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delusional-day-dreamer · 2 months

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U My Everything; Part² - p.b

‣ paige x reader

‣ wc: 1891

‣‣ synopsis: a smutty part two of u my everything; after bitching out your girlfriend earlier that day, the two of you made up after a heartfelt apology. yet, you feel like there's still a little bit more you could do to truly make it up to paige.

‣‣‣ a/n: it's finally done y'all! only took me FOREVER, but somehow i got through it 🫡

Getting ready for bed that night, you felt a certain sense of peace while going through your nightly ritual. Just this morning, just brushing your teeth had brought you such aggravation that you took it out on your poor girlfriend, who was trying so hard to cheer you up.

You knew it didn't matter now, you had already apologized a few hours ago and Paige was one of the most understanding people you knew, but you still felt like there was something more you should do to convey how truly sorry you were for lashing out.

And an idea just so happened to formulate as you walked into Paige's bedroom, shutting the door as you took in the sight in front of you. Paige was sitting back against the headboard scrolling on her phone in a small one shoulder white bra, her lower body covered only by a very short pair of pajama shorts and her purple comforter.

Her effortless attractiveness was something you always admired: how her hair looked good no matter how she styled it, how her bare skin always seemed to glow, and of course, how your heart sped up at any glimpse of her toned, tan muscles and curves.

And tonight was no different, as Paige contently smiled at you from her relaxed position in bed, putting her phone down so she could beckon you next to her, fully expecting you to cuddle up into her under the warmth and comfort of her bed.

You could tell she wasn't expecting anything to happen tonight between the two of you due to your rough day, but if anything, the thought of watching her get off underneath you sounded like the perfect way to reconcile the past fifteen hours.

You grinned at your unsuspecting girlfriend, making your way over to her, crawling on the bed until you reached her lap, swinging your legs over to straddle her waist. Her eyes widened in surprise, but her hands came up to rest at your waist nonetheless.

"Hi there," she smiled up at you, one eyebrow raised as she waited to see what you would do from your current position, hands gently rubbing up and down your waist.

"Hi," you murmer back slyly, leaning in to capture her lips in a soft kiss. You lay a few chaste kisses onto her lips, cradling her face as you snaked one hand down to the exposed skin of her stomach.

"You know I was thinking about it," pulling away from Paige's lips to playfully gaze at her parted lips and confused expression, "I know I said I'm sorry for today, but don't you think it would be better if I showed you just how apologetic I really feel?"

You teasingly ran your fingers in small circles on her abdomen, feeling it contract at the ticklish sensation, combined with her growing desire for you.

"Hmm," she pretended to contemplate for a moment, brushing you hair back behind your ears.

"Well it would have to depend what you have in mind baby, don't you think?" She smirked back at you, pressing her hand firmly into your back to bring you in for another round of heated kisses.

You felt Paige whimper into your mouth as you slid your tongue between her lips, deepening the kiss as you ran your fingers down from her jaw to lightly tracing over the outline of her nipples now prominent through her thin bra.

You detached your mouth from hers, pressing wet kisses along her jaw to the sweet spot underneath her ear, suckling the skin between your teeth the way you knew she liked. She was never the type of person to be loud in bed, but you could tell you were breaking down her resolve as her breaths quickened, small sighs escaping from her lips as you nipped at the expanse of her neck, unbothered by the thought of the others seeing the hickeys left behind.

"Y/n don't tease like that, you said you were gonna make it up to me right ma?" Paige mumbled, her fingers intertwining in your hair to gently guide you off her neck.

"Whatever you want P," you smiled sweetly at her, shuffling off her lap and down the bed so you could make space for Paige to lay down against the pillows.

You eagerly pushed the hem of her bra top up and off her body as she finally made her way into the position you wanted, stretching yourself over your body so you could attach your mouth to her hardened nipple, using your hand to tug at the other one and alternating between sides.

Paige arched her chest into you at your ministrations, using her hand in your hair as an anchor to keep you in place, rolling her hips into yours as she felt the throbbing in her core deepen from the flicking of your tongue and the soft scrapes of your teeth against her sensitive peaks.

"Need more baby, please," she whimpered out, and who were you to deny such a polite request?

You popped your lips off her chest, leaning back on your knees as you undressed quickly, leaving you in just a cropped tank top and a pair of panties as you pulled back Paige's shorts with you, leaving her naked and sprawled out in front of you.

You pry her thighs open, peering down at the slick that had collected in between her folds, darting your tongue out to lick over your bottom lip.

"So wet for me baby, haven't even touched you properly yet P," you teased, lowering yourself down to your stomach so you were eye-level with her pussy.

"I swear bro, please just shut up and eat me," she groaned desperately. Glancing up at Paige's voice, husky with desire for you.

"My poor girl, so needy huh?" Despite your slight mocking, you gave in anyways, starting off gently with soft kitten licks on her clit, before sucking her clit into your mouth.

"Oh fuck," she moaned out quietly, her hips lifting off the mattress to meet your mouth.

You knew her restlessness meant that she needed more simulation, and you were more than happy to provide it to her. Running your fingers through her folds, you collected some of her slick as you eased your middle finger into her hole, moaning into her clit as you felt her clench around your finger.

"Just like that ma, fuck baby, doing so good for me," you curled another finger into her at this, appreciating the throaty moan you coaxed out of her as you massaged her g-spot.

"God y/n, I'm so fucking close, don't stop I swear to God, right there fuck, please," even without the steady stream of mindless babble that flowed openly from her mouth, the way her hand gripped your hair, pushing your face closer into her and her clenching around your fingers was a clear indicator she was close, and you knew just what she needed to push her over the edge.

"Play with your tits for me Paige, let go for me, just wanna see your pretty face when you come," the vibrations your mouth provided sent shivers up her spine, and the timing of your teeth grazing her clit, your fingers curling into her at just the right angle, and her harshly pinching her nipples lined up perfectly, the stimulation sending her flying over the edge with a loud moan.

You eased the speed of your fingers and mouth, providing just enough to let her ride the aftershocks of her orgasm before she melted into the bed, pulling your fingers out of her gently and sucking them clean as you took in her thoroughly fucked appearance.

"Fuck, I should really let you do that more often," Paige joked, eyes hooded as she holds back a laugh at your disheveled hair.

"Yeah you really should, don't know why you're so annoying about letting me fuck you as much as you do me," you complained, using your clean hand to smooth back some of your hair.

"Cause I like getting you off, which I really wanna do right now but I don't know if I can even get up again."

"Who said you need to get up?" The mischievous glint in your eyes sparked curiosity from Paige, before she realized what you were referring to.

"Then strip and get up here baby," Paige smirked at you, watching intently as you finally rid yourself of your panties and tank, throwing them on the floor mindlessly with the rest of yours and Paige's clothes before crawling your way up Paige, stopping around her tits first.

"You sure I'm not gonna suffocate you right?"

"I could not give less of a fuck about that baby, I just wanna taste you right now," she deadpanned, grabbing your ass cheeks to scoot you up further up to her face.

You hovered over her mouth slightly before lowering yourself down, sighing as her tongue massaged your leaking hole. You never had a problem prioritizing Paige's pleasure, since making her come only ever added to yours, and by the time you got her to finish, you were more than halfway to an orgasm already.

Which was apparent by the way you were rocking against Paige's mouth, a moan tearing it's way out of your throat when her nose nudged your clit at the perfect angle, shooting sparks through your core.

You grabbed onto her bed frame for stability, allowing yourself to ride her face fully as she hummed into your core, the vibrations tightening the coil threatening to snap at any given moment with the friction Paige was providing.

She snaked one of her hands up your body as she continued eating you out, rolling your nipple in between her fingers harshly as you whimpered, before latching onto your clit firmly, the pressure being just what you needed for your orgasm to crash into you, a long cascade of high-pitched moans and curses flowing from your mouth as you rode out your orgasm on Paige's tongue.

"Holy fuck," you panted, legs shaking as you lifted off of Paige's face and collapsed next to her, chest heaving as you attempted to catch your breath from the mindblowing orgasm she had just given you.

"Dude that was like eleven out of ten sex, that's crazy," Paige rolled over on her side, laughing at the incredulous expression you had on from her out of pocket statement.

"Out of all the things you could say, that's what you come up with?" You asked, shaking your head in mock disapproval, but you couldn't contain the grin that broke out at the way she went from fucking you dumb to cracking jokes in point five seconds.

"What can I say, you fucked the wit out of me."

"As if you had any in the first place."

"Hey! Take that back," she insisted, acting offended as she propped herself up on her elbow to peer down at you.

"Nope," you popped you lips, stretching your arms out above your head, smirking as you saw Paige's eyes momentarily drop down to your arched chest.

"Cheater," she mumbled, wrapping an arm around your back to pull you flush against her, meeting your lips in a soft kiss.

"Yeah well, you love it,"

"Yeah, I really do,"

a/n: hope you enjoyed, thank you for reading all the way through and supporting my work!

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pin-k-ink · 4 months

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kind of a weird request but can you write something about kageyama having a nursing kink ? kinda like an oral fixation but not really.

like, him having the need to just have his mouth on the reader’s boob in a non sexual way, you know ??

feel free to ignore this if it’s too weird 😭🙏

quintessence // kageyama tobio

tw ⇢ clingy and needy!kageyama, mentions of anxiety, it’s fucking fluffy, biting/marking, non sexual intimacy, nursing kink, implied lactation but it’s not explicitly stated

wc ⇢ 2k

a/n: i hope i did it right 💀

You stirred awake to the now-familiar sensation of Kageyama nuzzling into your cleavage, his strong arms banded around your waist as he pulled you flush against his muscular frame. Blinking blearily, you glanced at the clock. 3:14 AM. Right on schedule.

Over the past week, your boyfriend had developed a new nighttime ritual - one that involved using your breasts as his own personal pillows. He refused to settle down to sleep unless his face was firmly planted in your chest, nose nestled snugly between the soft mounds.

Not that you were complaining. There was something undeniably cute about the way he sought comfort in your embrace, his usually stern features relaxing ever so slightly as he burrowed into your warmth.

But even as Kageyama's breath fanned across your skin in deep, even puffs, you couldn't help but notice the furrow between his brows, the downward pull of his lips. He looked like a petulant child who'd been denied his favorite toy, even as he motorboated your chest in his sleep.

Stifling a fond snort, you gently combed your fingers through his dark hair, nails lightly scratching at his scalp in the way you knew he secretly loved.

"What's going on in that head of yours, Tobio?" you murmured softly. "You've been extra grumpy lately, even with the deluxe boob pillow treatment."

Kageyama grumbled something unintelligible into your cleavage, his arms tightening fractionally around your waist. Tilting his head, he shot you a bleary-eyed scowl.

"'M not grumpy," he mumbled petulantly. As if to illustrate his point, he promptly shoved his face back into your chest, rubbing his cheek against the soft swell of your breast in a move that was somehow both adorable and bratty.

You bit back a smile, knowing better than to push the issue when he got like this. Kageyama had never been one for talking about his feelings - getting him to open up was like trying to pry open a particularly stubborn clam.

"Alright, Mr. Not Grumpy," you teased lightly. "But you know you can always talk to me if something's bothering you, right? I'm here for you, no matter what."

Kageyama's only response was a muffled "Mmpf" as he burrowed impossibly deeper into your cleavage. Within moments, his breathing had evened out once more, the tension slowly leaching from his muscles as sleep reclaimed him.

You sighed softly, continuing your gentle ministrations through his hair as you let your own eyes drift shut. Kageyama might be a prickly, emotionally constipated handful at times, but he was your handful. And if motorboating your tits was what he needed to navigate whatever was bothering him, well...

There were certainly worse ways to spend your nights.

With that thought, you let yourself slip back into slumber, content to be your grumpy boyfriend's oversized teddy bear for the foreseeable future. He'd talk to you when he was ready.

Over the next few nights, Kageyama's restlessness seemed to intensify. He tossed and turned in his sleep, his brow furrowed and jaw clenched even as he clung to you like a lifeline. And his nightly nuzzling sessions were becoming increasingly...aggressive.

It started with little nips along the swell of your breasts - barely-there grazes of teeth that could almost be mistaken for accidental. But then you'd woken one morning to find a smattering of faint red marks blooming across your chest, telltale evidence of Kageyama's midnight mouthing.

At first, you'd written it off as an unconscious quirk, a manifestation of whatever stress was plaguing him. But as the love bites grew darker and more frequent, you couldn't help but wonder if there was something more to his fixation.

"Tobio," you murmured one night, hissing softly as he latched onto a particularly sensitive spot just above your left nipple. "Easy, baby. That's gonna leave a mark."

Kageyama merely grunted, his arms tightening possessively around your waist as he continued his ministrations. A muffled groan rumbled through his chest as he suckled at your skin, teeth scraping against the tender flesh.

"Hey," you tried again, gently tugging at his hair to get his attention. "Not that I'm not enjoying the enthusiasm, but what's gotten into you lately? You've been extra...bitey."

Kageyama stilled, his face still buried in your cleavage. For a moment, you thought he might have fallen back to sleep. But then he sighed, his breath hot against your dampened skin.

"I just..." he mumbled, his voice muffled and slightly hesitant. "I need...I can't..."

He trailed off, his brow furrowing as he struggled to find the words. You waited patiently, one hand absently stroking his hair while the other rubbed soothing circles between his shoulder blades.

"I don't know," Kageyama finally bit out, frustration evident in his tone. "I just...need you. Need this." As if to punctuate his point, he nuzzled deeper into your chest, his nose nudging the underside of your breast.

Your heart clenched at the vulnerability in his voice, the uncharacteristic openness. It wasn't like Kageyama to admit to needing anyone or anything. For him to confess his desire for closeness, for comfort...it spoke volumes.

"Oh, Tobio," you murmured, pressing a tender kiss to his hair. "I'm right here, baby. I'm not going anywhere."

You felt him shudder against you, his arms tightening fractionally around your waist. "Promise?" he mumbled, the single word laced with a fragility that made your throat tighten.

"I promise," you whispered fiercely. "You've got me, Tobio. Always."

Kageyama made a noise of contentment, the tension slowly draining from his frame as he melted into your embrace. His face tucked back into your cleavage, nose nestled snugly between your breasts as he inhaled deeply.

You held him close, your heartbeat gradually syncing with his as you let the quiet of the night envelop you both. Maybe you didn't have all the answers yet, maybe Kageyama still had some emotional unpacking to do...

But for now, this was enough. You were enough. And you'd happily be his human stress ball for as long as he needed, bite marks and all.

Just as you were drifting off, you felt Kageyama press a soft, almost reverent kiss to the center of your chest - right above your heart.

"Love you," he mumbled sleepily, the words slightly slurred but unmistakable.

A smile tugged at your lips, your own heart swelling with affection for your adorably grumpy boyfriend.

"Love you too, Tobio," you whispered back. "Even when you're using my boobs as a teething ring."

A muffled snort was his only reply, but you could've sworn you felt him smile against your skin.

You were pulled from a dreamless sleep by the sensation of Kageyama shifting restlessly beside you, his nose nudging insistently at the swell of your breast. Blinking blearily, you glanced down at him, taking in the pinched expression on his face even as he nuzzled deeper into your cleavage.

"Tobio?" you murmured, your voice rough with sleep. "What's wrong, baby?"

Kageyama stilled, his face still tucked firmly against your chest. For a long moment, he said nothing, the only sound in the room his slightly uneven breathing. Then, so quietly you almost missed it:

"Can I...can I suck on you?"

Your breath hitched, your sleep-addled brain struggling to process his request. "You...what?"

Kageyama made a small, frustrated noise, his arms tightening around your waist as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. Even in the darkness, you could make out the dusting of pink across his cheekbones, the bashful set of his mouth.

"I want to...your boobs," he mumbled, his eyes skittering away from yours as he spoke. "Can I..." He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Please?"

Oh. Oh.

Suddenly, everything clicked into place - the restlessness, the clinginess, the constant nuzzling and nipping at your breasts. Kageyama had been trying to communicate his needs the only way he knew how, through touch and subtle cues.

Your heart melted, a rush of tenderness and understanding washing over you. Reaching out, you cupped his cheek, gently guiding his gaze back to yours.

"Of course, Tobio," you murmured, your thumb stroking his cheekbone. "Whatever you need, baby."

