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golden-cherry · 3 months

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deal - cl16 (23/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: There's nothing sweeter than unexpected visitors.

Warnings: 18+ (just be prepared for some words), fluff (like a lot), Pascale is the sweetest thing on this planet, teeny tiny bit of angst

Word Count: 3.2k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: hello everyone! I hope you all are doing okay after the Ferrari-Carlos-Lewis thing, because I'm still in denial. this is mostly fluff, because I couldn't manage you dealing with more bad stuff this week. love you! feedback is appreciated!

Before you can say anything or even react, the blonde woman lets go of your hands and snatches one of the magazines lying on the coffee table in front of you. She rolls it up with her slender fingers before smacking Charles across the back of the head.

"Maman!" he exclaims angrily, rubbing his head. "What are you doing? Are you crazy?"

The woman holds the magazine under his chin so that the Monegasque has no choice but to look her in the eye and return her stare. "That's no way to talk to your mother." She puts the magazine back in its rightful place before turning to you again. "Try again, chéri."

Your friend has to hold back a grin before he spreads his arms out and hugs his mother. "Good morning, Maman. It's really good to see you."

"It's good to see you too, mon chéri," she replies lovingly, stroking his broad back once with her hand before releasing herself from the tight embrace. She puts her hands to his cheeks to study his face. "I didn't know you were back home."

Charles tilts his head, his mouth forming a thin line. "I'm sorry I didn't let you know," he replies meekly, taking her hands from his cheeks so that he can press a gentle kiss to her knuckles. "I've had a lot on my mind."

"I can see that." She pulls her hands from his and then turns to face you. When she looks at you, you stiffen. All of a sudden, you feel as if you're naked in Charles' clothes, she's looking at you so piercingly. "I'm sorry I haven't introduced myself properly yet. I'm not usually as rude as my son." Charles rolls his eyes as her smile is affectionate and gentle. Then she wraps you in a hug that is careful, but firm nonetheless. It's a good hug. "I am Pascale. It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise." After you've also introduced yourself, you return her smile.

"Now that you two have met," Charles interrupts your conversation. "How do we come to be honored with your company, Maman?"

As if it was her own home, her own four walls, Pascale leaves the hallway and goes into the kitchen, where she grabs a cup and makes herself an espresso at the coffee machine. Like two lost puppies, the two of you follow the beautiful woman. "I was called in tears last night." When the loud buzzing of the machine stops, she takes a sip of her coffee before placing it on the countertop. "Can someone explain that to me?" With her eyes glued to her son like an annoying price sticker on a new plate, you're off the hook.

"I didn't think she'd call you."

She?

"And I didn't think you'd just kick her out of the apartment without giving her some warning," Pascale replies sharply, raising an eyebrow to show her disapproval of Charles' behavior. "She called me in the middle of the night, upset with you and crying bitterly because you kicked her out of the apartment with a simple text message."

Something flashes in your mind. When you followed Charles back to the bedroom last night, he was typing away on his cell phone. And when you told him that he'd be crazy if you went with him to the apartment where his ex still lives, he assured you that she wouldn't be there.

You didn't expect him to just throw Annika out of the apartment so that you would have a safe place where Raphael couldn't harm you.

"Maman." Charles raises his hands placatingly. "It wasn't like that."

"So you didn't send her a text message telling her to pack her things and leave within thirty minutes?" When Charles doesn't reply, but simply stares at his mother open-mouthed, she runs her fingers through her hair in bewilderment. "I didn't bring you up like that. Have you completely lost your mind?"

"Maman -"

"No 'Maman'." Judging by the look on her face, she would like to hit him over the head with the magazine again. "Do you know what the consequences could be?"

"Maman -"

"She could go public with it!"

"Maman -"

"And - and damage your reputation! She could -"

"Maman!" Charles almost shouts at his mother to break out of her mental spiral. She looks angrily at her son, who takes a small step towards her. He lowers his hands. "Annika cheated on me."

As if all the air had escaped her body, Pascale plops down on the chair where you were eating pancakes just a few minutes ago. She puts her face in her hands and takes a deep breath before looking at her son again. She tries to blink away the tears in her eyes. "Is there anything I can do for you, mon chéri?"

