#but when do squeeze videos ever focus on anything else | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wedreamedlove · 2 years

Text

[FIC] I Love You 115 (9/115)

Rating: Explicit Characters: Osborn/Reader Word Count: 6129

Summary: "How many rounds can he go?" You know curiosity killed the cat... but satisfaction brought it back.

A/N: For everyone who keeps asking me for smut 囧.

"Can you believe he just rolled over and fell asleep?!"

You make a sympathetic noise through the phone, knowing your friend needs a listener more than anything else right now.

"When I brought this up, he said—and I quote—that I was being inconsiderate because he's tired from work. As if I don't work and do all the chores in the apartment?!"

You inhale sharply and, as you turn around to walk to the other end of the living room again while you're having this conversation, you see Osborn leaning against the kitchen entrance, watching you with a small smile on his lips that the man himself probably doesn't notice.

The two of you had been about to make dinner together when you received this call from your friend. Unfortunately, she had just fought with her boyfriend, so what you thought would be a short call became an increasingly long, comforting session. Not that you aren't willing to do this for your friend, but it certainly puts a wrench in your evening plans.

Catching Osborn's eyes, you mouth to him that this will probably take a while. He pushes off from the wall and walks over to you to lean down and whisper in your other ear.

"I'll start cooking then, take your time."

You apologize with your eyes, but he just rubs your head and turns to disappear into the kitchen. You focus back on the call.

"—and he never asks, he just assumes. The more I think about all the annoying things he does the angrier I get!"

"Why are you still with him then?"

"..." There is a long silence at the other end of the line before you hear a tremulous sigh. "Maybe because it's not easy to drop a two-year relationship. I don't want to admit that all the time and effort I invested has been wasted."

"But you're not happy, are you?" You gently point out.

You think you hear a sniffle before your friend clears her throat and asks, "What about you and Osborn?"

"Are you sure you want to hear about another relationship right now?"

Your friend gives a wet laugh. "I need to know that true love still exists in this world. Does he ever do anything inconsiderate and treats you more like a mother than a girlfriend?"

The sound of sizzling food, clinking kitchenware, and the range hood comes from the other room. Osborn probably can't hear what you say, but you still lower your voice when you answer your friend truthfully. "No, he makes me very happy."

"And how is he in bed? How many rounds can he go?"

You choke on air.

"I've seen pictures and videos of him on the championship podium. With a body like that, he must have stamina for days, unless you're telling me that's all for show?"

He probably... does? He definitely isn't like you, exhausted and unwilling to move a single finger afterward, and there were a couple of times where it felt like Osborn was still hard, but he always goes to the bathroom to clean up first and so you can't be sure. To be honest, you don't have a lot of experience so it isn't like you know what's common or not. All you know is that he can keep you up late into the night and come out energized at the other end. Not that you'll say any of these private things to your friend. In the end, you only squeeze out, "... He always makes me feel good."

"Does he have a twin?" Your friend asks plaintively, startling a laugh out of you.

The conversation returns back to her own relationship and by the time the call winds down, and your friend is resolved to take a break from her source of stress, you go into the kitchen just to find that the only things you can help out with are the finishing touches for dinner. But your friend's words linger in the back of your head.

How many rounds can he go?

It's there when you look at him across the kitchen table and catch the flash of a tongue that licks up the sauce on his lips, leaving a wet shine on them that makes you feel the urge to kiss him.

How many rounds can he go?

It's there when you two curl up on the couch to catch up on a TV drama after dinner and you're tucked against his side, feeling the shift of solid muscles in the arm that's wrapped around you as he unconsciously plays with your fingers in his hand.

How many rounds can he go?

It's there when you're tucked under the bed blanket and see Osborn come out of the bathroom together with a waft of steam, dressed in pyjamas that do nothing to hide his broad chest and narrow waist. Incidentally, his pyjamas are a matching set with yours—his are black with a cartoon white cat on the shirt while yours are white with a black cat.

Osborn gets into bed from the other side, lies down, and then naturally reaches out to scoop you onto his chest. You go without resistance and splay yourself over him, rubbing your cheek against his collarbone but also reaching up automatically to confirm that he dried his hair.

"So, when are you going to tell me what you want to say?"

His sudden question startles you and, as if feeling your jolt, he slides a hand to the back of your neck, kneading it.

Except, feeling guilty for some reason, you feel that his hand seems to carry a pressure which makes you move yourself so that you can prop a hand on his chest to rise up and look down at him, dislodging his hand. "What makes you think I have something to say?"

Despite you having the high ground, the man below you merely squints his eyes, looking like a big cat sizing up its prey, and you're abruptly reminded of what he does outside of being a professional racer. "You've been staring holes into me since dinner."

"I don't know what you're talking about," you insist.

"Something I can't know about?"

"Impossible," you reflexively say and then, realizing all your reactions have given you away, you chew on your bottom lip. He reaches up and pries your lip free from your teeth with his thumb.

"No chewing," he chides and then pulls you down again so your head is nestled under his chin, and you can feel the vibration of his chest and throat when he speaks, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

You shake your head. "No, it's fine, I'm just searching for words. You know I was talking to a friend earlier, right? She got into a fight with her boyfriend."

He hums in acknowledgment.

"I guess the biggest factor in their fight is that he's inconsiderate to her, especially in bed. And then... and then..." You squirm a little in embarrassment and Osborn pats you on the back in encouragement. "She asked how you treated me in bed."

The body below you clearly pauses for a second but then you hear a chuckle come from above your head. "Ooh, is this what girls talk about? Your conversations are more wild than I imagined."

You don't even need to see him to know what sort of expression he must have on his face, so you hammer his shoulder. "No! I didn't—! Don't you talk about me to your friends?"

"I do."

His casual answer catches you off guard and you stiffen, suddenly running through everything you've done with Osborn in your head and wondering what sort of things he's shared with his friends.

As if sensing your unease, he pulls you up so you can look into each other's eyes and taps your nose. "Dummy, you've seen everything I say to them on my posts. I don't talk about anything else."

"Oh," you give in reply, and then add onto that lacking response, "I don't say anything private either!"

"I trust your discernment. So, what did you say to your friend? I don't think answering that would make you stare at me for the rest of the night..." A slow, dangerous smile appears on his lips as he gives you a considering look. "Unless you have criticisms for how I treat you in bed?"

It's entirely unfair that, even after all this time, those amorous peach blossom eyes can still make your face flush instantly. You avert your eyes and cough. "Of course not, Boss Osborn's service is top-notch. I told her you always make me feel good but she also asked... how many rounds you can go."

You see the moment realization clicks with Osborn, and then his shoulders shake with his laughter. "So that's why a lecherous kitten was staring at me all night? You were wondering this?"

Embarrassment turns to anger and you lean down to bite at his lips. Osborn hisses at the sting, but one of his hands has already cupped the back of your head and he keeps your mouth pressed to his, rubbing the petals of your lips against his in a chaste but affectionate kiss.

And then he rolls the both of you over.

Osborn ends up on top, caging you below him between two arms full of muscles that get put on display as he holds himself above you. He picks up the conversation again. "Curious?"

Despite his aggressive position, the air around him is languid and his eyes are full of amusement. You reach up to curve your hand over his neck, running your palm over the shaved hair at the back of his neck and feeling the prickle, before you answer with unexpected seriousness. "Not so much curious as worried that you're unsatisfied. I want you to feel as good as I do."

The playfulness in Osborn's eyes recedes like a tide and instead his eyes darken to a color you can only call sea-green, tempting you to step foot into his depths. "Here I was being considerate of you."

"You don't need to hold back on my account. I can keep up with your pace," you remind him.

"I'm not going to stop then, even if you cry or beg." He lowers himself closer to you and deliberately makes a sinister face, but you're not afraid at all because of the tenderness that brims in his eyes.

Instead, you lick your lips and ask, "Do I need to do anything?"

"Just leave it all to me," he laughs softly and then sinks down to kiss you.

You love kissing Osborn, and a large part of this probably comes from how he seems to love kissing as much as you. In contrast to how speed defines most aspects of his life, he takes his time in kissing you, as if savoring every step. First, he just brushes his lips against yours, enjoying the feeling of your lips swiping each other, as well as licking your lips or sucking them into his mouth until they're damp and glossy. Then he presses his mouth to yours harder and feels the smoother glide of your lips against each other.

It's only when your lips tingle so much from his caresses and you can't help but part your mouth that he goes onto the second step and slips his tongue past your teeth and into you. He makes a beeline for your tongue, tangling around it, playing with it, and even naughtily pulling your tongue into his mouth to hold there.

Gradually, the wet sound of saliva being exchanged starts to overpower your pounding heartbeat. Whenever the wetness feels like it's about to leak out of the corner of your mouth, Osborn pulls back just enough to let you swallow and catch your breath before kissing you again.

By the time you can't tell up from down and your tongue feels paralyzed, he moves onto making his rounds through the rest of your mouth, like a predator patrolling its territory and marking every nook and cranny, rubbing his tongue on the sensitive roof of your mouth and teasing the underside of your tongue.

Your trembling intensifies and you rub your thighs together, digging your fingers into the hem of his pyjama top that you don't even remember clutching. "Osborn..."

"I'm here," he responds as he possesses your mouth again.

You wriggle underneath him and press your knee against the bulge that's already between his legs. He grunts, low in the back of his throat, at the touch and understands your unspoken words. Osborn shifts his weight onto one arm and moves his other hand down to slip into your pyjama bottoms and underwear.

"We've only been kissing and you're this wet already?" His breath scorches your lips and there's a trace of laughter in his voice.

You turn your head to the side and bite his cheek, grazing your teeth over the beauty mark below his right eye.

"Hss! Looks like this kitten bites when she's not fed quick enough." Osborn sinks a finger into you before you can say anything, turning your retort into an indistinct moan.

One of your favourite parts of Osborn is his hands; they're much, much larger than yours and, at normal times, they provide you endless security. He makes you feel as if you're cupped in his palms like a precious pearl. However, at this time, he pushes a strong finger inside you deeper. You can feel the prominent joints of his finger press against your channel and, with his familiarity of your body, it doesn't take him long to find that spongy and bumpy spot at the top of your inner walls.

He curls his finger, tapping this spot with the bottom of his finger, and it feels like electricity zips through your body, making you dig your toes into the sheets and cry out.

Osborn keeps his head beside your ear, knowing the sound of his voice as his breathing deepens and becomes rough turns you on. "I'm going to need your help. Lift your shirt up for me."

His lips brush the rim of your ear and every time he exhales, burning air seems to pour into your ear straight into your brain, melting your thoughts into a pool of pleasure. You shake even as you release him and pull your shirt up past your breasts, revealing them to him.

"That's my girl."

He praises you between peppering your chin with kisses as he moves down, licking your throat, tracing his lips along your collarbone, following the path of your sternum, and then covering a nipple with his mouth. Molten heat rushes into you from his lips around your breast and from your nether region as you feel him add another finger and pump them in and out.

Osborn shifts his weight to his knees and then raises the hand he had been using to support himself to fondle your other breast. He knows you like the feeling of the calluses on his fingers rub against your areola and the rosy bud there.

You twist your hips, gasping breathlessly at this onslaught of pleasure, and feel a tightening coil in your abdomen. Osborn releases your nipple from his mouth, flicking his tongue over it one last time before he returns to pant next to your ear.

"Remember to let me know when you're close. You're doing so good."

"I'm... I'm almost..."

Dimly, you can hear the slick sound of his fingers diving into your wet hole, but it's all lost in an explosion of pleasure when he removes his fingers the next second and presses his palm against your clit, hard, and drags his hand up.

"Osborn...!"

Fireworks bloom in your mind like pretty, little, white flashes before your eyes and when you come down from your high, trembling, you see that Osborn has made quick work of his pyjamas, yanking his top over his head and pushing his bottoms down along with his underwear.

He helps you take off the rest of your clothes too before he reaches over to pull open the bedside table drawer, fishes out a condom, tears it open with his teeth, and then rolls it down over his rod that's standing at attention. All of this is done smoothly in a way that shows just how familiar he is with this stream of actions.

Osborn places the head of his member against your entrance. "Good to go?"

The tide of pleasure from your earlier orgasm has already receded and now you just want to plug the hollowness in you. Your legs instinctively spread a bit wider and, when he presses in after seeing your nod, you can't help but throw your head back, inhaling deeply at the immense pressure that pushes you open and fills you inch by inch.

Osborn always enters you slowly the first time, letting you accustom yourself to his large size. After a while, when you feel like you can't be any more full, you ask around a ragged breath, "Are you in?"

He casts a glance down, lips curving helplessly. "About two-thirds."

You grab at Osborn's arms when he places them beside your head to lean down and the thin layer of sweat on his skin makes the hills of his muscles smooth to touch. You can't help but glide your hands up and down them as you welcome his kiss to take your mind away from his entry.

When he finally pulls back and rests his forehead against yours with a sigh, his damp bangs sticking to yours, you know he's completely inside you. One of your hands comes down to search blindly for his and the moment you touch him, he turns his hand over and entwines his fingers between yours, pressing your palms together, before pulling your clasped hands up to your head while his other hand grasps your waist.

Osborn makes small movements at first, more rocking than pulling out and pushing in, until you start nudging your hips into his, and then he starts to move in earnest.

Maybe it should be expected of a professional racer, but his grasp on speed is flawless. He doesn't keep to a single pace or rhythm, instead changing it between slow and fast and deep and shallow to give you novel sensations the entire time.

But it's also not enough and so you gasp out, "Osborn... mm... faster..."

His laugh is low beside your ear. "Remember, you asked."

Osborn leans back and adjusts your posture, pulling your legs over the crook of his elbows, before he grabs your waist in both hands and flexes his waist.

You're certain his slam into you is on purpose and so you sink your nails into his hand even as you dig your free hand into the sheets and cry out at the pleasure that spears through you. His hips ram against yours and you can hear the sticky slap of skin accompanied by wet sounds as he drives himself into you again and again.

Before long, your mind gets consumed by flames of white-hot bliss as your second orgasm greets you. A few thrusts later and Osborn also follows you over the edge with a gritted grunt, breathing jagged enough to turn into something that sounds more like a growl.

As you come back to yourself again, you suddenly notice that this is pretty much the same setting as all the previous times the two of you make love. He makes you come first with foreplay and then makes you climax again as he spends himself in you. Just as you're about to remind Osborn to keep going—although you have to catch your breath first—you see him tie off his condom and toss it into the nearby waste basket before he lies down on his stomach and hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, exposing your still-twitching entrance to his face.

"W-wait! It hurts—mngh!"

"Shh, I know. I won't go anywhere sensitive."

Osborn keeps to his word as he only presses his tongue to your labia, licking these folds and avoiding the swollen and red nub at the top of your vagina. But still, the searing heat of his mouth down here right after your orgasm makes your waist twist and rise as you reflexively try to flee this sensation. One of his arms is placed over your lower abdomen though and keeps you held in place like a steel bar.

The sound of him lapping and sucking at the entrance of your hole comes off obnoxiously loud and, through a thick haze of pleasure, you ask with a choppy gasp, "Are you doing that on purpose?"

"Finally noticed?"

You feel his smile against you more than you hear it in his voice, making you curl the leg that's over his shoulder to try and dig your heel into his back in an expression of unhappiness, but he just laves his tongue over your clit in response and your legs automatically straighten into the air as you mewl at the pleasure that rocks you.

You reach down to tug at Osborn's hair. "Osborn... please..."

Once again, Osborn seems to understand the sentence you don't finish and he pulls away from your soaking mound, sitting up and grabbing another condom to tug over his erect member again. Just as you think he'll enter you like this, he pulls you into sitting up beside him.

"Come onto my lap."

Normally embarrassment would make you hesitate here, but you're driven by a desire that throbs in time to your empty hole, and so you place your hands on his shoulders which are slick with sweat and position yourself above him. Osborn's large hands hold your waist—a necessary support—as you slowly sink your trembling hips down onto his large pole.

However, maybe because you're not used to this angle, after taking in about half of his member, you stop moving and shake your head repeatedly. "I can't go any lower."

"Yes you can, you took all of this in earlier, remember?" Osborn encourages you, pressing his lips lightly to your forehead, eyelids, nose, and mouth.

Although that may be true, you still can't bring yourself to go down. There's an irrational sort of fear that you'll be split in half if you take all of this in. "W-why do I feel like you're larger?"

"Xiao Five... don't you know not to provoke a man like that?" Osborn's eyes darken with a beastly desire, but he doesn't pursue the topic and instead says, "Do you trust me?"

You have an inkling of where he's going with this and your body tenses, but you won't ever lie about your answer. "I do but—"

He cuts you off, "I'll count to three. Just breathe in and out."

You desperately try to follow his instructions, relaxing yourself as much as you can.

"One, two..." And then Osborn drops you down on his cock.