Kageyama's eyes widened fractionally, a mix of relief and gratitude flashing across his face. Ducking his head, he pressed a chaste, almost reverent kiss to the center of your chest before slowly trailing his lips down to the swell of your breast.

With a shaky exhale, you arched into his touch, one hand coming up to cradle the back of his head as he mouthed at your nipple through the thin fabric of your sleep shirt. Kageyama groaned softly, his tongue laving over the sensitive bud as it pebbled beneath his ministrations.

Shifting slightly, you tugged your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. Kageyama made a small, needy noise at the reveal of your bare chest, his hands coming up to cup the soft mounds reverently.

"Go ahead, baby," you encouraged gently, guiding his head back to your breast. "I've got you."

With a shuddering sigh, Kageyama latched onto your nipple, his lips sealing around the sensitive peak as he began to suckle. His eyes fluttered shut, his brow smoothing and shoulders loosening as he lost himself in the soothing, rhythmic pulls.

You cradled him close, your fingers gently carding through his hair as he sucked. There was something profoundly intimate about the moment, a vulnerability and trust that went beyond mere physical pleasure. This was about comfort, connection, a primal need for closeness and reassurance.

As Kageyama continued to suckle, soft, contented sounds rumbling from his chest, you felt your own eyes grow heavy. The steady draw of his mouth, the weight of him in your arms...it was soothing in a way you couldn't quite describe.

From that night forward, nursing became a regular part of your bedtime routine. As soon as the lights went out, Kageyama would curl into you, his head finding its way to your chest like a moth drawn to a flame. He'd nuzzle and mouth at your breasts, his touches soft and reverent, until you guided him to your nipple with a murmured encouragement.

Each night, as he suckled, you'd feel the tension drain from his body, the furrow between his brows smoothing out as he lost himself in the soothing, rhythmic pulls. It was a moment of pure, uncomplicated comfort - a respite from the pressures and expectations of the outside world.

For Kageyama, nursing wasn't about sex or arousal. It was about connection, about grounding himself in the solid reassurance of your presence. It was a way to quiet the noise in his head, to ease the constant thrum of anxiety that came with being a competitive athlete.

And for you...it was a privilege, a sign of the unshakable trust and intimacy you shared. There was something profoundly moving about being able to provide that comfort, that safe space for your partner to simply be.

Of course, it wasn't always easy. There were nights when Kageyama was restless, when the stress of the day clung to him like a second skin. Nights when he'd suckle for hours, his brow pinched and jaw tight even as he clung to your breast like a lifeline.

But you never wavered, never pushed him away. You held him close, your fingers stroking his hair and your heartbeat steady beneath his ear.

Gradually, as the weeks passed, you began to notice a change in Kageyama. His smiles came a little easier, his shoulders sat a little lighter. He laughed more freely, the sound rich and warm in a way that made your heart flutter.

And when he looked at you...god, when he looked at you, it was like staring into the sun. His gaze held a softness, a depth of affection and gratitude that stole your breath and ignited your soul.

You knew that nursing wasn't a magic fix, that Kageyama still had plenty of battles to fight and demons to face. But now...now he had an anchor, a touchstone to come home to at the end of each day.

And that? That made all the difference.

So every night, when Kageyama curled into you, his breath hot against your chest and his lips seeking out your nipple...you simply held him close and let him take what he needed.

Because in the end, that's what love was all about. Giving, receiving, and finding solace in the spaces between.

Even if those spaces happened to be in your cleavage.

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cuntinies · 3 days

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Take it off

summary: fwb!sub!abby x reader

warnings: fwb! abby, mentions of marijuana usage, sub! abby, teasing, nipple play, cunnilingus, making out, fingering, needy abby because it's my favorite. proof read-ish. lmk if i missed anything

Fall time was the best time. The stuffy, clammy summer air is gone, and the brisk fall air enters your lungs. The sound of the crunchy leaves under your feet, warm drinks, and smoke seshes in your nice, warm home. You love it.

But.. it also means cuffing season, and you weren't getting any of that because Abby decided to stop seeing you. You know you are not supposed to get attached while being friends with benefits, but fucking hell, it was Abby for crying out loud. It was normal for Abby to ghost you for 2-3 days, but a whole week? The beginning of the season has been shit for you.

You set up your nightly, ritually smoke sesh in your room. Sitting down on your cozy floor table, convenient for times like these, you start preparing your spread. Rolling papers that left a lingering taste of strawberries, the grinder that you decorated with stickers, your lucky lighter that is always with you, and finally, your precious herb that was in a small glass jar. You put on your favorite show and start getting comfortable until you hear Abby’s signature two knocks. You feel your heart drop literally to your ass. You wait for about 2 minutes until you listen to it again.

Knock, knock.

“Are you fucking kidding me..” you mutter, pushing the table as you stretch your legs. Grabbing the first item of clothing in your hamper, you slip on a hoodie and quickly walk to the door. Opening the door where you meet a deliciously looking blonde-haired girl. Hair out of her braid and shorts that accentuate the muscles on her thighs. She looks too good, and she knows it.

“What do you need?” you said, not even a hello and not even opening the door all the way. Abby puts her arm in the doorway.

“Aw, did you miss me?” she asks, using her body weight to push the door open, pushing you with it. She lets herself inside, already looking around your living room.

“C’mon, Abby. What do you need? You want to call us off for a week and show up at my house without letting me know?” You say as you close the door, following her into your living room. You instantly regret letting this woman back into your home again. The smell of her pine body wash, the sandalwood perfume she wore, and the warmth she emitted from her was enough to open your arms(or your legs) to her again.

“The thing is..” Abby starts, but as she sits on the couch, a sly smirk creeps on her face. You bite your bottom lip, aware of the effect Abby has on you, so if she smiles, you can’t help but smile.

“Take it off,” Abby says, making herself comfortable by spreading her legs, seeing how her shorts ride up and can get a peek of her baby blue spandex shorts. You feel your face warm up, trying to keep your eyes above her waist.

“E-excuse me?” was all you could say as you stared at her in disbelief.

She raises her eyebrows. “That hoodie,” she says, pointing to the exact hoodie you had on. “I came to get it back with a few of my other things.”

Shit.

“Look, I'm sorry,” sighing to mostly yourself. Abby reminded you that she wanted her stuff back, and because of the sudden disconnect between you two, you didn’t have the time. You took a moment to look around you, seeing if there were any remnants of her presence still lingering in your home. “I haven't done any laundry and just grabbed whatever was in my hamper. Tomorrow, I'll have a look around.”

Abby shakes her head with that same stupid smirk on her face. She flips her hair to the side and loosens the neck of her hoodie collar Was she hot..?

“No. I want you to take it off. Right now,” She says in that tone that you're familiar with. A deep, dulcet, yet desperate.

You feel this fluttering hurt in your stomach, the good kind. You haven’t slept with anyone since Abby, and she looks like she needs you…

Fuck it.

You grab the bottom of the hoodie, lifting it and revealing your naked top half. Your skin litters with goosebumps, feeling the slight chill air around you, but the warm liquid swimming in your belly is another thing. You see the light pink blush painting Abby’s cheeks as you toss the hoodie. Fuck she’s so cute. Abby catches it but tosses the hoodie to the side and yanks your hand as you fall on top of her.

“Abby!” you let out a small yelp as she melts her lips to yours. The way Abby was kissing you was enough to tell you that this girl was needy. Hertongue finds yours, teeth clashing, letting out small, quiet moans and whines as her grip on your arm tightens. You break the kiss, taking a good look at her glossy lips, her eyes drooped with arousal, and how her hair is already mused.

“And you said that I missed you? Look at you, poor baby.” You whisper in the space between the two of you, letting your lips linger but not enough for the needy girl below you to get another taste.

Abby’s eyes widen for a second, opening her mouth to say something but closing it with a flustered face.

“You missed me so much,” You say as your hand creeps up on the muscular thigh, so close to where she needs you. She shifts, wanting to get you between her legs, but you’re already one step ahead of her. You move your knee, having good pressure against Abby that has her slightly bucking her eager hips. “That you came over to get a stupid sweater?”

Abby’s eyebrows furrow, and she shakes her head. This cute, puzzled look on her face makes you want to bury her in kisses, but you’re supposed to be mad at her. You lean back into her lips, biting, sucking, anything that works her up. Abby is putty below you. She lets out these moans that you’ve never heard before, high-pitched mewls that make you bite her lip harder. Your hand creeps up her thigh, up into the crewneck, and you are met with her bare, sensitive chest, rising and falling rapidly You smile into the kiss, not wanting to embarrass her even more for coming over prepared. You grope her chest, fondling with the fat that lay there and playing with the pebbling nipple. Abby breaks the kiss, inhaling sharply.

“Ah- please.” She gasps, bucking her hips again. This was a completely different side of her. Abby has received from you, and she is pretty vocal in bed, but this fucking submissive? It makes you want to deprive her for weeks on end. You break the kiss, hurridly helping Abby take off her crewneck and attaching your mouth to her boob. Circling your tongue around the rose-colored nipple has Abby holding her breath. After a few minutes of playing with her chest, you trail kisses down to the navel. You didn’t even have to ask, as Abby was quick to slip her shorts off, tossing them somewhere in the living room.

“Mmm, needy, aren’t we?” looking into her eyes as you mutter against her hip bone, skin almost feverish to how warm she was. Abby rolls her eyes, the sass still somehow in her.

“Fuck yes, ok? Please, baby,” Abby whines, throwing her head back onto the couch armrest. She reveals her neck, sweat droplets cascade slowly, accentuating the veins that played there. Fingers are dancing up her leg, in between where you see how desperate her cunt is. Glistening, soft pink flesh and her musk have you blacking out slightly.

“I want you to look at me, Abby.” You said, patting her thigh to grab her attention as you met with her eyes. It’s as if she was god himself. Her fucked out expression made you clench around nothing.

“Good girl” was the last thing you said as you stuck your tongue out and licked a fat stripe of her pussy. Abby can't help but close her eyes, too overwhelmed by your teasing tongue.

“Nuh uh, look at me. I want you to watch, baby,” putting your tongue away, smoothing her shaking thighs over with your hands. She nods eagerly, raking her hair out of her face. You bite back a smile before diving in again. Spreading her open with your mouth, Abby was so wet. Slick coating your chin, you move your hand over to pull back her clit to kiss it. Moans strung out from the blonde above, not caring how loud she was getting. She grabs your hair and makes a satisfying pull to your scalp that has you groaning into her cunt. You alternate between sucking, licking, sucking, licking. Your head is spinning as you prop yourself on your elbows, applying the pressure of two fingers dancing on her clit, your jaw feeling sore. Smiling at the cute, blissed-out expression on Abby’s face makes you want to be between her legs all night.

“Are you close?” you ask, voice hoarse after not speaking for the last 3 minutes. Abby doesn't dare to open her eyes, knowing that if she makes eye contact with you, she’ll come too fast. She nods, eyebrows furrowed as she nibbles on her swollen bottom lip from the constant biting she does. You allow it this time, allowing Abby to take in the euphoric blooming in her stomach. You really shouldn’t, wishing you had prolonged her orgasm as a punishment for ghosting you and making you suffer every night.

“Come for me, baby, yeah? Show me how bad you want this” Famous last words before you attached your mouth back onto her clit, switching your finger to easily slip into her. Pumping your index finger in a “come hither” motion, feeling her clench around you.

“Fuck fuck, please, I’m coming. K-keep-ah-doing that,” She hisses as her body seizes, fingers gripping so good in your scalp. Strong thighs clamp around your head as you lazily lick at her rosy clit with a grin.

Who knew Abby could be so fucking needy?

a/n: heyyyyyyy, sorry i was on hiatus for a while. i suddenly got the motivation to write, so do what you will with this

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x you #abby anderson drabble

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honnelander · 1 year

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You know what I was thinking about? reader decides to make Sanji(thr rest of the crew are sleeping, and since she always helps him with the dishes they're always the last ones) she decides to make him her favorite desert from back home. She's not a great cook like Sanji, but she made with such love and care(plus it's really good) that he can't help but be with heart eyes all the time. What do you think?

hiii i loved this request! here is how go fish! Sanji would react to reader making him her favorite dessert:

(once again i get carried away lol)

masterlist

"What's your favorite dessert?" you ask, completely out of the blue one night.

Sanji blinked a few times, trying to focus and gather his thoughts at your sudden question.

It was a typical Tuesday night on the Going Merry, where both of you were doing your unofficial nightly ritual of washing the dishes together after Sanji had served everyone another delicious evening meal, when you had broken the comfortable silence with your seemingly random question.

The blonde cook frowned slightly at the soapy sink water, sponge in hand as he continued scrubbing the saute pan. "Uh- I'm actually not too sure, love," he answered, rinsing off the pan with clean water before handing it over to you. "Why?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow slightly as he casted you a curious glance.

You took the dripping pan from him, shrugging. "Just curious," you hummed. "I like knowing things about you."

Sanji felt his heart flutter at your kind words as the corner of his mouth twitched upwards. "Ah, you're too kind to me Missus." He licked his bottom lip, trying his best to contain his ever-growing smile as he washed a plate. "What about you?"

"Huh?" You asked, drying the pan, like you snapped out of a daze.

Sanji had a full-blown smile now, laughing slightly. You were too cute for your own good. "Dessert," he replied patiently. He turned his head to look at you, bumping his hip with yours as he asked, "What's your favorite dessert?"

Now, sometimes Sanji couldn't help it. He just had to flirt with you. Sometimes you just made it too easy for him.

And damn if you didn't look cute when you blushed.

He leaned in towards you, his voice dipping lowly as he nearly purred, "Anything you see right now?"

"Well-" you sputtered, face turning scarlet as you nearly dropped the pan. "I, uh, I'm full. Actually."

Sanji tried his best to suppress his smile at your adorable antics as he resumed cleaning the plate in his hand. "Oh?"

"Yeah," you replied quickly. After a moment, you placed the dry pan on the dish mat. "But, um, maybe later?"

At your unsure question, Sanji felt his ears literally perk up as he repeated, "Later?"

He couldn't help it, his thoughts were running wild at the thought of you actually picking up what he was putting down. Was this really happening?

"Uh, yeah," you said, your reply sounding more like a question than an answer. You took a deep breath, your voice sounding more sure as you said, "Yeah. Later." You locked eyes with his surprised ones. "Come back here later. At midnight."

-------- ----

In his quarters, Sanji was wide awake. Laying on his bunk, he stared up at the ceiling as he mindlessly played with the cap on his lighter.

Click.

Were you serious? Did you actually ask him to meet up for a late-night rendezvous? Ahem- 'dessert'?

Click.

Ever since Nami had called him out on his, uh, crush on you, he was ashamed to admit that he found himself dreaming of something like this happening between you both for a while.

Click.

He liked to tease and flirt with you whenever he felt like it, loving the way you would just get so shy around him all of a sudden. It was just too cute for words. He was perfectly content at the moment with watching you from afar, when you were off in your own world, not realizing the beauty you emanated from purely existing.

And now you had picked up on his innuendo and were actually scheduling a meet-up?

Click.

Sanji could practically feel the nerves on his skin tingle from excitement, his heart beating faster than normal.

He's never actually had a woman return any kind of affection for him before, and if he laid here in bed any longer he felt like he was going to combust.

Clink. Sanji snapped his silver metal lighter shut as he sat up in bed, immediately finding the clock on the wall to read the time:

11:40

Ugh. It wasn't 12 exactly, but he simply couldn't just wait in his room any longer. It'd been hours since you both had finished up the dishes and these few hours of waiting had been absolute torture.

He got out of bed, wearing his usual pants and blue-striped button-down with a tie, even his shoes were on still, as he pocketed his lighter deciding to just go wait for you in the kitchen. You were pretty adamant about the meet-up time being 12 exactly, but he simply couldn't wait any longer.

Quietly, he opened the door of his room and carefully made his way towards the kitchen, trying to be as silent as he could. The ship was practically pitch-black since it was basically the middle of the night, but the closer he got towards the kitchen, he saw that a few lights were already on.

"Shit," he heard your whispered hiss. "I thought this would look better...oh my god. What if he hates this?"

His brows furrowed. Were you talking about him? Hating something you had done? He couldn't ever imagine that happening.