Without answering, Charles closes the distance to his mother and holds her tightly in his arms. He rests his cheek on the top of her head and closes his eyes. "It's all right, Maman. Please don't worry, okay?" He squeezes his mother a little tighter as her arms wrap around his middle. "It's all right. I'm all right. I'm in good hands here."

Pascale's gaze flickers to you and a small smile crosses her beautiful face. You recognize Charles in it. "You'll take good care of him, won't you?"

You feel the blood rush to your face. Suddenly it feels wrong to be witnessing this loving conversation between mother and son. "Of course." With everything I have.

"Very well, chéri," Pascale finally says, gently pushing her son away. "Your brother is coming to visit tomorrow. As you haven't seen each other for a while, I'd like you to come to dinner. He would definitely be happy to see you." She looks at you again. "You too, sweetheart."

Before you can respond, Charles looks at you and shakes his head, barely noticing, so you don't turn down her invitation. "All right, maman. We'll be there." He nudges her lightly with his elbow. "As long as there's pasta e pollo."

Pascale rolls her eyes. "You're incorrigible, Charles." She smiles at him anyway. "Your new girlfriend gets to decide. After all, she's the new addition to our family and I want to make a good impression."

"Maman, she's -" Charles tries to explain himself, but his mother merely raises her hand to silence him. When Charles and your eyes meet, you feel warm. And when he pushes his lower lip forward, he looks so cute that you can't help but agree with him.

"Pasta e pollo sounds great."

Pascale gets up from her chair. "Very good. Then I'll get everything ready for tomorrow." She strides past you towards the front door and you follow her again. "I'll see you tomorrow evening. I'll let you know the exact time, mon chéri." She kisses Charles' right and then left cheek before repeating it with you. "Tomorrow we'll have enough time to talk about all this. And to get to know each other better."

"I can hardly wait," you answer her honestly.

"That's very nice. Then I'll see you tomorrow evening. Bonne journée," she wishes you before disappearing from the apartment just as quickly as she came in. As the door closes behind her, you both exhale deeply.

"I'm so sorry." Charles turns to face you.

You cross your arms in front of your chest. "Sorry for what exactly? Your mother suddenly showing up here?"

He runs his hand through his hair and leans back against the closed door. "That you're now forced to spend the evening with my family. And that I didn't make it clear that we're just friends."

You run your tongue along the inside of your teeth. "It's okay, there's plenty of time for that." Then you smile. "Your mom seems nice. I have no problem spending time with her."

He laughs briefly and then leans his head against the white wood. "It's not my mom that worries me. It's my brothers. They can be really - you know - brothers sometimes."

You walk towards him and lower your arms. "Why? Are they that bad?"

He grabs one of your hands and plays with your fingers. His eyes search yours. "I think it's better if you make up your own mind about them."

"So they're that bad?" you joke, allowing him to pull you closer so that you're standing between his legs. "If they're anything like you, I think I'll get on well with them."

His free hand rests on your hip. Despite the layers of fabric, you can feel the warmth of his skin. "Then you'll hate Arthur." His fingers press gently into your flesh before something behind you catches his attention and he releases you - too quickly for your liking. As you turn around, the piano catches your eye and the roses standing on it.

"What's the plan for today?" you ask him, trying to draw his attention back to you. You release his hand from your hip, but only to pull him into the kitchen so he doesn't have to look at those stupid roses anymore. "Do you have to do anything? Gym? Or do you have any appointments?"

Charles sits down in his chair and fishes his cell phone out of the pocket of his sweatpants. "I don't think so," he answers and takes a look at his online calendar before placing his cell phone on the counter in front of him. "I don't have any appointments or commitments to meet until after Christmas. Until then, I'm all yours." His smile is sweet as sugar and your heart skips a beat.

You want to grab him by the collar of his shirt, pull him across the worktop and kiss him until you can't breathe. Touch him until the countertop is used for something other than cooking, but this morning you convinced yourself that this friendship is the right and, above all, the only way this can work. And that you wouldn't do anything to sabotage this friendship.

"How about we use this time wisely then, huh?" You reach for Pascale's coffee cup and rinse it.

"Do you have an idea?" He raises an eyebrow and has to stifle a smile when he sees your grin. "Of course you have one. Otherwise you wouldn't have asked like that. Fire away."

