#they will tear each other apart/affectionate | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

igbylicious · 5 months

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knockout [woosan x reader]

pairing: woosan x f reader

rating: 18+

genre: smut, boxer au, friends with benefits

summary: Wooyoung invites you over to play after San wins his latest match.

wc: 3.9k

warnings: boxer San, manager Wooyoung, threesome, consensual somnophilia (San is the one asleep), blow job, hand job, spit kink, face-sitting, cunnilingus, face-fucking, choking on cock, cumplay (eating and sharing), dirty talk, San has bruises, they use the pet names ‘baby’ and ‘good girl’ for you but no pronouns, reader wears a dress, established Woosan, San is whiny while he sleeps but gets cocky when awake, Wooyoung is a mischievous lil’ shit (affectionate) the whole way through

a/n: my first ateez fic! please consider a like/reblog if you like it (❁´◡`❁)

-☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧-

Your phone buzzes late at night, and you already know who it is before looking. You tear yourself away from the TV and check your messages, where you find a selfie from Wooyoung.

His hair is getting longer, pushed back with sunglasses resting on top of his head. (Even though it’s already dark out. Poser.) He wears a black-and-white shirt with a busy pattern and just one button too many undone, a heavy silver necklace around his neck. But all of that is just a sideshow to the main point of the selfie; Wooyoung is winking cheekily at the camera, holding up a big wad of cash. San won the match.

does this mean takeout is on you guys next time? you text him. After a brief pause you add, also congratulations i guess

(But the dismissive tone is just for show, riling each other up a natural part of your relationship with Wooyoung. You’re smiling as you press send, knowing how much a win means to him and San, how hard they work for it.)

Your phone buzzes again. you should come over

for takeout?

idk about takeout but there’s definitely a meal in it for you 😏😜😘🍆💦

You can’t decide whether to grin or roll your eyes at the message and its string of emojis at the end, but you do send Wooyoung an affirmative text back. Your face decides on a grin as you put your phone down, a spark of excitement coursing through you. Guess you’re going out tonight after all.

This thing between you and San and Wooyoung has been going on long enough that usually you don’t even bother dressing up for them anymore, but hey, it’s a special occasion, right? So you slip on some lacy underwear and wiggle into a cute dress, and do a quick check in the mirror to make sure you’re looking at least halfway decent. (Not too much fuss. Wooyoung did text you in the middle of the night.)

Just before you go, your phone buzzes one last time; Wooyoung warns you to send a text once you get to the apartment, not ring the door. At first you do not give it too much thought; they do live in a crappy old place, might just be that the doorbell is broken.

But then the added photo loads, and you see San is conked out on the couch, sitting with spread legs and his head lolled back, mouth slightly hanging open. Apparently he hasn’t even changed clothes since the match, wearing a dirty white tank top and a smattering of bruises across his tanned skin. His dark hair is a mess, pretty lips set in a natural pout while he sleeps.

Immediately, a fresh buzz of excitement surges through you. There is a whole new layer of thrill to this invitation now.

After driving over, you send Wooyoung a text that you’ve arrived. He opens the door for you with a bright grin, and puts a quick finger to his lips to indicate you have to be quiet. His sunglasses have disappeared somewhere between making a selfie and your arrival, saving him a roasting from you. He gives your dress an appreciative once-over, and casually kisses your cheek as he lets you in, resting his hand on the small of your back. His good mood is incredibly obvious, fingers brushing against the top of your ass.

You slip off your shoes and step further into the apartment. The place is a bit messy as always, furnished with a combo of thrift-shop finds, stuff they won off bets, and random things donated by friends. (Even their old van is a hand-me-down, though you have no idea where they got it from.)

The result is a home that’s chaotic, but friendly. Shelves piled with keepsakes, stories attached to everything they own. And for all the messiness, at least they do keep it somewhat clean.

There is a desk in the corner, with a few neat piles of paper money on top. Clearly Wooyoung was in the middle of counting — and accounting, his books laying open with a pen next to them. Despite all his antics, Wooyoung is actually pretty responsible with money. He knows that he needs to be, never sure when they’ll get their next win. (You suspect they run a few less-than-legal stints on the side, but neither seems too keen on making that their main gig.)

And then there is San, sitting on their old couch. Still fast asleep.

“Look how tired,” Wooyoung murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. “He worked so hard today, I thought we should reward him. How about it, hm? Don’t you think he deserves a prize for taking home the victory?”

You lick your lips, a sharp craving growing in the pit of your stomach at the sight of San’s soft, sleeping face. As far as you are concerned, you are the one getting a prize here. It’s been a long time since you last had the chance to indulge in this particular kink; it can be tricky to coordinate when you don’t actually live in the same house.

And San makes such pretty noises when he’s asleep.

Wooyoung grins at the expression on your face. “Good girl,” he whispers indulgently, pressing one last kiss on your cheek before he playfully slaps your ass, pushing you towards the couch.

You glare back at him, even if the slap sent a crackle of pleasure through you. Just out of principle, to let Wooyoung know he can’t get away with everything. (He can absolutely get away with everything.)

But then you shift your focus to San, getting on your knees in front of him as quietly as possible. He usually is a deep sleeper but still, you are not about to risk waking him too early. You do take a moment to just look at him; to take in the way his broad chest moves with slow, even breaths.

The hard, battered muscles of his body are completely relaxed now, arms laying uselessly on the couch. There are marks on his knuckles, and it’s odd to think he was using those same fists to beat someone up, all for a cash prize, just a mere few hours ago. He looks so soft now. Not for the first time, you marvel at how handsome he is, the sharp cut of his jawline, pronounced cheekbones and pouty lips. So damn gorgeous, even with bruises marring his face, a particularly nasty one on the corner of his mouth. You want to kiss it, but you tuck that thought away for later.

San’s legs are already conveniently spread for you to shuffle close; could be a happy coincidence, could be that San was expecting this. Expecting you.

(This was a conversation you had long ago, where he’d given you a free pass to ‘wake’ him if an opportunity presented itself. It is entirely possible that he and Wooyoung discussed this before contacting you, and something about the idea of San falling asleep while thinking of your mouth on his dick makes you squirm in the best way.)

You press a hand against the front of his sweats, feeling the outline of his cock. You squeeze it with a light touch, give the impressive length a gentle stroke, and delight at the little “Hmm” that San sighs out.

Encouraged by the sound, you pull down the waistband of San’s sweats just enough so you can take his cock out, heavy in your hand. Still soft, though he gives a beautiful twitch when your thumb runs across a vein across the underside.

Your eyes glance up when Wooyoung sits down, just as carefully as you had been. He is slouched next to San with an arm slung across the back of the couch, fingers ghosting against San’s hair but never touching, while he raises his other hand to bite at his thumb. Uncharacteristically quiet, watching with rapt attention.

Heat pools between your thighs, you love being on display for him, teasing a sleeping San. You’re keenly aware of how your dress has ridden up, your ass sticking out, your neckline low enough for an ample view of your cleavage — though you’re sure it’s your hand that has Wooyoung’s full attention right now, wrapped around his lover’s slowly hardening dick.

You gather saliva in your mouth, then let it dribble down on your fingers and San’s cock. He moans, shifting slightly, lips parting a little wider as you take advantage of the easier slide of your palm. The sound goes right to your core; San’s moans are just a bit shallower when he is asleep, a bit more high-pitched. More needy.

More noises start to slip from his lips as you slowly stroke the length of his thick cock, thumb playing against his slit. Sometimes his hips shift to follow your movement, but he does not wake, his conscious mind unaware of your fist working him to full hardness.

San is getting beautifully flushed, a redness blooming across his cheeks and neck as he lets out a faint whimper, brow furrowed. It is always a fun game, to see how far you can take him before he wakes up — before you are treated to that toe-curling moment of aroused disorientation on San’s face, that split-second where he can’t quite figure out why he is so fucking horny until he sees you, nested between his thighs, and a sleepy yet cocky grin breaks out on his face.

But it’s not come so far yet; San is still under the hold of his tired slumber. His breath hitches as your fist twists around the head of his cock, almost like a little hiccup, precum mingling with your spit. You know you can’t hold off your impatience for much longer.

Wooyoung is still staring, though his eyes wander between San’s cock and the wiggle of your ass, his cheeky tongue dipping out to wet his lips. His gaze is heated, intense, and the slight asymmetry of his eyelids makes his stare only more attractive and striking, dotted by the little mole under his eye. He worries his bottom lip with his teeth as he watches, but grins when he catches you watching him in turn. He leans forward, elbow on his knees, and beckons for you to offer your hand.

You do so, and watch how Wooyoung decadently works his mouth and lets a thick globule of spit fall past his lips, onto your waiting palm. His grin widens when you moan weakly as his saliva mingles with yours, with San’s precum, and generously gives you more until your hand is messy and slick. Finally satisfied, Wooyoung leans back with a flirty wink.

You make good use of Wooyoung’s ‘contribution’, pumping San just a little faster now. His noises start to pick up, face contorted with unaware pleasure as a small trail of drool escapes the corner of his mouth. It won’t be long now before he wakes. Honestly, you are surprised it has lasted this long at all; San’s fight must have been particularly strenuous tonight.

Just when you contemplate whether it’s time to get your tongue involved, Wooyoung suddenly gets up from the couch.

You try not to get distracted by him moving around behind you, keeping your focus on San, but then you feel a little tap against your ass. You turn your head to see him lying on his back, head between your feet with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Lift your ass up, he mouths and gestures simultaneously.

You do exactly that, allowing Wooyoung to slide under you with his hands on your waist, his face right underneath the flimsy scrap of lace that covers your dripping core, barely worth the name ‘underwear’. “Seriously?” you whisper, though even just the sight of him, raised eyebrow and ready to eat you out, has more arousal leaking into your thong.

“Hey, San isn’t the only one who worked hard for this match,” Wooyoung whispers quietly, wetting his lips. “Don’t I deserve a reward, too?”

Well… If Wooyoung’s idea of a reward is to have you ride his face, then who are you to deny him? You really keep getting the better deal out of their hard-earned victory. Still, you roll your eyes at him, just to let him know how ridiculous you think he’s being, though the increasingly damp spot on your underwear tells Wooyoung all he needs to know.

He lets out a pleased, dark chuckle as you lower yourself down, his hands gripping tighter onto your waist as he positions you for the best angle. He does not even bother to pull the scrap of lace aside, happily eating you out through it.

San whines when your fingers squeeze around him, liquid oozing from the tip, his hips stuttering lightly before he settles back down. His cock is flushed dark, pulsing in your hand, but it is hard to focus on him right now. A lazy hand continues to stroke him while you struggle to focus on anything but Wooyoung’s muffled moans against your sopping heat.

You bite your lip to keep silent, hips moving on their own accord as Wooyoung’s nose presses against your clit, his mouth undeterred by the obstruction of lace as he makes a sloppy mess of your cunt, eagerly lapping away.

Wooyoung is rarely this quiet, but today he foregoes his usual dirty talk and running commentary to direct his full attention on reducing you to a mindless mess. He is a fiend with his mouth either way, thick swipes of his tongue and grazing teeth, mouth suckling at you through the now-ruined lace.

It takes all your self-control to stay on task, to not get distracted by the sound of a zipper, and soon after the wet noise of Wooyoung jerking himself off, still moaning against your leaking cunt. You shake yourself out of it, wrapping your lips around just the head of San’s cock, licking at the steady stream of precum while you use both hands to work his length. He twitches in your mouth, and for a moment you wonder if he’s going to cum without even waking up at all.

But then Wooyoung uses his nose to nudge your thong aside and sucks directly at your clit, and you moan loudly around San’s cock at the sudden stimuli.

San starts awake at the vibration, his hips reflexively jerking forward. You happily meet his thrust to gag on him, making San hiss a throttled curse. “F-fuck, what’s-ahhh—”

His hand flies to your hair, instinctively holding you in place. Your eyes tear up as he hits the back of your throat and stays there, but you can still glance upward to look at him — and he’s a fucking sight to behold. Bleary-eyed and disoriented, his mouth slack and panting hard for breath as he tries to get his bearings. Eyes landing on you, his cock twitching as understanding dawns. The moment is every bit as beautiful as you had imagined.