When he made it to the kitchen, the sight he was greeted with brought a smile to his face. There you were facing him, hunched over a whimsically decorated pink, yellow, white, and red cake, your face scrunched up in concentration, and the kitchen looking a bit of a mess.

As cute as the sight was, he couldn't help but be completely confused at what was going on. Didn't both of you just clean this entire kitchen only a few hours ago?......did you even go to bed at all?

This certainly wasn't the, uh, rendezvous he was expecting, but this was somehow better. He never knew what to expect with you and he loved that.

"Y/n?" he called out quietly.

You flinched at the sound of his voice, immediately straightening up, your eyes full of shock and surprise. "Sanji!" You put a hand over your heart. "Geez, you scared the hell out of me." You frowned slightly. "You were supposed to be here at 12."

The blonde cook took a couple of steps towards the counter, placing his hands on the edge as he leaned forward against it, examining the disarray before him, a small confused smile on his face. "What's going on here?"

"Um, well," you rubbed the back of your neck. "I wasn't quite ready yet...and I thought this would all look better...but, surprise..." you trailed off a bit lamely, slowly opening up your arms with an embarrassed smile.

Sanji cocked his head to the side. "Surprise for who?"

"You."

Now he was really confused. "Me?"

"Yeah." You were quiet for a moment, taking a deep breath and looked up at him, your expression soft and tender. "Happy anniversary Sanji."

"Well- I," Sanji stuttered. He was so terribly confused what you were on about but your expression didn't change. It was like you were waiting for him to realize what you were talking about. He let out a small breath. "I'm sorry, y/n. What are you talking about, sweetheart? What anniversary?"

Was he already dating you and it was an important anniversary for you both? Was he dreaming?

"Well, technically it's not your anniversary yet. But at midnight, it will be. It'll be ten years to the day..." you trailed off, looking down at the cake you made.

Ten years?

Suddenly, it all made sense to him. Everything. It was his ten-year anniversary....of being saved from that rock he was stranded on, with Zeff. The day that he would count as one of the happiest and hardest days of his life simultaneously.

He swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice from wavering as best he could. "Ten years from he day I was saved..." He took a steadying breath as he looked at you.

As hard as the day was for him, he couldn't believe that you actually remembered the date. He had told you part of his horrible back story months ago when he had met you, right around the time when he told Luffy that story. Never did he think that you would do so much as to even remember the month and day of when he had gotten saved. The day he got a second chance at life.

"You remembered?" he asked incredulously.

"Of course I did," you say simply, not offended by his question at all. You looked at him with a small smile, a twinkle in your eye. "It's the day that saved your life." In a quieter tone, you looked back down at your cake, a hint of embarrassment in your words, "If this day didn't happen ten years ago, I never would've met you. And I can't imagine never meeting you."

Sanji felt frozen in place as he stared at you. He felt his heartrate skyrocket.

But you weren't done with your sweet words. "Whenever you talked about that time in your life, you're always so sad over it. And rightfully so!" you quickly added, looking at him, your face flushing slightly. "But I don't want you to be sad over it anymore. So I figured I would make you your favorite dessert and surprise you with it so we could celebrate this day together but..."

You never told me what your favorite dessert was, were the unspoken words that hung in the air.

Truthfully, he wasn't a huge dessert person so he truly didn't have an answer when you had asked earlier but that didn't mean he didn't know a few desserts or two. He quickly scanned over your baked creation, looking at the details more closely and a smile twitched on his face when he realized the kind of cake you made.

"Is that a strawberry lemon cake?" he asked, his crooked smile growing wider when he saw your eyes light up.

Instantly, you looked up at him, immediately making eye contact with him, your face full of surprise. "Y-yes! It is...how'd you know..?"

"Ah, don't you know who you're talking to? The greatest chef in all of the four seas?" he asked playfully. "I know a strawberry lemon cake whenever I see one." Seeing the pair of forks and small plates you had already set out for you both, Sanji reached for a fork, looking at you with a raised brow. "May I?"

"Of course," you quickly nodded, gesturing for him to dig in.

As he took a forkful off the edge and put the dessert in his mouth, the sweetness and flavors immediately dancing on his tongue, you told him something sweet as he tasted something sweet.

"This is actually my favorite dessert," you admitted. Playing with hem of your apron (which he noted you looked so adorable in), you looked at him full of apprehension. "Do you like it? I think I could've done a better job..."

"This is the best thing I've ever tasted," he said without thinking.

And was he lying? Absolutely not. Since he was a cook, he was accustomed to so-called 'perfect meals' and all other 'amazing' creations. But this? A sweet cake made with love that was actually good? It was the truth: this was the best thing he'd ever had and he now had a favorite dessert, your strawberry lemon cakes.

"Ah, you're just saying that..."

"I'm serious." Sanji straightened up. "Something as good as this, made with love by you? And for such a...special occasion? I'm serious, y/n." He made sure he locked eyes with you, hoping you could feel everything he was feeling. "This is truly, the best thing I've ever had."

At his genuine compliment, he saw your apprehension melt away, that look being taken over by a look that radiated happiness. You were beaming. "Aw, Sanji," you said bashfully, waving him off slightly, a slight dusting of pink on your cheeks. "Well, thank you."

As he slowly made his way around the counter to be closer to you, he asked, "Wanna tell me how you made this incredible creation, Missus? I've never made one before."

At the opportunity to teach the Going Merry's chef something about food, an excited smile broke out across your face as you started explaining how you made your favorite dessert, launching into an animated explanation.

Once he was on the same side of the counter as you, practically a foot away but wanting to be closer, needing to touch you in some way but holding himself back, he listened to you explain every detail to him with a full feeling in his heart and a soft smile on his face.

Never before had someone done such a sweet and kind act for him, trying to help him heal from one of his traumas, but here you were, up all night practically so you could surprise him. The longer he looked at you, the more certain that yeah, Nami was right. He didn't like you as a friend. He liked you much more than a friend should.

He had feelings for you.

taglist: @mischiefmanaged71 @smolracoon25 @smol-book-nerd @shuujin @amanda08319 @nimtano @your-platonic-gay-lover @lovelymrvl @whiskeypowder @jovialcat123 @xtigerlily @shadowwolf1864 @quixscentsposts @guidingstarsstuff @ateliefloresdaprimavera @chexmixtrys @princettecharlie @amitydoodlez @the-maladaptive-daydreamers @abracarabbit @commanderfreethatdust @lordbugs @sweet-little-nothings @geisterfvhrer @kenkenmaaa @dazaisfavgf @fan-goddess @shadydeanmuffin @cherrypie5 @sauceonmyshorts @hhighkey @gimmebackmyskeeball @he4vens-ang3l @selcouthaesthetics @sapphireonline @dory-98 @redskull199987 @teenyforestfairy @acupnoodle @strwberryii @luna0713hunter @tinydonkeysforlife @rand0m--fangirl @stevenknightmarc

#sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #sanji vinsmoke x reader #sanji x you #sanji x y/n #opla!sanji x reader #one piece fanfiction #go fish! au #mutual pining #one piece live action #sanji fanfiction #one piece x reader #idiots in love

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carame1bunny · 5 months

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𝔊𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔫𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱, 𝔪𝔶 𝔡𝔬𝔢

pairing: Alastor x fem!Reader

summary: Alastor comforts his little doe to sleep

warning: none! just some fluff and ooc Alastor:)

No one knew of Alastor’s little nightly ritual. After everyone went to sleep, he made his way down to the bar for a cold glass of whiskey. To clear his head and have some silence to himself.

Except, he wasn’t alone tonight…

Y/N was somewhat new at the Hazbin Hotel. She arrived in hell confused, disoriented and alone. She was wandering around the Vee tower, when she spotted the commercial on one of the televisions. A shelter she could go to. The Hazbin family took her in quickly and she enjoyed being there, she wasn’t cold, hungry, nor alone anymore. She was a big help to Charlie too, always helping her with the redemption exercises.

Alastor took notice of her the second he saw her. A deer like him, except that he was a big scary buck and she was a lovely doe. He never made a move on her, afraid that he would mess even a tiny bit with her sensitive little heart. But, he would always do little gestures for her. Helping her out here and there, and always stocking up on those little heart shaped chocolates she liked.

But back to tonight.

While he was on his way to the bar, he heard a little sniff from the parlor, he felt his heart tighten when he saw the doe curled up on the couch. Her little fluffy ears were hanging low and her pink nose was twitching sadly.

She didn’t even see the Radio Demon coming down, and her eyes widened when she heard his static voice.

“Is everything alright, my doe?” When she looked up, he was towering over her curled up position, and looking down at her with that lovey-dovey gaze, a rare sight to see.

“I’m okay, no biggie.” She tried to mush a smile onto her face, but he saw right through her.

He took a seat next to her and pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket, handing it to her, which she took gratefully.

“Don’t be shy. Feel free to tell me whatever is hurting your little heart.” When he said this, the dam broke. Her tears started flowing down her cheeks, and her lips were morphed into an adorable pout. “Oh, little doe.” He gathered her up in his arms and put her on his lap, she put her head on his chest. He felt her body shaking as she weeped in his arms.

His clawed hands gently caressed the top of her head, stroking her soft ears that were connected to her fluffy hair.

He spoke again, when her shaking lessened.

“Do tell, my dear, what got you so upset?” He said while he positioned her head, so she was looking up at him.

“I just had a long day. I was out, because Charlie needed more colored pencils and some guy on the street started talking to me.” Her lips wobbled again at the memory.

“What did he say?” He let her rest on his chest, and this way, she couldn’t see the way his face was turning into a more demonic expression. Who dared to h̴̩͛͒͆͑̐̄͂̀͝͝u̵͓͚̖͍͎͒̾̽́̈́̚̚͘ŗ̵̟͚̝͇͗̒̋́́̈́̀́t̵̨̤̺̟̳̝̔́̕͠ͅ ̷͈̩̔̾̐̾͐̂̑̕͜͝͠ḧ̷̨̖̪̲́͂̂̏́̈́̆͝ị̴̧̠̺͉̫͇̞̙̽̈ͅs̴̡̖͓̠͋̓̏̈́̒̕͘ ̶̳̳̘̘͚̭̳̟̪͙̏l̷̬̻̯͉̐̈́̃͘i̵̛̥̞̙̠̪̮̻t̴̡͎̮̬͍̦͕͑̐͗̈́̾̐͝ţ̷͎̥̪̻͕̠͓͉͈̇̈́̈͗̚̚l̴͉̎̿̐̇̆́͒́̆̃e̴͍̣̼̓ ̶̢̗͍̟͈̹̉̉̇͜d̶͙͉̻̗͚̬̦͎̖̖̂̀͊͝ơ̶̛̲̩̻͕̤̙̜̹͓̂͠ͅe̵͙̳̙̻̫̱̅͑͝?

“Disgusting things…”

He leaned back, so she was laying on his lap. With a snap of his fingers, a soft blanket was on her. “Well, you deserve to be treated nicely and gently.” He looked down into her doe eyes. “Don’t listen to those awful people, but if they dare to say another nasty word to you, just tell me. And I’ll make sure they won’t speak another word in their pathetic afterlife ever again.”

She smiled softly and snuggled between his shoulder blade and neck. She spoke with a sweet whisper. “Thank you, Alastor, truly.”

“No need, as I said, you deserve all the lovely things.” Her soft hair was tickling his neck, and he found himself nuzzling more into it.

“Sleep now, I’ll make sure to guard your dreams.” But he realized that her face was already relaxed and her breaths were even. He planted a kiss on her head, and her ears flattened from the softness of his lips.

“Good night, my doe.”

Yes, tomorrow he will make sure to find that bitch that disrespected her and hunt him down.

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juuuulez · 3 months

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📰 | carmen berzatto x reader ; “Proximity.”

info: Carmen Berzatto x Reader, no pronouns (but written with fem! in mind), NYC era, tired Carmy, mentions of alcohol, mentions of drugs (cocaine/weed), you’re Carmen’s roommate.

summary: Carmen is your roommate: who happens to have terrible sleeping habits.

we rot, thinkin' lots about nothing / yeah, i could spend a lifetime / sitting here talkin' — comfort crowd, conan gray.

i don't feel like nothing special / i snag my tights out on the lawn chair / guess i’m a mess and play the role — i might say something stupid, charli xcx.

okay so BASICALLY this is kid krow boyfriend x brat girlfriend. expect three parts to this cute lil series my slayers. i’m insatiable and music makes me write.

“Jesus, what’ve I said about sleepin’ on the couch?”

Your voice is a shrill whine in the small apartment. The space itself is dingy, a two-bedroom joint in New York City. Mess forms on just about every surface, namely the coffee table, stacked high with a combination of culinary books, trays of pencils, and dirtied ashtrays.

Heels clack as you clamber into the living room, dropping down to your knees aside the couch. Carmy is dead to the world, passed out with his face pressed into the cushion, hair all tangled and wild.

You grab onto his shoulder, trying to push him upright with an exasperated groan. It doesn’t work. Finally, you use sharp, manicured nails to tug at his ear, a sharp pinch that finally awakens your roommate.

“Fuck.” Carmen grumbles, only pushing his face deeper into the pillow to evade any further scolding.

“Get off the couch, asshole.” You continue to berate him, “You pay for a room, so go sleep in it.”

Living in New York was expensive. So, you advertised for taking in a roommate. Someone lowkey who would stay out of your business, keep their shit to themselves, and best case scenario, help cook every now and then.

Carmen Berzatto seemed like the jackpot.

Except he was run absolutely ragged. Sure, the restaurant he worked at was classy, whatever. You didn’t care enough to indulge in the details. But the man would work for hours on end, and pass out on the first surface he could find.

Which brought you back to the problem at hand.

“I’m serious.” You continue, “I wanna watch Grey’s Anatomy before bed and have my joint. It’s my nightly ritual, you gotta fuckin’ move.”

At this point you were leaning your full weight against him, pushing Carmen deeper into the cushion. He groaned and finally rolled over, prompting you to let go, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

“Y’can’t watch it in y’er room?” He asks.

You huff, sitting on the hardwood floor in defeat. “No. There’s no TV in there, and my phone is dead.”

Carmen finally clears his foggy vision, blinking tiredly as he inspects your form, slumped on the ground beside him. A tight little black top clings to you, along with a matching pencil skirt.

“Did y’go out?” He asks, gaining some sense of awareness. The pair of you didn’t discuss personal stuff, most of the time Carmen had no idea what you were up to.

He was an early riser, you weren’t. Carmen would get home after a long shift and pass out, while you still roamed the streets late into the night. In a way, it was nice, as the pair of you wouldn’t often clash or argue for you simply weren’t in each other’s way.

Except for now, of course.

“Yes.” You huff, “And now it’s late and ‘m tired and have a headache. All I wanna do is watch Grey’s Anatomy and pass out on my,” You punctuate the word by stealing the throw pillow from him. “couch.”

There’s nowhere to argue. Technically, it was your couch. It was your apartment. Carmen knew he should be grateful, given that he simply had to pay a portion of rent, yet wasn’t responsible for the financial burden of all the furniture you’d collected beforehand.

Instead of just moving, Carmen finds himself wondering about your night. The headache. “How much did y’drink?” He asks.

You catch on, standing with an irritated groan. The throw pillow is tossed back down, to which Carmen grips it and pulls it to his chest. He wants to fall back asleep so badly. But now you’re causing a commotion, leaning against the wall and prying each heel off with huffs of frustration, throwing them somewhere down the hallway.

“It’s not the alcohol, it’s Katie’s bum-ass coke.” You complain loudly. “She gets it for free ‘cus she’s fucking this guy, but it’s just not good. Like, I can feel my brain cells evaporating and screaming like it’s a fiery wreck up there.”

Carmen hums, fiending understanding. Of course. It’s definitely not one of his favourite things about you. But, it’s not really his place to step in, to point out all the terrible choices you make. Sometimes he finds himself tempted to, but has to remember that would make things weird.

You didn’t want his baggage. Fuck, Carmen certainly didn’t want yours. It was a box that shouldn’t be opened, a line that won’t be crossed.

“Y’ever think about.. just not doing it?” Carmen ends up saying, his voice quiet and tentative, unable to help himself but prod the tiniest bit.