"So," you start and put the cup back in its place in the cupboard. "We've finally spoken and we've agreed to stay in this apartment together."

"As friends," the Monegasque confirms the thought you just had, even if you don't understand why he has to say it out loud.

Your eyes dart towards the hallway, knowing that the white piano with the red roses is just a few meters away. "What do you say we go out today and buy some new things for the apartment?" you suggest. "Then I could get things for my room and maybe something else to make it feel a bit more like home."

"You mean to make it feel like it's your apartment too?" Charles leans back in his chair a little and runs his hand through his hair.

"Only if that's okay with you. After all, it's your apartment and I could understand if you wanted to leave everything as it is at the moment and -" you babble nervously without thinking about what you're saying. You look at him worriedly and try to read his face to see if you might have crossed a line.

"That's actually a good idea," Charles finally replies, smiling at you. "But are you ready for it?"

"For what?" you ask, confused, leaning against the countertop, which - unfortunately - is only used for cooking.

Charles shrugs his shoulders. "For being seen outside. With me." He looks at you like a kicked puppy that's been abandoned on the street in the middle of the night.

"I told you I have no problem with that," you assure him and walk around the kitchen counter to sit next to him. You reach for his hand and intertwine your fingers. "We're friends, Charles. We know we're friends. And I don't care what anyone else thinks they know about us." You tilt your head a little to one side. "Our friendship is real - and that's why we're going right out there to buy some new stuff for the apartment."

His smile almost makes your heart stop. "For our apartment," he corrects you, his green eyes twinkling.

"Our apartment," you repeat softly.

"Okay." He lowers his gaze to your hands, and the way his fingers wrap around yours makes it feel like they're perfect for each other. The two of you spending time together shouldn't make you this happy. "But we'll only go on one condition."

"What's that?"

"We're not going alone. We're taking Pierre and Kika with us so that it doesn't look like we're shopping for furniture for our apartment as a couple in love." The fact that he doesn't want to go out alone with you feels like a punch in the gut. When he notices the hurt look on your face, he squeezes your fingers gently twice. "It's just to protect you, Y/N."

The fact that he doesn't trust you to do this hits you harder than it should. How many times do you have to tell him you're ready? That the opinions of others don't matter to you as long as you have Charles by your side? Does he really think you're that weak?

"I don't need to be protected," you reply sharply and take your hand away from him.

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into," he tries to reassure you, but the fact that he's talking down your feelings doesn't make things any better.

"Maybe not," you say annoyed and get up from your chair. "But there will come a point when we're on our own. And then everyone's going to be talking shit about us, I get it. And I get that it's going to be bad." You don't care that you're acting like a defiant child. The fact that Charles doesn't want to be seen alone with you hurts more than you would ever admit. "So why not today?"

The young man in front of you looks away from you with a crestfallen expression before also rising from his chair. When he reaches for your hand again, you allow it. "I want you to be able to turn away from me if it gets too much for you. I want you to have the chance to live a normal life if you do decide against me." His other hand rests against your cheek and you snuggle up to him as if it were a reflex. "I don't want you to regret meeting me."

The fact that he thinks you could ever regret befriending him stabs straight through your heart. He wants to protect you from something you both have no control over, and although you'd like to stroll through Monaco holding hands with him, you can understand him.

He is trying to protect both you and himself. And you can understand that all too well.

"All right," you give in and smile gently at him. "Then ask them if they're free and up for it today. It could be fun."

Charles lets go of you and the warmth that had been flowing through your body immediately disappears. While he talks to Pierre on the phone, you go back to your room to get changed and think about what would look good in your room.

Different curtains wouldn't go amiss, and some candles and a small mirror would look good on the white chest of drawers opposite the bed. You might also find some new bedding that -

"Y/N?" Charles' voice echoes through the apartment. You find him in the doorway of the master bedroom, where he glances over his shoulder in your direction. "Pierre and Kika are about to head out, then we'll leave together."

"Okay," you reply, glancing past him into the room. There are a few things lying around that are definitely not his, and the decor doesn't suit him very well either. "So this is your room?"

"Uh-huh." He wrinkles his mouth a little.

"What's wrong with it? Apart from the obvious, of course."

He crosses his arms in front of his chest. "Everything. I don't see anything in it that I wouldn't change."