A strangled shout slips out of your mouth at him tricking you before his large member enters you deeper than ever. For a second, you can only arch against him uncontrollably, and then it's as if all the nerves in your body fire off in a disorganized chaos, making you squeeze your legs as hard as you can around his thighs while you drown in the molten pleasure that floods you.

The next thing you know you're slumped against Osborn, arms hanging limply over his shoulders, and shuddering.

"Don't squeeze so hard." Osborn gives a strained groan even as he runs his hand up and down your back soothingly. "Did you come just now?"

The tiny spasms from your body are your response.

He waits until you collect yourself before asking in a low pant, "Want to try moving?"

To be honest, you're not sure you have any strength left in your waist, but you can still feel the thick rod inside you and your small orgasm just now only seems to stoke the fires of your want even more, so you bite your lower lip and start to move, rocking yourself on him and rising up and down in small motions.

Eventually, your movements grow bolder as you discover the spots that make sparks of pleasure burst before your eyes. But then Osborn lowers his head to lick and suck on your breasts, prodding and flicking a pebbled nipple with his tongue, and the combined stimulation happening above and below makes you whimper even as you grind yourself against him, "No more..."

Osborn releases your nipple with a wet pop and raises his eyebrow at you. "Who was it who said she could keep up with my pace?"

"I can't move with you doing that." You shamelessly act spoiled and loop your arms around his neck to press your chest against his and hide it.

Osborn's mint-green eyes flicker and then he smiles, slow and dangerous. "OK, if you can't move then just hang on tight and leave the rest to me."

You only have a second to think 'Not good!' before a switch seems to flip in Osborn and he lifts you up until the tip of his member threatens to slip out of your hole and then drops you back down onto his lap. You cry out but he doesn't give you the time to acclimatize before he's bouncing you up and down on his cock, exhibiting the strength of his arms as he raises and lowers you with ease.

Obscene whines and gasps are dragged out of your mouth, so you slip a hand free from his neck to cover your mouth. But this displeases Osborn who begins to thrust from below in time with his arms. "Does this feel good?"

You nod vehemently.

However, he presses you down hard against his cock and rotates your waist with his hands, grinding the head of his member against a spot deep in your vagina that causes stars to appear in your vision. "I want to hear it."

Osborn sends you flying up again with his hips and loosens his hold on you. The momentary weightlessness startles you and you automatically reach out to hug his neck, exclaiming. When you come back down and he hits the same spot that, this time, makes the stars implode in your vision you don't even know what words come out of your uncovered mouth as you babble about how good he feels, how he's so large, and how he's the best. A tsunami of pleasure builds in you.

"Osborn, mn...! I'm...!"

"Wait for me. Can you hold on a little longer, baby?"

You wish you can say that you will but the fact is that in the next second your orgasm sweeps over you like a riptide and drags your senses out of your body. You can't think of anything else as your whole body is washed out into the utter pleasure of nothingness.

This time, when you slowly regain awareness, you hear Osborn making reassuring noises and kissing away the physiological tears that spilled from your eyes. You can feel his throbbing and hot pillar still rock-hard inside you and veins stand out in his neck as he clenches his jaw and patiently waits for you to come back to yourself.

Despite how hoarse his voice is with restraint, he asks, "Can you still keep going?"

And you just know that if you shake your head and want to stop right here then he will listen to you. He will pull out of you and deal with it himself in the bathroom. Overwhelming love wells up in you for this man and you lean forward to kiss him. He responds immediately and you two share a long, tender kiss that is filled with gentle warmth instead of raging desire.

"I can," you exhale against his lips.

To your surprise though, Osborn still pulls himself out of you. But before you can question him, he tugs a pillow to the middle of the bed and then makes you lie down on your stomach with your hips resting on that pillow.

"This should make it more comfortable for you."

When he slips back into you from behind, you clench around him automatically because this angle makes him bump against your inner walls in new ways. He hisses through his teeth at your action and then leans over you, placing both of his hands over yours that are clutching the sheets. Once again, he asks, "Ready?"

"Mhm."

Even though you say you're ready, every one of his thrusts still jars your body. Fortunately, his grip on your hands stops you from sliding anywhere.

Right now your body is oversensitive to the point where you can't even tell when pleasure ends or begins.

Your whole body shakes.

Osborn breathes, ragged and heavy, beside your ear.

Sweat drips from him and you can feel it land on your back, branding you with his essence.

Every time he drives his hips into you, you can hear a squelch as your hole greedily welcomes him. You're embarrassingly wet even though your whole body feels like it's coming adrift, and one particular slam even makes you feel like your soul is going to get knocked out of your body.

You cry out his name instinctively, muffled in the pillow.

"I'm here, I'm here." Osborn drops his weight on your back and this crushing sensation grounds you, giving you security. "Just a bit more. You're doing amazing. I'm almost there. Stay with me, OK?"

He nuzzles his head against yours and kisses your ear, repeating praises and encouragements between his pants.

You think you orgasm at the same time as him because, when he finally finishes with a stuttered groan, hips jerking against you, the universe seems to fracture and you black out briefly. The next time you're conscious, Osborn is turning your head to the side to push your sweaty hair behind your ear. He gives you a languid kiss.

For a while, the two of you simply breathe in each other's air before Osborn eventually shifts off you, cleans himself, and grabs tissues to wipe you down. Then he picks you up and all you can do is loll your head against his shoulder, boneless, as he carries you into the bathroom and directly into the shower.

It's only after he finishes washing your hair and his own that you feel like you can move a finger instead of just leaning on him, so you squeeze out body soap and run your hands down his broad chest. There's no sexual desire in your touches as you two wash each other in comfortable silence.

You do take this chance to cop a feel of the firm muscles of his abdomen though, enjoying the way they tighten under your touch. You snicker proudly. He retaliates by kneading the soft fat of your belly, laughing as you yowl and slap his arm.

However, when your hands drift lower to his Adonis belt, he makes a muffled grunt and you see his member slowly rise up again.

"Osborn..." Your voice carries a little fear.

He rubs your head. "Ignore it, it'll go down on its own."

Easier said than done when it's just there, bobbing and occasionally poking your stomach when Osborn leans in to wash your back. Your nether region is slightly numb in a way that tells you how sore you're going to be in the morning, but when you see him erect like this and recall your commitment to let him enjoy himself as much as you, you cannot just ignore it. And so you reach down to wrap your hand around his cock, although your fingers barely wrap around half of its girth.

"Lil' Xiao Five..." Osborn inhales sharply. "Don't tease me."

"I'm not teasing. Can I help...? Although I don't know what I'm doing."

Osborn looks down at you, eyes dark with surging desire. The way he licks his lips before he replies makes you suddenly feel like prey before a starving wolf. "I'll teach you."

He covers your hand with his and then moves your hands up and down together.

"Harder. Faster."

You try to remember everywhere he takes your hand and the speed and pressure that makes his breathing hitch. Eventually, Osborn lets go of your hand to rest both forearms against the wall behind you, caging you in his shadow, as you pleasure him with your hand.

Touching a penis is strange. It's large, thick, hot, and you can feel the bumps of its pulsing veins. But it's also smooth and slick, especially when the head weeps with evidence of his desire. Unexpectedly, your lower abdomen starts to tingle again. It doesn't help that Osborn's breathing, chaotic and heated, lands in your ears again and again.

He must see you rubbing your thighs together because he suddenly laughs lowly, "Do you want some help too?"

You'll be lying if you say you aren't tempted. "I'm sore."

"Don't worry, I have an idea." He removes your hand, nudges your legs apart with his knee, and then sandwiches his cock between your thighs. "Keep them pressed as tight as you can."

Despite already having done so much earlier, there's something extremely indecent about the feeling of his rod rubbing against the skin of your thighs and occasionally brushing against your folds. You can feel your thighs gradually growing wet with something that isn't water from the shower, letting him slide between you easier. Your clit also bumps up against his taut abdomen and you end up leaning on him again, making little gasps.

Eventually he starts to piston his hips and, seeing that he's getting close to his orgasm, you try to squeeze your thighs even tighter for him. But he seems to know that you aren't close at all and so he reaches down to push back the hood of your clit and pinch it between his fingers, tugging and stroking it like you were stroking his member earlier.

You feel something swell in you. "Nngh, s-stop! Something's... going to come out...!"

"Let it out, it's OK, we're in the shower."

You shake your head, crying out, and desperately try to hold his arm still, but your strength has never been a match for his and so you're helpless as he continues his actions until that pressure in you bursts and you come with a wail, squirting over his abdomen. As you convulse against him, he comes as well with a muffled curse and staggers when he has to catch you with shaky legs after you begin to slump down.

For a moment, the only sounds in the bathroom are heavy breathing and the running shower, but dimly you think you can hear the drip of other liquids sliding off your bodies.

"Looks like it's still dangerous to do things in the shower. Maybe we should install a grab bar in here," Osborn gasps out.

"In your dreams!"

You hammer his chest, but there's no strength in your arm at all and so it's more like you just weakly place your fist on his chest. Osborn still cooperatively "grunts" at the impact and chuckles.

Clinging to him, you're entirely limp as he washes away everything on your bodies and carries you out of the shower to sit on the toilet, carefully towelling you dry and blow-drying your hair before he dries himself off with rough and efficient movements.

You manage to muster up some energy to cooperate with him in getting dressed. He grabs one of his shirts to slip over your camisole, afraid that you'll catch a chill, and then throws on a white sleeveless t-shirt and briefs for himself. By the time he changes the bedsheets, you're already nodding off and you're barely conscious when he finally carries you into bed and pulls you into his arms.

Struggling to hold onto the last threads of your awareness, you ask him sleepily, "Did you enjoy yourself?"

The rise and fall of the warm chest beside you pauses for a moment and then you feel his body shake with a quiet laugh. "I should be asking you that. Is your curiosity satisfied?"

"Mm..." Unconsciously, your hand drifts down to touch the bulge in his underwear, as if trying to check to see if he's still hard or not. But Osborn catches your hand before you can examine him further and brings your hand back to his chest.

"Little rascal, you can't take any more," he says in a helpless voice, "Go to sleep."

You can't say your curiosity is entirely satisfied, but you drift off to him softly patting your back anyway.

#光与夜之恋 #light and night #LN Osborn #LN Xiao Yi #series: i love you 115

72 notes · View notes

evolvingchaoswitch · 1 year

Text

Masking

Xavier had made it through another grueling day at Nevermore, a day that had started with a pop quiz in his Math class, having to sit closer to Wednesday than he preferred in Biology because of the new seating arrangements due to the class partnering up for projects; it was the one bright moment in the day because he didn’t get paired with any of the people he was trying to avoid. To top it off, the stars aligned so Wednesday was feeling social and asked him why he wasn’t eating with Ajax or hadn’t been for the last little bit. Xavier could feel his heart racing when she asked that, and was so afraid of the extremes she’d go if she found out he was lying and for a moment zoned out. Xavier in the privacy of his room let the feelings of terror that he had been bottling up roam free, hands entwined in his hair pulling at it to introduce some form of stimulation to distract from the panic of not remembering what he said to her, and when he found that did not suffice he struck himself.

The echoing of the slap in the room did have the intended effect it brought him out of the panic attack. Xavier strode over to his bathroom to see if there was a chance any bruising could form “What the fuck Xavier, hitting yourself like a child? Fucking pathetic attention seeking worthless creature” his own voice echoed from the back of the mind to the front with that statement. It wasn’t the first time the voice had whispered like that, it had started young, one of the reasons he went to Kinbott in the first place. Xavier could feel his heart squeeze, she may have been a pretty dismissive therapist (she was a Normie after all) but she was the only person that had ever pretended to listen to what he had to say about his mental health. Sighing heavily , Xavier made his way over to his laptop to write out his thoughts, it was one of the methods Kinbott had suggested, so why not honor her memory by using her advice.

November 27th 2022

How do you guard yourself against Wednesday Addams so she stops haunting you with her very being. It’s weird because last semester I could be standing right next to her and she’d look right through me, now all I can feel is her eyes and the weight of her aura. Why can’t she just be her normal Wednesday self and leave me the fuck alone? I figured out how to get her to stop haunting my dreams since starting the sleep medication, and it figures she’d figure out how to become my daymare instead of just my nightmare. Wednesday is going to end up as my own phantasmagoria at this rate, but I can make it just a month till winter break, then I don’t have to see any of them for a month.

Even though I’m still mad at Ajax I make sure to still hang out with him every so often, so that nobody thinks I’m withdrawing. We play video games, and I let him ramble about Enid to his heart's content; he hasn’t noticed that I’ve stopped smoking up. I go to the Nightshades meetings when they happen, I follow the little script I have in my head for behavior and once break is over I can give some BS excuse that my Dad wants me to focus on my studies or some shit. They’ll buy it, and I won’t have to see them.

Nobody has noticed anything different that I can tell, and I’m fairly sure the only reason Wednesday knows is because I’m avoiding her and she hates when people act out of routine. Also I haven’t been eating as much as I used to, I just don’t have an appetite like I used to, maybe from the stress or maybe from something else. My appetite started to slowly erode after I stopped using my abilities last month and started protecting myself from visions with the sleep aids. I remember a conversation that my Godmother had about a similar subject, how if you try to deny a gift, especially a psychic one, it starts to leak out in other ways. Sometimes the psychic would experience different more intense visions the longer they went without being accessible to a vision, others would lose senses, and some would go mad. The deities of this world would just keep pouring visions in with no care to stop, so my lack of appetite wasn’t nearly as bad.

Maybe I would be one of the lucky ones that ended up being mildly inconvenienced by repressing their powers. My visions never really helped with anything, they only showed one side of the picture as all visions did, and the only person having similar visions wanted to make a casualty out of me. My art gets completely taken over with my power, so why bother doing it? Dad would be less disappointed if I dropped the hobby, I was never going to make it as a painter anyways, after all my internal muse died once those chains went around my neck.

Don’t think about that Xavier.

Way to protect, before Wednesday Attacks

1. Start forcing myself to eat around them again, if I act in routine she’ll leave me alone again.

2. Make sure to have a few art supplies around, gotta make sure the props are there so there is less of a reason for anyone to look closer.

3. Start running more in the nighttime after dinner, it’ll give less time for people to talk to you, and Wednesday has short legs. You can out run her.

4. Wrap yourself in a rainbow sweater so she can’t come near you, or get a glitter bomb.

Xavier gave a hollow chuckle over the last item on his list, before snapping the lid shut. He was starting to feel the beginnings of a migraine, and maybe it would just be better to go to sleep at this point. Xavier went over to his pillow to extract his sleeping pills. They weren’t exactly the prescription type or maybe the problem was they were but not his. Extracting the small baggies that hid within the rest of the fluff Xavier popped one of the Restoril before laying down in the darkness of his room at 7 pm. Xavier was hoping that tomorrow would be easier to make it through.

Unfortunately he was unaware that Wednesday Addams was already planning to break into his room for clues about her stalker, and in general Xavier. If Xavier did know that he probably would have taken more than one pill but that wouldn’t be the first time.

#xavier thrope fanfic #wednesday addams #xavier needs a hug #ptsd problems #hurt/comfort #self harm start

4 notes · View notes

uksqueeze · 3 years

Text

Squeeze performing Take Me I’m Yours on TOTP (1978)

31 notes · View notes

storiesforallfandoms · 3 years

Text

and the winner is... ~ eminem

word count: 1784

request?: yes!

“hey, love your writing sm ❤️ I really like the concept where the reader is a young actress with Eminem, so can I request one where they go to Marshall’s award show for the first time publicly, they try to keep it low key but the reader presents an award and when Em wins they share a warm moment on stage and the media loses it? thanks in advance”

description: in which they say they’re going to be lowkey for their first public appearance as a couple, and then he wins the award she’s presenting

pairing: eminem x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

It was hard to keep my hands off of Marshall as we walked down the red carpet. It was our first public outing as a couple, but Marshall wasn’t very into PDA so we had decided to keep it somewhat lowkey. It seemed like a good idea in theory, until Marshall did the unthinkable and showed up dressed in a suit. How am I supposed to not jump his bones when he looks damn fine in a suit?

Every time I so much as glanced at him the paparazzi would go crazy. So many flashing lights that eventually I was seeing spots. It was hard to keep smiling when I couldn’t even see ahead of me.

Marshall put an arm around my waist - which of course led to more flashing lights - and walked me off the red carpet into the venue. The minute I walked through the doors into the dimly lit room, it really was like I couldn’t see. I had to take a minute to let my eyes adjust to the sudden light change.

“Weird how quickly I go from basically a nobody on a red carpet to a hot commodity just because I have attractive arm candy,” I joked.

A half smile tugged at Marshall’s lips. “You were never a nobody. Not to me anyways.”

“Awe, that’s so sweet it’s kind of gross,” I teased.

This earned me an actual laugh as Marshall pulled me in for a kiss. Without any prying eyes around, we felt free to actually be a couple.