Thankfully, you brush it off, dumping a shiny pile of jewellery onto the coffee table to join the existing mess. “Yeah, right. Then I’ll get massive FOMO and it’ll kill the entire vibe. Great advice. Now scooch.”

Carmen has no choice but to shift as your stocking-clad foot nudges his thigh. There’s a hole in it, around your ankle, and he absentmindedly wonders how that happened. Regardless, he sits further up on the couch, making room for you to ungracefully slump beside him. It’s a close proximity, but one he’s slowly gotten adjusted to, finding that you’re the kind of person who simply doesn’t care about all these little touches.

The ones that make Carmen all flustered and nervous, the ones he’ll overthink whenever his mind isn’t so loud.

You lay on your side, legs curled up in the space that isn’t occupied by Carmen’s thighs. It looks like you’re ready to sleep in this position, and Carmen resists making a comment about how hypocritical that would be.

There’s a beat of silence before he finds himself speaking again.

“What’s the time, anyway?” Carmen asks.

You give a little shrug, the motion halfhearted and yet full of effort. “Like, three. Wanted to leave earlier, but it was this whole big thing.”

Carmy doesn’t bother indulging, instead giving a short hum as he thinks about it. All this time, and yet he’s never met any of your friends. You don’t bring them over, mostly because you’re barely home at night. He wonders if they’re like you.

“Shoes.” You suddenly pipe up again, a foot once again nudging him. “Y’were sleepin’ in them.”

He looks down, noticing the fact that his sneakers are still on. It makes his brows furrow, brain still all hazy from sleep, resisting the urge to melt back into the couch and continue his nap.

“Wasn’t thinking.” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his eyes once more. They sting slightly with the light you’ve turned on down the hall, the one neither of you will get up to switch off.

With the last of his willpower, Carmen toes off his shoes, letting them land somewhere underneath the coffee table. One of your heels lingers nearby, too.

“Clearly.” You mumble, “Your bedroom is three steps away, and you’re sleeping here. Weirdo.”

It’s not exactly venomous, and if Carmen was any other person he’d probably smile. Laugh a little. But he’s not. The pair of you are so different to the point where Carmen struggles to understand you, and to combat this issue, he’s reduced your role in his life to that of a stranger: a passing face on his eventual journey for something bigger.

“What about that joint?” He reminds you, deciding to ignore the slight snipe.

It earns another groan, drawn-out and dramatic as you press your cheek into the armrest. “No way ‘m getting up now.”

There’s a beat of silence as Carmen shifts, leaning over the couch to the floor. He finds his abandoned pile of belongings, the stuff he’d dropped after work seconds before passing out. A carton of cigarettes find his hand, tugging one out to place it between his lips.

He flicks the lighter, inhales, lets it spark to life. Then, Carmen takes it back out, passing it down and holding it in front of your face. Even with your eyes closed, you knew that noise, and didn’t need any direction to lean forward and snatch it between your teeth.

The sound you make is a pleased one, inhaling deep and letting it out. It manages to quell your headache slightly, to lessen that irritability that always grows after a night out like this, where the coming day you’ll be snappy and tired and miserable.

You ask for Alexa to play Grey’s Anatomy, the Google TV opening to the episode you were last on.

Carmen smiles when you thank it, as if the television was sentient.

Though he’s never been one for medical shows, Carmen doesn’t seem to mind. That’s because he barely watches it, passing out again maybe 5 minutes into the episode, still sitting up against the couch. It doesn’t even matter, for you follow suit not much later, the cigarette burnt out and filter falling to the floor in an ashy pile.

#mourning my own brat summer #it’s winter here #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #the bear fx #the bear x reader

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tastesousweet · 9 months

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⭒ the girl with the tattoo (ii) - pt 1 here!!

matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader

summary : matt is still a grumpy ass but y/n can't seem to get him off of her mind.

warnings : idk uhhh matt’s rude but in a love hate kinda way 😋! also alcohol/drinking (i headcannon everyone 21+!)

mickey speaks : shes finally hereeeee and shes kinda long. im hoping to post more consistently!! luv u guys enjoy <3 ignore the fact that the pic above has a yt girl in it this story is for everyone i promise !!!! i just liked the little green vibe ok? ok.

THIS IS PART TWO GO READ PART ONE FIRST DUH!!!!

AND of course you see matt again.

only a month ago, you were introduced and forced to spend an hour of your time in close proximity to him, no matter his disinterest. yet, also, only a month ago, were you gifted with the cutest tiny tattoo that continues to surprise you a little whenever you lift your shirt before a warm shower.

it hasn’t bothered you nearly as much as you'd assumed - only disrupting your life with the caution you now take to avoid irritating the skin at your lower stomach. though some nights you grow lazy, you’ve maintained a very disciplined attitude of incorporating time in your morning and nightly rituals to ensure the tiny hello kitty inked on you is properly cared for.

contrary, your interactions with matt bothered you far more than you assumed. your sub-concious must've held onto your attempts to break past his careless attitude (that greatly opposed your own people-pleasing nature) just to pettily haunt you. but you've you forced yourself to get over it at this point. you just had to after one night, the week following your tattoo appointment (and after a long day of rude professors and pretentious customers blaming you for their own mistakes), you broke down to andrea:

you sniffle before your voice breaks again, "everyone's just mean. and- and i was so fucking annoying last saturday. it keeps playing over in my head. i'm so embarrassed and i just know he hated me, but i dont know why?! i thought i was nice enough. he could've just smiled or maybe just- i-"

andrea pauses from petting your head, "honey, you're not still talking about the guy who tatted you, right?" you look up at her from your head's soft spot in her lap with glossy eyes and a quivering lip.

"dre-" you choke.

"oh my god! no! y/n, you can't take shit like that personal. not everyone enjoys talking or happiness for that matter, you can't hold on to something like that. i promise he's not too hung up on it himself." she wipes away one of your pitiful tears.

and here he is, standing across the room from you at a party.

you definitely did not expect to see matt (who’s mild attitude was clearly fueled by socializing) in this scene but you guess that la parties are just like that. as long as you know someone who knows someone you’re easily in, that's how you tend to get into these events at least. though an insta stalk would tell you matt has enough clout to get himself in, he and his brothers have built quite the brand for themselves among la socialites.

once your eyes spot him over the shoulder of some guy who just introduced himself to you, they can’t seem to move. you watch as matt smiles for a photo with a few others. matt. smiles. okay, so maybe it was a you problem. he doesn’t hate everyone maybe just you.

though, your thoughts are denied as quickly as his face drops. he doesn’t even care to look at how the image may have turned out like the rest of the group. instead, his eyes opt to watching the people around him as he sips his weak drink.

great, now you’ve become the weirdo watching him watch other people.

until his eyes catch your cautious yet curious stare from across the room. your cheeks heat and you’re immediately shifting your eyes back to the man in front of you.

matt almost smirks at his luck. no fucking way the scared sweetheart he’d tattooed just a few weeks ago is here. he looks away when someone lays a hand on his shoulder to bring him back into the conversation. you're surprised that he continues to look back over to you after adding his input.

the guy finally acknowledges your disengagement with the story about his new motorcycle and turns to see what exactly you’re staring at. he sees matt and turns back to you, “you know him?”

“yeah. well not like know-know we only met once, he gave me a tattoo.”

“oh, cool,” he looks back over to matt and turns back to you once again, “is he bothering you?”

your face scrunches initially, “no, it’s fine.” you smile at him, not wanting to give him the impression that matt did anything but exist (which apparently is enough to capture your attention).

“good. wanna go grab another drink and tell me more about this tattoo?” a charming smile morphs on face and you nod your head easily, taking his hand and leading him towards the bar outside of this large home. and away from matt.

“two-” you look over to the man beside you, “wait is this an open bar?” you ask him genuinely and he laughs a little at your aloofness.

“yeah,” he nods.

“perfect, we’ll take two kamikaze shots pretty please!” you smile at the bartender who seems to be enjoying her night quite a bit and squeeze his hand when you realize it’s still in your own. he looks down at your attached hands then back to you.

you turn your body to face him more directly and lean up to his ear, cupping your hand and whispering, “i’m so sorry, i think i forgot your name.” you were starting to feel bad and just had to confess.

you lean back and bite your lip to hide an awkward smile, and he somehow smiles harder than he already was, “it’s-”

“ashton!” you hear a voice yell hurriedly and now some dark haired guy is pulling him away from you and repeatedly saying “code red!” in his face. and suddenly, without any indication he’d enjoyed your short lived time together, he’s gone.

you try not to sulk but he was an attractive guy with easy conversation, so you at least hoped to get his number by the end of the night.

instead, you’re left leaning against the bar hoping those shots come around soon. you decide to update your friends on your night:

Y/N

cute guy lefttttt :(

REMI

noooooo he was so cute 😫

Y/N

don’t remind me

ANDREA

where r you now???

Y/N

outside bar, im waiting on shots

Y/N

come find me💔💔

your head shoots up from your phone when three guys practically ram themselves into the bar near you, a few people around them laughing obnoxiously.

"god damnit, chris! we said we were going slowly!"

"shhhh. you are so loud, matt!"

“excuse me, can we get some water? none of the sparkles or bubbles and shit, just water, please.”

“next time i'm speaking for myself! what if i wanted the bubbles?”

you lean your head a little to get a full view of the three recognizable faces. chris, with his arms dangled over his two brothers’ shoulders clearly obliterated and slurring his words (but excited to be there nonetheless). a blonde one, you haven’t gotten the chance to meet yet, with two nose piercings and a commanding voice. and matt, with his signature pout, even poutier now that chris’ weight is causing him to hunch over slightly. you guess you were bound to run into them.

you wonder if andrea was right in saying matt hadn’t held onto your exchange. you wonder if when he saw you earlier he remembered you for your friendly smile rather than your annoying nagging. or did he even remember you at all? did he only look at you because you were staring him down first? okay, where the fuck are those shots?!

“no way!" you hear chris’ voice screech upon recognizing you from across the bar, "y/n!?”

you look over and see him shockingly excited to see your face again. you smile in an attempt to not allow your nerves about matt get to you. you are never one to deny a conversation after all.

“oh my god! hi!” you reply as chris unwraps himself from his brothers and moves closer to you.

“how’s your tat treatin’ you?” his eyes express so much excitement he reminds you of a little kid. you’re very flattered to see someone feel so much emotion due to your mere presence.

“oh, it’s still so cute, no regrets so far. i love it.” you smile and he nods while you’re speaking.

he turns around and sees his brothers and a few friends remaining in the other side of the bar talking amongst themselves. “yo, get the fuck over here! why are you guys so far?” he encourages them with a hand wave.

you wave as well, trying not to be a total stranger- even if you are.

the blonde guy leads them over and hands chris a glass of water that must’ve been waiting on him.

“cheers,” chris smirks and takes a sip before a disgusted look takes over his face, “gross. my god! why do they make this shit so bland?”

the blonde boy rolls his eyes in amusement, mumbling, "just drink it," before approaching you kindly. "hey, i’m nick by the way."

“y/n, nice to meet you! i met chris and matt when i got my tattoo done at your shop a while ago.” you explain kindly.

before nick can get another word in a female voice is squealing, “you’re y/n?! hi, i’m asha, i don't know if your remember but we talked on the phone that one time!” a tanned girl with soft cheeks and dark loose curls moves herself in front of the boys.

“of course i remember, how could i forget that insane frog story? it's so nice seeing you in person finally!” you gush.

suddenly chris is beaming, “aww wait guys this is so cute! i’m feeling like we should all hug!” he nods to his brothers who are quick to shake their heads no.

“i don’t think..” nick starts.

“nooo! let’s hug!” chris argues and opens his arms wide gesturing for everyone to hug him.

౨ৎ

after sharing a very drunk and messy group hug you all continue to talk until chris finally blurts, "i gotta go pee so bad guys, " he laughs, "but i need people with me because if i walk in on someone puking, then what? i'll die from my severe" (its not severe at all) "emetophobia and no one will ever know?"

you and asha (who you've found is actually so similar to you) both laugh at his crisis.

matt just breathes a laugh.

"chris, there’s no reason to go further with the fear factor when no one said they wouldn't come with you. i’m coming, so you're not gonna die, let's go." nick shakes his head.

“you don’t understand, nick i would be dead and covered in- i can’t even say it, dude,” chris’ voice fades as they walk away.

"wait, i'll walk with you guys inside! 'm... getting cold out here!" asha suddenly says removing herself from your side and waving goodbye with a drunk smile.

"it's not cold at all, she's trippin'" matt speaks watching her run and practically jump onto nick, causing the three laugh while leaving the crowded yard.

you just shrug and lean onto the bar again, making eye contact with the bartender who looks as if she only just remembered your existence but also seems to mentally question where the other guy went and how you managed to replace him that quickly.

"are you always so nice about everything?" matt questions, leaning his forearms on the bar, still looking at you.

"what?" you look over to him now, feeling almost sick at his proximity.

he mocks you with a high tone in his voice, "'it's soooo nice to meet you! it's soooo nice seeing you!' it sounds exhausting, to be honest."

"didn't realize having manners got you jail time," you breathe.

"and i never said it did."

"well, i don't have to be nice to you if it bothers you so much," you shrug.

"aw, sunshine, you'd do that for me? you're too sweet." he almost laughs at his own sarcastic comment.

you lick your bottom lip out of habit, "why are you still here? don't you have friends you should be ignoring?" you hope he can't tell just how frustrated he's making you.

“you must think you know me.”

“i know you don’t like me.”

“wrong, again.” he smiles and points his finger at you.

“oh, you just don’t like anyone then?”

he glances away before responding, “what's the fun in telling you?”

you huff in defeat, wanting nothing more than those shots right now. though your subconcious hopes the bartender continues to prioritize her flirting customers over you just so you can continue this addicting back and forth with matt.

"you know, that’s the thing with people like you. you think everyone owes you everything." he shakes his head.

"people like me?” you scoff under your breath, “matt, why are you still here?"

he can pick out the offense in your tone, "oh shit, that was true? i was fucking with you, sunny!"

"you don't know anything about me," you laugh and shake your head.

"alright there are those kamikaze shots for you! so sorry about that major delay, honey!" the bartender sets the shots in front of the both of you and smiles at you apologetically.

"don't worry about it, thank you!" you hand her a spare five dollar bill from your back pocket.

when she's gone you finally notice matt's widened eyes.

"what's up with your face, now?"

"you gave her a tip for pouring you some rankydank, fuckin' low level shots after you've waited long enough for her to apologize?" he seems genuinely shocked.

"she only makes money off of tips," you roll your eyes, picking the shot up and gesturing towards the second shot for him to take.

"that's all you," he raises his hands towards his chest.

"oh my god, do it, matt."

he shakes his head and points to you, "you take your shot, sweetheart."

"i knew you wouldn't, pussy," you say under your breath before smirking as you down the alcohol you've been craving since you first saw his face.

upon your insult matt is immediately taking the shot along side you. and just as both of your faces adjust to the taste, matt's phone begins to vibrate.

he grabs it and you attempt to hide your own curiosity by asking the bartender for a lime to suck on (not daring to ask for alcohol again because you simply don't want to be hung up at this bar for any longer).

"yeah, yeah still here," matt plays with his bottom lip and looks down at you with your mouth full of lime. he thinks you look pretty adorable, especially under the blush pink fairy lights hanging above the bar. "'kay, i'll be quick. alright, nick. i will. bye."

he puts his phone away and wipes his mouth, "that shit was fucking vile, by the way."

"okay, drama queen."

"mhm," his face falters back into his usual pout, "well i gotta go, but, um, nick wanted me to invite you to this get together thing we host at the warehouse, it's in like a month but, you know, come if you want." he shrugs.

"tell him of course i will, but only because he asked." you smile sarcastically.

౨ৎ

ANDREA - 12:39 AM

y/n where are you we are both so confused rn help

ANDREA - 12:45 AM

hellooo????