You'd be only too happy to set the whole room on fire if it would certainly help him. Just like the roses that have burned themselves into your memory. You nudge him with your elbow. "Then we've got a lot planned for today." You look at each other and when he reaches for your hand, you have to smile. "You don't have to go through this alone, Charles. We can do this as long as we're together."

His gaze flickers briefly from your eyes to your lips. "Together," he says softly in return, leaning down a little towards you so that you have to tilt your head back to look at him. His warm breath caresses your face as his free hand finds its place on his hip again to pull you against him. You feel his hard body against yours, his heartbeat under your fingertips as you place your hand on his chest. You feel his warmth as his nose bumps against yours, his hip against your stomach as he presses you against him. You feel his -

"Are you ready?" Pierre's voice comes out of nowhere as he and Kika walk through the front door. Thank God the bedroom is further back so they can't see you.

Instead of letting you go, Charles presses you tighter against him so that you can feel him everywhere. "I think we need a new door lock," he breathes, leaning his forehead against yours. "Then no more uninvited guests can come in when we're together."

When he finally breaks away from you, you have to take a deep breath. Although you've decided that you don't feel anything for him apart from friendship, he triggers something in you that no one before him has ever managed to do.

You desire him. From the top of your head to the soles of your feet, you crave him, his touch, his skin on yours. And his words echo in your thoughts, making you dizzy.

Together. Together. Together.

You rub your face once and look after Charles, who briefly disappears in the direction of the living room, the opposite direction from your friends.

What you can't see, however, is him shoving his hand into his pants to control his raging boner, which is pressing almost painfully against the seams of his boxers. How is he supposed to put up with that when you live together?

Together. Together. Together.

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dominicfikue · 9 days

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𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐀 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘 . . . featuring matthew sturniolo.

𓏲๋ 𓂃 — PAIRING. good girl!reader x guitarist!matt.

beware of. SMUT. mentions of unprotected sex. teensy age gap ( 19 & 21 ). reader lives w her parents. use of pet names.

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ .⁺ headline. different scenarios to show the flirty dynamic between two ‘innocent’ neighbors.

— GUITARIST!MATT WHO: makes it a habit to say good morning to you— an absolute angel, every single day. toothpick hanging from his pink lips as he leans against the white picket fence. you can’t do anything but meekly return the greeting, your big doe eyes focused on the grass beneath you as he showers you in complements.

“good morning, sunshine. jesus, you look… gorgeous. where ya headed?”

— GOOD GIRL!READER WHO: bakes goodies for the musician next door. it’s okay fair to return the favor since he’s such a sweetheart to you. you wake up at the crack of dawn, pulling up the “strawberry blondie bars” recipe you found on social media.

you try your hardest to be quiet, not wanting to wake your parents upstairs. once the treats are ready, you package them in a pink container before taping a note on top. during one of many morning conversations between you two, you hand the brunette the blondies, a grin plastered on your lip gloss-covered lips.

“oh i almost forgot! made these for ya since you’re always so nice to me. i hope you like them!”

— GUITARIST!MATT WHO: answers your phone calls on the first ring, no matter how late it is. you dial him, small sniffles coming from your side of the phone. your parents had begged you to go on a date with this boy from church, convinced that you needed a good influence in your life since matt was ‘corrupting you’. wrong they were.

once he found out you didn’t wanna sleep with him, he called you a prude and sped off in his truck. now here you were, stranded at a restaurant at 12:30 AM. as soon as matt heard your shaky voice & your situation, he put his guitar down and practically ran out to his car to come pick you up. he’s fuming, praying he runs into the guy one of these days to teach him a lesson.

“j-just stay still for me, okay sweetheart? i’ll be there soon, ten minutes tops.”

— GOOD GIRL!READER WHO: pleads and pleads with matt to let you come over and watch him practice. of course you’ve heard him from your room, the bass from his electric guitar coursing through your walls from time to time but you wanted to see it up close and personal.

after multiple “no’s” & “it’s too much for your pretty lil’ ears”, he finally gives in, leading you inside his home with his hand resting dangerously low on your back. when you reach the basement, you see all of his equipment— his amp, a mic, etc. not to mention, the star of the show, the guitar.

he nods for you to take a seat on the grey L-shaped couch as he takes a seat in a foldable chair in front of you. once he knows he has all of your attention, he begins playing a very familiar song— godspeed by frank ocean. with his fingers moving smoothly against the strings and his lip tucked between his teeth as he concentrates, you can’t help but clench your thighs at the sight.