“Look who it is, Sannie,” Wooyoung grins when he notices San is awake, taking a break from tongue-fucking you. “Came over just to congratulate you. Ain’t that sweet?”

“Fuck,” San chokes out, his voice gravelly from sleep. He hisses sharply when you hollow your cheeks and give a light suck, drawing a low groan. Slowly, the sleep retreats from his eyes and is replaced by a dark alertness, though his face is still flushed, his body tired.

Lazily, he lets you continue doing what you do, only stroking your hair in encouragement as he releases you, letting you return to shallower bobs of your head. “Fuck, baby, just like that,” he groans, biting his lip. Once again, your attention is drawn to the bruise on the corner of his mouth, aching to be kissed — but your own mouth is preoccupied. Later, you promise yourself. There will be time for that later.

As expected, San’s moans are a little deeper now he is awake, slowly rocking his hips as he watches you take him further with every pass of your mouth. You wonder if he’s even aware of the difference in his sounds, or if that’s just a little secret for you and Wooyoung to know.

Speaking of Wooyoung — now that he doesn’t have to keep quiet for San, he gets talkative again. “Use me, baby,” he groans, his fingers digging into your ass. “Come on, ride me a little harder. Don’t be shy. Smear that wet pussy all over my face.”

You don’t need to be told twice, enthusiastically granting Wooyoung’s request. He moans happily as you fuck yourself on his tongue, any further words muffled between your thighs. You’d worry about whether Wooyoung can even breathe, except he has a death-grip on your hips and refuses to let you slow down. His nose repeatedly bumps into your clit, sending sparks through you every time, your moans reverberating around San.

San grunts at the feeling, voice husky and low. But as attractive as the sound is… some part of you wants to hear his whimper again. Just to see if you can make him do it.

Well. There are a few sure-fire ways you know to push San to the very limit and beyond — and one of them is immediately available to you.

He was already pushing deep inside your mouth, but you do your best to relax your throat and surge forward, your nose brushing his pelvis as you choke yourself on his cock, then pull back to do it again. And again. A lewd, wet gurgle filling the room every time, your throat constricting as you strain around his thick shaft, tears burning in your eyes.

San groans at your renewed efforts, a greed shining in his sharp eyes when he realises what you’re doing, what you are asking him to do. His fingers scrape your scalp as they embed tighter around the strands of hair. Recognising the unspoken invitation to fuck your mouth as hard as he wants.

“That’s it,” he growls, “you know how I like it. Choke on my cock, hm? I’ll stuff you until you can’t breathe.”

You can barely breathe already; it’s hard to pull in air through your nose like this, with San steadily rocking his hips forward. You go slack in his hold, just letting him use you to his liking, trying to curl your tongue around the underside of his cock in the way you know drives him up the wall.

Wooyoung makes a noise when you slump down on his face, and you try to catch yourself but he won’t have it, only sucking more eagerly onto your clit as he grabs onto your thighs to keep you in place. You moan loudly, and San curses in response, his breath getting pitchy.

It’s working, you realise. It’s not as much as when he is asleep, but slowly a whiny lilt creeps into San’s voice as he uses your throat, his face contorted with pained pleasure.

Your head starts to spin, the barrage of sensations threatening to overwhelm you. Slick sounds and deep moans, a heady scent of arousal permeating the air. San’s cock obstructing your breath, his little whines; Wooyoung’s tongue nimbly flicking against your clit, his hands squeezing at the soft meat of your thighs. You’re tilting, slowly but surely, right over the edge when Wooyoung sucks harshly, exactly when San whimpers.

It hits you like a freight train, the violent force of it enough to have you sobbing around San’s cock. You tremble and shake as electricity surges through you, only held up by San and Wooyoung’s hold on you.

Your garbled cries take San over the edge with you, though he still has enough restraint to pull back slightly, no longer nudging against your gag reflex. He shudders with a tight hiss, clumsy fingers catching in your hair as he spills hot seed inside your mouth.

You almost choke again; it’s messy, and there is a lot, leaving you to wonder if San has been abstaining before the match. Lately you certainly haven’t done more with them than casual texts or hangouts, but can make no assumptions about what he and Wooyoung get up to when you’re not around.

You try your best not to swallow it down — and not spill a single drop, either. At the latter, you don’t succeed entirely, a thin wet trail dribbling down your lips when San pulls out and slumps back onto the couch with a final, loud groan. But when Wooyoung gets out from underneath to sit next to you, and pushes a thumb on your bottom lip to show him, you can proudly stick out your tongue to him, sticky whiteness on display.

“Good girl,” Wooyoung purrs, fondly cupping your cheek. “Don’t even need me to tell you anymore, huh? So well-behaved for us.”

You moan contently at the praise, and again when Wooyoung eagerly puts his lips on you, sloppily lapping up San’s cum from your chin, your lips, until his tongue invades your mouth for a proper meal. You can taste yourself on him while Wooyoung tastes San, who is watching it all with a small, cocky grin, teeth flashing at you.

Wooyoung lets out a needy moan as he drinks deep, his tongue sliding against yours in a heady dance. He grabs for your hand, guiding you down to his still-hard cock, hot and weeping precum. Your fingers are still messy and slick, making it easy for you to jerk him off while he continues to hungrily kiss you, licking up every last drop he can reach.

It’s less of a challenge to make Wooyoung whimper, but the sound is no less exciting for it, his high-pitched moans like music to your ears. He cums messily in your hand, some spilling onto your dress. With a final bite to your bottom lip, he pulls away from your mouth, eyes heavy-lidded and looking thoroughly fucked out, lips swollen and shiny from the essences of both you and San. You grin at him, lifting your hand to suck his cum off your fingers.

Only then do you turn to San, who is indulging himself with slow strokes on his cock while he still watches you and Wooyoung intently.

“Congratulations on the match,” you say casually, cum-stained fingers lingering on your lips.

San’s grin returns to his face and he grabs your hand to pull you into his lap…where you finally get to kiss that bruise on the corner of his mouth. He winces as you press up to him, and you can hear Wooyoung grouse next to you.

“Be careful with him, alright? That’s my meal ticket you got there,” he complains, dusting himself off as he gets back on his feet.

But San wraps his arms around you, keeping you captive. “You don’t have to be that careful,” he murmurs against your mouth, his hands firmly planted on your ass as he grinds you against his crotch. The night is not over quite yet.

-☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧-

An indeterminate time and a thorough shower later, you are sitting snugly between San and Wooyoung on their shabby old couch. They graciously borrowed you some clothes, leaving you cosily wrapped in a pair of San’s sweats and one of Wooyoung’s oversized hoodies. In your hands you have freshly delivered takeout, enjoying a hot meal together with the guys.

Their treat, of course.

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likedovesinthewindd · 19 days

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What if Art donaldson wouldn't let reader break up with him and he just started to overly affectionate begging them to stay.

pls he's such a loser. need him like yesterday.

"Art, please."

Your plea fell on deaf ears as Art's lips continued trailing kisses up the expanse of your arm. The feeling of his lips so softly meeting your skin nearly made you sob. His mouth was on the inside of your elbow when you placed your right hand on the side of his face, trying to get him to atleast look at you.

Instead, he kissed your open palm, taking your wrist in his hand before detouring, now trailing kisses up your right arm. You sighed, defeated and growing frustrated. His arms wrapped around your body as his mouth moved up your arm, placing a kiss to your shoulder before his head dipped down to the dip between your neck and your shoulder.

"Please, Art," you half whined, placing your hands on his shoulders to try and pull him away, but your arms just couldn't find the strength to do so. He pulled away from your neck abruptly, making you jump a little. "You're crazy If you think I'll just throw everything away," he said, voice so soft you almost missed the anger laced in his words.

Your hands moved up from his shoulders to the sides of his face, keening at the look on his face. He looked like a kicked puppy, and you felt like the worse person on earth.

"We're drifting apart," you reasoned, your thumbs softly rubbing over the apples of his cheeks. His hands gripped both your wrists, preventing you from moving away as his face nuzzled into your left palm, kissing the skin. "We can find each other again," he countered, words muffled in your palm. You sighed at his stubbornness, pulling your hands from his face. You didn't get far, the grip he still had on your wrists tightening slightly as he brought your hands to his mouth, kissing over the knuckles of your balled fists.

"It's a dead end," you whispered, the words physically hurting your chest as you tried, and failed to keep your tears at bay. They now sat shallow in your eyes, waiting for your next cruel statement to break the dam. "You can't say that," he said, "please don't say that."

"Art—"

"I'm begging you," he interrupted you. His hands dropping yours in favor of holding your face the same way you had held his not too long ago. "I need you," he said with a kiss to your forehead. "I can't do any of this without you," he spoke against your forehead, voice breaking as he felt the hot tears roll down his cheeks. The thought of you leaving alone made his heart and chest clench painfully.

"I know we can find each other again," he said, pulling away to look you in the eyes. "Can we try," he asked, "please?"

#unfortunately need loser boy :(#challengers x reader #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson #likedovesinthewindd

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azullumi · 1 month

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“withering desires of a cruel man with broken confessions” ; aventurine

to you : 🧀 nonnie !! i hope you had a wonderful birthday and i’m sorry for taking a long time to finish this but hey, it’s done now (finally). belated happy birthday and i wish you all the best <33

premise — his belief that he doesn’t deserve the good things is rooted deeply underneath the dirt where he buries his corpse, and he doesn’t deserve you; this is an ode to clementia and he wishes that his song reaches you.

tags — w/ gender-neutral reader, fluff to angst, friends to friends that knows they like each other, orange as a metaphor for love, angry and forced love confessions, aven my self-sabotage and mixed signals king, 1.5k ; one-shot

note — made while listening to phoebe bridgers, faye webster, adrianne lenker, and ichiko aoba. this was supposed to be a short drabble about peeling oranges and sharing with them what happened

They say clementines are a symbol for mercy—gentle, soft, and sweet, like an echo of the sun.

There’s the fresh smell of citrus in the air as he delicately pulls its skin to reveal its form, a warm burst of sunset trapped within its fragile walls, and his nails will be tainted by the color of its penance and he’ll forget what it feels like to only have hatred in his heart. Maybe that’s how forgiveness tastes; salvation will fill his blood as he sheds tears that carry his sins (they were never his).

“I don’t know how you can do that flawlessly.” You say, your voice drenched in wonder and amazement as you watch the movement of his fingers, adeptly peeling the fruit. The sections come apart neatly and perfectly in his hands.

He smiles, “It’s easy.”

“It’s not.” You insist, reminding him of the horror of the state the orange has become when you tried to share it with him. “Did you see the holes I tore through it? I was left with nothing but the mere coat because the juice sprayed in all directions.”

The sound of laughter forms in his throat and escapes, “It’s because it was small and the skin is hard. Come on.” He holds a small piece near your face and you part your lips open enough for him to feed you; a warm feeling resides in your cheeks as you chew. There’s a burst of sweetness, with hints of sourness that lingered in its nature in your mouth—it reminds you of the night when he held your form and gently guided you to the melody of the song.

“Is it sweet?” He asks, his head tilted a little to the side as he bores his gaze at you. There are lingering touches, whispered honey-coated words, affectionate gestures, and eyes painted of different vivid hues and contrasting pristine tones that never seem to hold the light, only reflecting your form within. You hum, nodding your head as you answer, “You should teach me how to peel them, you know. I don’t want to be calling you everytime or having to rely on you too much.”

(Truthfully, and hopefully so, may you never learn so he’ll get to be this close to you always.)

He smiles, sunshine peeking through his expression, “I wouldn’t mind.” He wouldn’t mind if it were just a small matter or nothing at all, you can keep on calling for him, ask for his assistance or simply just his presence—he’ll come running to you. He whispers, “Use me as you wish,” and his words shatter as it falls to the ground. (See him as a tool that has never known its purpose. See him as worthless but mere dust that covers your window sills. See him as nothing but a fool who never understood the lines in his heart.)

You say, “You know you’re not just as little as that to me.”