ANDREA - 12:47 AM

GIRL WE'RE OUTSIDE AND WE DONT SEE YOU TF

Y/N - 1:06 AM

WHERE ARE U GUYS RN I JSUT SAW TATTOO GUY AGASSN IM LOSUNG MY MIND JUST A LUTTLE BIT

Y/N - 1:06 AM

I WAS AT THE OTHER OITSIDE BAR IN THE FRONT(?) YARD!!!!! but its ok im gonba find u guys

౨ৎ

a few days later matt comes across your instagram story, forgetting he had followed you in the first place. it was a picture of you and your friends from the same night he had seen you again. it's a simple mirror photo where you're all smiling but besides your soft skin and cute outfit, matt's attention focuses on frank ocean's pyramids playing over the story.

you see the notification later that day when you finally get time on your phone:

matthew.sturniolo liked your story

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

#SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets fan fiction #sturniolo triplets smut #sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #tattoo matt n yn

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bloomyeu · 2 months

Text

또 다시 밤 (twilight)

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: In the aftermath of a heartbreaking breakup, you navigate the haunting memories of your past relationship with Chan, struggling to find peace in a world that feels forever altered.

word count: 3k

warnings: angst, greif, mean!chan, rlly sad. based off of the song heh

a/n: first fic of changst!!!

series masterlist masterlist | requests

Sitting alone in your small apartment, the city’s hum outside barely reaches you through the dimly lit room. Shadows dance on the walls, casting an almost eerie glow that contrasts sharply with the emptiness you feel inside. This space, once vibrant with life and laughter, now feels like a hollow shell of what it used to be. Memories of Chan, your ex, haunt every corner of your mind, weaving through the fabric of your daily routine.

The apartment is a time capsule of happier days. Chan’s side of the bed remains untouched, a testament to the mornings that once began with shared smiles and sleepy conversations. His side of the closet is still lined with his clothes, a stark reminder of the warmth that used to fill the room. The spare toothbrush left in the bathroom drawer and his favorite shampoo still sitting untouched in the shower are small remnants of a life you once shared.

Your first encounter with Chan happened at the convenience store where you worked the late shift. It was always around 2 a.m. when he would come in, his routine a comforting ritual. He’d purchase the same pack of instant ramen, a simple yet endearing habit that quickly became a part of your nightly routine.

“You’re really making a habit out of this, aren’t you? Is there a secret recipe for that ramen you’re not telling me about?”

Chan flashed you a grin, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Maybe it’s the secret ingredient of sleep deprivation. It keeps me sane while working.”

You laughed, leaning against the counter. “You know, my mom always told me that eating too much ramen would give you cancer.”

Chan raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Really? And here I thought ramen was the key to eternal youth. Guess I’ll have to rethink my diet.”

“Maybe you’re just immune,” you teased back, enjoying the easy banter.

“Of course, I am. I’m Superman, after all,” Chan joked, striking a playful pose that made you chuckle.

What began as casual exchanges soon evolved into something deeper. Those late-night encounters turned into long conversations, each one drawing you closer. Chan had a knack for turning the mundane into something magical. Your talks about dreams, aspirations, and even the quirks of daily life became the things you cherish most. The simple quiet moments with chan.

“You know, I used to think the stars were just there to look pretty. But now, I think they’re like tiny reminders of how we’re all connected. Like us.”

You looked at him, your heart swelling at his words. “That’s a way to think about it. I sometimes think that that the universe is playing matchmaker, bringing people together for a reason. Kinda like cupid ahaha”

Chan smiled warmly, reaching for your hand. “I’m glad the universe brought us together. Without you, I would probably be dead to my instant ramen fixation. You make every day brighter, even the darkest ones.”

Your relationship with Chan blossomed over shared moments and tender gestures. The nights spent under the stars, discussing dreams and promises, became the highlights of your time together. Chan’s charm and sincerity made every moment special, turning even the mundane into something extraordinary.

Your shared experiences—whether it was exploring new places, cooking meals together, or simply enjoying quiet evenings—deepened your connection. Chan’s laughter was a constant source of joy, and his presence became a comforting constant in your life.

Now, as you sit in the quiet of your apartment, surrounded by the remnants of those joyful days, the contrast between the past and the present is stark. The shadows on the walls, the untouched spaces, and the lingering traces of Chan’s presence are constant reminders of the love you once shared. The city’s hum outside is a distant murmur compared to the echoes of laughter and warmth that still linger in your heart.

As you look around the apartment, the memories of Chan come flooding back—each one a bittersweet reminder of the love that once filled this space. Despite the emptiness, you find solace in the cherished moments and the deep connection you once shared.

Chan was everything to you, your rock, your beacon of hope, your home. But that was before everything had changed.

—

The room is shrouded in an eerie quiet, the shadows of the night dancing on the walls as if mocking the emptiness that lingers. The once-vibrant space now feels like a mausoleum of lost love.

You remember the day everything shifted. Chan’s growing distance had become palpable, an invisible chasm widening between you. It started with small things—missed calls, unanswered texts, and fleeting moments of irritability. Each time you tried to address the growing gap, Chan’s responses were curt and dismissive.

The night the reality of the situation crashed down on you was unforgettable. Chan had come home late, and you were already waiting, your heart heavy with the weight of unspoken words. The tension in the room was suffocating, a prelude to the confrontation you had been dreading.

“Chan, we need to talk,” you said, your voice trembling as you attempted to mask the fear in your heart.

Chan’s face was a mask of exhaustion and frustration. “can it wait? I’m exhausted, i just wanna take a shower and sleep.”

You stepped closer, your voice trembling with a mix of desperation and hurt. “It’s not just about tonight. Its about everything, these past few weeks, the constant ‘I cant talk right now’ excuse, you not responding to my texts, my calls, standing me up multiple times. We’re drifting apart, and it feels like you’re just… slipping away. I’m trying to hold on, but it’s like I’m losing you every day. You aren't even trying”

Chan’s face twisted with anger, his frustration finally spilling over. “Holy Fuck. I’m so sick of your bullshit and your whining. I’m doing everything I can, and it’s never enough for you, is it? You don’t understand how hard I’m working, how much I’m trying to keep everything from falling apart. I have a job, a group to run, I constantly have to be producing, sorry I can't be your little puppy over here to take you out when you feel lonely.”

You recoiled from his harsh words, the sting of his anger cutting deep. “I’m not asking for the world, Chan. I just want to feel like you’re still here with me. Instead, it feels like I’m clinging to a memory of who we used to be.”

Chan’s eyes narrowed, his anger unabated. “Well, maybe if you stopped focusing on what I’m not doing, you’d see that I’m barely keeping it together. Maybe I’m just too exhausted to give you what you want right now!”

The hurt in your eyes was palpable, tears streaming down your face. “So what? You’re just going to give up on us because it’s too hard? I thought we were supposed to face these challenges together, not let them tear us apart.”

Chan’s expression was cold, his voice sharp. “I don’t see how we can fix this if you keep whining for my attention like a fucking dog. Maybe we’re just not meant to be together anymore. I’m done trying to make you understand something you clearly don’t want to. You obviously have an issue with my job and the hours im working, and Its like you want me to quit. You know I can't do that. Honestly i'm sick of you.”

You took a step back, the finality of his words sinking in. “Is this really how you want it to end? Just like that, without even trying to work things out?”

Chan’s face remained hardened, his anger leaving no room for remorse. “I don’t know what more you want from me. I’m at my limit, and I can’t keep pretending everything is fine when it’s not. Maybe we’re both better off apart.”

The tears continued to fall as you struggled to hold back your sobs. “I never wanted this. I wanted to fight for us, to find a way through this mess. But if you’re really done, then maybe this is the end.”

Chan’s silence was deafening, his anger making it clear he had nothing more to say. You took a shuddering breath, feeling the weight of the end pressing down on you. “Goodbye, Chan. I hope you find what you’re looking for, even if it’s not with me.”

As you turned to leave, Chan’s voice cut through the silence, harsh and unyielding. “Good riddance. Maybe this will be easier for both of us.”

You walked away, each step feeling like a heavy blow, the finality of the breakup echoing in the emptiness left behind.

—

The days following the breakup were a blur of desolation. Your grief was a constant companion, a heavy blanket that suffocates you with its weight.

Meals that were once a joy to prepare and share now feel like a chore.

You force yourself to eat, but the taste of food has become bland, unappealing. The mere act of eating feels like an intrusion on your sorrow. You find yourself staring at empty plates, unable to summon the appetite that once came so easily. The thought of food is a reminder of how much has changed, of how your life has shifted from one of shared experiences to solitary mourning.

Every corner of your apartment holds a piece of Chan, and it feels like you're living in a shrine to a lost love. You can’t escape the reminders of him—the way the sunlight filters through the blinds just like it used to when he was there, the lingering scent of his cologne that clings to the pillows, the echoes of his laughter that still seem to resonate in the empty space. Each detail is a bitter reminder of what once was, amplifying your sense of loss.

You feel like you're stuck in a time loop, unable to move forward or let go. The reality of Chan’s absence is overwhelming. You catch yourself reaching for your phone to text him, only to be met with the cold reality that he’s no longer there to reply. The reminders of him—his favorite songs, the TV shows you used to watch together—are painful triggers, causing a fresh wave of heartache every time you encounter them.

You miss him more than you thought possible. The emptiness is consuming, leaving you feeling hollow and disconnected from the world. You find yourself drifting through your days, each one a monotonous repetition of the last. The joy you once found in simple pleasures has been replaced by a pervasive sense of longing. You keep replaying moments from your relationship, trying to find some sense of closure or understanding, but all you find is more sorrow.

Despite your best efforts to move on, you feel trapped in the memory of what you once had. The past clings to you like a shadow, refusing to let go. Your attempts to engage with friends or distract yourself with activities only serve as temporary reprieves from the overwhelming sense of loss. The void left by Chan’s departure feels insurmountable, an emotional chasm that you can’t seem to cross.

Each day is a struggle to get out of bed, to face a world that feels alien and unwelcoming. You try to force yourself into a routine, but the energy to do so is lacking. The weight of the breakup is a constant presence, a reminder of the love you lost and the future you once envisioned together.

In the quiet moments, when the distractions of daily life fade away, the grief is most profound. You are left alone with your thoughts, drowning in the memories of happier times and the pain of their absence. The emotional void is both vast and intimate, a deep well of sadness that seems impossible to escape. The world continues to move around you, but you are stuck, trapped in a cycle of longing and regret, unable to move forward or let go.

—

As the days pass, you find yourself subconsciously drawn to activities and places that hold echoes of Chan. It's as if you’re searching for fragments of the past to piece together a semblance of the love that once defined your life. Each activity is both a source of solace and a trigger for the deep-seated sorrow you feel.

You take a walk through the park where you and Chan used to spend lazy Sunday afternoons. The park, once a backdrop for your shared laughter and quiet conversations, now feels eerily silent. The swings creak softly in the breeze, and you can almost hear Chan’s laughter as he pushed you gently. You sit on a bench, tracing patterns in the dirt with your shoe, as you remember how Chan used to playfully tease you about your attempts to draw perfect shapes. The memories come flooding back, sharp and bittersweet, mingling with the tears that you try to hold back.

Back at home, you find yourself scrolling through social media, a habit you had hoped to break. Chan’s presence is everywhere. His photos, tagged by friends and fans, are a constant reminder of what you’ve lost. You see him in candid shots, his radiant smile captured in moments you were once a part of. His posts about new projects and achievements are a painful juxtaposition to your current emotional state. Each notification feels like a stab to your heart, but you can’t bring yourself to unfollow or mute his updates. It’s as if seeing him, even from a distance, is a way to keep a part of him in your life, despite the growing void.

Your dreams are invaded by memories of Chan. At night, when you close your eyes, your mind transports you back to moments of intimacy and joy. You dream of nights spent under the stars, where Chan’s voice would soothe your fears and his presence would banish loneliness. In these dreams, everything is perfect again, and the pain of waking up is almost unbearable. You wake up with tears on your pillow, yearning for the comfort of those fleeting moments that seem so real and yet so unattainable.

You attempt to engage in activities that once brought you joy, hoping to reclaim some sense of normalcy. You bake cookies using the recipe Chan loved. The smell of vanilla and chocolate chips fills your kitchen, but instead of bringing comfort, it amplifies your sense of loss. You remember how Chan used to sneak into the kitchen for a taste before the cookies were even cool, and the kitchen now feels emptier without his playful presence. You bake the cookies anyway, each bite a bittersweet reminder of the past.

Even your favorite cafe, where you used to meet Chan for your morning fix, feels different. You sit in the same corner booth you used to frequent, clutching your coffee cup with a sense of nostalgia. The barista gives you a sympathetic smile, remembering the way Chan used to order his coffee just the way you liked it. The place holds echoes of conversations and laughter, now overshadowed by the silence of your solitude. You sip your coffee slowly, the warmth of the drink doing little to comfort the coldness in your heart.

You also start a journal, hoping to process your emotions through writing. The pages are filled with reflections on your relationship with Chan, capturing the highs and lows, the dreams you shared, and the gradual unraveling of your connection. You write about your regrets and your hopes for healing, pouring your heart out in a desperate attempt to make sense of the pain.

As you look through old photo albums, you find yourself overwhelmed by a mix of emotions. The photographs capture moments of genuine happiness, but they also serve as reminders of what you’ve lost. You trace the faces in the pictures with your fingers, each image a testament to the love that once brought you joy. The albums become both a treasure trove and a source of anguish, each turn of the page bringing a fresh wave of grief.

Your days and nights are a constant battle between holding on to memories and facing the reality of your separation. The memories of Chan are intertwined with every aspect of your life, making it difficult to escape the constant reminder of what once was. The process of reconnecting with these memories brings both comfort and pain, as you navigate through the lingering echoes of a love that now seems like a distant dream.

As you sit in the quiet of your apartment, the familiar ache of loss has transformed into a tender, enduring sadness. The once vibrant memories of Chan now feel like distant echoes, softened by time but never fully fading. The space around you, while gradually becoming more reflective of your own growth, still carries traces of what once was.

You find yourself gazing out of the window, lost in thought. The world outside continues to move with its usual rhythm, indifferent to the emotional upheaval within your walls. The city lights twinkle in the distance, a comforting yet distant reminder of the life that goes on beyond your small, personal world.

In the midst of this contemplation, a single, lingering wish takes shape in your heart. You close your eyes and allow yourself to dream of a future where paths might cross again. There’s no expectation, no plan—just a quiet hope that, somewhere down the line, life might offer a chance encounter or a moment of reconnection.

You imagine what it would be like to see Chan again, not as a desperate attempt to rekindle what was lost, but as a moment of acknowledgment of the shared past. Perhaps a brief conversation, a simple smile, or even just a nod of recognition—anything that might offer closure or understanding.

The thought of meeting Chan again brings a bittersweet smile to your face. You let the vision linger, holding onto the hope that time might bring unexpected reunions. As you turn away from the window, you carry with you a sense of peace, knowing that the future remains unwritten and full of possibilities.

With a final glance at the fading light outside, you softly whisper to the night

“Maybe someday.”

fin.

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siopaofrog · 8 months

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Sex is a Losing Bet || Astarion x Fem!Reader

warnings: 18+, smut, biting, bottom sub to bottom dom

“You like me like this, darling?”

The lilt in his voice and the glaze in his eyes caught you off guard. He looked frustrated and desperate beneath you. Drunk on unquenchable lust.

You leaned over him, tugging his bottom lip with your teeth. He smiled lazily, barely revealing a fang.

“I do,” you said, pressing kisses on his cheek. “You know what else I like?”

You slid your clit over his abdomen, slick after royally pounding the pale elf.

Astarion sucked in a breath of air. “Wh-what?”

You smacked his thigh, and he gnashed his teeth together, almost whimpering. “I mean—yes, my queen?”

He could barely form the words. You knew part of him hated it under there, under your body, under your rule. But somehow, in those garnet eyes, brimmed with lust, you saw a bigger part of him that liked it quite a lot.

Gods—that felt really, really fucking good.

Often, you and Astarion spent late nights sneaking into the woods, giggling as you ravaged each other under the stars. Stripping, bathing your bare skin in the moonlight. A nightly ritual you both sought after, day in, day out, and fervently at that.

Only this time, you didn’t expect him to slither beneath you—but he made a bet, and he lost. Terribly. He’d made a hasty promise to let you “have at him” after losing a fight to a demonic squirrel. How he lost is beyond you. But you also lured yourself into the delusion that he did it on purpose.

Either way, you made sure he kept his word.

“I like your fangs,“ you whispered in his ear. “So bite me.”

Something about those two little words sent him into a tizzy of laughter. Pure, high-pitched, glorious laughter. You loved his laugh dearly, but you wouldn’t flatter him now. Not when you finally had him in the palm of your hand. At least, for the moment.