— GUITARIST!MATT & GOOD GIRL!READER WHO: both have journals about the other. they both consisted of lewd & dirty thoughts, yours definitely more… explicit than matt’s. you’re writing in said journal when you see a figure pop through your window, a smug smile playing on his lips. matt’s presence seemed to distract you, your journal wide open in your lap.

as he gets climbs in your room and gets closer, he notices the book causing him to snatch it up and look through it, not expecting to read anything like that from you. you lean up and try to grab it back frantically, embarrassment lingering all around you but matt kept you in place with his other hand as he continued reading. you’re already getting your apology ready but before you can say anything, matt beats you to it.

“this true, sunny? you wanna ‘feel my soft lips against your skin while you’…. woah. you got a hell of a mouth on you, don’t ya?” his eyes wide as they still remain on the paper.

“doing so good, baby. riding me all by yourself just like you said you would … can’t believe it.” he drags out, his words muffled as he leaves marks down your neck. you having to hide the hickies didnt seem to cross your mind, the state of euphoria you were in clouding your thoughts. you felt on top of the world and all of matt’s praise was only fueling the feeling.

you don’t even notice that he paused your movements to pursue his own, breathy groans coming from the boy underneath you. matt’s hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him as he basically drills into you. with one last thrust, you release all over him, a loud and catty whine leaving your throat. matt finishes not too long after you, filling you up nice & full.

in all honesty, it was bound to happen sooner or later. i mean, he was only a door away.

solai speaks. headcannon layout inspo from the one & only @musegyra! i enjoyed writing this so much like you have no idea. i’ve been in my music matt bag lately 😭. speaking of, part one to get him back will be out this week! enjoy <3.

taglist. @fawnchives @prettyvyll @trickywritters @breeloveschris @lorarri @gnxosblog @firexovni @tylerstacobell @ivonchetooo1239 @bernardsgf @dracoflaco @strniolo @paibey @hearts4chriss @sturniololo @rootbeerworshiper @tillies33ssss @katluckybear @realuvrrr @junnniiieee07 @ireadstoriss @summerssover @watercolorskyy

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yoisami · 6 months

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tags. nanami kento x gn!reader, 0.5k wc, fluff, spending morning together, he’s been too hot lately, he’s so sweet too wtf :(, wrote this in one sitting, not proofread

“what time is it?”

nanami’s warmth disappears for a small moment, but returns when he sets his phone back onto the bedside table, shifting his body closer to you once again.

“it’s six-forty,” he replies, his deep voice still dipped in the remnants of sleep. with closed eyes, you nod at him before you leaned into his chest, permitting his strong arms to envelope you into a morning hug—one that you receive from him every day.

winter was truly approaching—your toes didn’t to dare leave the warmth of the duvet, and you were beginning to wear long-sleeved tops to bed again. nanami, on the other hand, wears the same sleep attire every night, regardless of the season. after his shower, he’s donning a random t-shirt he finds in his drawer, and pyjama pants that you swear he has ten pairs of (they’re the same pattern, but different colours!). sometimes, you wonder if he ever feels cold.

and he does—especially when you meekly crawl into the queen-sized bed and clasp your arms and legs around him, shivering and cursing silently at the temperature in the room. naturally, he wants to shift away because your skin is so cold, but because it’s you, he doesn’t mind bearing a bit of discomfort.

“what day is it?”

“thursday. you have an appointment with iwasaki-san today,” he murmurs, slipping his hand into your hair. it’s a bit calloused, and there are imperfections etched into his palms, but it’s evidence that he's a hard worker who diligently completes his work on time, just so he can return home to your arms—a place of solace and love.

this room is quiet in the morning, and all you could ever hear is the duvet crumpling when your bodies move, ticking noises made by the pedestrian light from the traffic outside the apartment, and you and nanami’s soft breaths.

there are no curses here—no evil, no fear, no elements that try to hinder this peace; there’s nothing of that sort but a love that has blossomed from its juvenile, delicate form—a love that has been keeping you going since you were seventeen.

and if there’s one memory that you could bring with you to death, it would be this.

it’s no party that celebrates a special event, and it’s no moment that keeps you awake at ungodly hours of the night. but it’s simple, and it’s enough to make you feel like you’re the only one for him, and that he’s the only one for you.

because in his subtle touches—his thumb stroking your hairline, his hand patting the small of your back, and his knee brushing against your leg—he lets you know that he loves you, and you love him too.

your eyes open when nanami sits up, sighing as he brushes the duvet off him. his hair is chaotically parted at different directions, and as he pats it down with a hand, he glances at you once.

