice of wing clipping still took place in remote camps that slipped through the cracks. "Wing clipping has been forbidden since—"

"I am well aware that wing clipping is forbidden," she snapped. "But like your stupid little notice, no one cares. And the High lord and all of his cronies, you included, Shadowsinger, have made it very clear that you don't either."

"We do care," Azriel argued. "We do. But we cannot keep watch of all the camps at all times. We rely on people reporting it—"

"Oh, spare me from hearing your excuses," she cut him off with a growl. "Do you want to know who did this to me? Here's a clue—go look in the High Lord's desk for a letter addressed from me. I've been sending one every single day for the past six years so there's bound to be at least one still around."

"Six...six years?" Azriel questioned, quietly. "You've been sending a letter every day for six years and not one of them was ever answered?"

Sure, Rhysand had been gone for fifty years, of course and the rest of them had been unable to leave Velaris thanks to him. Then, they had been busy with the war and didn’t have time to deal with inner court problems. But it had been two years since then and she was still sending letters. Letters looking for justice for what happened to her. Letters gone unanswered.

"Not a single one," she huffed.

"Y/n...I am so sorry—"

"Save it," she barked out. "Now, if we're done here, I'd like you to leave."

"Please, let me help you—"

Azriel choked in surprise as something within snapped. He couldn’t breath, taking a single step back as a golden thread weaved its way through the space between him and the female standing before him.

Before his brain could even process what just happened, the door was slammed in his face. But Azriel stood frozen on her porch. Frozen in shock because he had finally found his mate. After all these years, he had finally found the person he had been searching for.

And she absolutely hated him.

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Your wing had healed enough by the next morning that you could lift it off the ground, though it was rather painful to do so. Your pride made you suck it up, not wanting to go to the healer and have anyone touch your wings. No one had laid a hand on your wings since the day they were clipped and you wanted to keep it that way.

You got ready for the day, putting on one of your mother's old white, chemise dresses. It fell to the top of your boots, swishing around your ankles. You layered a dark blue skirt over it before putting on a front lace-up corset. You grimaced as you did up the buttons under your injured wings before you tightened the corset until it fit snuggly. Lastly, you threw on a cloak. It was snowing outside today and the last thing you needed was to freeze to death.

You stepped in the hallway, the cabin quiet. You went to wake up Suri to get her ready for the day. Normally she was still asleep, so you were surprised when you heard her voice the closer you got to the door to her bedroom.

"Bad doggy," she babbled, her voice muffled through the door. "You can't go in there."

Your eyes widened, realizing she was talking to someone or something. You quickly slammed her door open, eyes darting around in concern. Suri jumped as her door banged open, spinning around on her bed to look at you. A small shadow wisped behind her, like it was hiding.

"Suri?" You questioned. "Who were you talking to?"

"Issy!" Suri sang out, jumping off her bed in her little pajamas. She still called you issy, unable to pronounce your name easily or the word sister. "The doggy came back!"

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "The what?"

The shadow darted out from behind Suri, swirling around her and causing the little girl to giggle, "Doggy!"

Your eyes narrowed. One of Azriel's shadows had not only lingered behind, but had been staying with your baby sister. You felt your pulse spike with anger. As if it could sense your emotions, the shadow stopped swirling around and instead pressed itself on the floor like it was bashful and guilty.

You scoffed, "Go back to your master! We don't want you here."

The shadow wisped upwards, disappearing through the ceiling. A realization had you clenching your fists. Suri pouted. "Issy, you scared the doggy away!"

"That was not a dog—" you cut yourself off with a sigh. "Suri, go brush your teeth and your hair while I get breakfast ready, okay?"

"No," Suri grumbled, her tiny nose twitching. "Not unless you get doggy back!"

"If you do as I say, I'll make you strawberry pancakes for breakfast."

"Strawb'rry pancakies!" Suri squealed, the shadow momentarily forgotten. Satisfied with your deal, your sister rushed off to get ready. You left her to it, stalking outside through the backdoor. You walked a few paces away from the cabin, staring up at the roof, using a hand to block the rising sun from your eyes.

"I know you're up there!" you shouted. "Don't bother trying to hide!"