“You are quite adorable,” he said at last, sneering. “But I’m going to have to say no.”

You tilted your head. “No?”

Astarion propped himself up with his forearms, lips nearly brushing yours. “Mm-hm.”

His silver hair stuck to his forehead, sleek with sweat, while his bare chest heaved up and down beneath you. You both were a mess, wet and exhausted, but you found yourself imagining him inside you again. You felt him press into you eagerly.

“Tell me, darling, what will you do?”

“Well…”

Your fingers traced his neck, his pecs, abs, until you felt his cock in your hands.

He grunted softly, beautiful eyes fluttering as you touched him. You pushed his head back down on the grass.

“How about this. You tell me, Astarion.” Your lips grazed the scar on his neck. “After two centuries… don’t you finally want someone to bite you?”

The vampire blinked heavily, then managed to hold your gaze. He smiled crookedly. “Mm. Now you’ve enchanted me.”

“Good,” you murmured, and kissed him. His chin, his jaw, until you found yourself gently nipping at his neck.

And he let you. He sang so sweetly for you, in fact—one hand gripping the nape of your neck, the other clasping your ass, pressing you closer.

“Now, now,” he panted, “while this has been a delicious experience, you should really let me take over—“

You squeezed your thighs, wedging him between you, pressing into his crotch. You stopped, denying him entrance.

He inhaled sharply. “Ah… Did I—eh-hem—maybe I misspoke.”

“Maybe?”

“I-I did. I did. I—”

You rolled into him, but only once. He gripped your hips, trying to implore you. You knew he was getting desperate. You smacked his thigh again.

“Uh-uh-uh,” you tutted. “Now I need a bite. And I need you to play nice.”

He looked at you. Looked galaxies away. Somewhere in your eyes he lost himself, and he bit hard on his own lip.

“I—”

You leaned in, grinded your hips into his, but still didn’t give him enough.

“Yes?” you purred.

“Please… Please,” he said at last, slowly and deliberately. He reached up and pressed his lips to your neck, suckling gently, moaning into your skin. Finally, he sank his teeth in and drew blood. He ran a hand through your hair. Massaging your scalp. This time, a soft moan escaped your own lips.

“Astarion.”

“Yes, my love,” he said, breathless, unable to hold back. He bucked his hips up into yours, grabbing your body with the kind of force you expected from the vampire—now, he wasn’t letting you tease him any longer.

The blood, you realized, did something to him.

He grinned widely and licked his teeth. Lapping you up, relishing your taste.

His eyes glittered. “My turn, sweetheart.”

Astarion ordered you to rock into him, to pull his hair—and, of course, you obliged.

“Yes,” he sang. “Be rough with me. That’s it. Just like that—fuck.”

You couldn’t deny how hot it was. Even beneath you he somehow took over, instructing you to pleasure him and send him into a thousand glorious worlds at once.

“You want me, darling? Hm? You want me to be your good little slut?”

You moved willingly now, moans escaping, completely extracted from the authoritative role you once took on. He lost the bet, you thought ridiculously. Not me.

But the words left your lips all on their own: “Yes, yes. I do. I… I want you to lose yourself in me.”

“Oh,” he purred, breath hitching between thrusts. “Trust… me… I will.”

At that moment, neither of you cared who was on top or bottom, who lost or won the bet—none of that mattered.

You just had to have each other.

But there was one thing he did honor: He didn’t move from his position. He commanded you from the lower decks, allowing you to keep the helm in sight—but it was a mere mirage of captaincy.

“I love you,” he murmured, as your bodies continued colliding, words that seeped through all the other lewd, ungodly sounds. His voice reached a guttural level. “Tell me you do, too. Tell me I’m not just divinely insane.”

Even amidst all the passion, all the pounding, you couldn’t help but feel flushed with surprise.

“You’re insane,” you said, huffing harshly. “You… don’t mean that.”

Something in him switched. He slowed his stride, until you both were stuck heaving and staring at each other. The tension had your head in a scramble. He then reached a hand up to your face, and stroked your cheek with his thumb, gently.

“I say many things I don’t mean, darling.”

Astarion slid his other arm behind you, leading you to rest on his chest. There, he wrapped you up in a tight embrace. “Bets or not, demon squirrel or not, this is one thing I do mean.” He kissed you, smiling.

“Ever so sincerely.”

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion smut #fanfiction #baldurs gate astarion #baldur’s gate fanfiction

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jadewolf22 · 1 month

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Some Peace and Quiet

Aura x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, idiots in love, ect…

Summary: Just a quiet, peaceful night at home with your beloved Aura.

A/n: This is my first time writing Aura… I hope I did her justice… And thanks to @milfsloverblog for giving me the little nudge I needed to write this.

A/n: I know I have like 3 series that are still waiting on the next chapter, but I've seen so many requests for an Aura fanfic I knew there was no way I was going to be able to work on those again until I got this out there.

Word Count: 901

Quiet nights sitting around a fire with a cup of tea in hand had quickly become one of your favourite ways to end the day since you and Aura had taken up residence in the woods. The chirping crickets, crackling fire, and occasional hoot of an owl were like serotonin for the both of you, allowing you to relieve yourself of the stresses of the day while you nursed on warm tea.

You sighed in content, leaning back against your chair and looking up at the stars as they shone through the treetops, branches shaking in the gentle breeze. A light snore drew your attention to your wife who’d fallen asleep not long ago, her empty mug dangling precariously from her fingertips. A quiet laugh escaped your lips as you smiled, finishing off the last of your tea before you stood, calling her name as you shook her shoulder.

“Aura, my star,” you cooed, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face as she stirred, “Come on. I think it’s time we head off to bed.”

Aura groaned, watery-blue eyes fluttering open as her face morphed into a pout from having been woken. Even now, after almost thirty years together, your heart still skipped a beat everytime she looked you in the eyes. Though she no longer believed it, you found her as beautiful as the day you’d met. Sure her hair was now silver instead of blonde, and sure more age lines graced her face, but to you they were never flaws or imperfections, just simply new things for you to adore. You smirked, placing a kiss to the tip of her nose as you opened your arms to her, a silent request for her to stand—but she insisted on being stubborn.

“Come on, Aura. Don't be petty. You’re tired and we both know it.”

“I am not!” she insisted, though the large yawn that followed quickly disproved her words. You crossed your arms, face forming into an I-told-you-so kind of look and Aura sighed. “Alright, alright. Fine.” she muttered using the armrests to help push herself out of the chair.

Biting the inner corner of your lip to keep from cracking a victorious smile, you snaked your arm around her shoulders, pulling her against you as the two of you headed into the trailer. Taking Aura’s mug from her, you set about washing the dishes from dinner as Aura went to change and freshen up for the night. When you came to join her, Aura was seated on the edge of your bed, attempting to take a hairbrush through her ever-untamable mane of silver hair. You had to stop yourself from laughing when the brush snagged on yet another tangle and Aura let out a curse, pulling the brush away from her hair and tossing it down on the bed.

“Why don’t you let me do that?” you offered, coming up behind her and resting your hands on her shoulders.

“Good luck.” she muttered, her tone both annoyed and clearly exhausted. The poor woman was going to collapse soon and you knew it.

Gathering up your comb and her brush, you sat down behind her and set to work, picking away at the tangles with the comb before smoothing them out with the brush once you’d loosened them enough. This act had become a nightly ritual between the two of you since you’d moved out here and, even now, Aura still doubted your ability to detangle her hair when she couldn’t. She sighed with each tangle removed, wincing every now and again when your comb snagged on a particularly large one. Once you were finished, you stood, kissing the top of her head before putting away the brushes as she climbed into bed. Blowing out the candle that lit up the trailer—all save for the one on your nightstand—you crawled into bed beside Aura, wrapping your arm around her as she snuggled into your side. It was her favourite way to fall asleep, tucked up against you with your arm wrapped around her, humming as you played with her hair absentmindedly. And you loved it too, the way her body fit perfectly against yours, the faint traces of jasmine and sandalwood that clung to her hair and skin from the soap she used to bathe, even the way her warm breath tickled as it danced across your neck.

“Good night, my star.” you whispered against her hair, breathing in her scent as if you would never get to do so again.

Aura hummed, pressing herself impossibly closer to you, tucking her head into the crook of your neck and whispering against your skin, “Good night, Y/n.” You felt her press a kiss to your collar and, without another word, she was fast asleep, her breath slow and deep as a soft snore crept from her mouth every other minute.

Chuckling quietly so as not to wake her, you twisted your upper body around carefully, blowing out the last candle before resuming your earlier position. Staring at her silhouette as moonlight crept in through the thin curtains covering your windows you breathed a final, “Sweet dreams… Aura.” before draping your other arm across her hip and allowing sleep to wash over you like a wave of warm water, falling asleep beside your love like you had so many times before, the both of you content and blissfully happy.

#gwendoline christie #gwendolineuniverse #larissa weems #jane murdstone #jan stevens #miranda hilmarson #captain phasma #lady jane #Aura #robin and the hoods

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ladyinwriting18 · 1 year

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A Gift For A Hound (Sandor Clegane x Reader)

Summary: Joffrey gives his faithful Hound a gift---you.

Words: 5,277 Warnings: PIV, Oral sex, Master/Slave,

The Hound walks down the long stone corridor that leads to his room. In his right hand he carries a wineskin filled with the first thing he could get his fucking hands on. Being the personal bodyguard to a cunt like Joffrey is no easy task. The little shit is ruthlessly cruel. Which is saying something coming from him. Sandor Clegane isn’t known for being kind hearted but he’s no Joffrey. The boy is sick in the head. He does his best to push it from his mind. The day is done, meaning he can forget the shit from the day and drown himself in wine alone until the numbness of sleep takes him. This is Sandor’s nightly ritual. One that he honestly looks forward to. But when he opens the door, he isn’t greeted by the usual solitude. Instead, there’s a naked woman kneeling on the floor beside his bed.

It takes him a moment to get over the initial shock, but when he does, his voice booms throughout his chamber. “What the fuck is this? What are you doing here?” You lift your head to look at him, keeping your hands palms up on the tops of your knees. You’re as naked as your nameday, all except your neck. Tied around it is a yellow ribbon with three black dogs down the front—the colors and sigil of his house. “Hello, My Lord Hound.” “I’m no lord. So you can keep those meaningless titles to yourself.” You nod but stay silent. Sandor growls, nearly barking at you. “Well? Are you going to tell me what the fuck you’re doing in here?” You don’t even flinch at his raised voice, just answer him softly with a voice as warm as honey. “I belong to you. I am yours to do with as you please.” His brows pull together, not understanding the words that just left your mouth. “What?” You smile and patiently repeat yourself. “I belong to you now, for as long as you want me.” Your words have his eyes roam over your body for the first time. Every curve, the smoothness of your skin, and the way the chill in the room already has your nipples hard makes his cock twitch. “I’m a gift from King Joffrey.” That catches his attention. Joffrey barely spared him a glance. Now he was giving him gifts? “You’re…my gift.” You smile warmly. “Yes. Master.” That was new. No one had ever called him that before. He isn’t sure how to feel about it, but it’s far better than being called ‘my lord’. He steps over the threshold and lets the door shut behind him before moving closer. At his approach, you once again bow your head. There’s a gentle air about you. It’s something that isn’t a typical trait to the women found on the Streets of Silk. Not that Sandor was a frequent visitor. Most women couldn’t stomach looking at his scarred face. Even when he paid them, they struggled. What was the point of wasting coin on that?

You, on the other hand, are almost intoxicatingly feminine. It makes him want to press his nose to your cunt and breathe in your scent. He looks down at you, feeling more curious and less irritated than when he first walked in. “You said you belong to me?” You nod. “So, you’ll do anything I ask you to?” You keep your eyes downcast but respond without hesitation. “Yes, Master Hound. It will bring me great pleasure to fulfill your every request.”

A tension builds through his frame. Not out of anger, but anticipation. Anticipation to feel release that he often doesn’t get unless he takes his cock in his hand. “Look at me,” he commands. You do so eagerly, looking at him without a speck of fear. He searches your eyes for the lie, determined to find it. He is the Hound afterall. Usually he could smell a liar from yards away, but with you, he only sees devotion. As if you truly wish to serve him. Most were intimidated or afraid of him, but this is something different. It’s submission. It awakens his more animalistic needs. The part that wants nothing more than to fuck and claim and breed. His unscarred eye twitches as his hand moves to your cheek—to see if you’ll flinch at his touch. But, fuck, you lean into his palm and press your lips to the pad of his gloved tumb. Never once averting your gaze. He lets out a breath that he wasn’t aware he was holding. You’re all his. He starts to pull his armor and clothes from his body. You sit up on your knees, helping where you can. You manage to pull the gauntlets from his hands and unbuckle his sword belt. But the rest he does. His fingers move too fast and he knows the armor like the back of his hand. You find other ways to make yourself useful, taking items from him and gently placing them down while he throws the rest on the floor. When he’s left in nothing but his pants and boots, your hand lightly runs over the bulge in the front of his pants. Involuntarily, he bucks into your touch, wanting more. However, you make no move to continue past teasing touches. He grunts impatiently, catching your attention. Your eyes meet, your head tilting to the side as you whisper the words…. “Command me, Master.” Command? Why the fuck would he need to do that? Any other whore he’d ever slept with always took matters into their own hands and rushed to get things over with. “Tell me how to please you. I just want to please my Master.” Your pleading tone shoots right to his already hardening cock. The corners of his mouth twitch into a grin while his hand moves to the back of your skull. He pulls you in, guiding you closer to his groin.

“Kiss it.” Immediately, you obey, leaving kisses along his clothed cock. Only the linen of his pants separates you, but still he can feel the warmth of your mouth. Sandor lets out a rough growl while undoing the knot at the front of his pants. “Don’t stop.” You coo as sweetly as a dove and your kisses become more passionate as moans escape your parted lips. You hold eye contact with him without fear, without disgust, without judgment. He can’t recall a time when even his fellow King’s Guard was able to look at him, let alone a woman. Everything about this is different. You are different.

You look at him with desire. It only makes him more eager to sink his cock into you. However, once the cloth falls away to reveal his fully naked form, you sit back on your heels with your feet folded beneath you. You sit with your spine perfectly straight and your hands resting on your knees. You look more like a high born lady than a common whore. So submissive and pretty. “You’re waiting for my command, aren’t you?” His hand comes down to wrap around the length of his aching cock. Your eyes dart to the movement of his hand. You seem transfixed but still manage to respond, “My sole purpose is to give my Master pleasure. I’m your property to do with as you please.”

“My property?” he breathes and starts to slowly stroke himself. He does this more to tease you than himself. It clearly works because you only seem able to nod. A sly grin comes across his features. “You’re my property,” he repeats, louder to refocus you. “A beautiful…little thing…that belongs to me.” Sandor pants between words, stroking himself with a firmer grip.

“Yes, Master,” you moan with a lick of your lips. “I belong to you and only you.”

“Then be a good girl and come suck your Master’s cock.” You rise onto your knees so fast that you almost take him by surprise. Within moments, you’re pushing his hand away and wrapping your own around the base while your tongue traces over the veins in his shaft. “Your cock is so thick,” you moan out. Sandor isn’t sure if you meant to say that out loud but it hardly matters once you wrap your lips around the head of his cock. Your hand and mouth work in tandem—tugging firmly while lovingly sucking. That is…until you drop your hand away and swallow his cock whole. “Fucking Hells,” he swears and involuntarily bucks his hips forward. You hum, tightening your lips around his thickness as you pick up the pace and bob your head up and down. He watches you intently. Dark brown irises burn with lust as you suck him off like your life depended on it. “Filthy thing is enjoying this, isn’t she?” he pants, dick stiffening and pulsing in your mouth.