We engaged with some others in the industry, including those Marshall considered to be close friends of his. I felt out of place at this music award show as an actress who was still trying to become more than just a side character in the movies she starred in. I was grateful to have Marshall there to help me through it.

When we took our seats as the show was starting, Marshall reached over to take my hand. “Are you okay?”

I shrugged. “Nervous I think. Which I shouldn’t be because it’s just me announcing an award, but it’s my first time on an award show stage for any reason, and it’s a pretty big award.”

“And it’s one I’m nominated for.”

I looked over at Marshall with wide eyes. “What?!”

“You didn’t know?”

I shook my head. Now I felt so much more nervous. What if I pulled a Steve Harvey and said the wrong name because I wanted Marshall to win? Or what if he actually did win but everyone thought I said he did because we were dating? I tried to focus on the stage ahead of me but my heart was beating so fast that my vision was starting to get blurry. I felt warm, like I was sweating, which made me worry that my makeup was starting to run. I was going to look disgusting with my makeup running on live television.

Sensing my new found nervousness, Marshall gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Hey, look at me.” I glanced over to meet his gaze. “It’s going to be okay. You’ve rehearsed this speech so much that you can say it without the teleprompter. It’s not going to be any different just because I’m nominated. If I win, you give me the award and I do a speech. If I don’t win, you give the award to whoever does and they make a speech. It’s not a big deal, (Y/N), don’t worry too much about it.”

I wished I could’ve just let my fear rush from my body, but it was still there. Before I could say anything else, the lights went down and the show officially started.

I tried to just sit and enjoy the show but it was hard when I had my upcoming presenter role looming over me. Of course, it was one of the last awards of the show, so I had to sit there and let my nerves build as the suspense for the winner of the award grew as well.

Every now and then Marshall would give my hand another squeeze and I would calm down for that split second. Having him by my side helped a lot, but every time I remembered that he might be the recipient of the award I became nervous again.

Finally, it was my time to take the stage. They passed me the envelope with the name of the winner and motioned for me to take the stage. I plastered a smile on my face as my name was called and I walked onto the stage. I hoped the cameras couldn’t pick up my shaking, and I really hoped my shaking wouldn’t make my voice sound as bad as I feared it would.

“This award can only go to the best of the best,” I started, glancing at the prompter in front of me to make sure I was saying the words correctly. “The person who worked the hardest and had the best payoff with their release. The competition this year is fierce, and it was hard to narrow it down to just these five artists, as there have been so many amazing works of art released this past year. It has been an even harder choice to pick who of them all is the best, although I might be bias in saying I’ve already chosen my favorite.”

The audience chuckled at my improved addition to the speech.

“Ladies and gentlemen, here are your nominees.”

I watched the video that played of the nominated artists. My heart skipped a beat when Marshall came up, a few clips from the music videos he had filmed playing in a short montage. He had worked so hard on his latest album, every part of me hoped that he would be the winner I was announcing.

As the video came to an end, I turned back to face the audience (and the cameras) to announce the winner.

“And the award goes to...”

I tried not to let my slight fear show as I fumbled with the envelope for a moment. I started to worry that I wouldn’t even be able to open it and completely embarrass myself on live TV. I tried not to sigh with relief when the seal perfectly popped open and I was able to pull the card out. The smile on my face had to have given away the winner before the words were even out of my mouth.

“Eminem!”

The crowd cheered and stood from their seats. A camera found Marshall, who was standing from his seat and hugging Paul and Denaun before making his way to the stage. I couldn’t help but smile proudly at him as I extended the award I was holding - his award - to him.

I was taken by surprise when he wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me in for a kiss. It was brief since he had an award to accept, but it was enough to make my head spin, the way his kisses usually did.

When he pulled away I was still so stunned that I almost forgot to give him his award. I could see him trying to hold back a laugh as he took it from my hands and turned to the microphone.

“Thank you,” he said to the still cheering audience. For a minute I forgot there was anyone else in the room, and realizing so many people had watched that kiss made my cheeks heat up. “I’d like to thank my manager, Paul, who for some reason still backs me with everything I do and produce even when it pushes the boundaries a little too much. I also want to thank the good Doctor, who has been supporting me since day one and who has always believed in me and gave me this platform to make music and to push the boundaries that Paul has to deal with. My daughters, my biggest inspirations. And of course, I’d like to thank the beautiful lady who presented this award to me tonight. I may not show it publicly but I am my happiest when I’m with you and I cannot thank you enough for that.”

I blinked away the tears forming in my eyes as I clapped along with the audience. The music started playing as Marshall offered me his arm to walk me off the stage. I felt like I was floating on cloud nine as we walked down the stairs and backstage, away from the cameras and the thousands of people watching us, both in person and on TV.

We were greeted backstage by other presenters and winners who were still mingling and celebrating their wins. Marshall was congratulated and a few of the other presenters told me how well I did with my presentation. I was proud of myself for getting through it, but I was more proud that I didn’t go completely airheaded after Marshall kissed me.

When we finally got away from the large amount of people, Marshall pulled me in for another kiss.

“So much for keeping it lowkey, huh?” I teased when I pulled away.

“I was caught up in the moment,” he said with a shrug, but I wasn’t completely convinced.

“That speech was uncharacteristically sweet,” I said. “For your public persona anyways. I figured you’d keep it short and sweet and maybe get the show into a little bit of trouble with an unplanned curse word.”

He chuckled. “Well normally that would be how things go. But I meant what I said during my speech: you make me the happiest I’ve ever been. When you said my name I just couldn’t help but feel this unfamiliar surge of happiness and excitement at winning. You know I don’t care about these types of award shows, but the fact that you presented this award to me made me care for just a second. I know I’ll be the talking point for the next few days because of this, but right now I don’t care all that much.”

Tears were welling in my eyes again as I pulled him back to me. “Shut up, you’re gonna ruin my makeup.”

His laugh filled my ears as he pulled me for another kiss. The happiness he said he felt coursed through my veins too. I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else in a moment like this.

When he pulled away he put his arm around me again and started to walk towards the door. “Let’s get out of here. I think I wanna celebrate my win with the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.”

I smiled brightly at him. “I like the sound of that.”

#eminem #eminem imagine #eminem x reader #marshall mathers #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers x reader #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

672 notes · View notes

wri0thesley · 3 years

Note

Okay but hear me out, gojo teaching his girl how to properly touch herself bc she can't make herself cum and has been edging herself unintentionally and gojo helps out with his long fingers 🥺

instruction - gojo x fem!reader (2k)

you might be having trouble, but gojo doesn’t mind playing sensei to you.

warnings: nsfw/minors dni! oral sex, assisted masturbation, fingering. afab reader with fem pronouns

[reblogs/comments appreciated! // my jjk masterlist]

The first time that Gojo gives you an orgasm, it’s using his tongue. His head is buried between your thighs, soft noises of praise coming out of his mouth interspersed with the flutter of his kisses on your inner thighs and the downright filthy sound of his mouth dragging through your slick. His tongue toys with your clit, swirling it and sucking it, circling it before he returns back to flicking the tip over it with mountingly quicker and harder motions. Your hands are knit in his hair, and as you feel the ball of pressure inside of you finally split into a thousand tiny pieces, you tug on the silver-pale strands in your grip and wail into the ceiling. He guides you through the aftershocks with slower, deeper laps of his tongue across your cunt before he lazily pulls himself up onto his elbows, looking at you with those big blue eyes, galaxies swirling with them.

“You were so noisy, doll,” he murmurs. “I know I’m good with my tongue, but hell - if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that seems like the first time you’ve ever got to cum--”

You feel yourself squirm, embarrassment flooding your thoughts. It’s not like you haven’t tried! But something in you always seems to stop you coming, and you’ve spent too many nights frustratedly falling asleep with your thighs a mess after being unable to bring yourself any kind of relief.

You can’t really hide anything from Satoru Gojo, though.

The look on your face tells him all that he needs to know - that flustered, half-guilty expression, your bitten lips darkened from the dig of your teeth. His own expression softens indescribably, those long fingers sliding up your damp thighs as he coos, all pity; “Oh, baby girl . . . We can’t have that, can we?”

He coaxes you, words coated in sugar, eyes gentle, to show him how you’ve been touching yourself. Before you know what’s happening, he’s taking your hand and pulling it down to rest over where you’re still slick with your own arousal and Gojo’s saliva. You’re still adorably sensitive, flinching at the pads of your fingers over your tender clit, so Gojo gently tugs on your wrist.

“Try circling it,” he murmurs. “You’ll hurt yourself if you go all in with the stimulation--”. You do your best to follow his orders for a few minutes, until the sensitivity wears off a bit. And then, he’s kneeling between your thighs and pushing your knees up a little so he has a better view of how exactly you’re rubbing at your petal-soft folds, how you’ve been treating yourself up until now. “Show me exactly how you’ve done it before,” he breathes, the crystalline sapphires of his eyes set on the space between your legs like he’s a patron at an art gallery. “Lemme see why you haven’t gotten to come, baby.”

You do your best. It’s the same as it always is, though - you rub at your clit with inexperienced, clumsy fingers. Heat seems to build up inside you, but you never manage to get it to go further than that build up. Even when you use your other hand to thrust two of your fingers inside, it feels like you’re reaching for something that isn’t quite there. It’s so annoying. You’ve read guides on how to do this, watched porn videos in the hope it’ll help you with your block - but nothing seems to work. And now, you’re being watched by your boyfriend, and you can’t help but be hot and embarrassed . . . and kind of turned on. The way that he’s looking at you. The concern knitting his usually smooth brow.

Gojo watches you, pensive, as you feel tears of frustration bubble up in the corners of your eyes. You move your hands away from your cunt, curling them into fists and giving the bed beneath you an exasperated thump.

(Gojo’s eyebrows raise as he sees you removing the stimulation entirely. You poor little thing. No wonder you haven’t managed it.)

“I-I can’t get it to go further,” you say, agitated. “I-it gets to a point, and then it just seems to stop! It builds up and it builds up but it just stays there!”

Gojo shifts closer to you. His hands rest on your thighs. “You know what I think?” He asks you, his voice very low. His cock has been hard in his pants since the moment he got you on his bed, never mind the orgasm he gave you with his tongue - but it’s a damn right tragedy you’ve never been able to make yourself come, and (much as he doesn’t want to admit it) being Gojo’s girlfriend can be a lonely life. He’s away on missions so often, and he loves to tease, and he knows that you’ll have his cock on the mind forever once you’ve had it for the first time. So it’s better for both of you if you learn exactly what you’re doing. “I think y’just haven’t had the right teacher yet. And . . . you’re in luck,” he flashes you one of those patented Satoru Gojo grins, half-unhinged and half-handsome. “Because I’m right here and willin’ to take some time out of my busy schedule to teach you all about the human body--!”

“Don’t put it like that,” you say, weakly, as he reaches between your thighs and pulls the lips of your cunt apart. He looks back at your sex; the swollen clit, the hole begging to be filled, the absolute mess you’ve both made with tongues and fingers and your earlier orgasm.

“You always stop before it goes further, right? Because you get bored and frustrated?” He clicks his tongue, shaking your head in mock scolding, as you squirm. “Baby girl, you gotta have temerity. You’ve been edging yourself ever since you figured out how to jack off.” His thumb swipes down through the slit as he lets go of his thumb’s hold. “Play with your clit for me. C’mon.”

The way he meets your eyes tells you that this is an order, and Gojo when he slips into the mode of a commander is not a man to be messed with. You hesitantly slide your fingers back between your legs to gently circle your swollen clit, your touch incredibly gentle. Gojo’s pretty mouth tilts into a smile. “Use your other hand to play with your chest,” he says. “I’d ask you to use it for something else, but . . .” The smile widens, showing a hint of white teeth. “I think I’m much better placed to do that.”

You are about to ask him what he means when his hand brushes over yours and then a fingertip gently pushes into the pulsing ring of your entrance. His fingers are slender - it does not hurt for him to push them in, but you are still robbed of your breath by the sensation of it plunging slowly into your silky depths. He gives one or two cursory pumps, before withdrawing his finger entirely so he can add a second beside it.

This one is more of a stretch, but it is a stretch in the best possible way. You use the hand not playing with your clit to squeeze the weight of your breast, your breath hitching. Thumb and forefinger pinch your nipple, teasing it to a stiff peak, as Gojo finds a slow rhythm to pump his fingers in and out of you.

“That’s deeper, right?” He rasps. “Feels better? Like places you’ve never been able to reach before?” He crooks his fingers just so and magic seems to spark, a spot on your inner walls your own shorter fingers have never managed to gain ground on. Your thighs tremble and you gasp out his name. “I thought so.” He swallows. You look up at him through the fan of your eyelashes and you see the lust in his eyes is palpable. He catches your gaze and holds it, unafraid.

“I want you to be rougher with yourself,” he growls, low. “Press a little harder--”

The hand not currently fucking two digits into you takes hold of your wrist, pushing you to put more pressure on your clit. Fuck. The sensation of his hand guiding your wrist’s movements, in tandem with the fact that his fingers have not yet stopped hitting that special spot with every single thrust . . . You can feel the ball tightening, pulling in on itself, like a hundred knots in the same piece of thread.

“If you didn’t have me,” Gojo rasps, and the sound of his voice gritty and dark sends a jolt of pleasure throughout you, “You’d be stopping now. You’d think you weren’t gonna get anywhere. But . . . you will, doll-- you’ve just gotta push past it--” He takes his hand away from your wrist, but you continue the pace and the pressure that he chose for you.

You whimper out his name, the hand playing with your chest squeezing hard (if you have bruised fingerprints on the soft curve of your breast tomorrow, Gojo will laugh gently at them and press on them a little meanly before he soothes you all over with kisses).

“You gonna promise me you’ll do that when you’re alone, yeah?” Gojo asks. He’s sounding a little breathless. Your eyes manage to focus long enough to see that he’s rubbing himself through his underwear, an impressive bulge pressing against the expensive fabric. He sees you looking and gives another feral grin that seems to echo through you. “D-don’t worry, we’ll take care’a that after your lesson--”

“I promise,” you breathe, as he curls his fingers just right against that spot and your own fingers reach fever pitch. You don’t know if you’re promising to do it the way that he taught you, or if you’re promising that you’ll take care of his cock, or if you’re promising something else to him entirely - your life, your love, your very being - but you do know that the knotted threads inside of you snap all at once as Gojo’s fingertips reach so deep, so good, so perfectly inside of you.

Your channel clenches and constricts, spasming around the digits buried in it to the knuckles. Heat washes over you with a feeling of peace, different to when he’d used his tongue on you and yet similar. Gojo is practically purring as he watches you and feels you, a gush of slick coating his fingers even as he guides you over the crest of your orgasm.

“Good girl,” Gojo’s murmuring, as your breathing (when did you start panting?) evens out. “Oh, so good for me, doll . . .” His fingers come out of you with a wet pop and he brings them to his mouth, tongue flickering out teasingly to taste you. “So sweet for me, too . . .” He sighs, his eyes closing for a moment as he enjoys the lingering flavour. When those eyes open again, they’re lit with hunger.

“Well,” he says. “whaddya say? Think you can come like that next time you touch yourself?” He raises his eyebrows, a playful grin on his face. “Think y’can come at all?”

You nod fervently, and win a chuckle from Gojo. He shifts on the bed, pushing the underwear he’s still wearing down to his thighs to reveal the thick jut of his cock. You’re breathless at the sight of it, already needy despite the fact your second orgasm of the night was scant minutes ago.

“I want a video of it,” he tells you. “Next time you touch yourself. I want a video of you and I want you t’say my name as you do it. But for now . . .” He gently taps the wet (so, so, wet - ruddy and flushed and dripping with his pre-come) head of his cock against your thigh. “I think we’ve got some other business to attend to, yeah?”

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo x you #satoru gojo smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #writing #jjk posting #afab reader #fem pronouns #not sfw #Anonymous

1K notes · View notes

wildernessuntothemselves · 3 years

Text

How Do You Do

Word Count: 1.4k

Genre: smut

Summary: Chan is the thottie life guard at your beach that’s been trying to het into your pants since forever but hasn’t exactly earned it.

“It’s the big event today.” Chan’s voice rings out from over the counter, and you get up from trying to look for a certain bottle of liquor to look at him. ”Will you cheer me on, babe?”

“Depends.” You smirk, pushing your arms against the counter, the action emphasizing your breasts in the bikini top you are wearing and drawing Chan’s attention to your cleavage. “Only if you put on a good show for me.”

You know he will. He’s always trying to impress you. It’s kinda adorable. And despite his bravado, he blushes at your words and mumbles, “I always put on a show for you.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing!” He yelps, and thrusts a bottle of sunscreen in your hands. You look at him quizzically and he regains his cocky facade. “Help me put the sunscreen on. I don’t want to get sun burned while I’m rocking your world.”

You roll your eyes, “Alright, come back here, handsome.”