Footsteps were heard and then there was Azriel, peering down at you from his perch on your roof. His annoyingly beautiful face was near unreadable, his hair in a bit of disarray like he'd ran his hand through it one too many times. Dark circles were underneath his hazel eyes and those familiar shadows were whirling around him.

"Why are you on my roof?" You snapped, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Good morning, Y/n," Azriel said, his voice low and husky from disuse through the night. "I've been keeping watch. I wanted to make sure none of those males would bother you again."

"I already told you I don't need or want your help, Shadowsinger! Now get the fuck off my roof," you snarled at him. You didn't want him here. You didn't want his stupid shadows near you or Suri either. Besides, since when did he care what happened to you or any other Illyrian females? He had turned his back on his own people the day he ran off to the High Lord's perfect little city, pretending like he wasn't one of you, wasn't Illyrian.

Easy for him. He was a male that could get siphons to use his powers correctly, a male who hadn't been forced down and clipped. He could fly wherever he wanted, go wherever he wanted. He had money and resources you wouldn't even bother dreaming for. Azriel could wipe his hands clean and pretend like he hadn't been born in these mountains and hadn't left anyone behind to suffer when he left.

It was one thing to escape this brutalizing, barbaric way of living. It was another to gain power and influence within the court and not bother to help your own people. Azriel was a traitor and he could go to hell for all you cared.

You hated him for it. Hated him and all of his friends. Hated the High Lord and Lady who did little to help anyone here. Hated the General for leading your father to his death in the war. You hated them all.

Azriel let out a quiet sigh. "I know you don't need my help, but I... I can't just leave knowing those males might come back and hurt you again. I made you a promise and I intend to keep it."

"I don't care about your stupid promises," you bit back. "Get off my roof and go home, Azriel. You're not wanted here."

"I know you hate me and I know we've all let you down," Azriel replied, guilt shimmering in his eyes. "I'm going to do everything I can to make it up to you, Y/n. I promise."

"Again with the promises! Your words mean nothing to me," you grumbled, tossing your hands in the air. "I don't have time for this. You know what? You want to spend all of eternity sitting on my roof, you go ahead! But I would really appreciate it if you would just fuck off!"

You didn't bother waiting for his response, storming back into your house and slamming the door shut behind you.

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A week went by and Azriel kept watch over you the entire time. Every day you would walk outside and peer up at the roof to see him perched there, oftentimes twirling his dagger in his hand lazily. He'd give you a small smile that looked more like a grimace and you'd roll your eyes and go back inside.

You hated that some part of you did feel better knowing he was there. You knew his reputation and you knew none of the males in this camp would bother you as long as he was there. But it still infuriated you to see his face every morning. To see him shake the snow off his wings. To see him glare down at everyone in your camp like you were all beneath him.

You especially hated how much Suri had come to love his shadows, always chasing them down the hallways of the cabin. You just wanted him gone.

And it seemed like you got your wish two weeks later.

It was nighttime, the house quiet now that you'd coaxed Suri into going to bed. You were getting ready for bed yourself, dressed in a nightgown and putting out the fire when a series of soft knocks caught your attention. You frowned, pausing to look at the door. Who would be coming by at this time? Certainly no one good.

You were debating on ignoring it when a dark shadow whisked its way underneath the door.

"Y/n," Azriel called out. "It's just me."

You rolled your eyes and opened your door, knowing he wouldn't leave until you did so.

"What?" You eyed him, taking in his disheveled appearance. You wondered how he survived spending the night in the snow. Just the small draft that came in from opening the door had you shivering. You hugged yourself, your hair blowing gently in the ice cold breeze.

Azriel seemed at a loss for words for a second, his eyes roaming down your body before he met your gaze. His cheeks turned a bit pink as you raised an eyebrow at him. He swallowed, his throat bobbing with the motion.

"I need to leave for a few days," Azriel finally said. "The High Lord is sending me on a small mission. I...I would feel a lot better if you'd let me take you and your sister somewhere else while I'm gone. I can set the two of you up in a nice inn or tavern in Velaris. Or you could stay at my personal residence. Just for a few days."

You stared at him utterly perplexed. "You're...you're joking, right?"