You nod with a happy little hum, and Sandor can’t fight the smile that tugs at the corners of his scarred lips. Your mouth is warm and so fucking inviting, like his cock was always meant to be there. He wants more. His hand shoots out to grip the back of your head as thick fingers tangle in the locks of your hair. He moves you up and down at just the right pace. You obey his physical command, allowing him to fuck your mouth while you drool all over him. Sandor is by no means a small man and his cock is no different, but you handle it with skill. The sloppy, wet sounds of you sucking with such enthusiasm makes him feel drunk. The pleasure courses through him, all the way down to his toes. It’s almost too much. And your big, beautiful eyes don’t make it any easier. They’re full of affection while unshed tears prickle at the corners of your eyes from how wide your mouth is stretched open. He slams his cock into your throat, hitting as deeply as you can possibly take him. Your hands and nails dig into his thighs to hold yourself steady. “That’s it,” he grunts, “take it.” You moan and gag with your brows knit together. He would have thought you were in pain if it wasn’t for the blissed expression on your face.

Sandor takes all of you in, wanting to commit the image of you gagging on his cock to memory. So that when you were gone, he’d at least still have that. But that’s when he catches sight of you pressing your thighs together. The blood in his veins sings. You’re getting off on this.

On pleasing him. On having his cock in your mouth. On obeying. Suddenly, having you down on the ground isn’t enough. He forcefully pulls away, slipping his cock out of your mouth. You whine at the loss and lean forward to try and get him back in your mouth, but not even your alluring mouth will keep a man like The Hound from getting what he wants. Bending at the waist, he shoves his hands under your armpits and lifts you up from the ground before throwing you onto his bed. You yelp when your back hits the mattress. Sandor simply grins at your shock from being so easily manhandled. “Is that cunt as pretty as your face, girl?” Blood rushes to your cheeks, coloring them, but still you open your legs, baring yourself. You’re a soaking, dripping mess. He’s certain he’s never seen a cunt as wet as yours is right now. It makes his throat feel dry…and in desperate need of a drink. Not willing to wait any longer, Sandor sinks to his knees and dives his face between your thighs. His tongue drags along your folds before it grazes your clit. Even at the slightest touch, you sigh and arch into his mouth. “More. Please, give me more.” Your pleas are sweet. So sweet that he’s no longer interested in teasing. He repeats the movement of his tongue but this time uses the flat of it to press firmer against your sensitive bud. You cry out, thighs closing tightly around his head. Sandor grunts, his arms sliding under your legs. He curls them around your thighs and uses his hands to keep your legs apart. With your movements restricted, he smashes his mouth against your clit. His lips wrap around it and suck. You buck and manage to throw a leg over his shoulder. Your foot presses against his broad back, using it as leverage to grind your hips towards his mouth. He smirks, proud that he’s the one eliciting such a response from you. While it’s true he rarely spends his coin on whores, this skill was something he learned long before his days at King’s Landing. In his youth, there had been a servant girl who worked in the kitchens. They had grown up together and thus she hadn’t ever feared his burned face. Exploring one another's bodies had felt natural. That’s how Sandor became acquainted with the taste of women. Once upon a time, they might have been married…if Gregor hadn’t found out and killed her in a jealous rage. Sandor forces the past from his mind. There’s no use in it when he has your cunt filling his senses. He savors the taste on his tongue, using it to flick your clit while sucking on it. You continue to buck and cry out, the pleasure clearly building for you. But he doesn’t want you reaching your peak just yet. He moves away, only slightly. His saliva mixes with your slick. They drip together making you all the more wet. It’s a delicious sight.

“Messy thing,” he praises, and he can feel the way your toes curl against his back. “You know,” he continues, “I usually spend my nights drinking but you’ve interrupted that.” Purposely, he pauses, letting you think he’s actually upset. You whimper, ready to apologize but Sandor speaks over you, his voice huskier than before. “Are you going to make it up to me, girl? And give me something else to drink?” You stumble over your words but still manage to speak, “Y-Yes Master, anything.”

Sandor hums from the back of his throat and swipes your clit with his tongue before answering. “Then be a good little slut and cum on my tongue.” Not bothering to wait for a reply, he runs his tongue to your slit, gathering more juices along the way. He probes your entrance before letting it fill you. You gasp in time with his moan. No longer can he taste the wine he was previously drinking. His taste buds are filled with nothing but your cunt. He vigorously pumps his tongue in and out of you. Your hands find his head, fingers tangle in hair in an attempt to tug him in deeper. “Fuckkkk, you’re so good with your tongue, Master!” Usually Sandor hates being touched without permission, but you’re so desperate it feels like he’d be committing a sin if he stopped you.

Besides, you’re dripping down his chin and giving him exactly what he wanted—a drink. But like a man starved, he wants more. He presses his thumb to your clit to stroke it. You throw your head back and sing. It’s the purest music he’s ever heard.

The louder you moan, the harder his cock throbs.

For the next few moments, the only sounds are your cries of pleasure and his grunts against your core.

It isn’t long before you start trembling, to the point that even your inner thighs shake.

“I…I’m going to–”

You don’t need to finish your sentence for Sandor to know that you’re about to cum. He doesn’t let up the movements of his tongue or the pressure to your clit but still you try to force words out of your mouth. “P-Please. Please can I–?” Realization flashes through him. You were asking for permission to cum. Why you think you needed to ask, Sandor doesn’t know, but Gods if it isn’t the most erotic fucking thing. He moves away just enough to speak. “Go on, girl. Give me what I want and cum.” His tongue plunges back into your depths and you spasm around it. When your orgasm hits, your entire body goes rigid and breathy, unrestrained moans bleed from your throat. His cock twitches wildly in response, precum surely dripping onto the stone floor he’s kneeling on. You’ve coated his tongue with your juices, making Sandor wonder if you’ll do the same to his cock. He works you through your aftershocks while drinking from you, licking up every drop he can. It's only when you fall limply back onto the mattress that he stops and removes his tongue and fingers from you. He sits back to look you over. You’re even more beautiful with a flushed face and glossed over eyes.

“Thank you for letting me cum, Master,” you murmur politely.

And just when he thought you couldn’t be any more perfect. Rising onto the bed, he grabs you by the back of the neck and hauls you towards him. His mouth crashes onto yours, forcing his tongue past your parted lips.

You return the kiss in a flurry of passion while your hands roam freely over his body. Starting from his shoulder, you trail your hands down his bare chest to his hip bones. He moans into your kiss, enjoying the feeling of your soft hands and the way you gently suck at his tongue.

Your hands continue downward until your fingertips brush against his still very hard cock.

He breaks the kiss with a smirk. “Something you want, Little One?” You brush your lips against his with a nod. “Make me belong to you.” “I thought you already did,” he teases gruffly with his hot breath in your face. “You’re my property, remember?” Color blooms across your cheeks, but whether it’s in satisfaction or embarrassment, Sandor isn’t sure. “I am. I belong to you, Lord Hound. I’m your—” He barks over you, cutting you off. “What did I say about that ‘my lord’ shit?” You instantly close your mouth, lips pressing into a thin line at your mistake. Fucking hells. He wanted to fuck you, not scold you. Sandor lets out a breath and forces himself to soften his tone. “I don’t need fancy titles, my name is good enough.” Your expression falls, the color draining from your cheeks. “King Joffrey only referred to you as ‘The Hound’. Is…Is that not your name?” You look upset, bordering on mortified but Sandor can’t stop the gruff laugh that bubbles from his chest.

“I should have known that slimy little bastard would pull something like that.” You look thoroughly confused. His dark eyes look you over, your once pliable body now stiff as stone. However, it’s the ribbon of his house sigil that catches his attention. It doesn’t have the same appeal now that he knows you don’t know what it means. “And I’m guessing he didn’t tell you the meaning behind this?” he questions bitterly and starts untying it from around your neck. You shake your head ‘no’. “Just that it would please you to see me wear it.” He pulls the ribbon free, but before he can toss it away, you grip his large hand with both of yours. “Tell me? Please, Master, I want to know.” You ask so sincerely that it halts his movements. Your eyes meet, and all his willpower leaves him. “It’s the sigil for my house.” “House?” you prompt in hopes he’ll continue.

“Clegane.” You smile bright, repeating after him so you could lock the information away forever. Sandor, on the other hand, is too distracted by the new rush of blood that pumps down to his groin. When he doesn’t say anything else, you squeeze his hand gently. “And my Master’s given name?” “Sandor.” “Sandor.” You take your time saying it, as if tasting his name on your tongue. “Sandor Clegane,” you whisper with a smirk, noticing how he starts leaning in closer. He doesn’t stop, forcing you to shift your position and slowly lay back onto the bed. “Master Sandor.” You moan and he growls. Your legs part to accommodate him and he places a hand beside your head, trapping you beneath him. “You don’t need to call me Master.” Your smirk widens. “But you like it when I do.” He huffs because you’re right. “Fucking vixen,” he snarls and kisses you hard. Your arms wrap around his broad shoulders and your legs hike up to his hips, allowing his cock to press against your core. You’re still so warm and wet that it’s almost painful to not plunge himself inside. And maybe he would have if you hadn’t been so smug just now. “Beg,” he commands, while the hand not holding him up grips your neck. “And tell your Master what you want.” His fingers wrap effortlessly around your throat. He doesn’t do this to hurt you, just to apply enough pressure so you know who’s in charge. To his surprise, you moan and tilt your head back to give him better access. “That’s better,” he coos and rewards you by running his tongue from your jawline to the shell of your ear. “Brat just needed to be put back in her place, didn’t she?” His hot breath in your ear gives you goosebumps. “Yes, Master. I’m sorry, Master.” “Then prove it.” He gives your throat another squeeze before releasing it. “I’ll behave, I swear.” Your hands run from his forearms, over his muscular shoulders and down his chest until the swell of your breasts are pressed against him. “I just want my Master to claim me. Want to feel him inside.” You pause and rock your hips forward to grind your cunt against his length. “Please, Sandor? Please fuck me.” It’s his name that does him in. He isn’t used hearing it, let alone someone saying it while asking him to fuck them. He straightens his back and guides your legs to fully wrap around his waist. You continue pleading but instead of giving you a verbal reply, he plunges balls deep inside of you. You both instantly tense. He, because of the tightness of your walls clinging around him, and you, because of the sudden intrusion of his cock demanding to be taken. “That’s it. Taking me so well,” he breathlessly praises, slowly moving out, then back in so you’d have time to adjust. He breathes out, watching his cock glisten from your juices when he pulls out a bit. Your head lulls to the side with a moan, feeling beyond stuffed full but also whole.

“Is this what you wanted, girl? To be speared on my cock and used?” “Yes!” you cry, trying to arch back to get his cock deeper. “Please use me. Ruin me for anyone else.”

At that, he slams into you, not being able to wait any longer. You yelp at the pressure, screaming and twisting your fists into the bedsheets. There’s no way he could keep his pace slow, not when you feel this good melting around his cock.

You had said you wanted to be ruined. Sandor Celegane might not be a lord, or a knight, or a gentleman, but he could most certainly ruin you with his cock.

He repositions your legs, throwing them over his shoulders so that your feet are by his ears. He’s able to fuck you even deeper now, his balls smacking against you with every brutal thrust.

His rhythm is rough and steady. And with how tightly he holds your legs in place, you can do nothing but lay there moaning and clenching around him.

“You’ll never forget this. When the next flimsy little knight comes along to fuck you, it’ll be my cock you think about.”

Your eyes screw shut, the pleasure building in your lower belly. It feels like he’s everywhere, filling your cunt and taking over your mind and body. How you manage to nod in response is beyond you. But a nod isn’t good enough.

“Say. It,” he snarls, punctuating his words with even deeper thrusts. You curl your toes with a whine. “It’ll be your cock, Master! Only your cock.” “Mhmm, good girl.” He looks down at where your bodies are joined and sees his cock, hard, ribbed with veins and coated in your juices as it thrusts in and out of your wet hole. It’s a glorious sight and it has his orgasm threatening to hit, but there’s something he has to do first. And that’s making you cum. He reaches between your bodies and easily finds your clit. He rubs it, strokes it, and draws circles on it until he finds the touch that has you babbling in broken, indecipherable sentences.

“I want you to cum,” he speaks in labored breathing, rubbing your clit while still spearing you on his length. “I want you to cum for me now. ”

For a moment, you fall completely silent, but then it hits. The unfiltered, beautiful howls that accompany your climax. All the while your inner walls close around him in the most delicious way.

He curses, lurching forward as you gush and spasm all over him. It’s too much and he’s quickly following you over the edge, filling you with his cum. Like a cat having their head scratched, an almost purring like sound leaves you at the feeling of him filling you with his seed. It has Sandor feeling dazed as to why that would please you, but his focus is on steadying his breathing as he comes down from cumming for the first time in fuck knows how long. Your breathing is also labored, while your eyes struggle to stay open. It’s clear you’re fighting off sleep. He carefully slips out of you, even more careful not to jostle you as he sits on the edge of the bed. He finds his wineskin from earlier by the foot of the bed. Greedily, he drinks from it until his throat no longer feels dry. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches sight of your naked form. If he was this thirsty, then your throat must be raw after all that screaming. He reaches for you, tugging you into his arms to help you sit up. You whine, eyes fluttering open, but relax when he pulls you to sit between his thighs and leans you against his chest. “Here, this will help soothe your throat.” He hands you the wineskin, which you graciously take. Sandor watches you take long, slow sips. A drop slips past your mouth and drips down your chin to land on your breast. He grins. He likes a woman who doesn't mind getting dirty. You’re just as beautiful now as you were when he first walked in to you demurely sitting on the floor. “Will you tell me your name?”

You lower the wineskin from your lips and say it with a smile. This time it’s he who repeats you, liking the way it rolls off his tongue. You nod, smiling at him before taking another drink. He stands and starts making his way to the basin of water set on a small table in the corner of the room. “Drink as much as you like. I can get more,” he says from over his shoulder as he starts washing away the sweat on his chest and the slick that you’ve managed to coat even his balls in. Afterwards, he puts on a pair of lightweight sleep pants. When he turns back to you, he expects to find you still drinking or dressing, but instead he finds you sitting on his bed and watching him. “Where are your nightclothes?” You fidget uncomfortably, looking away. Sandor grunts under his breath, he should have known this wouldn’t last. “If you don’t wish to stay, then just say so.” The bite in his voice is evident and you snap your head up in his direction. “I-It’s not that!” you protest. “I want to stay. I just…don’t have any clothes.” His brows pull together in confusion, “Joffrey didn’t leave your clothes here for you?” You shake your head ‘no’. That angers him. Joffrey was a callous shit but to leave you with nothing was just cruel. “No personal belongings? How the fuck did he expect you to get home after this?” You flinch, once again looking away. “The King said….” you trail off. “Nevermind, Master.” Your discomfort radiates off of you. Quietly, he fishes out a clean shirt out of a trunk at the end of the bed and makes his way over to you. “Arms up, Little One.”

You lift your head and see the shirt in his hands. You obey and he slips the shirt over your head and helps you dress. “This damn thing is going to look more like a dress on you, but it’ll do until morning.” You pull your knees to your chest while muttering a ‘thank you’. There’s still something bothering you and Sandor is determined to figure out what it is. “Look at me,” he commands, knowing you’ll obey. You do and he continues. “Do you know why they call me ‘The Hound’?” You stare at him in fascination and shake your head. “Because I can smell a lie as easily as I can breathe. So out with it. What’s upsetting you?”

You gnaw on your bottom lip before responding. “King Joffrey told me I didn’t need to pack anything because he bought me from the keeper of the pleasure house. He…” You falter, trying to find the bravery to continue. “He said that if you didn’t wish to keep me once we were through, that he’d pass me around to his other guards until they used me up. Or that maybe he’d kill me himself.” Rage boils in his blood. Not only because Joffrey put you through hell, but because he suddenly can’t bear the thought of another having you. “No one is going to touch what’s mine.” The threat of his words hangs in the air but you look relieved. “You…You mean you’ll keep me here with you?” Sandor nearly chokes because he hadn’t thought that far ahead. All he knew is that he didn’t want Joffrey or any other to get their hands on you. “Is…Is that what you want?” You smile bright, brighter than the summer’s sun. “Nothing would make me happier, Master.” As beautiful as you are, and as lovely as it sounds to have a warm cunt to bury himself in each night, the cold blade of reality cuts through. “Well don’t go making it sound like it’ll be all sunshine and lemoncakes. I’m not by any means a joy to live with and—” But you aren’t listening because you’re too busy crawling into his lap. You straddle him and nuzzle your face into the side of his neck. “Thank you, Sandor,” you whisper against his skin, melting against his body as you make yourself comfortable. No one had ever thanked him in his entire life. He isn’t sure how to handle it. The longer you lay against him, the more a warmth blooms inside his breastbone. He likes the way it feels having you close. It makes him feel things. Things he doesn’t have a name for. You let out a small sigh, seemingly starting to fall asleep while sitting up. He shifts and lays down on the bed with you still tucked against his chest.