“Then what am I to you?” The comfort of silence settles in the gaps of his fingers and he finds himself seeking, waiting, with bated breath. His gaze seems to still at your eyes before falling to your lips, lingering for a few moments before meeting your eyes once more, and your hands tremble; you know the answer, you know what to say, you know, you know, you know, you know—and, at once, there’s the warm feeling of his lips on yours as you pull him in, as he pulls you in.

It’s gentle, soft in all of its edges and cracks. He holds your face in his hands and you intertwine yours in his locks, and you pull at his hair, eliciting a hum from him. It’s a burst of warmth, the taste of something sweet still left in your tongue as he kisses you. It’s short yet it will be engraved and buried in the depths of your mind for eternity.

“I like you.” You whisper against his lips as you part, eyes heavy on each other yet his gaze wavers and his breath shudders.

“I…” Why else would he continuously seek your embrace? Why else would he prefer to be alone with you even if it’s just silence between you and him (your presence alone brings him comfort)? Why else would he take such time to understand your form and cradle your being as if you were born from glass? He didn’t have your hands carve the shape of his thoughts into the form of your being just so he wouldn’t capture the feeling of your touch on his skin and how he craves, yearns for it like a starved man—and yet, he’ll hold his head down in humiliation as he looks for the words on the ground. He’s worthless, useless, nothing like his ‘luck’ that seems to curse everyone around him, and you’re everything he’s not. “I’m sorry.”

His hands fall from your cheeks and he stands up, saying, “I’m sorry, I have to go.”

The chair screeches beneath him; his thoughts remain silent yet deafening, your voice fading into white noise as you call for him. He has to leave—each of his footsteps are heavy, echoing back to him as if a semblance to contempt and mockery that trails his wake.

Fear and shame forms at the bottom of his lungs. What even is he afraid of? Is it the lack of experience? The fear of abandonment? But humans are not strangers to those thoughts, people are bound to leave and Aventurine wasn’t unfamiliar with that, so how could he be afraid of something that has become a friend to him? Maybe it’s when he’s torn apart from flesh to bones and they’ll see there’s nothing in him—he was born out of barren wastelands and dust, his form has been long since buried under the golden sands. Maybe it's when he’s shown everything to them and they seek for something that he doesn’t have; the disappointment that lies in their expression will forever haunt him. Was it fear or was it worry that nobody could ever love him for what he truly is? Behind the expensive clothes he wears, the shining and heavy jewelry on his wrist, the suffocating rings on his hand, maybe they prefer his skin tainted with letters instead of wounds that brands him as human.

“—Rine.” A hand grasps at his wrist, preventing him from leaving. He stills in his position, feet glued to the floor and his back turned against you. Your voice breaks, “Stay, please.”

He’s stuck, sutured to the ground, hesitation sewing his mouth shut. You urge him to turn around, your fingers tugging at him, so he could face you, so you could see him—he’s tattered, torn and conflicted over something you’ll never know. The unfriendly air of the cold night wraps around his figure, but your hand eases warmth and comfort in his weary bones.

“Why did you kiss me?” You seek for something in the gaps of his expression, looking for a falter in the lines of his features to know the thoughts that he hides beneath all the charades and facades.

“…It was a mistake.”

You answer, frustration slowly seeping into your tone, “You know damn well it’s not.” He knows completely well it’s not and it will never be. And you don’t cry nor plead, you beg with sore, trembling palms for an answer to soothe the disturbance of the waves that will come to swallow you, drowning you in the murky waters of your mind. “You don’t get to hold my hands and cradle me in yours and tell me it’s nothing. You don’t get to look at me in a way that is reminiscent of lovers and tell me it doesn’t mean anything. You don’t get to kiss me and say that it’s a mistake. You’re a cruel man, Aventurine, and you’re unfair for telling me that it was all nothing but a mistake when you haunt my dreams.”

“…I’m sorry.” He closes his eyes for a moment, darkness swallowing his vision yet his mind conjures an image of you in it, berating him. The broken pieces of your words are left scattered on the bottom of yours and his feet.

You ask, voice low, “Do you like me?”

“Why—“

“It’s a yes or no question, ‘Rine. Do you like me or do you not?”

“I love you.” His voice is raised and cracks start to form on the surface of his expression, “and it’s scaring me.” Forgive me. The clock continues to tick despite the world seemingly coming to a still at his words.

The air is suffocating and the silence sits on your shoulders before he says, whispering in a broken tone, “I’m leaving.”

And this time, you don’t stop him. His steps are rushed against the flooring, the sound of the door closing echoes throughout the corners of your mind. The walls of your home stand tall over you, his confession written and tearing through all over your wallpaper, screaming at you; you’re left crumbling on the floor. The sweet scent of citrus lingers in the air, the mess the two of you made still on the counter tops, and you wished you told him you love him too.

tagging @toorurs, the loveliest and sweetest of all. i hope you know that you're cherished and loved by me, and i'm so glad to have you and the sun that touches your skin must be too <33 always be reminded that you're beautiful and i appreciate everything that you do and say (you always make me laugh even when it's just the smallest and useless of things like wow you must have a special talent in making someone smile) !! thank you for always being there for me too and always cheering me up, and also making my day because everything for me nowadays is becoming unbearable and you're the only one that keeps me sane (fk exams and projects and research im going to cry)

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rikiislvr · 2 months

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🤍love - nishimura riki

pairing: nishimura riki x afab!reader

summary: you and niki got into a argument about your love for each other and if it was fading away or not, niki knew exactly what to do to reassure you, he isn’t going anywhere.

warnings: kissing

私の愛 - my love

“am i not enough for you?” you ask your boyfriend as he couldn’t even look at you as you spoke.

you two haven’t had a big argument like this in ages, and the reasoning behind it was so stupid..

niki lately has been less affectionate towards you.

so lately you’ve been trying to be a better girlfriend. you cooked more, helped him after practice, gave him space and it still wasn’t changing nor making difference in his actions towards you.

“niki?!“ you scoff and he lifted his head up to you, “y/n.. of course you are enough whyd you even ask a question like that—

“because you aren’t showing it!” you cross your arms. niki sighed and walked up to you and your head dropped as you felt tears swarming in your eyes.

“baby..” he whispered, he was stab big himself mentally for the way he was treating you, he was so stressed with his comeback that he didn’t even notice how hard he’s been on you.

“i’m so sorry my love..” he says and pulled you into his embrace, the warmth radiating off his body onto yours as he rubbed your back in small circles.

“what’s wrong niki? what am i doing?” you sobbed, niki shut his eyes harshly at the sound of your shaky voice, he lifted you up by your legs and carried you over to the island counter of the kitchen and set you down.

he stood in front of you and cupped your face, wiping away any tears that managed to escape. “nothings wrong princess. nothing at all.” he shook his head,

“i let my stress get in the way. and im so sorry. you’re doing amazing for me.” he stared deeply into your watery eyes.

“i hate myself for the way i treat you. i really do. 私の愛, you don’t deserve any of this.” he shook his head, you just stared at him, you could feel he was going to say something, you were just scared of what it was.

“you need to be happy, y/n.” he rested his forehead on yours, “so i’m gonna go.” he dropped his eyes to break them from looking at yours, “w-what? gonna go where?” you pulled away from him.

“i’m gonna go back to the dorms and let you have some time—

“no! niki- you cant.. you—“ you choked back a sob, “i’m doing this so i can clear my head without bringing it onto you.” he bit his lip and looked down at the floor.

niki was staying at your apartment for the past month, you’ve grown into his presence so much and you couldn’t even get your mind to think about how it would be if he was gone.

“please.. you don’t have too.” you shake your head, he walked to you again, and grabbed your face, pulling you to rest foreheads again.

“i love you.” he whispered, you sucked in your lips, “i love you more.”

he kissed your forehead softly, before going down to kiss your lips, as he tried to pull away you deepened it, not wanting him to leave.

but he was right. you two needed the time.

you guys finally pulled away from the passionate kiss, before he smiled at you, making you giggle softly, “i’ll be back. okay?” he tilt his head as you looked down,

“okayy?“ he asked again dropped his head lower to see yours, you just smiled, he chuckled at your cuteness before ticking your sides, making you gasp into laughter, “okay okay! okay!” you cry out and he stopped with a smile on his face.

he backed away from you, your hand still in his, he lifted your hand up and kissed the back of it, “i’ll see you soon.” he says, and you nod softly before he let go and made his way out your apartment door.

you sighed and cleared your throat. you fixed your hair and jumped up off the counter, you looked around and noticed his bracelet he left on the counter, and smiled as you picked it up and put it on.

he’ll be back, for you AND for this bracelet.

a/n: HI GUYS oh i’m so sorry for being inactive. i’ve been so busy and so so unmotivated, i’ll try to make small drafts here and there and finish any stories i was supposed too WHEN I CAN, i love u guys <3

tl: @certified-ni-ki-lover @noblub-4ulolz @yourmyst4r @vixialuvs @ni-ki-ismyluv @judeduartewannabe @soobs-things @en-chantedtomeetyou @definitelynotherr @heyniki @wntersm @geniejunn @pkjay @baevsxii

#enhypen #niki enhypen #nishimura riki #niki x reader #riki nishimura x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen niki #niki fluff #mae’s works —!

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akumakosuke · 4 months

Text

Satoru Gojo was born a god among mortals.

From the moment he opened his eyes he was automatically better than everyone, worth more than everyone.

Satoru Gojo stands alone atop a pedestal at the pinnacle of Jujutsu Sorcery, forever destined to bask in the glory of being the strongest. No one could ever dream to reach his level, he didn’t dream to reach his level but it was cast on him like a curse.

He is a cursed child indeed.

Exactly a week after the miracle birth of Satoru Gojo another clan also welcomed a miracle birth.

M/n Goto was born a god among mortals.

From the moment he opened his eyes he was automatically better than everyone, worth more than anyone…except…

M/n Goto forced the pedestal to grow.

Satoru Gojo tipped the balance of the scales and M/n Goto totally destroyed the scale.

All curse users went into hiding, curses became almost completely inactive for an entire year following the birth of two gods.

During the first few years of their lives they remained blissfully unaware of how deep their destinies intertwine, how truly connected they are.

The day they met was another day to go down in the history books.

Two lone gods, wandering a world that will forever be beneath them, filled with people who will forever be beneath them.

Their paths cross and in that moment time stands still for the young gods, a feeling they’ve never experienced, a sudden tugging at their souls, telling them to turn around and they do.

Crystal-like icy blue orbs clash with star-like fiery red orbs and in that moment two lonely gods became a little less lonely.

The two grew close much to the dismay of many. They knew of their places in the world and they knew no one else understands but them. No one else understands they’re cursed children.

Days of meeting for play dates turned into weekend sleepovers, weekend sleepovers turned into months of bonding, months slowly turned into years and M/n and Satoru thrived, they grew and changed but their bond only got deeper.

They pushed each other to the limits, forcing the other to evolve and keep up and evolve they did.

By the age of 15 they were both Special Grade sorcerers heading into their first year at Jujutsu tech.

Their relationship has also evolved over the years much like their power.

They’re best friends, sure they’re closer than most best friends. They have regular sleepovers and share the same bed, unable to fall asleep without cuddling and sure they are affectionate in public, always staying glued to the others side, an arm around a shoulder here, hands resting on the others hips there and maybe they have kissed a few times but that’s just them being best friends, totally platonic!

Do they have an unspoken agreement to reject any advances from other people? Yes.

Do they acknowledged the agreement? No, that’s why its unspoken, just like the reason they reject everyone else, an unspoken mutual agreement to be each others and only each others without putting any labels on it, besides its not like there’s anyone else alive that could ever tear them apart, come between them or even stand on the same level as them.

Suguru Geto.

The moment M/n and Satoru met Suguru their pedestal was forced to widen again.

They were confronted by another and they had mixed feelings about sharing.

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

Okay so I was thinking of making this into an entire fic but im not sure.

I have a lot of ideas already, especially about the in depth relationship of the three of them and how they would function.

It would focus on M/n, Satoru and Suguru and how their relationship develops throughout the years in Jujutsu Tech and what would happen during the hidden inventory arc with M/n present and how he would affect the story.

There will be smut of course with Domtop Amab M/n and Subbot Satoru and Suguru .

Let me know if I should make a full on fic or just a smut with a bit of plot sprinkled in~!