He shook his head looking dead serious. "No, Y/n, I'm not. I worry what will happen if I'm not here to watch over you. Please, just...just let me help. It might be nice for Suri to take her to Velaris and let her see the city."

"You're out of your mind," you hissed. "I'm not leaving my house and certainly not with you. I already told you I don't need your help."

You went to shut the door but Azriel reached out and grabbed it before you could.

"Please, I just want to help—"

“Azriel, I have survived here on my own for the past two years since my father died in the war,” you growled. “You can't sit on my roof forever. If you truly wanted to fix things, you would've done so centuries ago. So just leave, Azriel. And don't bother coming back."

“I do care,” Azriel pleaded. “Please—”

"I am not leaving," you snapped. "I am not letting those stupid males run me from my own home. I don't know why you even care! And stop with the whole 'I promised you' thing. You don’t even know me!”

He opened his mouth to say something else but you slammed the door shut in his face. You locked the deadbolt before letting out a sigh.

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Azriel was worried. Worried and scared and angry. Worried that Silas and his goons would bother his mate while he was gone. Scared that they’d hurt her. And angry at just the thought of that. His chest ached as he thought about his mate and her clear hatred towards him. He couldn’t blame her for it. She was right. He had abandoned Illyria a long time ago.

But that needed to change. He needed that to change. Not just for his mate’s sake but for her sister, for Nyx, for all the females and children whose lives were awful because of the males in charge of all their camps.

She had been the wake up call he needed. He had the privilege of being a male in Illyria. He got to keep his wings. Got to work at having a different life then the one he was born into. His mate hadn’t had those opportunities. She was flightless, stuck to the ground and stuck in her miserable camp.

Azriel wanted nothing more than to just grab her and her sister and get them far away from Illyria. To bring them to his apartment in Velaris where he could take care of them, could keep them safe.

But his mate didn’t trust him.

He would do anything to prove himself to her. Prove that he did care for her and all the other Illyrian females. No matter how much hate he was met with, he’d keep crawling back until he earned her forgiveness and a chance to give her a better life.

She deserved that more than anything. Not just because she was his mate but because she had been so strong all these years, standing up to males twice her size and keeping her sister’s wings from being mutilated like hers had been. She didn’t choose to be Illyrian anymore than he did.

And Gods, he wanted her to stop hating him. He wanted her to give him a chance. Just one chance to show her what she truly deserved. He had learned so much about her by just watching her this week and he knew that no other female would come close to capturing his heart and attention the way she had in just that short span of time he’d known her.

Azriel knew he didn’t deserve her or her forgiveness. He knew she was too good for him. Too beautiful, too pure of heart. He could see that just by the way she took care of her sister and the other females in her village, despite the torment it brought her from the males.

He let out a sigh, his eyes still locked on the camp of Autumn Soldiers. He was doing a reconnaissance mission. Beron was up to something again and these soldiers had been spotted on the coast.

It had been two days since he left his mate and so far, nothing had been unknowingly sent down the bond except for her normal moods she fluctuated with during the day.

He just needed to finish this mission and rush back to Velaris to drop off his report to Rhysand before he could get back to her. He normally liked to take his time on his missions but this was quite possibly the first time he ever had a want to get back faster. He was hoping to sneak into the River House and set his report on Rhys's desk without seeing anyone. He'd been ignoring and skipping family dinners for the past week and knew they'd have a lot to say about it.

Azriel faltered as a wave of fear crashed through him. No, not fear. Terror. Unbridled terror and then pain. He sucked in a breath, nearly falling from the tree he was perched in. He was frozen for a second before he realized what was happening---his mate was in danger.

It took him less than a second to decide to abandon the mission and shadow all the way back to the Illyrian mountains. Azriel let out a curse when he stepped out of the shadows in front of his mate's cabin to see it covered in flames. Someone had set it on fire and it was quickly crumbling under the flames. His heart was beating in his chest as he strained his ears to make sure no one was inside.

But then the most heart-stopping, chill inducing sound was heard ringing through the camp.

His mate's screams.

He sprinted towards the sound, his boots pounding against the cold hard ground. It led him to the town center where a crowd had formed, males hollering and shouting encouragement at whatever was happening.