Chan obeys, dimples on full display. You stand behind him, squeezing some sunscreen on your hand before smearing it on his shoulder blades. Running your hands along his shoulders and down his bulging arms, you have to admit, the boy is ripped.

As if he can hear what you’re thinking, he says, “You’re focusing so much on my arms, baby. You like my muscles?”

“I do.” You don’t miss a beat, massaging said arms. “Hmm, what a big boy.”

You can’t see his face but you can see the way his ears turn red and you know you’ve successfully flustered him. Satisfied, you let your arms drop to his pecs where you “accidentally” brush your fingers over his nipples and get rewarded with the whimper he clearly tries to hold in.

For good measure, you sweep over his nipples again, this time eliciting a weak moan from him, before your hands move to his lower abdomen, rubbing the cream in circles and feeling his abs clench under you.

You know he’s getting turned on, and just for fun, you breathe against his ear as you swirl your fingers just over the waistband of his shorts. Chan shivers and tries to pull away.

“Okay, t-thank you.” He stutters, moving away but you pull him back against your chest. “I haven’t done your legs yet, baby.”

“That’s okay. I’ll do them myself.” He struggles to say, but you immediately shut him down.

“Nonsense.” You say firmly, “Turn around, Channie.”

He hesitates before obeying, a grimace on his face as he turns around, flustered and taking sneaky glances at you. You don’t even acknowledge the tent in his shorts. Instead, you squirt more sunscreen onto your palm and get on your knees.

“W-what are you doing?!” Chan yelps, but you just wrap your hands around his calves and work the sunscreen into his skin, making your way up his legs silently, focused. By the time you reach his thighs, he’s panting and his dick is straining against his shorts, almost as if it’s trying to reach your mouth that was just in front of it. Slipping your hands just under the legs of his shorts, you look up at him. His breath hitches as he holds your gaze for a second before you break it and stand up.

“There. All done.”

Chan’s knees almost give way and he stares at you in shock. “But---”

“The competition is going to start soon. Run along now, baby boy. You have some impressing to do.”

You laugh to yourself as you watch Chan limp to the men’s room.

____________

And boy did he impress. He won all the competitions he participated in.

Naturally, he was strutting towards you by the end of the day, confident and waiting for you to fawn over him.

“Look, baby girl. I won.” He puffs his chest out, displaying his trophies for you.

“You sure did.” You smirk, and he frowns at your lack of fawning. “Don’t I get a reward?”

"What about all those trophies?"

He pouts, setting them on the bar and coming around to you even though he wasn't allowed to do that. "I meant a reward from you."

You cock your head to the side and move close to him, pressing your body against his. “Yeah, like what?”

He pauses for a second, flushing at your closeness, before saying, “A kiss would be nice.”

You laugh, brushing his hair back. “You’re cute.”

Chan frowns. “I’m not cute. I’m sexy.” He complains, voice slurring. “When will you take me seriously?”

“Maybe when you stop ordering tons of drinks from me just so you’d have the chance to talk to me.” You say and he whines. “So you know I like you! Why are you playing so hard to get then?”

“Because baby,” You purr, brushing your nose against his. You push him against the counter and place your knee between his legs, pressing your thigh against his dick. “You don’t impress me the slightest bit. I eat boys like you for breakfast.”

“What do I have to do?” He whimpers, using the chance to grind against your thigh. “I’ll do anything for you.”

“I know you will.” You kiss along his jaw and down his neck, making him buck harder against your thigh. “I could suck you so good, you wouldn’t have anything else to give another woman. I could edge you so long you’d cum on command. I could fuck you so good, you won’t be able to get your pretty dick off without my pussy again.”

You bite down on his neck, making him groan and throw his head back in ecstasy.

“But I won’t. You wanna know why?”

He lets out a weak sad moan, shaking his head at your question and desperately waiting for you to explain.

“Because you haven’t earned it.”

“How do I earn it?” He says right away, breathless and needy.

“Prove that you’re more than just a pretty face and show me that you can handle what I have to give.” You explain, running your fingers around his nipple oh-so-slow. “Start by giving yourself a ruined orgasm. If you can handle doing that without trying to save it, then maybe I’ll touch you.”

______________________

He tries. He tries so much but he always fails, jerking himself off just as he pushes himself over the edge, unable to take the pain that comes with cumming untouched.

Weeks pass by, and you feel disappointed. You really thought Chan could do it. But maybe he figured it would be easier to get a girl that would let him fuck her without any ifs or buts, and he had no shortage of that. He’s gorgeous for fuck’s sake. So yeah, you’re disappointed. You shouldn’t have put so much faith in a fuckboy like him.

But then he surprises you.

You had just participated in a wet t-shirt contest, not really taking into consideration if Chan will watch you or not. You figured he had already given up on you. But he shows up, standing in the audience and never taking his eyes off of you, not even sparing a glance to the other girls. You can feel his gaze eat your body up as the water turns your white shirt transparent and makes it stick to your braless tits, highlighting your nipples that pebble in the cold and seem to be the focus of Chan's transfixation.

By the time you step off the stage, he had dissapeared from the audience. But you don't have to wait long to know where he went as you promptly receive a message from him. It’s a video of him in what you recognize to be the lifeguard changing rooms. You can see him wearing the navy blue swim shorts he was wearing this morning, and right in the middle is his outlined and very hard dick straining against the material. You see his veiny hands twist around the top of it, giving him stimulation that nearly pushes him over the edge as it is. But he stops before it gets anywhere.

Placing his hands on either side of his shorts, he alternatively tugs on them, moving the material over his hard dick. "Ah hurts baby…” He cries out as if you could hear him, “So sensitive… ahh AHHH…"

You rub your thighs together at the scene in front of you. Watching Chan squirm and try to not touch his dick is hotter than you ever imagined.

"Am I doing good?” He breathes out wantonly, and you can see his dick twitching behind his shorts. “Is this making you wet baby? Please tell me this is making you wet because I'm going crazy. Need you to like this."

You do like it. You like it so much.

“You looked so good up there. Wanted to push you down and cum all over your tits so everyone will know that you’re mine. Hated how they were all gawking at my girl…”

It doesn’t take Chan long to cum, he was already so riled up by watching the white shirt you were wearing do nothing to conceal your hard, perked nipples under it. He wanted to so bad to fuck your tits and cum on your face, but he knew he had to earn it. So that’s what he was doing, putting on a good show for you so you’d let him fuck you.

You see his dick twitch before the white cum seeps through his shorts, making a mess and making you wish he was there so you could jump on him and ride his dick until he cries from overstimulation.

You know he’ll take it well too. He’s been waiting so long for it.

Opening up the chat, you type in a message.

“Stay where you are, pup.”

___________

#stray kids smut #bang chan smut #bangchan smut #sub!idol #sub!chan

768 notes · View notes

merakiui · 2 years

Note

Just had an idea for the Kazuha and Scaramouche roommates. What if reader actually has an onlyfans and she asks them to help her for her next one. Just a simple request where only their hands appear in some shots of holding up your legs or passing you different toys. Only that the boys get restless and decide to spit roast you instead. Perhaps they take turns on which end each of them are in.

(cw: yandere, nsfw, female reader, dub-con)

The both of them follow your instructions, obediently handing you toys or placing their hands on you per your request. Eventually they become conscious of the fact that lots of people will see you in this sort of state, face flushed and aroused as you put on a show. No doubt there are probably a few creeps subscribed to the highest tier you offer, hoping to get more than just a few lewd pictures and videos. Of course Kazuha and Scaramouche are jealous that so many people see sides of you they could only ever hope to stumble upon. And since they’re already touching you, why not go a bit further?

It starts when Kazuha’s hands teasingly wander, slipping further and further down until he’s squeezing your hips. You assume he’s just getting into the act and so you allow his fingers to trace along your hips and waist, down to your thighs. He’s smiling to himself as he explores your soft body. Scara sees what he’s doing right away and scoffs to himself. If Kazuha can touch you so freely, then surely he can. He seizes your wrist before you can reach for the toy, grumbling about how you don’t need a silicone dick to pleasure yourself when he’s right here.

They seem to ignore the camera entirely as they focus on you, hands touching and pinching every inch of your body. Scara kisses along your collarbone, occasionally nipping at the skin to get a reaction from you. Kazuha has already passed the point of no return and is rubbing slow, sensual circles against your clit. You didn’t exactly intend for things to go this far with them; you only wanted them to help you with the video, not become the main part of it, but your mind is too hazy to focus on anything else. And how can you focus on other things when Kazuha’s touch is melting you and Scara’s possessive bites along your neck are electrifying?

They play with nearly every part of your body, with Kazuha focusing the most on your already dripping pussy and clit and Scara giving special attention to your breasts and neckline. You don’t even realize he’s marking you with hickeys in places that are hard to cover up until you register the feeling of his teeth grazing your sensitive skin. You’re cute when you’re like this, eyes half-lidded and lips parted ever so slightly to let out breathy moans. It’s not fair that a bunch of random people get to see you when you’re like this.

Surprisingly, they don’t fight over who gets what hole. They’ll take turns either way, so it doesn’t really matter. Kazuha’s happy enough to fit his aching cock inside your tight, warm pussy. You squeeze around him so nicely and he holds your hips in a gentle grip. Scaramouche, on the other hand, is cruel when he forces his dick down your throat, fingers gripping your hair to keep your head in place. He can’t help but scoff when Kazuha tells him to be nice. It’s not your fault you’re trying to make a little extra money with this side job. Although he wishes you’d choose a different side job, preferably one that doesn’t involve hundreds of strangers seeing your most private areas.

You’re stuck between them now, and filming for your OnlyFans is the last thing on your mind. You’re solely focused on them and the mind-numbing pace they’ve set. Even when he’s buried so deeply inside of you, Kazuha will still tease you, reaching to pinch your nipples between his fingers. Scaramouche is really particular about how you should use your mouth and he’ll have you nearly choking on his dick with how roughly he thrusts into your mouth. Oh, but you’re actually really good at sucking dick. He wonders if you’ve done this before, or maybe you’ve had plenty of practice on those neon-colored dildos.

Both of them will cum inside no matter what and you’ll be forced to swallow their cum. The sight of your holes leaking cum makes them feel oddly satisfied, not only because you look hot like that but also it’s their way of permanently marking you and showing that no one else can fuck you like they can. <3 And when you’re able to process everything and actually review the footage later, they’re standing behind you to rewatch the entire thing. Maybe it’s better if you don’t upload that video to your OnlyFans. It’s better off being saved amongst the three of you, where you can watch it again and again to remind yourself of that moment.

#meraki thirsts #kazuscara roommates

161 notes · View notes

yostresswritinggirl · 3 years

Text

@butterfly-mochi Rewrote this freaking thing thrice because it keeps getting deleted wth tumblr agjvahkfajkvk- I enjoyed writing it a lot tho and since I’m too weak to the characters I ended up writing for all of them (except for Sucrose, im sorry bb huhu, I ran out of brain power). This is my first time writing for so many of them in one go so please excuse me for any mistakes or blandness ywy thank you for letting me write for my baby Ganyu too hhhhh

Universe Reversal 2

Genshin Impact Character Reader and Modern Players with Zhongli, Childe & Ganyu (how they simp for you) (event masterlist / Part 1 / Part 3)

Zhongli the F2P

The most relatable out of the bunch because this man is still broke and can only rely on the primogems he can farm. And he had a LOT. The one thing he doesn’t have a lot on, however, is his luck.

So how did he manage to pull you?: Well after exhausting all his primogem on your banner with nothing but weapons and other characters, he has lost his resolve. But by some weird luck, there was a character bug that was fixed and in his email was the almighty consolation primogem. Enough for ONE pull. And by the Gods he FINALLY got you.

He’d nonchalantly post his screenshot of pulling you using a single acquaint fate in his friend group without any words and everyone else just loses their shit. “You got them in one pull?!” “Yeah” A riot.

This was partnered with the fact that not only is Zhongli an F2P player, but also barely has any five star characters.

He looks calm and apathetic over the news, but behind the screen he’s exhausted and relieved, silently livid.

He has no primogems left to squeeze for a constellation so you’re instead pampered with the best weapon suitable for you (because that’s all he keeps getting).

Zhongles spends most of his time farming for materials to quickly level you up, unlocking all your stories and voiceline, but he fucked up on your build (his artifacts are messy).

He follows communities, forums and videos regarding your character to know all the things he needs to perfect your build. You can barely make a dent against normal mobs, so he knew he was doing something VERY wrong.

Is the type of person to keep refreshing the page for new content, very updated.

Ask him a question about your character and he’s gonna bring you the word vomit that is his research. He’s not gonna stop- probably accidentally developed a copypasta for you.

Also follows your VA in both Tiktok and Twitter to indulge in every bit of content. He also has that screenshot of his pull saved and locked.

On his birthday, a friend of his gifted him a chibi plushie of you and he has treasured it ever since, treating and handling it like its a figurine.

“It is merely pure luck and grace from the gacha gods that I got this character, and I will make sure that they know I am very grateful for this fortune.”

Favorite Voiceline: Birthday Message

Childe The Whaler

This lucky wealthy bastard with no remorse for his money whales for EVERY character. He’s making a collection, which is to get all the characters, especially the five stars. So when your banner finally popped up, he’s gonna square up and trigger a whole ass meteor shower.

How he pulled you: Money. His luck with this games are actually not the best so he always compensates with money, he got you halfway through the first failed pity, almost giving him a heart attack that he might actually break the bank just to get you.

And then he pulls more to raise your constellation lol.

The first thing he does is look over your character info and read through it all; constellation infos, your base stats, artifact compatibility.

At the end when he’s maximized everything, he would then focus on playing around with your character *coughs climbing noises coughs*

He thought you’d just be another part of his collection but playing with your character was very enjoyable and in-line with his playstyle- oops 100 screenshots with the Kamera-

Any and all merchandise that he fancies would be his, and he’s definitely flexing it to the other sweetie nerds who call themselves simps. He’s fighting for the simping title, and he’s currently neck and neck with this fanartist in Pixiv.

Speaking of that fanartist, he definitely commissioned an expensive and detailed portrait of you, full rights and everything. No one else was allowed to use it but him.

Was also the first one with the audacity to call out your VA to create an account on Tiktok to create more content with your voice. He was successful.

His obssession also comes in the form of self-indulgent contents, and had been keeping track of the ship wars happening. During conventions, he cosplays as the character shipped with you the most (or the character he thinks should end up with you).

Silently scrutinizing those who cosplay you, only ever taking pictures with/of the best looking one, sorry haha

Definitely flaunts that you are his waifu/husbando and will fight for best girl/best boy during debates or polls. Has mobilized the community to vote for you once. He’s very persuasive.

“Hm? Why I’m just the best collector in the game, and I am more than happy to let everyone know that I am their number one fan haha, everyone who claims otherwise is definitely wrong!”

Favorite Voiceline: More About (Y/N) I-IV, (Y/N)’s Hobbies...

Ganyu the Employed

Ganyu, our dearest overworker, is one of the players in the older stage who actually has a job but still plays Genshin for their past times. The gorgeous sceneries and the music is her main focus in playing the game, not much of a try-hard but still decent in the combat mechanics.

How she pulled you: You came home within 50 pulls! And you appeared again after another 10 pull! Ganyu was so SHOOKT and so distressed because oh goodness, what does she do? She doesn’t know anything much about you!

Will rewatch your three trailers to try and understand your skills better, ended up saving the soundtracks from them because that was such a nice trailer music! Tnbee gains a new follower!

Ganyu will take a while before she can properly play or build you up because she’s so busy with work, she only ever plays when she feels fully done with her work.

During her break she plays with your character while multi-tasking on eating, earphones plugged in and sight on the phone as she farms materials and artifacts for you.

The moment she gets more help from her player friends tho, holy shit, you just ended up being so OP. She had so many good artifacts and weapons for you because she didn’t know what they were for before.

She loves how you’re so easy to use and can easily solo the enemies and even the boss fights. A huge breather, because now Ganyu can cheese the battles that takes a while, to give her more time to focus on the storyline and lores.

Since Ganyu plays for the story and aesthetic, she’ll find you almost always in her team. Still very proud of her pull, she makes the best screenshots of your fights or in the best angle through exploration.

Treasures you so much she starts talking to her phone- “Ah, no, please don’t fall.” “There’s violetgrass up there, let’s try and get it”

Blushes everytime you produce a sound when climbing, doesn’t change you anyways tho

Hums to your trailer music while working, and if permitted, would have the song on repeat while she buries herself in work. She finds it really refreshing and the time she spends in work miraculously flies by fast when she gets lost in the sound.

At one point, when she was given a day-off or if the convention was on her free time, she attends to look for cosplayers of you and take a picture. No one rejects her because she’s so adorable and cute when asking shyly.