#akumakosuketoughts #dom male reader #seme male reader #top male reader #male reader #jjk x male reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #satoru x male reader #gojo x male reader #satoru gojo x male reader #geto suguru #suguru x male reader #geto x male reader #suguru geto x male reader #sub jjk

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biteofcherry · 4 months

Text

Echo that thunders

Bucky Barnes x female reader

summary: The life you and Bucky built has crumbled. Or so you think. But maybe some ruins can be reconstructed, if true love is given a chance?

warnings: angst; lots of feels; hurt/comfort; divorced couple; mention of past infidelity; marital problems; both Reader and Bucky are self-blaming and self-punishing idiots; and obviously are still deeply in love; they need therapy and I encourage that; reconciling intimacy (yes, I mean sex with feelings and tears); Alpine is almost squeezed to death with love (truly affectionately);

word count: 6k

Author's Note: This is my entry for Eight Types of Love challenge from @the-slumberparty. I took a twist on pragma: exes with feelings.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Every week the hollow in your chest would ache and you’d try to cram it with sweetness of fleeting moments: catching the pure joy and love on your little boy’s face, mulling your sorrow with pastries that you’d eat alone, then quiet your longing with laughter and shouts of your friends.

You made it look like it was easy, like you didn’t die a little every damn Friday when you drove your son to his father’s place.

Maybe you’d feel better if it was the mother missing her baby boy for the weekend, but the wounds opened not for the few days of empty nest, but because seeing Bucky ripped you to pieces.

You wouldn’t avoid it, though. He loved your son so much, was so happy to spend every possible day with him and you would never take that away from either of them.

Even if it hurt.

Truth be told, you wouldn’t let anyone take that away from you, either. Because the pain of seeing Bucky was also sprinkled with that fluttering, bittersweet feeling. Love that you still harbored.

You didn’t think it was possible to ever stop loving Bucky.

As you proved, it was possible to divorce him, but it didn’t sever the hold he had on your heart and soul.

So you welcomed the ache in your chest as an invisible iron fist clenched its cold claws around your heart, when Bucky smiled and waved at you from the sidewalk in front of his building. You knew he waved at your little boy, who was already bouncing in his seat, but you couldn’t help the smile spreading on your lips in return.

“Hi, rascals!” Bucky greeted you, the same way he’s been greeting the both of you ever since your son was born.

He waited for you to round the car after you parked it, loosely wrapping an arm around your middle and giving you that awkward half-hug.

You assumed it was as awkward for him as it was for you, though for different reasons.

Bucky was simply nice, trying his hardest to maintain a good rapport with you for the sake of your son, while he had to be repulsed by you inwardly. For you, the hug was difficult, because you always craved to bury yourself within his arms and feel that protective, loving hold.

“Hi,” you smiled and ducked under his arm, before he noticed that pathetic longing shining in your eyes.

You went to retrieve a small bag and backpack with Stevie’s clothes and belongings, while Bucky unbuckled your son from the car seat and scooped the boy up in his arms. Joyous squeal “Daddy!” melted you all over again, reminding you how ecstatic the boy was every time Bucky returned home - no matter if he’s been gone a few days on a mission, or just an hour running errands.

When you turned to them, the sight of them grinning at each other froze you on the spot. You were aware that Stevie shared some of Bucky’s mimics, but it was that moment when your boy pressed his cheek to Bucky’s and they both looked your way with lopsided grins that shattered your heart into pieces.

You squashed the flare of sorrow inside, saving it for later when you’re alone with a pint of ice cream.

Bucky had suggested a couple of times that he could come pick Stevie up from your place, but you were too scared of seeing Bucky back in the apartment where you all used to live together. Where the love and happiness were supposed to be forever.

You were scared he’d come inside and see that you still had a few photographs of him on the shelves.

You reasoned that it was for the sake of your son, so that he felt his dad’s presence at all times, but you couldn’t fully let go of Bucky yourself.

“Hey,” Bucky took the bag from your hands, but left you holding Stevie’s backpack. “Can you come upstairs for a second? I wanted to talk something over.”

He always invited you under the pretext of talking over some details regarding Stevie, but ended up dealing with it in two sentences and then coaxing you into a neutral small talk that left you all the more missing him.

Yet you couldn’t force yourself to say no.

“Sure.” You nodded, squeezing the strap of the small, red backpack in your trembling fingers.

Bucky’s apartment, which he got after you filed for divorce, was small, but clean and spacious enough for a four year old and a cat.

Alpine stuck her head from behind a wall when you entered. She made a tiny meowing sound and walked forward, but the second Bucky put your son on his feet the cat bolted away. Stevie of course followed, running after the furball with glee.

“So I know there’s still plenty of time to plan summer vacation-” Bucky started, leading you toward the counter separating the kitchen from the living room- “but Sam invited us to Louisiana, to spend a few weeks at his sister’s place.”

“Oh.” It was instinctive, that very first thought about your baby boy being away for weeks. In a different state, nonetheless.

However, you promised yourself to not be an overprotective, controlling mother. And you trusted Bucky with your son at all times.

“That sounds fun.” You relaxed your shoulders and smiled. “I’m sure Stevie will love it. Especially if you take him on a boat.”

He was in a marine fascination phase. At least once every few weeks you had to go to the aquarium and turn on Discovery channel instead of morning cartoons.

“Maybe I’ll manage to re-do his bedroom, while he’s away with you,” cogs in your brain started turning. “It’d be a fun surprise when he gets back.”

“Won’t you need help with that?” Bucky asked, perking up. “We could do that on the weekend when he’s with your parents? You know I’d be happy to help. We can rope Sam into it, too.”

He sounded so eager. For a fleeting moment you enjoyed the warmth at the thought of the two of you doing something for your son together, but you quickly reminded yourself that Bucky would do absolutely anything for Stevie, including dealing with your presence.

“Umm, sure,” you swallowed nervously, “if you’re not on a mission.”

You regretted saying it, seeing a flash of guilt on Bucky’s face.

It was a sore subject and bringing it up hurt you both.

You always admired Bucky for what he did, how much he risked to save others. It didn’t change the fact, however, that saving the world meant neglecting you at times. He tried his best, you knew he did. Still, it hurt when you spent some nights and celebrations alone.

“We’ve made some changes on the rooster.” Bucky didn’t look at you as he talked, instead focusing on taking out ingredients from the fridge. “It’s doable to book some dates as non-active.”

“That’s good!” You tried to sound genuinely happy for him, while inside you felt a wave of rage that the accommodation wasn’t made when you needed it in the past. “All of you deserve rest and to, you know, live your private lives, too.”

“Yeah.” Bucky’s shoulders drove up in tension even as he nodded.

You stayed quiet for a long moment, the sound of your son’s giggles coming from the bedroom where he chased Alpine filled the space, but didn’t ease the sudden heaviness.

“I better-” you started at the same time that Bucky began:

“Do you want to-”

Both of you paused, but before either motioned at the other to finish, you were interrupted by a pitiful meow and soft paddle of your four year old’s feet.

You both turned and watched your son wobble as he carried Alpine. Though carried was a bit of a stretch to describe two tiny arms tightly wrapped around the upper half of the cat’s body, with its head barely sticking out and two front legs sticking upwards while the rest of the furry body dangled down.

You quickly covered your mouth to stifle the burst of laughter, but Bucky behind you couldn’t help the snort.

“Buddy.” He moved around the counter and crouched in front of Stevie. “Alpine knows you love her lots and want to play with her, but this is a bit uncomfortable for her.”

You thought the cat is an actual saint for not having yet scratched Stevie for all the love she was getting from him.

“Hey!” You chimed in, reaching for the small backpack. “You forgot about the present you have for Alpine.”

“Mousey!” Stevie dropped the cat almost instantly and ran towards you.

“A present, huh?” Bucky placated Alpine, scratching her behind the ear while she rubbed against his leg.

“Made it with mommy!” Your son beamed proudly after you fished out the small toy from his backpack. “For artses-” which was his version of saying art classes. “But mommy said it’s perfect for Apine.”

It was a bright blue, slightly askew, crocheted mouse. With a very, very long tail. You thought it would be perfect for Stevie to hold the end of the tail and slide the mouse across the floor, so Alpine could chase it.

“It really is,” Bucky nodded, noticing that the soft toy had caught Alpine’s attention. “Why don’t you run around with it, play nicely with Alpine, while I make us spaghetti?”

Stevie didn’t have to be told twice. Alpine seemed eager for this kind of play, as well. Chasing a new toy surely was more preferable than being squeezed to death.

Bucky straightened. His tall, broad figure filled your vision. He was much closer now, with no counter separating you. He looked after your son fondly, then his soft gaze switched to you. Not for a second did the affection fade in his eyes as he looked at you.

“Thank you,” he almost whispered, touching your shoulder gently.

You wanted to blurt out that there was nothing to thank for, but you understood what he meant. The same way you were grateful for his concern whenever you had a cold and he took Stevie so you could rest (bringing you some chicken broth on his way), or that he picked you up when your car died. The small gestures each of you displayed, that betrayed care neither of you seemed to be able to lose.

Bucky’s hand slowly slid down your arm and because you were so lost in the blue of his eyes and the tenderness of the moment, you forgot to brace yourself for the small sting that his touch brought when he passed your forearm.

You winced.

Unfortunately, Bucky noticed.

Instantly, he stilled. His hand remained on your forearm, but his touch eased. His gaze flicked from your face to the spot covered by your sleeve and up to your face again.

“What is it?” Worry pinched his features. “Are you injured?”

He moved even closer, angling his head so he could maintain eye contact with you, even though he towered over you. He gently took your wrist into his metal hand and carefully rolled your sleeve up.

“It’s nothing. It’s-”

Words died on your tongue when Bucky’s gaze hardened, a muscle in his jaw twitching, as his gaze landed on the injured spot.

There were no visible bruises. Not to you, anyway. You mostly felt the tenderness of that area than saw any marks. But Bucky’s senses were enhanced and he definitely could see the difference in the smallest changes of your skin, the barest hint of different pigmentation.

And, much to your dismay, you could never lie to him.

“Who did that?” Bucky kept calm, but you sensed the concern bursting into protective rage inside of him.

“Someone, who is no longer in the picture.” You replied, tilting your chin up. “I may have not expected it happening, but once it did, I wouldn’t chance it repeating.”

The whole attempt at dating was so uncomfortable for you, but seeing some pap pictures of Bucky with an unknown female had made you impulsively agree to the fifth invite from a guy from accountants.

It was irrational and irresponsible - as some of your past mistakes. There was nothing that suggested Bucky and that woman were connected in any way beside the work area. They weren’t even alone in that place. It’s just that he had his hand on her back and she was giving him a flirtatious smile.

Well, your jealous brain told you it’s flirtatious. The same brain that forgot to remind you that it was no longer your business if and whom Bucky was dating.

So you went on the stupid date yourself, feeling all kinds of wrong during it. Then got a glimpse of what shit you almost got yourself into, when you wanted to end your date short and the guy called you a tease. His hold on your forearm when you tried to leave was forceful enough to leave a painful reminder.

“I’d still like to know the name.” Bucky’s gaze shone a dark glint; plates in his metal arm moved in a reflection of muscles tensing.

“No need.” Placing your free hand on his chest to soothe him was a habit, you didn’t even realize you were doing it. “I promise you, he won’t ever find himself near Stevie.”

Bucky frowned at that. Suddenly, he was letting go of your arm and cupping the side of your face instead.

“Baby,” it slipped out of his mouth as mindlessly and naturally as you touched him.

“I know you’d never let anyone hurt our son. But no harm should come your way, either. The guy deserves having his fingers dislocated.”

Bucky wasn’t a violent person. His past, which was beyond his control, painted a certain picture that some people still believed in. But you knew how soft-hearted and kind he really was. He used force and combat in missions, but his teammates knew he would be the first one to show mercy and pull back his punches.

However, he was protective. And when he entered that mode, he could be very scary.

Your fingers on his chest clenched slightly, gripping the fabric of his soft, blue henley; as if you were trying to stop him from marching away and finding whoever posed as a threat.