Azriel pushed his way through the crowd, shoving aside male after male until he reached the front. His heart dropped in his stomach as he beheld what was happening before him.

His mate on her knees, holding up the tatters of her shirt to maintain her dignity. Silas standing behind with a whip in hand, raising it in the air again. Blood all over the white snow around his mate, staining it red. Tear streaks running down his mate's face, her beautiful face pale and twisted in pain. One of Silas's commanders holding a crying and screaming Suri, her tiny fists pounding on his chest.

Azriel wished he knew what happened next. Wished he had this memory to look back on whenever he remembered the rage he felt. But one second he was standing there staring at his mate in horror and the next second, he was surrounded by dead bodies with Truth-teller in his hand dripping with blood. The camp had fallen silent and his ears were ringing, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths.

Suri had been dropped in the chaos and had rushed towards her sister, throwing her small arms around her neck as she sobbed.

And his mate.

His beautiful mate was staring right at him, eyes wide from witnessing the carnage he had just unleashed in this camp. Silas laid dead behind her, his shadows still ravaging his body. Slit throats, broken necks on all the other males that laid dead at his feet. But his mate was looking at him.

Azriel took a step towards her, watching her carefully as she weakly wrapped an arm around her sister's body while her eyes never left his. And he knew the mating bond had just snapped for her, could see the realization in her eyes.

"N-no," she stammered out, her voice cracking. "No. Not you. Not...Not you! Anyone but you!"

Azriel could feel her dread pouring down the bond amidst the pain and terror she felt. He felt his heart crack in his chest, heard his shadows wailing as they too felt her pain and sorrow.

But his broken heart at finding his mate and hearing that she didn't want him was not important in this moment. Not as his mate's eyes rolled to the back of her head and she slumped to the ground.

Azriel rushed forward, scooping both his unconscious mate in his arms and her crying sister before disappearing in a whirl of screaming shadows.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #illyrian #illyrians

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entitled-fangirl · 2 months

Text

War.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

Summary: Cregan returns back to Winterfell after the Dance of the Dragons, eager to see his wife once more.

Warnings: talks of death, fighting, blood, talk of sex

Masterlist

……………………………….

Cregan rode his horse as close to the doors of Winterfell as he possibly could, intent on getting in as fast as possible.

He had been at war for months now, almost a year, and he was ready to see his wife once more.

The nights spent by campfire in the cold would be worth every moment.

But when she was not outside waiting for him, he was confused.

He jumped from his horse, throwing the reigns to anyone who would take them and ran inside.

He was instantly met with the maester.

"Welcome back, my lord."

Cregan have a victorious smile, "Good morrow. The battle has been won. I'm curious why my wife was not awaiting my arrival? I sent a raven ahead of me."

The maester nodded, "Ah, yes. The raven. The message was received, my lord."

He completely paused, thrown off, "Then? Where is she?"

"Let us walk, my lord."

Cregan became defensive, "Where is she? I won't ask again."

"Please, walk with me."

He felt a pain in his chest but he nodded and moved alongside the maester back outside.

The maester sighed, "I was asked to be the one to tell you, and this information is not easy to tell, I'm afraid."

Cregan nodded as he took in every word fervently.

"Lady Stark found herself with child not long after you left."

He had considered this. Their last night together was a passionate one, and he often spent his nights after under the stars, imagining her swollen with his seed.

"Why did I not receive news of this?"

"I advised her against doing such a thing. You needed to remain focused on the task ahead."

He scoffed, "My wife was with child! I deserved to know!" He paused in his step with a worried gaze. "Where… where is it now? What happened to it?"

"It's a healthy boy, my lord."

Cregan let out a relieved breath, "Thank the gods. I was frightened."

The maester took a long breath in thought, "The pregnancy went quite well. She did all the right things."

"…But?"

"But…" The maester grimaced, "She was not equipped well for giving birth. We had to make a choice."

Cregan felt ringing in his ears. Like his throat had been slit from behind. No breath moved in or out of his body. "W… What?"

"I'm sorry, my lord. She did not make it."

Cregan's knees buckled and he fell to the ground.

"I understand this is hard to hear, but you have a son. An heir! You must celebrate!"