Had brought a decent amount of merchandise, preferably the functional/practical ones like a phone cover, mug or keychain. Also has an earphones clamp with your little chibi self as the holder.

When asked, she would shyly announce that she likes your character the most.

“Their character theme and music really soothes me during work, it feels nice to have them, and I have not once regretted ever pulling for them. They are the best.”

Favorite Voicelines: Good Night/Afternoon..., About Us, Something To Share..., Interesting Things...

so enjoyable...

@moaa @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @dandelion-dreams @snackgod @rxsalinee

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #zhongli x reader #childe x reader #ganyu x reader #genshin impact zhongli #genshin impact childe #genshin impact ganyu #exile.circlet #exile.flower #sojourner specials #reeeeeeeeee #gender neutral

1K notes · View notes

miekasa · 3 years

Text

the babysitter’s club (1)

+ pairing: levi ackerman + (fem) reader, featuring bright-eyed but very easily intimidated interns and part-time babysitters eren and armin who are trying their best

+ genres and warnings: modern au, parents au, fluff, yes the dog’s name is captain and he’s tiny what about it

+ summary: eren and armin are good subordinates, who happen to be pretty good babysitter, too. usually.

+ word count: 2.7k

+ notes: this was just something fun i edited and reworked again, also to provide some more insight about dad levi and my oc kids; this focuses only on holden, who is the oldest of the bunch, but you’ll more about the rest as they go

It’s not that Levi doesn’t trust Holden’s babysitters, he just would rather watch over her himself. Moreover, he would rather have the time to spend with his small daughter instead of having to leave her in the care of someone else who isn’t you, but sometimes life gets busy, and babysitters come in real handy.

He still doesn’t understand why Erwin would schedule the both of you to attend such important work-related meetings on the same weekend; much less, to send you half-way around the world for yours, and then book Levi for damn near twelve hours on a Saturday. He would murder Erwin if he weren’t his direct boss, and a long-time friend. But shit happens, and while it’s a major inconvenience and pain in his ass to be working on a weekend, it’s good to know he could rely on the brats at the office to step up on such short notice.

“I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that if anything happens, I won’t hesitate to dismember you,” Levi says calmly, closing his briefcase after triple-checking its contents.

“Of course,” Armin stiffens visibly, awkward laughter seeping through his words, “Eren and I would never let anything happen to Holden.”

To his left, Holden has already tugged Eren to the coffee table for a game of children’s Scrabble, determined to show off her new skills. Levi smiles slightly as he remembers playing the game with her last week, and how awe-struck she was to have seen Levi create a word bigger than “unattainable”—which is currently the longest word in her four-year-old vocabulary. But he’s certain she would have no trouble beating Eren.

He gives Armin a slight nod. He knows Holden is in good hands; or good enough hands with Armin, anyway. It’s not the first time the duo has babysat, and for as air-headed and clumsy Eren could be at the office, he seemed to be pretty damn good with kids if Holden’s attachment to the brunette was anything to go by.

Levi recounts that you’ve questioned on multiple occasions why Eren was so dedicated to being your PA when he seemed to have a potential career in taking care of, and maybe even teaching children. Not that he’s not a good assistant to you, but he’s certainly not as organized or detailed-oriented as Armin. Levi shrugs away the thought. Eren’s career choices are none of his business; his only concern is that he keeps his daughter safe and sound.

“Right. My card is on the kitchen island, you can buy lunch and dinner or whatever, I don’t think there’s much in the fridge,” Levi informs Armin. He looks briefly to the clock on the wall; he really should get going. “Remember to walk Captain at some point, and no matter what Holden says, he absolutely does need a leash on him. If Erwin isn’t being a complete asshat, I’ll be home by nine. (Y/N) will probably still be on her flight, so call me if you need anything.”

Armin nods enthusiastically, promising Levi that they would take care of everything. They’d better.

“Alright, I’m heading out,” Levi announces, pulling his keys from the table near the door, “Be good, Holden. Tell Armin and Eren if you need anything.”

Holden’s head perks up at the sound of her name. Elegantly, or as elegantly as a four-year-old can be, she stands from her seated crisscross position, to run over to Levi by the door. He should remind her that she should use walking feet inside the house, but he can’t bring himself to, instead crouching down to meet her height.

“Bye, daddy,” she tells him sweetly. Levi reaches a hand out to ruffle the top of her head, much to the small girl’s chagrin. She sports a grimace almost identical to his as he reaches up to try and smooth out the aftermath of her father’s affections, “Daddy!”

Levi can’t help but chuckle, reaching two fingers out to poke at his daughter’s forehead. “Be good. I’ll be back soon.”

“Mommy too?”

Levi sighs, “No, mommy doesn’t come back until Tuesday.”

“That’s four days away,” Holden’s doesn’t hesitate to express her dissatisfaction. Levi nods, a little proud of how quickly she’d calculated that in her head, “Can Eren stay until Tuesday?”

“No, Eren cannot.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Holden crinkles her nose. Levi really has got to do something about her fascination with Eren.

Holden looks backwards to where Eren is still seated around the coffee table, he and Armin watching the father-daughter duo. After reconciling with the fact that Eren does, in fact, have his own home to go back to at the end of the day, Holden turns back around, and holds her hand up, palm facing Levi. He does the same, bringing his larger palm to hers, so that her hand is pushed against the middle of his.

Not one for hugs, kisses, or larger displays of affection, Holden simply turns her palm so that her hand grabs around Levi’s as best as possible, hooking her thumb around his pinky finger—what Levi’s heard the young girl call a hand hug.

“Bye, daddy,” she repeats, squeezing his hand, “Come back soon.”

Levi bends his fingers to wrap around her hand, “I will.”

“Keep an eye on her,” Levi reminds Armin and Eren, after standing back up and gripping his briefcase in his hand, “Don’t cause too much trouble.”

“Holden never causes trouble,” Eren says in response, but his words are spoken in coos to the young girl, who’s already back at his side.

Levi scoffs, “I was talking to you.”

“We’ll be fine, boss, don’t worry,” Eren chuckles with an awkward blush, “We love looking after Holden.”

“I’m not your boss,” Levi deadpans, double-checking his pockets for his keys, “You’d better hope everything is fine. Call me if anything happens, I’ll be back soon.”

With one final round of good-byes, and a wave from his daughter, Levi’s out the door, and stepping into his car with a grimace. It was just one stupid day out of his life. Besides, Holden would be fine with Armin and Eren; she always is. Levi is just grumpy that he can’t be the one to spend the day with her.

He sighs, reluctantly, putting his keys in the ignition. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could come back to Holden. Everything would be fine in the meantime; for now, he had to focus on how he was going to get himself to sit through Erwin’s long-ass meeting.

“Levi! Hi! Um… okay, so don’t freak out, but Armin and I are at the hospital with Holden right now—don’t freak out—because there was a small incident at lunch—don’t freak out and fire me please—but! It’s all gonna be okay, they’re already treating her and she’s doing fine now, so don’t freak—”

“Tell me not to freak out one more fucking time and I’ll castrate Armin and feed you his balls myself.”

“You sound a little freaked out,” Eren placates, wincing and holding his phone away from his ear when Levi growls in response.

“You have five seconds to tell me what you two idiots did to my daughter and explain why I shouldn’t decapitate you immediately.”

“It’s a funny story, actually—so, um, we think Holden might be allergic to nuts…?”

“What do you mean might be, Jaeger?”

Eren can feel his heart in his throat. He eyes Armin on the other side of Holden’s hospital bed. He looks no better—color almost completely drained from his face, but Eren doesn’t think he can say much else to his boss before his knees give out from underneath him.

“Uh, well, it was a lot of technical terms, and—I—um, actually I’m going to let Armin explain!” Eren hurries, all but chucking his phone at the unsuspecting blonde.

Armin’s blue eyes look almost grey with anxiety, but before he can protest, Eren is flailing his hands and pointing fingers and reminding him that Levi will kill them both if he doesn’t start talking.

Reluctant, and terrified, Armin finally lifts the phone to his ear, stuttering out a pathetic hello, but Levi cuts him off before he can say anything else.

“Save it. Send me your location, and pray I don’t kill you when I get there.” Armin chokes out a “yes, sir,” before slowly bringing the phone down to his side.

The good news is that Holden’s allergic reaction wasn’t too severe: her throat had been irritated, and hives had emerged as a result, but it hadn’t been closing up. And luckily, Eren had the endurance to run nearly a mile and half with a four year old tucked under his arm; because with the traffic Armin observed whilst he and Captain huffed and lagged behind, it would have taken thrice as long to get Holden to the ER had they waited and called for an ambulance.

Even better was that Holden was an unnervingly calm kid, even whilst having an allergic reaction. She looked almost back to normal now, save for a few red looking blotches on her neck and upper arm; and seemed more than content to be watching a video on Eren’s phone, despite the situation. She was a little bummed out to find out that she could never eat the new ice cream she liked so much ever again, but she seemed to quickly get over it once Eren reminded her that there were lots of other flavors out there for her to try. Flavors that wouldn’t make her choke to death.

Still, Eren and Armin could probably kiss their jobs goodbye, seeing as they had nearly just poisoned their bosses’ daughter. Holden seemed to like them enough, but, unfortunately, Holden wasn’t the Ackerman who signed their checks.

At the very least, Eren doesn’t think you’ll be too upset with him. He doesn’t think you’ll be ecstatic to hear that while you were away on your already inconvenient work-trip on the other side of the globe, that he also managed to land your daughter in a hospital bed… but you were the more forgiving one. Then again, maybe not so forgiving when it comes to the health and wellbeing of your daughter.

Eren falls back against the wall in dread. You weren’t even in the same country as him and he was worried about what you might say or do to him. Levi was probably less than twenty minutes away and fully capable of beheading him.

“You… uh, you think the Interior Branch is still looking for interns?” Eren breaks the silence, looking towards Armin, who’s taken the seat next to Holden’s bed, petting Captain robotically as the dog sits in his lap.

“I don’t think it matters,” Armin responds, “They won’t hire corpses.”

Fifteen minutes, and several run red lights later, Levi is bursting through the doors to the pediatric wing of the emergency room. He doesn’t care about the old woman at the reception yelling at him for causing a ruckus, or the other parents, doctors, or visitors eyeing him for marching around like he owned the place. Holden was in there somewhere, and he was going to get to her.

“Holden—oh, god, Holden,” Levi coos, frantic, as he marches into Holden’s room, scurrying to the side of her hospital bed. A cold hand reaches up to stroke her face. Angry, red bumps litter the sides of neck, her cheeks are puffier than usual, and the perimeter of her mouth seems a bit irritated, but Levi is relieved. She’s okay, his baby girl is okay.

“’M fine, daddy,” Holden assures him. She’s almost overly-perceptive for her age, able to pick up on her father’s out of character antics, and does her best to console him. “Eren ran with me all the way here when I started coughing and itchin.’”

Levi nods, the dark grey splotches in Holden’s eyes bringing him comfort, ensuring him that she was okay. “They gave me a shot, and I don’t like needles, but I didn’t even cry at all. Ask, Armin and Eren, they saw! Captain, too.”

“Brave girl,” Levi smiles, reaching his hand up to push her hair out of her face then leans over to press a kiss to her forehead.

Levi had almost forgotten that Eren and Armin were in the room until he hears a blundering cough from behind him. The younger boys look petrified, Eren practically shaking in his shoes, while Armin doesn’t even have the confidence to look him in the eye.

“We’re really sorry, Levi,” Eren apologizes, voice scratchy and wobbly, like he’d been the one to just get a shot, “We didn’t know—and when she started coughing and saying she couldn’t breathe, I swear, I ran here as fast as I could—”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s… fine?”

Levi sighs. Maybe he’d been a little harsh with them on the phone, letting his emotions get the best of him. He’d already been pissed off enough to not have the time to spend with Holden this weekend; hearing that she’d been hurt was just the final push over the edge for him, but it wasn’t necessarily Armin or Eren’s fault.

“I didn’t know either,” Levi exhales, reaching at hand out to pet the top of Holden’s head again, the young girl now distracted once again by the phone in her hand, “She’s never had a reaction to anything before, and neither (Y/N) or I have any strong allergies.”

Armin shuffles where he’s standing. “The doctor said she might be allergic to tree nuts. We, uh, we gave her pistachio ice cream after lunch.”

If there’s anything concerning Levi, it’s that they gave Holden ice cream before dinner, but he supposes he can let it go for now.

“Eren told me to try it, and it tasted good, daddy,” Holden interjects, “Before I started coughing, it was good.”

“Ah, well, you can’t—you shouldn’t eat things that make you feel sick!” Eren stutters loudly.

“But it was good,” Holden pouts, “And you said to try new things, Eri. I won’t know if it makes me sick if I don’t try them.”

Levi holds back his laughter. He knows that Holden definitely wouldn’t want to try the same same flavor again knowing now that she was allergic to it; she was just pulling at Eren’s leg. Levi would have to keep an eye out for the stuff anyway, especially if her oh-so-precious Eren has expressed any former love for it.

“Um, Levi, sir,” Armin calls, pulling Levi’s attention towards the blonde, “We didn’t know if (Y/N) would have landed already, but do you think you should call her, to, um, let her know?”

Levi’s face pales three shades when he realizes that none of them had already informed you that your daughter was currently hospitalized with a new found allergy.

“You can call her,” Levi says, a shudder in his spine at the thought of relaying this information to you, “That’s your death sentence, not mine.”

#aot x reader #snk x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman smut #eren x reader #aot fluff

2K notes · View notes

ethan-torchio-angelo · 3 years

Text

Oh, love

Summary: It takes a year of trial and error, of love and heartbreak, for the two to finally realize there's no one else they'd rather be with. Or in which she becomes they're photographer for a summer tour and falls in love with the dark haired drummer.

Word Count: 10.3k

Warnings: swearing, angst, sexual content

A/N: I just want to say a huge thank you to @ethanesimp for proofreading and hyping this fic up, thank you so much amore! This is the first piece I've written for any of the members of maneskin, and also the longest thing I've ever written! Feedback is greatly appreciated!

January

It’s a call in the middle of the day that begins it all. She’s been in a shoot all morning, running around snapping photos of a wanna-be teen idol. She’s been here many times, being hired to do promo shots for someone who never makes it farther than this. But this call, she knows it’s different. She’s heard the name, seen some videos, she knows this won’t be like the rest. She’s instructed to clear her schedule for the week and to be in Rome by the end of the day.

The cold air hits her as she leaves the building, suitcase and camera bag in hand. This is the moment she’s been waiting for since joining the company, the chance to become a permanent fixture instead of hopping from gig to gig. She’s told that they requested her specifically, that one of the band members saw her collection from a festival last summer and was dead set on booking her for their summer tour. It’s all new to her, the feeling of being the first choice and not second best. She barely hears anything that’s said on the plane by their manager, too busy trying not to freak out.

It’s only a few hours plane ride, but it feels like a lifetime. Thoughts run wild in her head as the seconds tick by, she can’t remember the last time she’d been this excited, or nervous, for something. She’s greeted by more people from their team as she steps off the plane, and is quickly ushered to the villa they’ve been staying in. She barely has time to process the beautiful new city she’s in before she’s hidden by walls of an even more beautiful place.

They give her time to relax and unpack, but clear instructions to not leave the property without security. Things have been crazy, she’s told, since their winning last year fans have become more clever with their tactics. She laughs at some of the stories, but heeds the warning all the same. She’s seen quite a few things that have shaken her to her core, so she knows to be careful and wary.

Music floats through the halls and into her room, the band practicing on the other side of the villa. The music fills her veins with a feeling she can’t quite place, but it’s a welcome humming that gets her blood pumping. She grabs her camera and follows the melodies, laughing at the jokes thrown around in english whenever someone messes up. She angles herself behind a corner just right where she can take pictures while still being hidden from the band.

Her heart races at the scene in front of her. It’s a family like she’s never seen. They all seem to orbit around each other, pushing and pulling each other into their atmospheres. She watches Victoria dance around the room, bass in hand, strumming the lines to an old song. Thomas lays on the floor with a notebook reading off words, Damiano repeating them as he draws on eyeliner. And Ethan, who sits at his drum set, twirling the drumsticks in his hand as he observes the scene before him.

She captures picture after picture of their dynamic, taking the most of Ethan, who seems to have a magnetic pull to him. She only pulls herself from the moment when she’s spotted. “Sai, qualcuno chiamerebbe questo strano comportamento.”

The words are warm against her ear, and she jumps at the unexpected presence. She turns around, laughing to hide her embarrassment, trying to translate the words in her head. She freezes when she sees it’s Ethan, trying to figure out when he slipped away from the rest of the group.

“Ah, niente italiano. Er, it’s unusual, what you are doing.”

Another nervous laugh leaves her lips, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be creepy. There’s something about the way the group is when no one is watching, it’s hard to ignore, it needed to be captured.”