“you should get up soon too. i’ll make you breakfast.”

your hand is quick to hold onto his wrist when he begins to raise to feet. nanami turns back at you, reciprocating the tiny smile that’s dancing upon your lips and asking him to stay.

“don't go,” you say softly.

the words are a request, but nanami obeys like it’s a command as he sits back down, pressing a chaste kiss on your temple.

“alright.”

#૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — ୨୧ by saki #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami fluff #kento nanami

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solitary-traveler · 30 days

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Seeking Sweet Serenity

You're tired after a long day and Wanderer is there to help you.

Wanderer x Gn!Reader

Notes: This is very self indulgent. School sucks ass and I fr need to be comforted by Wanderer.

Art: @yXaBLUGg7Yqtw1y (X)

Warning: None, this is just pure fluff.

Life is shit.

So shit.

Your natural efficiency attracted incompetency, individuals at every turn would raise their voice to seize your attention. Yet every word they spill, every letter that rolls out their tongue, were nothing but vexing phrases.

“Traveler, please help me!”

“Traveler, can you do me a favor?”

You were sick of it.

Your throat releases a sigh from its confines as you shoulder brusquely the wooden door in front of you. A feeling of tranquility often swaddles you upon entering your shared apartment with Wanderer, but right now, the solace you had found was rived from your grasp, leaving you vulnerable to animosity. Your thoughts torment your brain, tears pricking the rim of your eyes. Oh how you’d do anything to stop yourself from feeling this way.

Upon overhearing the door screech, Wanderer glances at the entrance. He caught sight of your silhouette, stumbling on your feet. The corners of his lips shifted upwards, it was amusing how much you were akin to that of a drunk person. He rests his arms around his chest, shoulders slumped against the wall. “Who killed you? You look like a corpse”, he teased.

You didn’t answer, opting to stay quiet. The stillness grew, leaving a lingering sense of unbearable silence hanging in the air.

Wanderer couldn’t help but raise a brow. You were acting most peculiar today. Usually, you would’ve returned his jab, possibly even teasing him back just to watch him squirm and insult you back. Yet you remain rooted in your place, not uttering a single term.

Sensitive to this agonizing dread of not hearing your voice, he decided to approach you. His footsteps were light, his sandals clicking across the floor boards. “You alright?” he asked, looming over you. Despite his imposing figure, he was gentle, almost afraid that he might break you with every word that slips out his mouth. Without warning, your figure clasps its hands around him, leaving the Wanderer stunned. “I’m fine”, was the reply you managed to choke out.

But he knew better. He knew you weren’t fine.

Though how was he supposed to react to this? The Wanderer was never one to deal with emotions. All throughout his life, he channeled all his emotions into a glass bottle before throwing them far away into the depths of his non-existent heart. It wasn’t healthy, he knows that now. It only escalates everything further. He has long abandoned his fervent feelings, and he was just slowly unboxing them again. He doesn’t have any clue as to how one should properly deal with them. But watching you suffer in his arms made him wish he knew. It made him wish he was well versed in the area, that he knew how to help you with your current situation.

With only one card available to play, he decided to gamble his chance. He tried a method that worked for him, a process Nahida does whenever he was emotionally unstable. With a soft sigh, he cards his gloved fingers through your locks. ”You wanna cuddle on the couch… and talk about it?” he asked, a certain softness coating his words. You merely looked up and nodded your head meekly.

Wanderer smiles.

You just want to be comforted.

And he knew that.