You felt the steady thud of Bucky’s heartbeat beneath your palm, the rhythm of his breath. You sensed the moment his muscles slightly relaxed.

“How about-” hands cupping your face slowly slid down and away, but Bucky didn’t put any distance between you- “you stay for dinner and we’ll talk more about it later?”

There was nothing to talk about, really. Or maybe there was, but it shouldn’t be Bucky giving you the talk. His concern only messed with your head and your heart, leaving you with incomparable longing and aching solitude when you went back home.

You opened your mouth to refuse his proposal, but your son suddenly found himself nearby and torpedoed your resilience.

“You gonna stay mommy?” He looked up at you with big, hopeful eyes.

Bucky and you made sure to be together for important events like Stevie’s birthday, or kindergarten recitals, or even for the 4th of July. But day to day everything happened separately. You didn’t share meals, or walks, or trips the way you used to when you were married.

You were aware of the impact it had on your son, but one can’t be divorced and still spend every day with each other.

However, you couldn’t find the strength at the moment to crush your son’s unexpected spark of joy at the prospect of something so simple like spending the afternoon with both of his parents.

You couldn’t deny your deep, wallowing desire to spend some more time in Bucky’s presence, either. As self-harming as it could be.

“Um-” you swallowed nervously as you looked down at your little boy. “Yeah- yes, I’ll stay. You know I always liked your daddy’s cooking.”

Your heart nearly burst when Stevie launched himself forward, wrapping his small arms around yours and Bucky’s legs. Then he was running away, with even more bounce to his skip than before.

To your relief, Bucky easily switched the topic to casual conversation as you joined him in the kitchen to help prepare dinner. He told you a few latest, funny stories; gushed about a new book series he started reading; asked about your dad’s knee surgery.

Falling into this comfortable pattern of domesticity with him was too easy. Like you haven’t been living separately for the past year, nursing deeply hidden resentment (which you expected from Bucky) and heartbreak. You knew it would hit you harder when you got back home, step into that silent, empty bedroom, which once upon a time was your nest of safety, laughter and love.

All of which you blew up.

You didn’t protest too strongly when Bucky fed your son an extra portion of ice cream after dinner, you were too distracted with your own ache that was spreading its nasty vines over you.

You played with the melting scoops in your own bowl as Bucky picked up a half-asleep Stevie and carried him to the bedroom. Alpine trotter right after them. From the occasional pictures that Bucky sent you when Stevie was staying at his place, you knew that the cat would jump onto the bed next to your boy and fall asleep with him.

When Bucky returned and sat beside you on the couch, his presence almost toppled you into a sobbing fit.

Once upon a time, you’d cuddle on the sofa in your living room and talk for hours, or watch shows, or make out. Even sitting in silence, while Bucky read a book and you browsed social media, was comforting and easy.

There was nothing easy about it now. Because that desperate need to crawl into his arms and have him chase the sorrows away couldn’t be sated.

“I’m sorry about earlier.” Bucky’s quiet voice surprised you.

You blinked as you looked at him, slightly confused with what he was talking about.

“I know you’re responsible and very strong. You’re more than capable of looking after yourself and don’t need my meddling in your intimate life.” He said, staring down at some spot and not meeting your eyes.

The words intimate life sounded as if he almost choked on them.

“I know it’s too late to mend what I fucked up.” He sighed, bowing his head even lower.

Your heart ached, seeing him so resigned.

“James Buchanan Barnes, what the hell are you talking about?!” Instinct to rush to his aid kicked you from your stupor.

The anger at yourself heightened as once again you saw first hand how much you hurt him. Bucky wasn’t flawless, but he didn’t deserve what you’ve put him through. To know that your actions added to his tendency to self-blame, only made you hate yourself more.

“It was me who fucked everything up.” You countered, setting the bowl on the coffee table with a loud thud. You shifted on the couch, turning your body so that you could face Bucky directly.

“I broke what we had. I- I broke your heart and you never deserved such awful treatment!”

Neither of you deserved all that pain, but it was on you to take the responsibility for it.

“I’m not gonna lie, the divorce hurt more than falling off that damn train…” Bucky’s voice quivered with emotion; his fingers shook slightly as he wiped his palms on his thighs.

“Divorce?” You paused, slightly stunned. “I mean, I know it was hard. For both of us. But I knew I needed to set you free after what I’ve done.”

It was Bucky’s turn to frown, his muscles pinching in a quizzical look as if he didn't understand what you were aiming at, at all.

“Bucky, I cheated on you!” You hissed loudly, but minding your voice enough to not wake your son.

There it was. The heaviest of truths which triggered the whole domino effect and which both of you avoided naming directly.

But Bucky deserved it - you admitting your faults. There was enough on his shoulders and you couldn’t stand the thought of him taking this burden onto him as well, when it was yours to pay for.

Bucky’s face cleared of confusion, however his frown deepened.

“What I know is that you were hurt, alone and inebriated. A state some douchebag took advantage of.” There was an undertone of anger in his tone, but not directed at you.

You shook your head in exasperation.

Leave it to Bucky Barnes to be an understanding, chivalrous knight. It was a wonderful trait, but shouldn’t apply on all occasions, to all people. It definitely should be directed at you. As much as you’d love to follow that reasoning, you had enough self-awareness and responsibility to not go easy on yourself.

“Being drunk doesn’t excuse what I did.” You stated.

“It wouldn’t, if that was your aim.” Bucky argued. “But tell me, did you go to that bar because you were looking for a hookup? To get back at me?” He rushed with his counter arguments.

When you tried to turn your head slightly to avoid his gaze, he squeezed your chin between his fingers and gently guided you to look back at him.

It was hard. To face him when the memories of that awful evening replayed in your head, bringing back a wave of shame and regret. You vomited three days in a row after that night; and only the first half of the first day was due to the alcohol. All the rest was stress and guilt.

“No, you didn’t.” Bucky continued when you remained silent.

“You went there, because it was our anniversary and I wasn’t home. I was on a mission. Again,” he sighed regretfully, aware of how his absence weighed down on you. “You went to the bar which we often went to on our dates, before we got married. Probably cursing my ass for absence on another important day and drinking the pain away.”

That was true. Your parents took Stevie for the whole weekend, starting Friday. It was supposed to be a carefree, romantic time for you and Bucky. Even if he would need to just be lazy in bed for an entire day, to recharge after a mission, you still would be together.

While Bucky returned from one mission, he jumped onto another one right away. He called you to say that he’d be later than he first anticipated, but in the craze of it forgot what date exactly was it.

You were understanding. Or, well, you tried to be. There was a whole monologue you gave yourself as you paced the floor of your apartment, convincing yourself that your husband was saving someone. So that someone else could return to their family.

But you still felt bitter and angry that your husband didn’t return to you for something that was supposed to be important to the both of you.

When you went out to that bar, which wasn’t that far from your place, your plan was to have a drink or two and wallow in self-pity. Perhaps to be passive-aggressive, take a picture of yourself all dolled up and send it to Bucky with happy anniversary wishes.

That was it.

Then that man joined you. For a conversation, at first. Two drinks turned into four. Then five. To be honest, at some point his face got a little blurry. He had dark hair, like Bucky. Had his arm wrapped around your middle the way Bucky often did.

At some point your drunk brain was certain it was Bucky fucking you, not some stranger you just met at the bar.

“I could’ve chosen to stay at home.” You argued, clenching your fingers into fists so hard that your fingernails needled your skin.

“I could have drunk a bottle or two of wine alone in the safety of our home and sent you angry, slurred messages. Or wait for your return and throw something heavy at your head.” There were so many choices to be made that night.

“Instead, I made a mess of our lives…” the words fell out of your lips in a broken whisper, your eyes filling with tears.

“And I forgave you.” Bucky said softly as he released your chin.

“Hell, I don’t even think I was angry with you.” He huffed, running a hand through his hair in a nervous manner. “Oh, I was pissed and hurt!” He gave you a pointed look when you opened your mouth to protest. “I even tracked that man and… well, let’s not talk about things that thankfully didn’t happen once I saw him.”

“Most of all, I was angry with myself,” Bucky suddenly deflated.

“Why?” You frowned, barely stopping yourself from reaching out to caress his cheek.

“Because I let it happen.” Bucky sighed and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his thighs. “It was my constant absence that started those clouds over our heads. I was so focused on redeeming myself that I took on more missions than I should.”

A part of you wanted to contradict him, to convince him that he wasn’t doing anything wrong. But there was also a part of you that was still resenting him for doing that, for constantly choosing others over you.

“I think I also wanted to feel needed, which is why I joined teams even though they could’ve handled things without my presence.” He shifted again, sitting across the couch with one leg bent, so he could face you fully.

He was more hesitant as he reached out for you again. Though you didn’t flinch away, he still dropped his hand as he revealed his own guilt:

“I forgot that you needed me, too.”

You still did. But you wouldn’t dare to tell him that.

“What you do is important. You save lives.” You said quietly, but there wasn’t as much heat to it as you’d like to present.

“I didn’t save us.” Bucky’s words opened the gate to the feelings you tried to stifle for many months.

You almost lifted your fist to angrily rub away the tears threatening to spill, but Bucky reached for you faster. His warm palms rested on your fists; he squeezed them gently.

“Baby, I remember when you mentioned therapy.” He admitted, wincing at the memory of signals which he ignored. “You tried to say it so casually, I know you were afraid of telling me directly that you needed me to save our marriage. I dismissed it.”

“You hate therapy. I didn’t want to force you into it.” There wouldn’t be any point in attending any sessions, if Bucky would stay guarded.

You understood his hesitance, too. The mandatory therapy he went to a few years back was hard for him, not only because of the topics he had to deal with, but he didn’t feel emotionally safe or comfortable with the appointed professional.

“I disliked my assigned therapist.” Bucky pointed out, with a slight eye roll. “There are hundreds of therapists in this city. I’m sure there’s at least one that I could connect with.” Suddenly, he shook his head. “Or hell with how much I like a therapist, it should be about me connecting with you!”

He let go of your hands and cupped your face instead.

“I wonder-” he leaned forward, closing the distance between you. “I’ve been wondering, if I didn’t fuck up by signing those divorce papers so easily.”

He did it without much questioning. Which only strengthened your notion that he was repulsed by you and couldn’t wait to be as far from you as possible. You didn’t blame him.

“I understood that. After what I’ve done.” You whispered.

A single tear rolled down your cheek, stopping on Bucky’s thumb.

“I couldn’t look you in the eye, because I was so ashamed. I wanted to give you a chance to find someone worthy of you.” More tears flowed.

Bucky tenderly wiped them away.

“I don’t think I’m worth a single hair on your pretty head.” He said, resting his forehead against yours. “I signed those papers, because I thought you were going to find happiness with someone else. That you wanted to build a life with someone else.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.” You would shake your head, if Bucky wasn’t holding you in place.

If his hold didn’t feel so overwhelmingly wonderful.

“Why not?” Bucky asked, incredulously. “You’re the most amazing, kind, smart, beautiful-”

“Because I’m in love with you.” You blurted out.

Your eyes widened when you realized what you said. Scorching shame mixed with a sudden wave of cold fear as Bucky slowly pulled away and stared at you in shock.

He was still cupping your face, though.

“Say that again, baby?” Bucky’s tone was a whisper, like he was afraid he’d burst some magical bubble if he moved or spoke louder. “Please,” he squeezed your cheeks slightly.

Maybe the best choice would be to take those words back. Or to start listing all the arguments to why it didn’t matter. But you couldn’t lie to Bucky. You never could. Especially not when he was looking at you with those beautiful blue eyes, filled with hope.

“I love you, Bucky,” you confessed. “I never stopped loving you.”

Tears streaming down your face were warm, but they felt much colder when compared to the warmth of Bucky’s lips on yours.

He kissed you with reverence and despair, like the first gulp of breath after drowning in murky waters for much too long. There was nothing but his closeness, beckoning you like a flare in the darkness. You followed the coaxing of his lips, the unspoken vows he sealed with his mouth.

You weren’t even fully aware of your body moving, yielding to Bucky’s smooth maneuvers. Until the full weight of him rested on top of you.

He provided both that shield of safety and heavy temptation that had your legs spreading to accommodate him.