He smiles at that. It’s soft and warm and she feels as if the world has stopped spinning. A song plays between their hearts as a silence falls over them. There’s a beauty about him that makes it hard to focus on anything but him.

A series of crashes followed by loud curses in Italian breaks the spell that they were under and Ethan pulls himself away from her to go and manage his friends. She uses this moment as an excuse to slip away and tour the rest of the house, ending in the kitchen where dinner is being prepared. She snaps a few photos of the chefs cooking, already envisioning the blog post they’ll go along with.

When everyone has made their way to the dining room a toast is made; to new adventures, to new friends, and to family. Sweet wine and light rain makes the time pass faster and the evening flows into night easily. The group parts only moments after midnight, long days ahead calling them to catch up on sleep now.

The month flows by with days and nights blurring together. It seems the studio is really the only place they call home, spending every waking moment in the room that houses their instruments. She stays with them through the long hours, snapping photos of the weird things they get themselves up to. Her hard drive slowly fills with collections of each band member, ones for the public eye and ones she sends to them to make them laugh.

The end of the month brings a party, something small to celebrate sold out tour dates. A night out to a local bar and far too many drinks. She dances with Victoria, who has become her best friend in the few weeks she’s been with them. Damiano and his girlfriend are not far away, but much more caught up in their own world. Thomas has disappeared somewhere, no doubt warming someone's bed for the night. But through all the commotion, she can’t stop watching Ethan.

He’s sitting at a table nursing the only drink he’s had that night, planning to take on the role of babysitter at the end of the night once everyones had too much to drink. He drums his fingers on the table, following the beat of each song that plays. He seems lost in his own world, content with being by himself. She moves away from Victoria, who easily finds another partner, and makes her way to the table.

“Sembri solo,” the words fall from her lips quietly as she takes a seat beside him.

He smiles at her, “Seems your little lessons are paying off.”

She blushes at that, not realizing he’d picked up on her daily lessons with their English tutor. “Only enough to not seem like a tourist.”

A small chuckle escapes his lips, and she wishes she could bottle the sound.

“But don’t change the subject. Tonight was about having fun, celebrating a big accomplishment. Yet you’re sitting here alone.”

He sighs at her insistence, “Sometimes we don’t need to celebrate everything so publicly.”

Something pulls at her heart. She can’t imagine having such a public life, but she understands how it must feel to never have anything to yourself. Before she knows what she’s doing, she places a hand on his arm and gives it a reassuring squeeze, a light tingle shooting between the two of them.

She pulls her hand away quickly, a small blush forming on both their cheeks. He offers her a small smile to make the moment less awkward, and she returns it.

The night ends not too much later, the rest of the crew having decided that warm beds would be much more comfortable than the crowded bar. She helps Ethan herd their friends home, laughing along with him at their drunken antics. Victoria jokingly calls them mom and dad as they help her to bed, and the blush that was plastered on her face earlier that night makes a second appearance.

It’s almost morning by the time she makes it to her own room. Ethan isn’t far behind her, realizing for the first time tonight that they share the same hallway. “Buona notte,” comes his voice from down the hall.

She turns to face him, catching herself stuck in his stare. She can’t quite place the look in his eyes, but it gives her butterflies all the same.

“Buona notte.”

February

February brings more time in the studio and less time outside the walls of the Villa. While winter in Rome is not like the ones you’d experience in colder places, it still brings a chill to her bones. She steals one of Victoria's sweaters after a night spent lounging under the stars, a small break from a busy schedule.

A fire had been lit and a bottle of sweet wine was making its way around the group. She’d set her camera aside for the evening, planning on enjoying a night without the calls of work. She doesn’t know when it happens, but suddenly she’s swaying to a drunken beat in the arms of Damiano who can’t stop giggling at her two left feet. The man had not believed her when she said she couldn’t dance, but was now biting his tongue as they moved around the courtyard.

As the night seemed to come to a lull, a game of truth or dare was proposed and all were in agreement. She finds herself sitting beside Thomas on the floor as Victoria begins the game, a stupid dare aimed towards Damiano that earns him a new haircut. The night drags on in a flurry of laughter and silly dares. By midnight half the group is wearing someone else’s clothes, and the others have barely any on.

She’s moved to be sitting by Ethan, who has an arm casually draped across her shoulder. It shouldn’t feel so electric, his skin touching hers, but it does and it’s the only thing she can focus on. Her heart feels like it’s almost beating out of her chest and the blush on her face isn’t caused by the alcohol in her system.

Damiano is the first to notice her situation, and starts poking fun at her whenever it was his turn to ask her something. It started off innocent enough, small questions aimed towards her love life, but it soon caught the attention of Thomas who was the first one to issue a dare towards the girl. This was how she’d ended up sitting beside Ethan, cuddled into his side. Ethan was oblivious to the things going on around them, until Victoria dared her to kiss him.

It seems as though time stops, the laughter fades and the silence becomes deafening. She turns towards Ethan, a mixture of panic and excitement painted on her face. He smiles at her, “We don’t have to, amore.”

“A dares a dare.” She shrugs at him.

A round of cheers raises up around them as the two lean in. It’s meant to be only a small peck, something good enough to count in the eyes of those around them. But as she goes to pull away his hand reaches up to tangle in her hair and he pulls her closer. Their lips meet again without any hesitation and it’s like the world lights up around them. Blame it on the alcohol, but if she were to die right now she’d be happy.

They pull away a second later, a small laugh leaving both of them, chests rising at an unsteady rhythm.

“Awe, they’re blushing! How cute!” Comes the voice of Damiano, further pulling a blush from the girl.

She grabs one of the pillows beside her and aims it at his head, laughing when she misses terribly.

The night fades into morning and they all climb to the roof to watch the sunrise. It’s a moment she wants tattooed in her memories forever. She’s got her arms wrapped around Victoria and the three boys huddle around them, alcohol still flows through their veins and they’re all singing different versions of the same song.

March

The beginning of spring in Rome is magical. Flowers start to bloom, mornings are coated in a light dusting of rain, and clothing starts to become less of a necessity. She takes photos of the band trapezing the streets. The Villa studio has become too familiar, moving instead to a studio in the city.

By now, a routine has been put in place. Mornings sipping coffee and eating fresh pastries while she laughs at the varying states of wake the band is in. Afternoons in the studio, recording their new album while she collects photos and videos for their ‘making of’. Evenings spent in restaurants and bars, eating some of the best food she’s ever had, and she swears she’ll never eat anything better.

She’s never fallen in love with a city like this before. Maybe it’s the city, or maybe it’s the people she’s with, but she swears she never wants to leave. It suffocates her in the best way possible, the feeling of being home. She hopes that when the tours over and her contracts up, that she’ll move here, maybe even keep these people she’s grown so close to in the past few months.

She’s thrown out of the daydream by Thomas yelling at her in a mix of italian and english for not paying attention. It’s the middle of the afternoon, they’ve taken a lunch break at a restaurant down the block, and Thomas is expressively telling a story. His hands are in the air and he’s almost knocked his wine glass over too many times to count.

Damiano sits across from her, fiddling with her camera, snapping his own photos that he presents to her proudly. She laughs at every one, but never discourages his actions. Victoria is on her left, Ethan on her right, both vying for her approval as they argue over something. She’s overwhelmed by the different directions her brain is being tugged, but the hand that snakes its way into hers calms her.

She looks down to see Ethan rubbing his thumb along the back of her hand, a soft smile grazing his lips as they make eye contact. She returns it, whispering a small thank you to the boy.

That night, she lays in bed, in the room she’s begun to finally call hers, thinking of the boy with stars in his eyes. She doesn’t know if it’s feeling like she finally belongs somewhere, or the wine that still coats her veins, but there’s something about him that she wishes she could become a part of. She wants to wrap herself in it and never leave. She’s falling for him, hard. Vaffanculo.

April

It is Victoria's birthday and everyone has decided that she must be princess for the day. Ethan and Damiano have been up since dawn making an extravagant breakfast, something that should be put in a five star restaurant. Her and Thomas had disappeared shortly after waking, returning with a stack of presents that was almost as tall as him, and the best bouquet of flowers she could find.

After decorating the patio with anything and everything they could find, it was a mad dash to Victoria's room to wake her up. She protested, claiming that sleep was more important than being awake, but at the mention of presents she was the first one out of the room.

It was a morning of happiness, and a much needed break from their hectic schedule. She recorded the entire day, from the dramatic wake up call to the celebratory sparklers that were set off that night, it was all captured.

After breakfast the princess requested a trip to the beach, and no one would dare refuse her. They found something private, a little hidden oasis an hour's drive from the villa. They spend hours there, switching between swimming and laying in the sun. She finds herself alone on the sand with Ethan at one point, watching the others like proud parents.

She tries not to think about how close his body feels to her, how she can feel the heat his body is radiating seeping into her, the smell of his body wash. He’s invading all of her senses and she’s trying so hard to focus on anything but him. “Let’s go on a walk?”

His voice is warm as the question escapes his lips. She turns to look at him and she’s thankful to be able to blame the sun for the blush on her cheeks. She nods and gets up to follow him, brushing off the sand that’s clinging to her bathing suit and wrapping a towel around her shoulders.

They disappear down the beach, walking side by side, a comfortable silence enveloping them. It’s not till they’re halfway down the beach that either of them speaks. “Are you enjoying your time?”

She doesn’t miss the hint of worry that laces his voice, and she’s quick to reassure him that she is. “Yes, very much. This is probably the best job I’ve had in years.”

He softly chuckles at her words, “Good. Good. We’re trying to make you feel like one of us, don’t want you running away.”

She’s grateful for the confession, glad that they don’t see her as just another person that works for them. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

He bumps her shoulder with his, a small smile forming on his face, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They head back to the group soon after, realizing they’ve let the day slip away and need to leave soon if they want to make their dinner reservations.

A small vineyard hidden in the valley, they’ve booked the place so it’s just them, and ordered every bottle of wine on the menu to taste. They laugh away the night, enjoying plates of delicious food and letting their minds wander. A gorgeous cake is brought out at the end, half of which ends up destroyed thanks to an impromptu food fight. More presents are opened and Victoria starts tearing up, blubbering about how much she loves the idiots she’s surrounded with.

They walk through the dark streets of Rome, singing happy birthday loudly in every language they know. It’s unusually cold, but she’s somehow been wrapped in Ethan’s jacket, his arm slung over her shoulder. She’s holding Vic’s hand, Damiano and Thomas taking turns with her camera.

The air surrounding them is electrified, she looks up into the sky and thanks the stars for the life she’s living.

May

The summer tour is fast approaching, and nerves are starting to set in. The already high energy group somehow is bouncing off the walls even more, making for an interesting collection of photos. Nerves are starting to get the better of them, and she often finds one of them wandering around the Villa at odd hours of the night. She’s good at being able to channel her nerves into something else, focusing all of the energy on a new project.

One night though, it gets the better of her. She tosses and turns in her bed for hours before she decides that sleep isn’t coming. Instead of lying in bed willing her brain to shut off, she throws on a pair of shoes and heads for the front door, thinking a walk in the warm spring air will do her some good. What she doesn’t expect to find is Ethan sitting out on the terrace, cigarette in one hand and a book in the other, lost in his own world.

She doesn’t mean to catch his attention, hoping to allow him this little bit of uninterrupted peace, but he spots her anyway. “Buona serata,” He rasps, voice laced with the quietness of the night.

“Buona serata, Ethan.” She returns the greeting.

He motions for her to sit down in the chair beside him, closing the book and placing it on the table. “What’s troubling your mind tonight?”

She’s not used to the way someone can read her so well, but there’s something about Ethan that brings her comfort in the fact that he can. “Nerves, I guess. I’ve never done a gig this big, never spent so much time with one group. I’m used to being moved around a lot, still getting used to being a permanent fixture I guess.”

The words are heavy on her tongue, never having voiced her worries out loud before. He takes a long drag of the cigarette hanging from his lips, “La vita ci dà solo ciò che sa che possiamo gestire.”

“Some would think you were a poet in a past life.”

A small laugh escapes his lips, and he shakes his head. A comfortable silence falls over them and she wishes she could bottle this feeling to keep with her forever. He turns to look at her, and it’s hard to put into words the feeling that washes over him. He’s not sure where it comes from, the urge to kiss her, but it sends him spiralling.

He reaches his hand up to brush a few strands of hair out of her face, “Le stelle brillano più luminose nei tuoi occhi, amore.”

The words and his actions cause her heart to raise and her breath to hitch. They’re close now, the closest they’ve been since that night in February, and all she can think about is that kiss that they shared.

Neither knows who leaned in first, but suddenly their lips are touching and it is everything and nothing like they remembered. While the other kiss had been hesitant and brief, this one was full of purpose. Their noses brush and their breaths tangle together, he bits her lip for a moment and a small moan escapes her. He swears it’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

He grabs at her hips, lifting her from the chair and placing her so she’s straddling his lap. She tangles her fingers in his hair and tugs softly, earning a groan from the man. The sound sends shockwaves through her and she rocks her hips against his almost involuntarily. His lips move from hers to the side of her neck, pulling small whimpers from her as he nips and sucks at the skin. It’s everything she’s ever imagined and more. The feeling of his body pressed to hers, the pleasure he can so easily give to her.

She moves her hands down to fumble with the hem of his shirt and that’s when he pulls away. “While I would normally love to do that here, how about we continue this somewhere more private?”

She nods eagerly and removes herself from his lap. He all but drags her inside the villa and towards his room. She trips over her own feet and they both laugh at her clumsiness, falling into each other as he tries to catch her but trips over his own feet in turn. He leans in to kiss her again as their bodies collide, this one sweeter and softer than the previous one.

The moment passes quickly and soon she’s being dragged through the halls again, only to be met with a half asleep Damiano standing in the doorway of his room. They stop in their tracks, jumping apart, trying to act like nothing was happening. “It’s rude to have a party and not invite everyone, you know.”

She lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, glad that he didn’t know what had been happening moments prior. Ethan is quick to explain that they were just having a cup of tea on the terrace and were now heading to bed, and thankfully the lie is believed. Damiano wishes them a goodnight, heading back into his room, and the two are left in silence in the hallway.

“Maybe we should go to bed,” he whispers to her.

Her heart sinks, but she nods her head in agreement and turns to walk back down the hall to her room. She’s not really sure how the night was going to end, but this was definitely not how she wanted it to; walking in silence next to someone her heart aches for, pretending that nothing had happened between them.

He walks her up to her door, still ever the gentleman, and places a gentle kiss on her cheek. “Buona notte, amore.”

The words should not sound as sad as they do, and she tries her hardest to keep the tears welling up in her eyes at bay as she watches him turn and walk away.

June

How do you go back to being just friends after making out with someone? Well, you don’t. At least, not fully. They dance around each other without knowing it, avoiding any contact that could lead to something more or allude to something else, but there are still moments where the world seems to slip away and it’s just the two of them.

The tour kicks off at a festival in Amsterdam. Blue skies and sunny days greet them as they get off the plane. They have a day to explore before their first show, and no one can decide how to spend it. In the end, Victoria drags Thomas off to do some shopping, Damiano plans a trip to a few museums with his girlfriend, and she is left with Ethan.

She’s not truly stuck with him, but she doesn’t feel like wandering a forgein city all by herself. Since the night in the Villa, they haven’t spent longer than a few minutes alone together, both refusing to acknowledge what had happened.

A trip to the beach seems like the best place to be, and within the hour she’s lounging in the sun listening to Ethan read a book. It’s peaceful, the sound of the waves and his voice lulling her into a half sleep. She’s got a drink in her hands, something sweet and fruity, and she’s sharing a cigarette with Ethan. It’s a scene she thinks one would find in a movie.

She rolls herself over so she’s laying on her back, staring up at Ethan who sits beside her. She places her hand on his leg and traces random shapes into his skin. Goosebumps rise in the wake of her fingertips, and he tries to stay focused on the book in his hands but finds it hard to do so. “You are very distracting, amore.”

She looks up at him innocently and she can’t help but admire him. His hair is tucked away in a bun, but a few pieces have fallen out and are flying in the gentle breeze. He’s only wearing a pair of swim trunks, broad chest on full display. He catches her roaming eyes as they make their way back to his face, a smirk slowly forming on his face. “Or maybe I’m the one distracting you, no?”

She smiles shyly and looks away from him, because yes, he is distracting her, and she’s finding it very hard to not kiss him right now. He chuckles at her, reaching his hand towards her face and turning it back towards him. He leans down towards her, “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

All she can do is nod, and a second later his lips are on hers. It’s sweet and slow, she can taste the tobacco on his lips and it’s intoxicating. She moves so she’s sitting up, leaning into him more, the world around them fading out until all that is left is them.

A few days later they find themselves in a hotel room in Munich. There’s music playing and everyone’s laughing. Her camera hasn’t left her hands all night, every moment needing to be captured as they ride the after show high.