"CELEBRATE?" He roared as he looked up to the maester with teary eyes. "CELEBRATE DEATH AT MY DOORSTEP WITHOUT MY KNOWLEDGE?"

"My lord, please calm yourself."

Cregan slammed his fist into the ground, "My wife is dead." A look came over his face, "You said… You said you chose."

"Aye, my lord. We did."

"Who?" He growled. "Who exactly chose a child over my wife?"

"I made the final say. I considered listening to her pleas, but once I saw it was a boy, I knew it would be worth it."

She had tried to survive. To live.

"What did she say?" He asked lowly.

"That…" the maester paused. "Perhaps it is too soon to speak of these things."

He stood on shaky knees in anger. His voice was low and predatory, "You marred her perfect skin. You hurt her. You MURDERED HER!"

He rushed forward and threw a punch to the man's jaw, watching him fall to the ground.

But that did not stop Cregan.

He straddled the man, throwing punch and punch, "SHE'S DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU!"

Eventually, a few men pulled Cregan away despite his fighting back.

But he quickly collapsed from grief.

…

He rocked the sleeping boy back and forth in his arms, cursing every time the babe looked up at him with the same eyes as his dead mother.

He had fought endlessly for a war that wasn't his, not knowing a war had been fought in his own house without him.

…………………………….

Cregan Stark taglist: @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @callsignwidow, @8812-342, @nyxbranwenn, @thorins-queen-of-erebor

#fanfiction #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones x y/n #house of the dragon fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones imagine #cregan stark x reader #house of the dragon #cregan stark x you #cregan stark #cregan stark x y/n #cregan stark x female reader #cregan fanfiction #cregan stark fanfic #cregan x reader #cregan stark imagine #game of thrones #house of the dragon cregan stark #house of the dragon fanfic

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delphi-shield · 1 month

Text

SAY IT BACK ↪ letting them leave without an ily

finishing up some smaller things from my wip folder before i buckle down and work on the big stuff again. here's this doofy little fluff piece.

characters included: chris redfield, leon kennedy, jill valentine, ada wong

content: fluff. just fluff. established relationship. mildly ooc behavior for the sake of fluff (also known as being in a relationship and acting stupid)

You found it on TikTok - or maybe it was Instagram, or Facebook - doesn't matter. One of the media conglomerates had given you a horrible idea about how to tease your loving, devoted partner.

It's simple - when they said 'I love you' before they left for work, you just wouldn't say it back. What could go wrong?

Chris Redfield ↪

Did not notice. Secure. In his lane. Unbothered. Probably not moisturized. (Get him a nice oil, fragrance free. He'll like it more if you massage it into his muscles for him, spend a little extra time smoothing along the curve of his spine, up and over the tightness of his shoulders.)

If you're at the point with Chris where he's saying “I love you” in place of a goodbye, he doesn't need to hear you say it back. He's confident in your relationship. Hearing it is just a nice bonus.

You're going to get your own feelings hurt here. Sent yourself into a spiral. Like, damn, does he not listen? Does he not care? What the fuck is his deal?

Chris is legitimately confused when you bring it up to him later. Doesn't get the point of the whole thing. “Why wouldn't you just say you love me?” Head cocked to the side, so puppy-like you can practically see the velvety ears flopping over.

Really doesn't do the whole social media thing. Even when you show him videos as an example, he's just shrugging. "I'm pretty sure those are skits, honey. No one really reacts like that."

If only he knew. Hey - at least now you know that Chris is perfectly content in your relationship and won't let anything silly like this bother him. It's just a sign to ramp up the pranks - more practical jokes, less subtle, harmless emotional manipulation.

That's what you thought, at least, but when Chris flips the light off that night and sidles up behind you in bed, strong arms slipping around your middle and tugging you back to him, his voice rumbles in your ear - "You gonna tell me you love me, or is this gonna be a problem?"

And Chris is really good at extracting confessions. How badly do you actually want to get some sleep tonight?

Jill Valentine ↪

Doesn't seem to have noticed that you ignored her. Walked right out the door without missing a step, didn't even glance back. Her car pulls out of the garage, her sunglasses on - she seems entirely unbothered.

Oh, she’s bothered.