“I never stopped, either.” Bucky croaked out as he broke the kiss; his lips still brushed against yours as he spoke.

“I love you so much. So much, baby.” It crushed your heart to see his own cheeks glistening with tears. “Please, can we try again? Let me mend it. Please.” He begged.

Bucky sounded so helpless and so hopeful at the same time. If your heart was set in cold stone, it would still shatter for him like a fragile glass.

“I should be the one mending it,” you pressed your fingertips to his cheek.

“Us. We’re going to do this together,” he briefly closed his eyes, leaning into your touch.

“Always together,” you agreed and tipped your lips upwards, tempting Bucky into another kiss.

Months of distance surely added fuel to the fire of need, but Bucky’s touch always had the power to ignite your desire. Him being on top of you, the kiss deepening, his hand traveling down your side - your body responded instantly.

You wrapped your arms around him; one hand combing through his hair, the other mapping his broad back. Your legs were already spread to accommodate his hips between yours, but as Bucky continued to kiss and touch you, your knees drew up higher and your hips rolled against him.

Bucky’s responding grinding was most welcome, but he suddenly froze.

“Baby,” he groaned, almost in pain. “I don’t want to ruin the moment, but if you keep doing that I’m going to lose it.”

“Need you,” you whined.

You grabbed a fistful of his hair and slipped your other hand beneath his blue henley. You bit your bottom lip as you looked at him and rocked your hips into his once again.

“Need to feel you!”

For months you were deprived of any intimate touch, somehow not in the mood to even give yourself a release with your pitiful toys. To even think of anyone beside Bucky ever touching you like that made you nauseous. And you missed it so much!

Missed the way Bucky played your body. The way he felt inside of you.

“Bucky, please!” There was urgency in your tone that made Bucky snap to attention.

His gaze held yours for a moment longer, as if assessing that you were as sure as you sounded. A glint brightened his steel blue eyes and he swiped his tongue over his bottom lip in the most sensual way. That had your clit pulsing wildly.

“You always beg so prettily,” he murmured against your skin as began chaining kisses along your jawline. “I’ve got you, baby.”

Bucky braced his weight on his metal arm as he used his other hand to pull up the layers of your tulle skirt. You shivered, nipples pebbling, as his touch shifted to the inside of your thigh and wandered upwards.

He pressed the pads of his fingers against your throbbing clit, finding your panties already damp. It wasn’t a novelty how quickly your body responded to Bucky’s ministrations, but it seemed that longing for him sped up the process.

Bucky swallowed your moan in a messy kiss as he pressed harder on your nub. While you loved the way he sometimes drew this pleasure out, how long he could spend just fingering and licking you, it wasn’t what you needed at the moment.

You dropped both of your hands to his hips then slid them between your bodies to fumble with Bucky’s zipper.

“Fuck!” He cursed, dropping more of his weight onto you when you freed his cock out and wrapped your fingers around him.

“I’m afraid I won’t last long this time,” he groaned, tugging the fabric of your panties aside. “I’ll make it up to you, baby, I promise. But, fuck, it’s been so long since I felt you-”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded fervently, not really listening to him.

All your focus was on that throbbing need that spiked even higher as you guided the tip of Bucky’s cock inside you.

It was everything - the stretch of his girth spearing through your neglected pussy, his scent and warmth, his mouth sucking on your neck, his moan at the feel of your tight walls gripping him - that had your body seizing in the most rushed climax. Already, while he was barely halfway in.

You dug your fingernails into Bucky’s hips as your legs shook; your upper half curling up, face buried in the crook of Bucky’s neck to muffle your cries of pleasure. Your walls clenched so hard it was almost painful, then fluttered in a crescendo of aftershocks.

“Sorry, sorry,” you babbled, falling onto your back and squirming as the orgasm continued to tingle in every part of your body.

“Sorry?” Bucky choked on breath. “My girl cumming for me so fast is an ego boost beyond any other,” he chuckled.

He always had the ability to make you fall apart rather quickly, but that was a new record. Provided by suppressed sexual tension and emotional connection you were deprived of for so long.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Bucky cooed as he continued to slide into your fluttering cunt, “I’ll give you more.”

He shifted his hand, so that his thumb brushed over your swollen clit. He moved with no rush, but each of his thrusts was deep, nearly painfully so. As if Bucky sought more of that connection; needed it as fiercely as you.

As promised, he made you cum again. Then shuddered within your embrace as he followed you over the edge. And though your heart was thundering in your chest from the exertion, it was the first time you felt complete and at peace since a very long time.

You welcomed Bucky’s full weight as you laid spent, your hands drawing soothing patterns on his back. His cock was still nestled inside of you; neither of you wanted to lose that intimate connection too soon. You rested, listening to each other’s breathing and soaking in the comfort of being together.

When Bucky fucked you again a while later, it was more languid and sensual. He made breathless vows of love, curling his metal fingers around your throat and squeezing just enough to spill more of your warm tears. He confessed his need for you in his life as he increased his pace, tilting your ass with his other hand, so he could spill deeper inside of you.

In the morning, as he woke up early with the intention of going to the bakery and getting fresh treats for your family breakfast, there was so much brightness in Bucky’s eyes. So much love and happiness, like on the day your son was born.

As you looked at your own reflection in the mirror in his bathroom, you saw the same spark in your own eyes.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #eight types of love challenge #the-slumberparty #navy and roo's slumber party #echo that thunders #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine

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the-dixon-effect · 10 months

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Daryl Dixon - idiots in love headcanons

Daryl's never known anybody like you before. for the first time, a person has chosen him. you can make him feel loved just by talking to him, Hell, you can make him glow just by standing in the same room.

he thinks you're so beautiful. if love at first sight exists, which firmly believed it didn't before he met you, then this apocalypse was the best damn thing that ever happened to him.

it took Daryl a considerably long time for him to realise that his uncharacteristically affectionate feelings were love.

before Daryl realised he was in love, his brother used to constantly tease him about the way he was looking at you. he didn't even know he was doing it - "Whatchu givin' that girl puppy-dog eyes for, lil' bro?"

you two were definitely best friends before he confessed his love for you. you grew close during the prison era, and you were the first person whom he let his guard down in front of.

he can't stand to be apart from you. "If she dun' love me back, I can either be her friend or drive a thousan' miles west, an' never see y'all again," he had told Carol once.

his eyes inadvertently follow your movements, as if his subconscious felt like he needed to protect you.

everything somehow always comes back to you. a piece of jewellery he found on a run? Y/N would love that. the heating system in her house at alexandria's broken? he's fixing it tonight. in the meantime, he's at your door delivering a pile of woollen blankets. he spots a deer outside the walls? he's tracking it for days because he knows you love venison.

you love the way Daryl always steps into a situation to protect you. especially if it's another guy bothering you. he gets jealous so easily, and he doesn't even know it, like defending you is instinctual.

God forbid another man lays his hands on you. that motherfucker is already dead before you can object in the slightest.

Daryl is the only man you trust to talk about your issues with. he'd never pass up an opportunity to listen to your voice, but some of the things you tell him break his heart like nothing's ever done before.

you'll sweetly ask if he'd just hold you. and he wraps you up in his big arms and lets you cry softly into his chest while he places a hand in the back of your hair. rubbing sweet circles into the back of your neck. nothing could make you feel safer than Daryl's embrace.

after countless intimate moments like these, you start to wonder if he's like this around anyone else. surprise, surprise: he doesn't. and a part of him wishes you knew.

oh, but how much you adore him. you wonder if he knows how pretty he is; and how much you want to show him. his unkempt chocolate waves that perfectly frame his face, how much you'd like to tangle your fingers in them and kiss him all over.

you feel as though you owe him for all the times you've cried into his large, comforting figure. he occasionally brings up his past, his brother, his parents, and how much you want him to let it out. to hold him and wipe his tears away while you press soft kisses over his eyelids and cheekbones.

maybe one day, underneath some lucky constellations, you'd let each other.

taglist: @alldevilsarehere90 @poisonmenegan @radcollectivesoul @emilykolchivans @pinchoftheoutsiders

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scuderiahoney · 3 months

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congrats on 1k lovely!!! your writing just feels so grounded but romantic and it's just such a great combination :) could we get soft prompt "linking arms when walking around together" or "reaching out for the others hand just to hold it" with either charles or lando?? like they always tell each other they are just "friends" and never establish anything further but the reader is just a touchy kind of person with their friends and charles or lando just let them attach themselves to them :3 can't wait for ur next work!!

hi i’m sorry this is so late but i finally wrote it omg!! thank you!!

You’ve always been a touchy person. People have been teasing you about it your whole life. Your friends call you clingy affectionately, your exes have called you suffocating, and others fall somewhere in the middle. You can’t help it, really- when you care about someone, you want to touch them. It makes you feel grounded and safe.

Charles has never seemed to mind. He’s one of a few who never comments on it, never teases you for it, and really, of everyone, he might have the most right to. He’s gone so often throughout the year that when you do get to be around him, you stay glued to his side. You hold his hand at parties, lean against him on couches in living rooms, and hook your arm through his when you take walks together.

He never complains, never even laughs in response. He just squeezes your hand, leans back against you, and tugs your elbow with his to pull you close. It’s no surprise he’s the one you feel most comfortable around, and that maybe you’ve developed a bit of a crush on him.

But you know how these things end. Eventually, he’ll tire of your touchiness. He’ll start to pull away first, start to avoid sitting next to you. It always happens, with everyone you’ve ever wanted to be close with. You know it must be exhausting, keeping up with you.

When he comes home to Monaco for the winter break, you try to tone it down. Your friend had made a comment the weekend before, about how nobody would be able to pry you away from him when he got back, and you’d gone red at the extended teasing from your friends. Maybe they were right. Maybe you should try to be a bit more normal with him. You don’t want to scare him away.

Things are fine for the first few weeks of the break. He’s the same as always, more relaxed in the off season and happy to be home with friends and family. You still spend plenty of time with him, but you try not to hug him for so long, and try to keep a bit more distance. It’s for the best, as much as your chest aches.

Then you’re at his apartment, late after everyone else has left, nursing the last sips of your drink. You’re sitting on the floor, and Charles is laying on the couch behind you. He sets his empty drink down on the table and clears his throat. You tear your eyes away from the movie on the TV and turn to him expectantly.

“You’re being weird,” he says, quietly, almost sounding hurt.

You blink at him, brows furrowed. “What?”

“Normally, you are so…” he huffs, waving his hands around. “You hold my hand, or sit next to me, or- you are-“

“Clingy,” you fill in.

He blinks, then frowns. “No. Clingy is… no. You are just usually closer. You’re far away now.”

You shake your head. “I’m right here.”

Charles huffs, and then he sits up and hooks both of his hands under your arms and pulls. You let out a squeak as he lifts you up onto the couch easily, tucking you into the space between him and the back of it, slotted right against his side. Then he wraps his arms around your middle, as if to say, stay here. You swallow down the tears that threaten to spring up in your eyes.

“Now you are right here,” he says. He brushes a kiss against your hairline and sighs happily. “I have been missing this.”

You shrug, voice quiet when you say, “everyone is always teasing me for being clingy. I was worried I was annoying you.”

He shakes his head against yours, and one of his hands squeezes your hip. “No. I like having you close.”

That brings on a fresh wave of tears. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. He just rubs his hand against your side as he holds you there, and you melt into the warmth of him. Close. You like it, too.

#charles Leclerc x reader #charles Leclerc x you #charles Leclerc blurb #charles Leclerc fic #charles Leclerc fanfic #charles Leclerc fluff #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 blurb #formula 1 fluff #formula 1 fic #f1 blurb #formula one blurb #x reader #box box #cl16 #honeywrites #scuderiahoney 1k blurbs

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essentiallyleaf · 8 months

Text

day 06. dacryphilia. with. karina.

964 words.

tags.

kinktober ‘23, idol x male reader, friends to lovers(?), dacryphilia (that’s being aroused by tears btw), deepthroating, sex toys, choking, overstimulation, tit slapping, basically unedited, boring tags.

notes.

a little bit of a shorter one today, i was planning on releasing a different fic, but didn’t like how that was coming out and had to write this last second. hope it’s not too bad. weepily, leaf.