She’s in the middle of recording Thomas’ one man act when a pair of arms wrap themselves around her waist. She knows exactly who it is by the scent that invades her nostrils and sends her brain into overdrive. She lets out a sudden, loud laugh, as his fingers trace themselves up and down her sides, collapsing into his chest as she struggles to breath.

He picks her up and spins her around, letting out an equally loud laugh at her protests. He’s happy, and it’s something that looks better on him than any designer outfit he could ever buy.

He falls onto one of the beds, pulling her down with him. She lands beside him tangled in his arms, he’s looking at her with a goofy grin on his face. The world seems to silence around them as their eyes lock. Her smile softens and she reaches her hand over to brush an eyelash off his cheek, he catches her hand before she can pull it away and brings it to his lips, kissing it gently.

He looks ethereal in this moment, hair strewn all over the place, a wild look in his eyes. She reaches for her camera and brings it up to capture him, never wanting to forget this moment.

The streets of Prague are empty, save for the two of them walking hand in hand down them. It’s early, almost too early to be considered an acceptable time to be awake, but they continue on nonetheless. A wild craving for something sweet had brought upon their adventure, and with the look she was giving him, he couldn’t say no to accompanying her.

They had been sitting on the balcony of her hotel room, watching the sun starting to peak out over the horizon and sharing a cigarette when she had turned to him with a mischievous look in her eyes. “I want something sweet.”

The comment had earned her an offer to order room service, but she shakes her head at the idea, standing up and walking back into the room. “No. Something real, maybe a coffee too.”

He follows her in, watching her pull on a shirt to cover the bralette she had been sitting in. “È presto, amore. Let’s go to bed. We can order something when the sun is awake also.”

She smiles at his words, but makes no move to stop dressing. She grabs her wallet and room key before heading to the door, stopping to turn and look at him, a question in her eyes.

“Fine, I’ll come with you.” He says after a moment, throwing on his jacket and walking over to her.

It’s 7:30 in the morning, the sun is starting to make it’s daily appearance, and they are happy. The small bakery they stumble into is just opening for the day and they’re greeted by the owner, an older lady with the sweetest smile. She speaks in broken English, an obvious language barrier between the group of them, but no one seems to mind.

She orders herself a poppy strudel and a coffee, Ethan ordering a croissant and an espresso, before sitting down at one of the small tables. He sits beside her, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into his side. He presses a soft kiss into the crown of her head and she sighs in content.

Moments like this are what she lives for. She might only be here because she works for them, but somewhere along the way she’s become part of their little family. She looks over to Ethan who’s lost in conversation with the owner, and she whispers to herself, “Penso di essermi innamorato di te.”

She doesn’t know that he hears her, his smile spreading wider across his face.

July

The turnover from June to July happens mid concert in Stockholm. She swears she can feel it, the sudden shift, a slight change in the air. She’s running around in front of the stage capturing pictures of the band in what she’s come to call their ‘natural habitat’. There’s an indescribable buzz in the air as they perform, the crowd becoming louder and louder with each song.

She keeps catching Ethans eye and there’s something primal in the way he looks at her. During a song switch, while Damiano rambles to the crowd, he motions her on stage. He tells her to get closer to everyone, promising that they won’t bite, and she giggles at him. She does what he says nonetheless, capturing some up close photos of the band and a few great shots of the crowd.

All too soon the show is ending and everyone’s piling into the car, a small party taking place in the backseat. Damiano has music blasting from his phone, Victoria and Thomas are dancing along to the beat, and Ethan is belting out the lyrics. She watches the group of them, laughing so hard her sides hurt, and she’s never felt more at home.

When they get to the hotel he’s quick to pull her towards his room, thankfully void of a roommate for the night. The second they get into the room, his lips are on hers. He pulls her close to his body and her hands tangle themselves in his hair. It’s nothing like any of their previous kisses, it’s heated and fast, every thought trying to be conveyed by the fever of it. She pulls back slightly to catch her breath and he leans in to whisper in her ear, “Join me in the shower?”

It’s not so much a question as a statement, but she nods her head eagerly, quick to follow him into the bathroom. He strips himself of the few clothes he’s wearing (most having been thrown off during the show), before turning to her. He reaches his arms out towards her, pulling her close to him and tugging on her shirt. She barely registers him pulling off her clothes, too focused on his body in front of her.

She’s never seen him so bare, and she’s having a hard time focussing on anything else. It’s not until her body hits the warm water that she snaps back to reality. He looks wild, eyes blown with lust, a wicked smile on his face. She firmly plants her lips on his, moaning into the kiss as he grabs at her. His hands are skilled and know every way to pull those delicious sounds from her lips.

It’s quick and dirty, and it is everything she has ever imagined it would be.

An hour later, she’s tangled up in the sheets of his bed, his entire being engulfing her as they watch the stars outside the window. She wonders if they are watching them too.

Paris is the city of lights, a statement she’s never been more sure of. The streets are lit with every light, shining brighter than the stars. She’s in a permanent state of bliss, after the night she shared with Ethan. Their relationship is hidden from the public, living in stolen moments and nights in hotel rooms, but she’s never been happier to be someone's dirty secret.

The band is electric on stage, something about the city they’re in taking their performance to a whole new level. The show goes on longer than it should have, but none of them even care when their manager comes over to reprimand them. They hang around to greet fans and take photos with anyone and everyone, and it’s not until security has to kick them out that they finally leave.

They find themselves in a bar, not sure what part of the city they’re in, but no one cares when the night feels like this. They drink expensive drinks that they can’t pronounce the name of, dance to songs they don’t know the words to, and feel more alive than they’ve ever felt. It’s like the world turned itself up to 11 just for them.

She dances with Ethan, not caring who sees because the night is theirs and no one cares. She kisses him in the middle of the dance floor and he pulls her into a vacant bathroom. It’s hot and heavy and the smell of alcohol envelopes them, but they couldn’t care less. Is this love? They don’t care. They’re young and dumb, and well, you only live once.

Back at the hotel they spend the night wrapped in bedsheets on the balcony, a bottle of champagne and a pack of cigarettes shared between the two of them. He points to the stars, a stupid grin on his face, “Le stelle brillano solo per noi.”

She snorts, throwing an abandoned pillow at him. He grabs her arm and pulls her into him, tickling her sides until she’s begging him to stop, tears staining her cheeks but a laugh like no other leaving her lips.

As the night bleeds into morning, and both are hazy with sleep, he whispers to her, “Sei il mio universo.”

They walk down the streets of London, his arm slung over her shoulders as she rambles away, both blissfully unaware of the few fans snapping photos down the street. They don’t notice the group of girls following them, cameras and phones in hand, capturing picture after picture of the couple.

By the time they reach the shop, the photos are already out into the world.

As they order, reposts and comments start flowing, and their phones start lighting up with notifications.

Before they can pay, she’s crying.

Rule number one of being in the public eye; never look at the comments, distance yourself from social media as much as possible, it will never end well.

The final stop in Rome was supposed to be a welcome home. A big celebration was to occur after their last concert, but now, it’s nothing more than finding the quickest way back home. She sits in one of the dressing rooms the entire show, waiting for it to end, scrolling through her social media.

She knows she shouldn’t be, that’ll all it’s doing is hurting her, making her feel worse. But she can’t stop. The comments aimed towards her and the drummer are terrible, and she wishes she could just delete herself from existence. They aren’t even dating, at least not officially, but she’s been deemed the girlfriend from hell. She’s unknowingly stolen something that never belonged to anyone to begin with.

Damianos girlfriend is in the room with her, telling her of her own horror stories dealing with fans, and she knows she’s just trying to help, but she really wishes she would just shut up. She loves the girl to death, she’s been a blessing this entire time, but she feels her mind is too far gone to be saved from the madness.

It’s only a few minutes later that the band wanders in, the usual after show high replaced with a sudden heaviness. Ethan comes to stand by her after putting his things away and pulls her into a tight hug. “Amore mio.”

He’s sweaty and could definitely use a shower, but the hug is comforting. She rubs his back soothingly, knowing this is just as hard on him as it is on her. Their management team has told everyone to remain quiet about it, disappearing from the internet until further notice while they figure out how to manage the situation. It’s maddening, the inability to speak out and protect her. He wishes he could snap his fingers and everything would be fixed, but he knows nothing is ever that easy.

They make their way back to the villa in silence, the car filled with a strangeness. She’s sandwiched between Victoria and Ethan, leaning on the bassist's shoulder, watching her play a game on her phone. It’s not how anyone wanted to end the tour, but the world is a strange and cruel place. Everything good always comes burning down.

August

There’s a party at the villa one night. Things have calmed down enough that she doesn’t spiral every time she looks at her phone, but there’s something in the way Ethan acts around her that makes her uneasy. She’s standing out on the patio, trying to avoid the questioning eyes from everyone in the house. She hasn’t spoken to Ethan all day, and the alcohol coursing through her veins makes her even angrier than she knows she should be.

Out of the corner of her eye she sees him walk out the door beside her, a small scoff leaving her lips as he tries to speak to her.

“Couldn’t be bothered to talk to me all day, what’s changed that you’ve decided to grace me with your presence?”

He looks at her, stunned. “I don’t get what you mean.”

She scoffs again, placing her glass on the table across from her. “Since London you’ve done nothing but ignore me. I get that this wasn’t easy for you, but it wasn’t exactly a cake walk for me. I needed you, Ethan, and you left me.” Her voice is raw and scratchy, the feeling of wanting to cry tickling the back of her throat.

“I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how Dami does it, how he can deal with the comments and messages. My brain won’t shut off, I can’t stop thinking about how if I had been more careful, I could’ve protected you and none of this would’ve happened. I feel stupid for thinking I could have. I hate seeing you like this, I wish I could take you away from all of this.” His voice slowly lowers, till it’s nothing more than a whisper, words meant only for her.

“I was never what you wanted, was I? This was just all some stupid game to you. I was just someone you could use to get off.” Her voice is laced with pain, a small crack coming out as she speaks.

He shakes his head, laughing slightly, and turns to look away from her. He walks a few steps before turning to face her again, “No. No, you were exactly what I wanted. You were everything to me. We were the same type of crazy.”

“I don’t understand Ethan, then what was the problem? This feels like a confession and a break up all in one.” She crosses her arms and leans against the wall, watching as he pulls a cigarette out from his pocket and lights it.

The familiar sight creates something warm in her chest, memories of summer nights like this flash through her mind. Spending the evening sitting on the balcony of different hotel rooms, sharing a cigarette between the two of them while they let the events of the day soak in. She’d give anything to go back to one of those moments. He blows a breath of smoke out and starts to speak again, “I don’t know, amore. I don’t. I want to tell you I love you, to hold you and call you mine. But I can’t.”

“Can’t, or won’t.” It’s not a question, but a statement.

“No, don’t do that. Don’t turn this into something it’s not. I want to, believe me, I do.” He steps towards her and reaches out his arms, “But we both know we can’t.”

She doesn’t know where the tears come from, but they’re there, pooling in her eyes. It’s only been a few months since they’ve met, there were no promises to be anything more than a summer adventure, but this doesn’t feel right. Her heart should not be breaking at the thought of losing someone she barely even knows.

He stops when he notices her state, reaching out to wipe the tears falling down her cheeks. “Merda. Merda! This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.”

She looks up at him through clouded eyes, “Then how was this supposed to go, Ethan? Breaking my heart wasn’t supposed to hurt me this bad? I was supposed to smile and tell you that I'm not madly in love with you and these past few months meant nothing to me?”

His heart breaks slowly at her words. He never meant for the night to go this way, and he wishes he could just pull her into his arms and tell her he loved her, that everything could be okay. But he can’t, so he pulls away from her, “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”

They’re the only words he can manage to get out without breaking down. He takes a second to watch her, memorize all the features of her face, before turning around and walking away. It’s a sight that rips her heart out, watching his form disappear back into the house. She knows this is it, the goodbye she’d been preparing for these past few weeks, but it doesn’t hurt any less.

Before she can help herself, she’s calling after him. “Being in love isn’t a weakness, you know!” But the words fall upon deaf ears.

Vic finds her standing in the same spot an hour later. She’s got a smoke lit in her hand, the third one from the pack. She hasn’t touched her lips to any of them, but the smell and the feeling of holding it brings her comfort. She was never really one to smoke, but she found it entrancing to watch Ethan do it, and right now, it’s the only thing keeping her grounded. It’s silly, how something so small can mean so much.

Her heart aches in the most unbearable way, but she can’t bring herself to do anything about it. Vic doesn’t speak, just stands beside her. She doesn’t need to ask to know that she is well aware of the events that have just unfolded, she’s just grateful for the company.

September

It’s stupidly hot in London for the time of year, but mother nature loves her unexpected heat waves. She’s home now, having left Rome shortly after the fight with Ethan, assuring their manager that she would be able to edit and upload all of the photos and videos from the comfort of her own flat.

Vic and Thomas had driven her to the airport, had walked her all the way to security and hugged her tightly before letting her go. She’d promised to keep in touch and Victoria had made her pinky swear that if she was ever in Rome again, she’d come visit. The flight was short, and she was glad the time difference was only an hour.

Her sister had picked her up and dropped her off at her flat, and she’d immediately collapsed into bed. That was three days ago, she’d barely moved since. Someone had caught her at the airport and the photos were everywhere, articles upon articles had been released, she’d had non stop messages from everyone, but all she could bring herself to do was turn her phone off.

Her photos make it to the front of magazines, her articles getting featured all over the globe, she’s made a name for herself. She gets emails from prospective clients wanting to book her in at shows, her boss sending her information for more high end gigs, but all she can think about is her drummer boy.

Her phone still sits turned off on her desk, she refuses to turn it on for anything, resorting to using only her email, but she knows everything that’s going on with the band. She’d been asked to join them again in a few months, to become a permanent part of their team. She hasn’t been able to reply.

She gets panicky thinking about seeing him again, about the things people will say if she’s caught in the same country as him. She’s stopped receiving death threats, but there’s still comments that creep in, fans thanking whatever gods made them seperate.

Victoria tries to reach out every few days, worried about the state of person she’s become, but she can’t even manage to type out an I’m okay. The world seems to be too fast and too slow, too bright and too dark, too much and not enough. Her heart aches and it’s a pain so deep she thinks she’ll never be okay again. Love is a cruel, cruel creature.

October

She finally brings herself to go back to work at the beginning of the month. She books herself in for a small band, someone no one really knows but she hopes they will one day. She’s in Amsterdam now, trying hard not to think of the memories the place brings. The band is good, the music heavy and the beat strong. They find a way to tell a story that leaves everyone with a soul searching question by the end of the night. Do you know who you are?

She’s only with them for a few nights, a short gig, but something she needed to get the ball rolling, to remember why she was doing this in the first place. After submitting the photos and writing an article that sends another wave of offers her way, she takes a few days to explore the city. It was wonderful before, when the air was warm and it felt like there was magic enveloping the city. But now, with the change of seasons, it’s even more beautiful than she remembers.

She walks the empty streets one night, huddled in the safety of her hoodie, camera in hand, and captures moments. A couple standing under a street light, a cafe closing for the night, kids running. It’s not until she hears a laugh she’s all too familiar with that her heart stops and her blood turns cold. She turns, ever so carefully, hidden behind the side of a building, and sees him.

He’s beautiful, even more than she remembers, and he looks happy. He’s walking with two girls, the resemblance making her sure it’s his sisters, but in this light she can’t be sure. She’s never met them, but he talked about them often, and she felt a pang in her chest for the homesickness he must have felt.

She tries to run, tries her hardest to get away, but she’s in an alley that leads nowhere and he’ll for sure be able to see her no matter what. The voices of the three get closer and she starts to panic, but there’s nowhere to go and she knows she’ll have to pull on her big girl pants and face him. But her heart won’t stop beating so loudly and she’s afraid she’ll break if he looks at her.

She pretends to be busy with her camera, focusing all of her attention on settings she knows are perfect, but a voice carries it’s way to her ears. “Hey stranger.”

It’s soft and it makes her knees weak and she hates herself for it. She looks up at him and his expecting eyes and her heart breaks all over again. She can’t help it, but suddenly there are tears running down her face and she can’t breathe. “Hey, hey. It’s okay.”

He places a hand on her shoulder but she pushes it away, “No it’s not.” She says between breaths.

“I shouldn’t be here, I should not be here. I have to go.”

She turns to leave, but one of his sisters stops her, “Let us walk you home, please. My brother may be a dumbass, but we have good genes. Let us make sure you get back safe.”

She doesn’t know why the words calm her, but she nods her head and lets the girls lead her in the direction of her hotel. The twins, Eleanora and Lucrezia, talk to her in fits of italian and english, trying to keep her brain occupied. But her whole body is on high alert, too aware of the man trailing behind them and how much of a fool she must look like. She feels like a mess, like someone drowning in a foot of water, but she can’t help it.