There was no way of knowing what the future held, but Sandor Celange did know one thing….. This was the best damn present he’d ever received.

#lady in writing #sandor clegane #sandor x reader #sandor the hound clegane #sandor clegane smut #rory mccann

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pin-k-ink · 5 months

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Gojo Satoru X Reader (pt. 2/final part)

CW: teacher-student relationship, cunnilingus, creampie, unprotected sex, begging, age gap, character death, angst, angst, angst

pt. 1

a/n: yup

In the days that followed, their interactions took on a new intensity.

The air between them crackled with unspoken desire, a palpable tension that threatened to ignite at the slightest touch. During their training sessions, Gojo's gaze lingered on her form, his eyes burning with a hunger that mirrored the one she had glimpsed that fateful night.

Despite the unacknowledged shift in their dynamic, they fell into a new rhythm, a sensual dance that blurred the lines between mentor and student, between restraint and abandon.

She'd never experienced such an overwhelming sensory assault. Even during her most intense training sessions with Gojo, when the very ground beneath her feet would rupture and quake, the earth threatening to swallow her whole, there was always some measure of control.

Now, as he stalked toward her like a panther closing in on its prey, his eyes devoured every inch of her exposed flesh. His hands, rough from years of wielding cursed energy, skimmed along her curves, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake. His mouth, hot and demanding, claimed hers with a fervor that stole the breath from her lungs.

Gojo Satoru was an unparalleled prodigy. And he would have his way with her.

She could not deny him, nor herself.

And so, the cycle would continue.

Each night, she would emerge from the shower, a vision of damp hair and milky skin, wearing nothing but his stolen shirts. The fabric, still warm from his body, would cling to her curves, the hem barely grazing her thighs. He would gather her into his lap, strong arms encircling her waist, as he nuzzled into the crook of her neck. His breath, hot against her skin, would send shivers down her spine as he inhaled the intoxicating scent of her shampoo, a heady mix of vanilla and jasmine.

His fingertips, calloused yet gentle, would tease her inner thighs, tracing patterns on the sensitive skin, inching ever closer to where she craved his touch the most. She would squirm in his embrace, a silent plea for more, as the heat between them built to a fever pitch.

Then, the nightly ritual would begin - a sensual dance that would end the same, regardless of whose bed they were in.

They were well past the point of no return.

Each night, the clothes would come off, and the lessons would begin.

She'd always been an adept student, and Gojo a relentless teacher, demanding complete mastery of her technique. And he would not stop until she had met his exacting standards.

Her training was intense, even brutal at times. He would push her to the brink, testing her limits, both physically and emotionally. But the rewards were more than worth the risk.

For each flawless execution, she would earn a tender kiss, his lips brushing against hers with a gentleness that belied the passion simmering beneath the surface. For each mistake, a playful smack, his hand connecting with her skin, sending jolts of pleasure-pain through her body.

And for her best performances, he'd reward her with a delicious lick, his tongue tracing the contours of her body, tasting the salt on her skin, leaving her trembling and aching for more.

"Good girl," he'd purr, his hot breath ghosting across her bare pussy, his large hands holding her thighs apart. "Such a perfect little cunt."

His fingers would slide inside her, teasing, coaxing her to the precipice. "Tell me what you want, sweetheart," he'd murmur. "Tell me how much you want my cock."

"I need it," she'd plead, grinding against his hand. "Please, Gojo-sensei..."

And then he would stop, leaving her panting and unsatisfied.

"Not good enough, little one," he'd whisper, his teeth grazing her earlobe. "Beg for me. Tell me how bad you want me to fuck you."

And the words would tumble from her lips. "Please, Gojo-sensei. Please fuck me. I need your cock. I need you to make me come."

And then, she'd get exactly what she wanted.

"That's it, baby girl," he'd coo as he unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants down. He’d waste no time before he sank into her tight heat with a low, guttural moan. "That's my good girl. You feel so fucking good. Such a perfect little cunt. You were made for me, weren't you, baby?"

He'd fuck her with slow, deliberate strokes, drawing out her pleasure until she was screaming his name. He’d take his time to explore which parts of her made her tighten around him and which parts of her made her squeal.

"That's it, sweetheart. Let me hear you. Let me hear how good my cock makes you feel." She'd lose count of her orgasms, her body trembling from the exertion. But he'd never stop. He'd keep going until she was a quivering mess, her voice hoarse from screaming his name. She was practically folded in half, the bed creaking beneath them as Gojo held her thighs in a bruising grip, fucking her into the mattress.

Then, when she was utterly spent, he'd finally allow himself release, filling her with his seed. She’d berated him the first time he didn’t pull out, and he was only able to console her with the promise of fulfilling her wish next time. It was during the second time that she realized that it was practically impossible to make this man cum anywhere else other than in her pussy.

"That's my good girl," he'd murmur as he held her close, peppering her face with kisses. "My perfect little slut."

In the afterglow, they would lie tangled together, limbs intertwined, hearts racing in unison. His fingers would card through her hair, soothing her as she drifted off to sleep, secure in the knowledge that tomorrow would bring new challenges and new rewards.

She would never forget the nights they shared, moments stolen away from the world where she belonged to him completely. In the sanctuary of his embrace, she found a love that consumed her, a connection so profound that it seemed to transcend the very fabric of reality.

Their nights together were a symphony of passion, a dance of tender touches and whispered promises. He worshipped her body with a reverence that left her breathless, his fingertips tracing every curve and contour as if committing her to memory. In those moments, she felt cherished, adored, and utterly alive.

He had a way of looking at her that made her feel like the most beautiful creature in the world, his eyes filled with a depth of emotion that took her breath away. When he held her close, his strong arms wrapped around her, she felt safe, protected, and utterly content.

They would lay together for hours, talking about everything and nothing, sharing their hopes, dreams, and fears. He listened to her with rapt attention, his gaze never wavering, making her feel like the center of his universe. In those quiet moments, she found a connection that went beyond the physical, a meeting of minds and hearts that left her feeling understood and valued in a way she had never experienced before.

Sometimes, they would simply bask in each other's presence, their bodies intertwined as they drifted off to sleep. She loved the way he would pull her closer in his slumber, his breath warm against her neck, a subconscious reminder of his need for her even in his dreams.

In the mornings, he would wake her with soft kisses, his lips trailing along her skin in a gentle caress. They would make love languidly, savoring every touch and sensation, losing themselves in the pleasure of their union. Afterward, they would lay tangled together, his fingers idly playing with her hair as they talked and laughed, relishing the simple joy of being in each other's company.

Those nights were a precious gift, a time when the world outside ceased to exist, and they could simply be two people in love. She cherished every moment, every touch, every whispered endearment. In his arms, she found a happiness she had never known, a sense of belonging that filled her heart to bursting.

She knew that what they had was special, a once-in-a-lifetime connection that defied explanation. With him, she felt complete, whole in a way she had never thought possible. He was her soulmate, her other half, the missing piece that made her feel like she could conquer the world.

Those nights, filled with love, passion, and tender moments, were the ones she would always hold closest to her heart. They were a testament to the depth of their bond, a love that burned bright and fierce, a love that she knew would last a lifetime.

As she lay in his arms, listening to the steady beat of his heart, she knew that no matter what the future held, those nights would always be theirs. A secret world, a cherished memory, a love that would endure, even in the face of the challenges that lay ahead.

On the night before her graduation, she found herself consumed by anxiety. The impending trials weighed heavily on her mind, the culmination of weeks spent pushing herself to the limit. Failure was not an option; her future as a sorcerer depended on her success.

Gojo's absence throughout the day had been a constant distraction, his presence sorely missed as she struggled to focus on her own preparations. When she finally returned to her room that evening, she found him waiting for her.

"You look like hell," he remarked, pulling her into a tight embrace.

She leaned into him, finding solace in his warmth. "You're one to talk. I thought you'd forgotten about me."

"Never," he assured her, his hand gently stroking her back. "How are you feeling about tomorrow?"

"Nervous, but determined," she replied, her voice muffled against his chest. "I've worked too hard to let it all go to waste."

Gojo tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. "You're a force to be reckoned with. Your power, your dedication—it's unmatched. You've got this, and I'll be right there, waiting to celebrate your victory."

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Thank you, Gojo-sensei. I won't let you down."

Their lips met in a searing kiss, a wordless exchange of passion and reassurance. As they tumbled onto the bed, hands roaming and breath mingling, she allowed herself to be lost in the moment, pushing aside all thoughts of the challenges that lay ahead.

She never got to graduate.

In the dead of night, a call shattered the stillness, summoning Gojo to the school with urgent haste. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight that greeted him upon his arrival. There, on a cold metal stretcher, lay the lifeless body of his beloved student and lover. The only way he could identify her was by the single white and blue acrylic nail that remained intact, a cruel reminder of the design he had encouraged her to get, so that she would carry a piece of him with her during her trials.

Questions swirled in his mind, tormenting him with possibilities. Did she think of him in her final moments? Did she wait for him to come to her rescue, only to be met with the crushing realization that he would never arrive? Or did she accept her fate, resigned to the knowledge that even he, with all his power, could not save her?

Time seemed to lose all meaning as he stood there, frozen in place, unable to tear his eyes away from her lifeless form. Emotions eluded him, leaving him hollow and numb. He couldn't even muster the strength to cry, his voice reduced to a feeble whisper of her name.

Yaga's condolences fell on deaf ears as he led Gojo out of the blood-scented room. The weight of his loss consumed him, draining him of any desire to linger. He made his way home, seeking solace in the familiarity of his bed, desperate to escape the suffocating reality that threatened to shatter his already fragile heart.

Sleep evaded him, and in the depths of his despair, he longed to reach out to her, knowing that her voice, her touch, could have soothed his aching soul. But she was gone, forever beyond his reach, leaving him with nothing but the agonizing realization that he had failed to protect the one person who mattered most.

In the silence of his room, his gaze fell upon the nightstand drawer, where a velvet box lay hidden, cradling a silver ring that would never find its intended recipient. A symbol of a future stolen, a love left unfulfilled.

And so, he sat there, alone in the darkness, the emptiness consuming him, as the weight of his loss threatened to crush his very existence.

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo x reader smut #gojo x reader #jjk x reader smut

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aheathen-conceivably · 3 months

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🎶 Sounds pretty good to me. Can I do one more? 🎶

Night after night, Josephine worked harder than any bar she’d ever been in. Val had been right, her pride and humor got more tips than the smoldering looks she was used to casting. So little by little, their nightly competition became tighter as it turned into some sort of shared ritual they waited for each day.

Once the last patron was seen to the door they exchanged shared glances, at first instigated by Val, who knew that she would win just as she had the night before, and the one before that too. She always had a smug smile on her face when she asked Josephine to tally up her tips, the same one she invariably wore when her pile was still higher at the end of the night.

It was that look that taunted Josephine in bed at night, lying next to Gio and waiting for the next day to roll around so she could see it again; until eventually, she was the one taunting Valcita, telling her that tonight would finally be the night she would win. Until one night, she was right.

The odds had shifted ever so slightly, just enough that for once, Jo was the one who got to look over her pile of money with a smug smile. She jumped to her feet, letting her good nature take over her desire to stay and gloat. Without a word she rushed behind the bar to grab a bottle of whiskey. Lifting it triumphantly in the air, Val waved her away, prompting a confused and defeated look from Jo. Val’s answer came quickly and without unnecessary explanation, just as everything seemed to with her. “Don’t drink, never did.”

Jo hesitated and moved to put it back on the shelf where it belonged, but Val laughed. “No no, go ahead, don’t let me stop you. You won fair and square after all.”

It was easier than drinking at home, where even after a month had gone by, tension still lingered in the air like cigarette smoke. Everyone there seemed to tiptoe around her, trying to make up for the perceived wounds between them while ignoring the existential tick of a clock. It was in every one of their heads: a constant, ever-present reminder that their loan matured soon. It was easier to ignore here, even if the whiskey was the same and there was a clock in the corner chiming at the top of every hour.

On and on it ticked, but neither Jo nor Val noticed it, as Val rolled one cigarette after another and Josephine admittedly teetered past the point of a celebratory drink into drunkenness. It was simply too pleasant to hear the clock the way she did at home, so Josephine stayed until her bottle grew lighter and the melancholy drone of the hand of time faded in favor of a loud chime, one after the other signaling that it was 4 AM.

Suddenly she saw the thin sliver left in the bottle and registered just how bleary her eyes had become, not quite as used to drinking straight whiskey now at thirty-four as she had been a decade before. Half of her could already feel the headache setting in and hear the purposefully suppressed worry in Giorgio’s voice as she returned home. Fuck. Giorgio. She was usually pleased to know he waited up for her every night; but it would do her no good to push him to his breaking point now.

Jo mumbled some sort of half-hearted apology as she cut Val’s sentence short and stood to look for her gloves and hat. Whatever smug smile Jo had worn upon winning their game was now back on Valcita’s face, who watched her curse under her breath as she struggled to find her belongings. As she ran up the stairs to find them, Val watched her heels disappear and then looked down at her own feet and shook her head.

Before Jo could return the saloon door swung open and a man walked into the room. Val took one look at him and knew that he was in need of a stiff drink. “You missed last call, pal. No more being served here tonight.”

He straightened his collar and looked around, “I, uh, I’m not here for a drink. I’m here for Jo. She’s here, right?” Val looked at him again, seeing the worry in his eyes in a new light. She had been wrong. It wasn’t worry; it was jealousy. Jealousy mingled with inadequacy. She smirked, “You must be Jo’s beau.”

His eyes stopped roaming the room in search of Josephine and settled on the woman addressing him. He couldn’t have said why, but there was a tangible hostility coming from her, like she was assessing her competition and finding it lacking.

“Gio, what…what are you doing here?”

He tore his eyes away from the hard stare of the women he didn’t know to see Jo standing at the foot of the stairs, “I…well, it was getting late and I know you close ‘round midnight. I just…I just wanted to make sure you were alright. Or that, uh, you didn’t have to walk home alone so late.”

Josephine looked back to Val, who needn’t say a word for Jo to read the tone of her expression. He came to fetch you, like a little girl. To catch you in the act of whatever he convinced himself you were doing with another man. It would be a man, wouldn’t it, Josephine?

Josephine bristled under her gaze, unsure if it was the whiskey making her dizzy or if she had really just read that in Val’s expression. How could she know that Gio’s jealousies extended even into this small barroom where only two women sat, not a man to be found?

Josephine turned her gaze onto him, more sure of what she’d find there than if she continued to look into Val’s eyes. It was as easy with him as always, because it was written all over his face: the worry, the panic, the suppressed anger. His eyes told her that he had waited for hours, convincing herself that she had lied about working here, or maybe even found some John at the bar. Right after the clock struck three, he finally reached the conclusion that she wasn’t coming home at all. Of course she wasn’t. Not after what he’d done. He had to find her. To make sure she was still there, that she hadn’t left him like she’d threatened…

All of it was plain as day, reflecting off of him like moonlight on the sand. Jo could sense it, and she knew that Valcita could too.

Josephine pulled her glove up higher on her wrist, as though in doing so she could hide how exposed she felt between the pair of eyes on her. After looking at Val and her cigarette one final time, she turned for the door and pushed past Giorgio and his lingering questions. She didn’t even bother to answer him, because through one lie, he had started a game with her that he was never truly armed to win.

All it took was one look for her to tell him that in coming here, he had shattered whatever peace he had bought back in the last month. Now he was right back at step one of apologies and deference. As she moved a gloved hand to the saloon doors, Jo didn't even bother to turn around to make sure that he was behind her, because she knew that he would follow her now no matter what. The clicking of his loafers on the floorboards told her that she was right, and about that, at least, she couldn’t help but smile.

#1934 #sims 4 historical #ts4 historical #ts4 decades challenge #sims 4 decades challenge #the darlingtons #sims 4 legacy #ts4 legacy #sims 4 story #ts4 story #Josephine Duplanchier #Valcita Grove #Giorgio Mistretta

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