It was the exact moment you reached the back of her throat that Jimin’s eyes started to glisten. Not the same way they did when you suggested pizza night to her, no, it was obviously a lewder, more desperate way, but somehow still as affectionate, as enthusiastic do be able to spend time with you doing something that she loves. And while it was clear since you two were best buddies in high school that she loved eating an entire burrata pizza while watching baseball with you, it took a little longer for her to find out that she loved leaving cherry lipstick marks on the base of your cock while you deepthroated her, as well.

Then Chaehyun’s house party happened. Chaehyun was one of Jimin’s best friends since before you knew her, you weren’t particularly close to her, maybe she was jealous of you, the shiny, (only relatively) new boy that just popped up in high school, and quickly became the person Jimin shares her secrets with - one time, she told you, she was trying to flirt with this girl that was in her French class, so she made a paper plane with her number written on the inside and threw it at her, but the paper plane “got caught in the wind” (“It was poorly built, just say it!” “Bro, bet that if we built one each right now, mine would fall further!” - it did) and hit the teacher’s back; fortunately he didn’t open it and just threw it in the bin thinking it was a joke in bad taste, but when at the end of the class she asked the girl out, the girl completely freaked out, telling her that she wasn’t out yet and that if her parents found out she’d be dead; they never spoke again. Or maybe she wasn’t jealous and you were just trying to demean her because you felt that this competition for being Jimin’s one and only was a real thing.

Anyway, late into Chaehyun’s house party, you and Jimin started nosing around in her upper floor, and specifically her room, and she found this purple vibrator (she said she had no idea it was there, but you knew she had been in that room before plenty of times - you’re not trying to imply anything, just, she is the type of girl who might decide to pull someone else’s sex toy out in front of you, because she knows what would happen if she did). What happened after she did was you on top of Jimin with a hand on the vibrator circling around her clit and the other around her throat, choking her. Tears were falling down each side of her face when she came.

Jimin rocks your world. It took you a while to find out all the ways in which she does (well, all the ones you know thus far), but what matters is, you got to that conclusion. And you got to that conclusion in a flash, it took one moment. It was a normal school night, it doesn’t matter when. The two of you were having sex missionary in your shared apartment - the decision to rent one together when you’d be in college came at the end of 10th grade; it was already clear by then that you’d have to deal with each other’s presence for a while. She had just had her third orgasm, some tears already shed in the first two, and her eyes were now closed in absolute bliss. You grabbed her chin: “Open up - glistening, I tell you - and look at me. Don’t close them anymore, ‘kay?”

You resumed your pumping while she was still sensitive, you heard her whining because of it. Her huge, fluffy tits were bouncing in a hypnotizing motion, begging to be touched. That’s a euphemism, you thought, as you smacked her left boob with your right hand. The yell that left her throat was the loudest of the night. What would the neighbors think? (What would they be thinking? “They’re fucking. It’s the sixth time this week.” That’s no news.)

Your eyes went back to hers. She hadn’t closed them, the good girl. And now her lips were quivering. Slap her right mound. Then back to the left. As you kept thrusting your hips into hers, Jimin started weeping.

“Look at me. I am so close. You’ll need to endure for me just a little more”

You weren’t lying, but let’s just say you didn’t take the quickest route. You detoured by going back to smacking the girl’s tits repeatedly, and now she was bawling. You took her hands and lifted her up, now basically kneeling on the bed, then wrapped your arms around her back as you pumped upwards into her pussy. She screamed her lungs out, as she probably reached her fourth, but it wasn’t her voice, it was her legs instinctively meeting on your back that spoke to you. And what they were saying was “I need it inside”. You heard her loud and clear, and deposited buckets of cum in her belly. Still completely wrapped around each other, the two of you fell back onto the bed, panting. Her entire face was wet in tears, her mascara completely ruined.

Jimin rocks your world. It’s when you look at her in the eyes that you can just tell. One moment. You were so focused on her, on keeping her happy and on not sharing her with anyone else, that you never realized how good you felt around her, how good she made you feel.

“How about I help you clean your face from your make-up?”

“I think I’ll need to clean down there, too”

Some of your cum was already flowing out of her pussy.

“Shower with me?”

footnotes.

i wonder if you can make a smut only describing stills and never an actual scene. experimentally, leaf.

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jazjelspen · 4 months

Text

when memories snow

alastor x overlord reader

(notes: songfic, angst, reader has similar powers to alastor, al and vox used to be friends in this fic)

-oneshot-

song used: when memories snow - mitski

You looked out your window to see the Hazbin Hotel in ruins, 666 News playing in the background as you stared off. You recently left the V's building after watching the wreck that was Alastor and Adam's battle through Vox's TV, sure it felt good seeing Alastor get what he deserved after what he did to the both of you but still.. lingering feelings of yours stayed present.

You knew he wasn't dead. You could feel it, his soul's presence still reeked as always it always has in hell.. but it was faint. His soul was far and you could feel it recovering,

That was all you could feel though, your powers limited to there.

You never really enjoyed partnering up with Vox, let alone the other Vs in general. Despite him being an ass to work with you enjoyed when you and Vox would complain to each other about how Alastor threw you both aside.

For Vox he was a friend, business partner, but to you-- he was your lover.

Despite how much you liked complaining to him you didn't exactly pay him much attention since he clearly just wanted to reel you in to work against Alastor, in a heat of anger and at the brink of tears you agreed, now you wondered if it was even worth it.

You loved him, you loved Alastor so much. You made so many good memories with him to the point that you couldn't even look at your home the same now that he's been there, nor could you look at the streets, the towns, the corners of hell you've both been in together. Too painful.

The way he left you behind was sad, truly. He was courting you for at least a decade or two and oh was he such a gentleman to you.. a real sweetheart. He'd hold out his hand for you to take when going down steps of stairs, offer you his arm to hold when walking, take you to outings full of wonder and awe despite the setting you both were in, he even gave you private gifts for when he noticed you were stressed out over your work or simply distraught over anything. Yes this seemed like basic relationship actions but to you it meant so much more.

Sure, he was never openly affectionate. He was okay with touch from you and all and even said a few little cheesy remarks towards you that at times that would make your face flush from how pure his words are despite the owner of the tongue that they are coming out of.

You both bonded over how similar your powers were, bonded over dance, music, singing and to you he saw you as a very interesting and peculiar individual with how different your own adventures were, adventures where he just had to come and see what you were to do to end the situation with and how.. even your his and your shadows played around and goofed off themselves.

To him, you were entertaining.

But in private? He was a dream, at times telling you sweet things that made you light-headed in the best way possible and on the very, very rare occasions did he ever land a kiss on you behind closed doors.

You were the only one to see him this way, so in the end it made you feel as if his love for you was true.

Right?

You loved him, you hated him.

You want to rip him apart in a mess of blood and guts but you also want to be near him again.

Conflicting feelings were raging a war in you, your love and your hunger for revenge killing each other slowly to see who would be the fateful victor in this.

Seven years ago on the day of one of your anniversaries he left you with no warning at all, leaving you worried sick and almost grieving. You attempted to use your powers to try to feel his soul somewhere, anywhere.. but it was as if it fizzled out- leaving traces of where he used to be.

You never moved on and seeing him suddenly come back after those painful years passed made you so happy.. feeling his soul walking around was like a breath of the freshest air of Eden, until all he did was only acknowledge everyone but you.. he fucking acknowledged Vox but ignored you and disappeared each time you came around and no matter how hard you tried it pained you immensely how slicker he got to avoid talking to you.

The killing sprees you both went on together? The dates? The care, the protecting.. you sacrificed one of your fellow overlords for him for his radio broadcast when he first came about because you felt like he was an interesting individual with potential. Was it all just-- for naught?

He seemed in love in his own special way.. so why.. why did he leave you with no words and now proceed to pretend as if you're nothing but a limp corpse.

You hated it you couldn't take it.

So you sought refuge in Vox, becoming 'friends' through your fresh hate of Alastor.

Once the news finished its broadcast you couldn't help but still feel a sense of anger rising in you, revenge bubbling in your blood through your skin as if begging you to take your own pound of flesh.

"When memories snow, and cover up the driveway."

Your voice began to sing, singing wasn't something you did since that fateful day your heart was ripped inside out. But.. it was only fitting you finally did now.

"I shovel all those memories, clear the path to drive to the store."

Your feet turned away from the window to walk towards your desk, you looked around briefly to notice how unkept it was.. never fully cleaning your own study due to your emotional rollercoasters.

"And when memories melt," your eyes narrowed down in emotional pain, remembering one of your most exciting escapades with him before he left. "I hear them in the drainpipe."

You leaned against your desk as you hurriedly opened one of your drawers to then pull out a hidden black and white photo of Alastor and you celebrating one of your anniversaries.

You were so happy that day.

Tears began brimming in your eyes as your hand started trembling and wrinkling the photo with how hard you were holding it.

Do you think he'd visit you?...

Your throat cracking slightly yet your singing never dared to falter.

"Dripping through the downspout.. as I lie awake in the dark."

No, no. If he truly wanted to see you again he would've done it six months ago, but he seemed to be more interested and entertained by the Princess of Hell and her dingy hotel.

As the sound around you amplified so did your heart beat, your anger, the exploding rage. Your shadow began to move on its own as an evil smile presented itself on the floorboards. It laughed, it laughed at you yet whispered encouraging words.. encouraging you to get him to regret leaving you behind. The same shadow that laughed at you when you first realized that you were truly in love with him.

The shadow grew more and expanded itself to your wall and over the window, looking down at the window where the ruins of the hotel was visible to you. It laughed and whispered, mumbled and encouraged you.

As your sorrow weighed on you and made you physically lean against your desk with your hand over your heart, the emotional ache washing over you like a tsunami's ocean wave. It felt as if that dreadful day was repeating,

"And if I break,"

You turned around to face the window again, your body leaning on your desk with a pained look on your features. You wanted to stop hurting--

"Could I go on break?"

It will, it'll stop hurting. Your shadow told you so, and it whispered so many secrets and ideas to you you couldn't help but feel confident in what you wanted to do next.

You won't stay down, you'll pick yourself up.

You stood up straight and off from the desk, a newfound optimism seating itself next to your heartbreak. It even reached to your vocal cords with it now making your singing sound more stern and steady.

"Be back in my room, writing speeches in my head."

You took a few steps towards the window, your shadow only growing bigger and widening itself across your room.. basking it all in darkness. It devilishly cheered for you, for your up in coming revenge.

You began to grin, feeling your power enhance with this fire in your heart raging and dancing like a tango.

You raised your arms up as if welcoming in this new revelation, happily bringing in this new purpose.

"Listening to the thousand hands,"

"That clap for me in the dark."

Your grinning face stayed plastered with your emotions as you sang your last words, your song finishing soon after.

In the end, rage won over your soul, overlooking the love you have had for him.

You will get your revenge against Alastor.

Whether he truly felt the same way for you or not, you weren't going to ask yourself that anymore. Avenging yourself was all that mattered.

You picked up your phone, tapping it a few times before it started ringing.. your intended target to help you in your plans answered.

"Vox, do you still have some free time on your hands? We need to have a discussion about the Radio Demon."

You weren't regretting this, you won't regret it.

470 notes · View notes

inuyashaluver · 4 months

Note

can you please do one where less and reader is dating but some rumour came out ( like reader is cheating) or something because reader is seen with someone else quite a lot and they just have a argument but it turns out that reader is just planning to propose to less? Ur fics are the BESTTT

i can’t believe you - alessia russo

alessia russo x reader

description: in which your special surprise for your girlfriend gets spoilt by cheating rumours

warnings: angsty, mentions of cheating, multiple tears shed, miscommunication but happy happy ending

a/n: ahhh! this was so 🤍, thank you so much for the love, baby!!, i hope you enjoyyy ❤️ no joke, i teared up while writing this because i felt bad

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your girlfriend, alessia knew each other better than you knew yourselves. you knew each other majority of your lives when you played for the same youth clubs.

you followed each other everywhere. whatever alessia did, you did, whatever you did, alessia did. it was simple.

you were two peas in a pod and that’s how you liked it, after your years of friendship, you both began dating when you studied in north carolina. she loved to tease you that you only made a move because she wore the captain’s armband, you would not confirm nor deny.