They walk her into the lobby of her hotel, the girls wish her a goodnight before shoving Ethan towards her. She doesn’t want to talk to him, and he must see it in her eyes because he tries to leave. But his sisters won’t let him, they stand tall and he looks like a child being scolded by his parents.

“Can we sit?” He asks, pointing to a couch.

She doesn’t want to, she wants to run up to her room and cry, but she nods. They sit and it is silent. Her stomach is in her throat, her eyes hurt from trying not to cry, but she sits and she waits. She studies his face, the crease in between his eyebrows that only forms when he’s confused or thinking, she wants to reach over and smooth it out. He turns towards her and catches her staring, a small smile forming on his lips.

He takes her in, allowing himself to really look at her for the first time in months, and something in his heart breaks. How did he ever let her go? Why was he so stupid to ruin something so beautiful?

“I’m sorry.” He blurts out before he can stop himself. “I’m so sorry, amore. I know I can’t say it enough, I know it’s not as easy as that, but I’m sorry and I love you. So much it hurts.”

The words hit her like a truck, they knock the air out of her lungs and the tears she was trying so hard to keep at bay start falling down her cheeks. She stands up so fast she gets light headed, “I can’t do this. I thought I could, but I can’t.”

She turns and starts walking towards the elevators. He calls after her, but she’s determined to leave, to get away. He runs after her, catching her right before the doors of the elevator close, and he wishes she didn’t look so broken. The doors slip close and she is gone and he feels like he could break something.

Her room is cold and she wishes she was home in her flat. She throws herself into the shower, the water burning her skin, and she sobs. She sobs so hard her body shakes, she screams and hopes no one can hear her.

He’s still standing by the elevator, crying now, too. His body aches in a way he’s never felt before and he hates that he isn’t holding her right now. He knows he messed up, he beats himself up for it everyday, but he doesn’t know how to fix it. He can’t just say sorry and expect everything to be okay, but he has to do something.

November

The ground is covered in snow. It is peaceful and quiet. He’s not used to this, the cold and the snow, but he understands the appeal. He’s standing outside her flat, or at least what he hopes is her flat, Victoria wasn’t exactly sure which one was hers. He’s bought her favourite flowers and he’s prepared to pour his soul out to her.

He paces outside her door for what feels like hours, trying to get himself to knock, but before he can, she opens the door. “Ethan?”

Her voice is soft, his heart sings at the sound of it. He turns to face her and the sight before him takes his breath away. She’s wearing a dress that shows off everything he loved about her, a coat thrown over her arm, she looks like an angel on earth. “Do you have a moment?”

She’s running late for dinner with her sister, but she’s afraid if she says no to him, she’ll never see him again. She hasn’t forgotten that night in Amsterdam, wishes she would have been brave enough to stay and talk, but she can’t change the past. “Yes, yes. Come in.”

She lets him into her flat, taking the flowers he hands her, and brings him over to her couch. “So.”

The script he’d had prepared in his head is suddenly gone from his memories. “I’ve thought this through a thousand times, planned this out a million different ways, but I can’t figure out the right words to say. I’m sorry, amore mio. I can’t say that enough. I never should have left you, shouldn’t have let things happen the way they did. Loving you was easy, and I think that scared me.”

She takes a deep breath, not sure what to say. She feels tears bubbling in the back of her throat and she hates that this is her response to everything revolving around him. He notices the shift in her, can tell she’s about to cry, “Amore mio, please don’t cry. I’ll start and then neither of us will be able to do anything else.”

She laughs quietly at his words, “I don’t think there are any tears left inside of me. I cried them all for you.”

His heart breaks at her confession. He moves closer to her and wraps himself around her. She hates how easy it is for her to melt into his touch, but she enjoys the comfort of it. “Tell me how to fix this. Tell me to stay and I will be here for as long as you’ll have me. I’m yours amore.”

“Please, don’t leave me again.” The words are barely more than a whisper, but he hears them.

He pulls her tight to his chest and holds her. She doesn’t care about anything else but this moment and him.

She wakes up the next morning in her bed. The sun is streaming in through the windows and she can smell Ethans body wash laced in the fibres of her bed sheets. She rolls over, expecting to see him beside her, but is met with an empty bed. Her heart sinks, afraid that everything he’d said was too good to be true, that he’d left her, again. But the sounds coming from her kitchen prove her wrong.

She gets up, quickly changing out of the dress she was wearing the night before, and follows the sound of clinking dishes. She’s greeted by the sight of a shirtless Ethan, back turned to her, hunched over her stove. There’s the smell of coffee brewing and something soft playing from the radio. If she doesn’t think too hard, she can almost imagine this being a daily occurrence.

He turns around when he hears the floorboards creak, a smile on his face, “Buongiorno amore mio.”

“Buongiorno.”

He hands her a cup of coffee and plates the pancakes he’s made. She smiles at the domesticality of it all. He sits down beside her on the couch and they eat in silence, leaning against one another. Afterwards, she washes the dishes and he dries them. Neither one of them says anything until the sun is high in the sky and they are laying in bed together. “I love you.”

It is the first time she’s said it in such a permanent way, she recites it like it is a fact written in history books. He looks down at her, she’s curled up on his chest, a hazy look on her face. He reaches down to tuck her hair behind her ear and leans his head towards her, “Ti voglio bene.” He seals the statement with a soft kiss.

It’s light and barley there, she chases after his lips as he pulls away, and he chuckles in a way that sends butterflies into her stomach. She places herself on his lap, weaving her fingers into his hair as his tether to her waist. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

He stares at her, memorizing all of the features of her face. He loses himself in thoughts of days spent exactly like this, of a life he hopes isn’t just a dream. He flips them over carefully, laying her down on the bed. He hovers over her, arms on either side of her head, “I’m going to show you how much I love you.”

December

“Move in with me.”

It’s early in the morning and they’re sitting in bed sharing a pot of coffee and a pack of cigarettes. His arm is wrapped around her shoulders, she’s leaned into his side, and he whispers those words.

She hasn’t yet told him about the offer from the band's manager, to become their permanent photographer, but it seems like the perfect moment to. “Yes.”

“Really?”

She laughs at his shock, “I was offered to come and work for the band full time, I haven’t replied yet. But I want to take the job.”

A goofy grin makes its way onto his face, “Do it! Right now. Tell them yes, come and stay with us. Be my girlfriend?”

He’s rambling and he doesn’t care. She smiles at him, her heart bursting with love for the man. “Okay, yes! Absolutely!”

Christmas is celebrated in their apartment in Rome. The band is there, her sister flies out and his family comes too. It is a day filled with love and laughter. They eat a grand lunch that they spent the previous day cooking, his mom brings a homemade panettone. They exchange gifts in the evening, and it is everything she’d dreamed of.

On New Year's Eve they make a trip to the villa. They sing songs and drink expensive wine. Fireworks light up the sky brighter than the stars. They sit out on the porch and tell stories of things that seem so far away. He’s sitting beside her, hands intertwined. He tells her about all of the things he wants to do in the new year and she is mesmerized by the way he talks.

There will be a moment in time when the world stops spinning and everything goes quiet, and she thinks that if that were to happen now, it would be the perfect way to go. Surrounded by the people she now calls family and the person she loves most in the world.

Fireworks go off in the distance, someone shouts out a drunken happy new year! and as time flows from one year to the next, she realizes that this is all that will ever matter.

318 notes · View notes

honeypiehotchner · 3 years

Text

My Deep Blue Love (Tom Hiddleston x Fem!Reader) -- Soulmate AU one shot

This was 100% born out of boredom and loneliness and those damn Soulmate AU POV Tiktoks that I have seen practically 24/7 for the past WEEK on my fyp

(I’m not sure if I’ll do a part 2, rn I have no plans for it)

quick note on the technicality of this one: you lose all ability to see colors when you turn 12 and you don’t regain the ability until you meet your soulmate. but! you have to meet them in person and it has to be a mutual eye contact. pictures/videos of them don’t work, and if you just saw the back of their head or something in person, that doesn’t work either. it’s all about the shared eye contact babeyyy

small disclaimer: Brie Larson is mentioned in here and she has a wife, but that is very much only in this fic, and as far as i know Brie doesn’t have a wife irl lol (i also don’t know if she’s spoken about her sexuality at all so what i’m saying is take it with a grain of salt ok)

Summary: Everyone around you is meeting their soulmate, but you still see in black and white. You’re ready to give up, and basically have, when you lock eyes with your soulmate.

Warnings: None! Just a bit of angst, lots of fluff toward the end

You knock on your mom’s bedroom door at 4:58am. She’s already awake, sitting up in bed, ushering you over.

With tears in your eyes, you crawl onto her bed, snuggling close to her chest.

“I don’t want to lose my colors,” you whimper.

“I know, baby,” she whispers, kissing the top of your head. “It’s okay.”

You were born 12 years ago on this day at 5:08am, so in a few short minutes, when you officially turn 12 years old, all color will drain from your life.

Or the colors could stay, but that’s only if you’ve somehow already met your soulmate. And that’s rare, nearly impossible.

You squeeze your eyes shut at 5:07 and you don’t open them again until 5:10.

The colors are gone.

+++

twenty years later

You sigh heavily as you receive yet another wedding invite. You are invited to witness the official beginning of Olivia and Jeffrey’s lives together as husband and wife, soulmates for all of time.

The glitter sticks to your fingertips, tiny black dots against your skin. Your friend told you it’s gold. You barely remember what that looks like.

Lately it seems like everyone has been meeting their soulmate. Just yesterday, you were having coffee with a friend when she looked up at the girl sitting behind you, and boom.

“It’s like the world just exploded,” she had said. Colors were everywhere. She immediately left you to go talk to the girl.

You don’t blame her for that. If you had met your soulmate, you probably would’ve done the same thing. But you can’t say for sure because you don’t know.

You wouldn’t be so cynical of it all if your boyfriend of five years didn’t meet his soulmate while the two of you were out at dinner. You wish you could say that he was faking it. But it was clear from his face (and the girl’s) that he wasn’t kidding. It was real. He had met his soulmate, and it wasn’t you.

It’s never you.

You’ve had guys cut off dates before they even start, all because they didn’t see colors when they laid their eyes on you. They refuse to even be friends with you.

All anyone is doing anymore is searching for a soulmate and it’s exhausting when none of them are yours. When all of your friends see color now. When everyone assures you that it’ll happen soon. What does soon even mean?

You grab your ice cream from the freezer and fall onto the couch, flicking to whatever channel has late night shows that aren’t complete garbage.

As usual, you find yourself watching a talk show, and tonight Tom Hiddleston is one of the guests.

You’re sort of familiar with him from a few movies, but other than that, you hardly know anything about him.

“So, Tom, we’ve all been wondering what’s going on with you and Brie Larson?”

“Brie?” Tom asks, clearly shocked to hear this question. “We’re just good friends, that’s all.”

“Oh, she doesn’t make you see any colors?”

“Ah, no, actually, she does not,” Tom chuckles, but doesn’t sound sad at all, surprisingly. “Her wife does that for her, not me, I’m afraid.”

“Oh really?” The host brushes past the mention of Brie’s wife and keeps the focus on Tom, of course. “So is that true, you still don’t see color?”

Your ears perk up at the mention of someone else not seeing in color. It’s rare for anyone to talk about this on television. Most celebrities don’t talk about whether or not they’ve found their soulmate, but more often than not, those that have are quite loud about it.

“Yes, that’s true,” Tom answers. “I still see the world in a lovely black and white.”

You snort, harshly jabbing your spoon into your ice cream. Lovely. Yeah, right.

“Do you really think it’s nice? Do you not miss the colors?” The host asks.

“No, no, I do. I do,” Tom admits. “But I like to think I’ll see them when the time is right.”

You groan, going to Google to look up his age. And when you see he’s 40, you groan even louder. He’s older than you and he still hasn’t met his soulmate. That’s just depressing. How can he sound so optimistic?

“Alright, well, if there’s one thing you wish you could tell your soulmate, what would it be? Maybe they’re watching right now, you never know.”

Tom smiles wide. “Maybe, maybe, um… Oh, so many things,” Tom exhales deeply. “I guess I could be cliché and say I can’t wait to meet them and wait for me, but I think I want to say… I think I want to say I understand. It is frustrating, still seeing in black and white, but our paths will cross soon, I’m sure of it. Until then, my eyes are blue.”

Blue. Blue.

You roll your eyes. You don’t even remember what the color looks like.

+++

seven months later

“I am not going to a movie premiere. You’re insane!”

“Please!” Your friend, Catherine, cries. “You’ll love it, I swear.”

You glare at her over your coffee. “That just makes it sound like you have a trick up your sleeve.”

“I don’t,” she says. “I just want you to take advantage of this and come with us! When will you ever have the chance to go to a movie premiere again?”

She has a point. Dammit. “Touché. How did you get tickets, anyway? Please tell me you didn’t spend thousands for this.” You wouldn’t put it past her, even though you tell her not to every time before she does something like this.

“God, no, Joe surprised me with them earlier. He said he went to school with the lead.”

“Oh. Cool. Who?”

“Tom Hiddleston, I think. Have you heard of him? He’s British, but that’s about all I know. Joe just said they ran into each other the other day and reconnected.”

You stop halfway through a sip of coffee, careful to not choke on it. Slowly, you nod. “Yeah. I...I’ve seen him in a couple things.”

“Apparently, he hasn’t met his soulmate either…” Catherine trails away, raising her eyebrows at you.

You roll your eyes. “I heard,” you set your cup down. “He’s probably met them by now though since he blasted it on television like that.”

“Or he’s still searching and you’re still being too cynical.”

“You’re probably right,” you chuckle.

“Sooo, you’ll come?”

You sigh heavily. “As long as you help me pick something to wear.”

+++

“I’m regretting letting you talk me into this already,” you mutter when you nearly trip in your heels.

“Oh, hush,” Catherine swats your arm. “It’s an excuse to get dressed up and look hot for no reason. Take it.”

“Fine.”

Catherine’s soulmate, Joe, was whisked away almost as soon as the three of you stepped inside the venue by some director (you think), but he promised to return in a few minutes. Catherine told him not to worry. She’s used to him being dragged away for conversation. You can see from her face that she’s more proud of him than anything, and not at all annoyed.

Currently, you and Catherine are standing near the small bar, waiting for them to announce that it’s time to take your seats. You desperately want a drink, but part of you knows it would be a bad idea.

One glass of wine can’t hurt, though. Maybe it’ll take your mind off the pain in your feet.

You peel away from Catherine when you see Joe coming back, and you flag the bartender down quickly.

After ordering a glass of white wine, you wait patiently, wishing you had chosen a dress with sleeves. It’s fucking cold in here.

“Darling, you’re shivering, are you alright?”

Your head turns toward the smooth voice, face set and mind trying to decipher whether or not it was a sincere or creepy comment when the world quite literally explodes.

There, standing beside you, concern written all over his face, is Tom Hiddleston. Only now the concern has washed away into awe when your eyes lock with his.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, stumbling even though he’s standing in place.

“Blue,” you murmur. “Your eyes are blue.” Without even thinking or asking, your hand lifts to cup his cheek, and then you pull back, “Shit, sorry—”

But he grabs your wrist gently, placing your palm on his cheek. “It’s alright.” His thumb strokes the back of your hand. “I have been looking everywhere for you.”

“I thought you didn’t exist,” you whisper in reply. But here he is. His eyes are blue, his lips are pink, he has tiny brown freckles all over his rosy cheeks. You look back to his eyes, narrowing your own. “You liar. Your eyes have green in them, too.”

“Do they really?” Tom chuckles. “I never would’ve known.”

“That’s why you have me,” you tease, and you don’t know where any of this is coming from, yet it doesn’t feel like you’re pretending. It feels like you’re finally yourself.

His other hand tangles with yours as he nods. “That’s why I have you, indeed.”

At this time, the lights in the theatre begin lightly flashing, signaling that it’s time for everyone to begin making their way to their seats.

But neither you or Tom move one inch.

The only issue is people are beginning to stare.

You notice it first, so you slowly pull your hand from his cheek. This movement shocks him back to reality, too, and he blinks a few times, yet he doesn’t let go of your hand.

“I, um, I have to make a speech,” he says. “But then I can come back to you. Will you save me a seat?”

“Don’t you have to sit up front?”

He nods. “I do, but—”

“Then I’ll come with you.” You aren’t sure if it’s the fact that he hasn’t let go of your hand yet, or if it’s because you’ve been waiting so long that now you don’t want him to be further than an arms length away from you, but you mean what you say.

“Are you sure?” He asks, but you both need to make a decision quickly because you can see someone waving from the wings, most likely trying to get Tom’s attention.

“I’m sure.”

He doesn’t question it, in fact, he grins, and brings your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “Let’s go, then.”

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x fem!reader #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x soulmate!reader #tom hiddleston soulmate au #soulmate au #tom hiddleston one shot #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #completely self indulgent #as always

490 notes · View notes