Jill Valentine is Not Petty™️. And she does not pout when her partner doesn't say ‘I love you’ back. She's in a pissy mood at work for a completely unrelated reason. She's not returning your texts because she's busy at work, not because she's trying (and failing) to give you a taste of your own medicine.

She definitely doesn't carry that storm cloud all the way home with her, doesn't rain on your parade when you cheerfully announce that dinner's ready and on the table.

You're trying everything you can think of to cheer her up. Asking about work got you a noncommittal shrug. You'd offered to draw a bath for her - or (preferably) for the both of you, but she'd dismissed the idea, talking about how it would take up too much time.

She didn't have the heart to shrug you off when you started massaging her shoulders. Despite your silence in the morning, you were clearly intent on taking care of her. Maybe nothing was wrong. Maybe you just hadn't heard her.

Her palm presses against your cheek, turns you to face her. She searches your eyes for a moment, her gaze unreadable. "Thanks for dinner. I love you."

Nothing. Fucking nothing. "You're welcome."

Jill knows that look on your face, that shit-eating grin that you're trying to cover up by glancing down, by pretending to be flustered. Her hands grip your hips. She manhandles you into her lap, chair scraping against the floor to make room for the both of you.

"Okay - spill. What's up with you?"

Once you explain, she's not mad about the whole thing, not really. But you can't help but notice that she's been withholding kisses lately, and-- wait.

Fuck. Now she's turned the tables on you.

Leon Kennedy ↪

Keeps finding new and inventive ways to double back inside the house. He's not going to outright ask you what's up - that would make him look desperate, which he’s totally not. He’s definitely not concerned at all that you didn’t complete your morning ritual and send him out the door with an ‘I love you’. He’s a big boy - this isn’t high school, this is his very mature, very adult relationship.

Excuse number one: “Sorry, forgot my keys,” as he makes a show of dropping his keys out of his pocket, onto the living room floor. His eyes are on you when he reaches to grab them. Leon tosses them in his hand, making as much noise as he possibly can. “All right, love you.”

You hold strong. Still no ‘love you’ back. He’s gone for all of 60 seconds when he comes back with excuse number two: “Ah, damn, forgot my badge. I’d lose my head if it wasn’t attached.”

His badge is attached to his belt. You can literally see it. When you point that out to him, he makes a show of being relieved, goes so far as to press a kiss to your temple, and says, “God, what would I do without you? Love ya. Have a good day.”

But you hold strong. Until excuse number three:

“Babe, have you seen my gun?”

You laugh, which only makes him laugh - and then he hits you with ‘no, seriously’ while he leans against the doorway, hip cocked. He’s got you figured out by now, knows that if he can make you laugh then you’re not doing this because you’re mad at him or anything. He can't even be mad when you explain it to him. He can only warn you:

"I'm gonna get you for this. Now, c'mon - say it."

Ada Wong ↪

I don't know why you would do this to her to be honest. She just said ‘I love you’. You should be marking your calendar and turning this into a holiday.

She doesn't say it often, at least not while you're conscious. Whether she presses her sentiments into your hair while you sleep against her, drooling against her collar bone, is up for debate. You have no hard evidence and she'll deny the allegations.

It simultaneously is and is not a big deal. She didn't say it because she craved the validation of having you repeat it to her. She said it because she meant it. There's so few concrete truths about herself that she can share with you, but that was one of them. Does it sting a little not to have it returned? Maybe.

She turns the moment over and over in her head, letting it haunt her. You had given her time, she thinks, why can't she give you yours? But your silence is a specter that tinges every moment. It creeps at the edges of every thought, it–

“Hey, you forgot your coffee.”

She turns to see you in the door of your apartment, hanging from the frame with one hand, her cup extended to her in the other. She clicks back to you in her stilettos, and your press a kiss to her cheek when she claims her drink. The guilt of it all ate at you before you could let her leave your sight. “Love you. Be safe.”

She'd spiraled before she even got down to the parking lot. Total loser in love.

#leon kennedy x reader #chris redfield x reader #jill valentine x reader #ada wong x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil fluff #resident evil headcanons #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #chris redfield x you #jill valentine x you #leon kennedy #jill valentine #chris redfield #ada wong #leon kennedy fluff

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