—

when you both came back from college and signed with manchester united, people saw the true alessia and (y/n) that were obsessed with each other.

it was a random day when you both went to training, hand in hand with cheesy smiles as you enter the change room that had numerous groans of teasing echoing in the room.

you both find it really hard to be apart from each other but alessia genuinely thought the world would end if you weren’t holding her hand. your cubbies are directly next to each other but she drags you to squeeze in hers.

if you get up to move, she’ll pout at you until you kiss her to make her feel better. you know her little tricks but you’re not complaining.

you stand up from her cubby after lacing your boots, squeezing her thigh before you get up, “where are you going?” she protests immediately, rushing to grab your hand to stop your movements.

“to the bathroom, baby, i’ll be two seconds” you giggle affectionately, kissing the crown of her head before making your way to the bathroom. her eyes watch you intently as you walk out of the room before ella plops down next to her and puts her in a choke hold.

“can’t survive without your little girlfriend, huh, less?” she teases, alessia grumbles and pushes her off, “fuck off, yes i can” she scoffs with a roll of her eyes. ella’s smirk turns into bright laughter when alessia’s face visibly brightens when you come back.

alessia glares at her until you come to stand in between her legs. she immediately wraps her arms around the back of your thighs while her head rests on her stomach. you smile as she leans into you as you play with the ends of her ponytail.

“why is my girlfriend pissed, tooney wooney?” you tease, giggling when alessia pulls you closer, almost making you fall on top of her.

“i just said she couldn’t live without you” she shrugs, alessia rests her chin on your stomach to look up at you. “baby, tell her i can!” she pouts, you smile amusingly at her and nod with a coo, “you can, lessi” she smiles satisfied and buries her face into your jersey, missing how you winked at ella.

you don’t blame your girlfriend though, you’re always together, it was the normal for both of you. ella masks her laugh and winks back at you before moving off so you could sit in your regular spot next to your girlfriend.

she immediately kicks her legs into your lap, you pull her closer while you smile sweetly at her. she puckers her lips at you and you close the gap without any second thought, kissing her gently a couple of times before pulling away and hyping her up for training.

“come on, star girl, training!” you tap her legs and she groans, shaking her head. “no, babe” she challenges, you smile at her, “hm, yes, babe” you tease her with a grin. she narrows her eyes at you for a second and rolls them when you cock your head at her.

“fine” she huffs, placing two hands on your hips to pull you into another kiss, one of her hands moves to the back of your head to deepen it and you have to push her away with quite a lot of strength to separate. “lessi” you warn, she squeezes your hips in response, you lean closer to her so her lips ghost yours, “training” you whisper, pecking them quickly and leaving her a flustered mess.

you pair up for training and giggle with each other, your bright smiles contagious for everyone on the team.

—

when you and alessia moved to arsenal, things couldn’t have been better. you both fit in like you’d been there all along. you and alessia moved to a new house and everything was just perfect. you two were extremely happy, so happy that you had a special plan up your sleeve.

it was extremely hard to keep it a secret but you were finally ready to propose to alessia. you’d bought the ring years ago, literally when you came back from college but the times didn’t feel right.

but everything recently had just been falling into place, you just needed the perfect plan, and who else would you employ other than leah williamson to help you out?

you and alessia were extremely close with leah, having known each other for years. you wanted to ask lotte but you and her collectively agreed that alessia would catch on quickly.

and so you started the planning with leah.

—

“baby, i’m just going to leah’s to help her with something around the house” you rush out after you both get home from training. she looks up at you confusingly as she sits on the couch, you always cuddle and watch something when you got home.

“what does she need help with?” alessia questions, watching you scramble to get things together. “just a flat pack or something, baby” you say randomly, her eyebrows furrow but she chooses not to question it. “oh okay” she says quite sadly and you feel bad, instantly.

“i’ll be back soon, love, i’ll get takeout for dinner and we can cuddle when i get back” you suggest, smiling when your girlfriend’s expression softens. “okay” she smiles, nodding at you, you lean down from the back of the couch and kiss her gently, pulling away with multiple pecks to her cheek making her giggle and squirm.

“i love you” you whisper in her ear, “i love you too” she whispers back, you grin at her again and kiss her quickly once more before rushing out the door.

—

over the span of two weeks, alessia was left at home for most of them. she trusted you with every bone in her body but things were popping up in the media that she couldn't help but look at them. pictures were popping up of you and leah in town, shopping, hanging out and people were questioning your loyalty.

alessia knew you wouldn’t cheat on her, she knew how much you love her but she’s only human, maybe the photos didn’t look friendly, you were hanging out with leah a lot, you were leaving her at home to be with leah. thoughts were lingering and she couldn’t help it.

—

the reality was that you and leah were perfecting the little details for your proposal. the plan was simple: you would take out alessia to dinner at her favourite restaurant, getting her flowers and chocolate.

after that, you would take her to the beach where you have an elaborate set up waiting for her. a large heart made out of rose petals with candles lighting up the sand. a photographer would be hiding and you would propose.

then, you’d take her back home, all your nearest and dearests waiting for the two of you. photos would be plastered of the two of you all over the place, it was alessia dream proposal, you knew she would love it.

—

you’d come back one night after being at leah’s all day basically, you were proposing tomorrow. alessia went to get dinner with lotte, which ended up being cut short by the blonde crying in lotte’s arms asking why you didn’t want her anymore. (you didn’t know this)

“baby?” you sing out excitedly, your eyebrows furrow at the human golden retriever not bounding over to you like she always does. you rush and get your jacket and shoes off, moving closer into the house to try and find your special girl.

it was when you entered the dimly lit living room that you heard the soft sniffles coming from a bundle of blankets that you felt your heart shatter into pieces.

“lessi?” you ask softly, moving the blanket off her to see her tear stained cheeks and red nose.

she cries more when she sees you, “don’t, ‘lessi’ me, i can’t believe you” she cries, harshly wiping the tears off her cheeks. you sit down next to her instantly, “hey, what’s wrong?” you place a hand on her thigh and she tenses, you pull back instantly with a pained expression.

“you” she sobs, her body is wracking with tears and you don’t know what to do. “baby, what did i do? talk to me” you plead, your own eyes are filling with tears at seeing alessia sob, in all your years of dating, she’s never cried this hard.

“you don’t want me anymore” she chokes out, “you want leah” the tears are falling at a frantic rate and she’s rubbing them so harshly with the sleeves of her (your) hoodie.

“what?” you exclaim loudly, “what are you talking about?” you grab both of her hands and wipe her tears off her cheeks, much more gently than she was previously doing.

“you’re never home! if you don’t want to be with me anymore fucking break up with me, say it to my face!” she sobs, you pull her to your chest and she thumps her fist on it.

“i don’t want to break up with you, alessia, please-” you start but she hits you again, it’s not enough to hurt you physically but it’s doing wonders emotionally. each one felt like a stab to the chest.

“why are you always with leah, why don’t you want me anymore?” she cries, leaning into you slightly as you hold her to you tightly. “fuck, alessia, no, baby, me and leah are just planning something, please, it means nothing” you assure, she shakes her head. another hit.

“but it does mean something, you’re not here, i’m alone every night, my fucking phone is blowing up and it’s driving me insane.” her tears are soaking your shirt but you don’t care.

“alessia, look at me” you say sternly, she swallows the lump in her throat and looks up at you through her wet lashes, she sniffles when you make eye contact.

“alessia, i love you, i love you more than anyone in this world, leah is a friend, our friend and that’s all she is. you’re my person, i love you” you choke out, tears were falling down your own cheeks now and alessia instinctively wiped them.

“you know what? fuck it!” you get out of the embrace and sprint to your bedroom, throwing it apart to get the ring you’ve been hiding for years. you stumble as you run back to her on the couch and look at her breathlessly, ring in hand behind your back.

“leah has been helping me in planning something very special for you” she sniffs as she looks at you, listening to you intently.

“i had this big, fucking, elaborate plan but it’ll have to wait for tomorrow, i don’t care, i’m doing this now” you quickly wipe a tear before getting down on one knee. alessia gasps loudly and covers her mouth with her hands, she’s sobbing all over again.

“alessia mia teresa russo” you choke out, taking a deep breath before taking the ring out from behind your back, alessia’s eyes widen when she sees the ring, sobbing uncontrollably.

“my pretty girl, my favourite person in the whole world. the first time i met you when we were 10, i told my family that i was going to marry you and i kept my promise” you swallow, she looks at you trying your best keep her composure, each word clinging to her ear as you spoke.

“my alessia, you’re kind, smart, beautiful and the sweetest person alive and that’s only some of the things i love about you.” you take a deep breath, tears were falling fast and hard for both of you.

“i love the way you can’t sleep without me scratching your back, the way your nose crinkles when you laugh, the way you drag me along to all your nail appointments to make me get matching nails with you”

you both let out a wet laugh, alessia looks at you with sweetest expression, her eyes were filled with love, but nothing compared to the way you were looking at her right now, she takes a mental photograph of it to replay it forever.

“you’re my best friend, my person, i couldn’t imagine a life without you, and so, i’m asking you to be my best friend forever, will you marry me?” you ask nervously, alessia lets out a sob and nods, pulling you into a bone crushing hug while kneeling on the floor with you. her face buries itself in your neck as you both cry, clutching onto each other for dear life.

“i love you, i love you so much” you coos, running a hand through her hair while her arms grip you tightly. “i love you” she breathes out, moving back to look at you. “my future wife” you breathe out in slight disbelief, her heart jolts. “my future wife” she parrots under her breath, her eyes tracing all over your face before you pull her into a passionate kiss.

it’s frantic and needy but soft and loving all at the same time. you’re moving completely in sync and she hums against you in relief. she pulls away to rest her forehead on yours, “i’m so sorry for everything” she sniffs, choking back her tears as you look at each other. “don’t be sorry, baby, it’s okay” you coo, moving a stray piece of hair from her forehead.

“fucking media bullshit” she grits out, you laugh affectionately and peck her lips a couple times, she smiles into you, “fucking media bullshit” you say in agreement, looking at her with a cheeky smile.

“can i put the ring on you, beautiful?” you grin as she nods instantly, “yes please” you take it out from the box and slip it in her finger, a complete, utter perfect fit. her breath hitches when she sees it on her finger, looking up at you then back at the ring and back at you again.

she surges forward to kiss you again, “i love you” she mumbles against your lips, you smile into her, “i love you too” you grin, kissing her deeply as you pull her to sit on the couch. after a whole lot of kissing and talking, you and alessia cuddle, she lays on top of your chest as you run your hands on her back under her hoodie.

“can we still do the proposal you planned?” alessia looks up at you from your chest, “but you have the ring already, baby” you chuckle, pinching her cheek affectionately.

“but you worked so hard on it, i feel awful” she admits, pressing a gentle kiss to your sternum. “i’ll still do what i planned and you can wear the ring, lessi” you smile, “you don’t need to feel bad at all, i can’t even imagine how you felt, i'm sorry i wasn't there for you” you look sad and alessia scrambles to straddle your waist.

“no, we’re not going to be sad, we’re forgetting all of this and being happy alessia and (y/n) who are now engaged” she says sternly, you smile up at her affectionately while running your hands over her thighs. “okay, baby” you coo, smiling when she leans down to kiss you.

—

you do your original proposal as planned and alessia and you share tears at every location. it was so special for the two of you and you were so appreciative of each other. ‘in love’ was an understatement.

when you get back to your house to all your guests, alessia looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. you do an emotional speech about alessia before thanking everyone for coming, she cries again when you never take your eyes off her as you spoke about her so affectionately.

you do your rounds together gaining congratulations and as soon as she sees leah she sprints to her. she pulls her in a tight hug and apologises profusely, leah’s eyebrows knit together in worry and confusion as she hugs your now fiancé, looking at you for any answer and you wink in response.

alessia then grabs your hand, dragging you off to look at all the photos around the room, smiling and laughing at old memories.

so no, your proposal didn’t happen the exact way you wanted but you got your girl in the end. it was definitely a story for the books. you love each other dearly and it shows.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