He'll make sure you're okay.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact fanfic #scaramouche #genshin scara #scara x reader #scara x y/n #scaramouche x reader #gender nuetral reader #genshin x reader #genshin wanderer #wanderer x reader #wanderer #wanderer x y/n #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin impact wanderer #scaramouche fanfic #wanderer fanfic #scara fanfic

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anashins · 3 months

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Perhaps a Jaehyun fic where you’re either on your thesis or work and are pulling all nighters to meet your deadlines and avoid telling him cos you know he gets mad (even though idol Jaehyun does it too) so when he finds out (it could be bc you either passed out from exhaustion and maybe we get a hospital scene or since you hadn’t slept it slipped out of you? English is not my first language and I’m currently sleep deprived bc of my thesis work so sorry for any grammatical error 😭) he forces u to go to sleep but it’s really cute cos he’s also tired and you get some rest together

Pairing: Jaehyun x You

Genre: fluff, romance

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: While being in the hospital, you find out Jaehyun can braid hair. Every day, you learn something new about this man.

A/N: I tried to combine all of them! I hope you like it - and good luck on your thesis, you can do it 🤍🤍🤍

“I have to write my thesis!”, was your first thought upon waking up.

But the ceiling you were staring at didn’t look like your ceiling at home, you couldn’t recognize the color of the walls, and the sparse furniture didn’t belong in your room either.

What looked familiar to you though, as your gaze wandered further, was a figure next to you, sitting by the bedside. The dark hair, the worried expression, the warm hand holding your limp one… that was your boyfriend, giving you comfort in a cold room that seemed like it was located in a hospital.

“You’re awake!” Jaehyun exclaimed.

Realization of your last night at home seeped in. You hadn’t eaten or drunk something in… you couldn’t remember. You wanted it to be two days since your last meal and rest, but your admission into the hospital, arm physically attached to an infusion, indicated otherwise.

“What happened?” you asked groggily.

Jaehyun took a cup with a straw from the nightstand and led it to your mouth. “How do you feel?”

“Tired somehow,” you sighed, opening your mouth. The water tasted unexpectedly delicious, just what you had needed. “And anxious.”

“I found you last night, passed out on the floor,” your boyfriend explained and put the cup back on the nightstand, then seated himself next to you onto the mattress. “You seemed like you hadn’t eaten anything in days let alone slept for more than two hours a night, so I brought you here directly. I was so worried.”

He had dark circles under his eyes, seemingly not having slept this entire time either, ever since he had brought you here. “Jaehyun…”

You reached out to him and touched the side of his face. He smiled meekly. “I’m just so relieved you’re better now. I was so afraid when I saw you there, unmoving in your room. I didn’t know what to do, I thought I lost you.”

“I’m sorry.” Your hand dropped and covered the back of his that he had rested on your thigh. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I just lost track of time, forgot to eat and there is still so much to do. I actually don’t have time to rest, I have to hand in my thesis in a week.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Jaehyun chided. “It’s only morning and the doctor will check up on you this evening before he can discharge you. Until then, you’re going to rest.”

“But-” you were about to retort, but he cut you off immediately.

“No buts. You’re not going to work on your thesis now or even think about it. And when you return home this evening, I will move in with you for this week.”

You blinked in confusion. “What?”

“I will cook for you, make sure you’re always healthy and hydrated and get enough sleep. This is not going to happen again, I’ll make sure of that. Let me take care of you when you can’t.”

You had already opened your mouth, but Jaehyun sounded so determined that you didn’t want to disagree with him. Apart from this, it sounded nice to have someone taking care of you when you weren’t able to.

“Okay.”

Living with him for an entire week until you finished your thesis didn’t sound so bad either. Very tempting even, truth to be told.

Your boyfriend then placed a bag next to you. “Don’t get your hopes up, it’s not your university materials.” Instead, he pulled out wired headphones, your favorite fantasy book, eye patches and a hairbrush. “We are going to do some selfcare while you’re here.”

You let Jaehyun put the eye patches on your face, the coolness directly having an effect on your tired skin. Then, he offered, “Here, let me brush your hair. I know you always take good care of it.”

You shifted to the side and pulled your hair back over your shoulder. Jaehyun let the brush slide over your strands, but some had already gotten light knots overnight. He took care of them by holding your hair close to the roots and detangling the ends carefully, so that they fell softly over your neck again.

Meanwhile, you took the book into your hands and began reading out to your boyfriend. You always talked about this book and had probably read it eight times already, but you never got enough of it, and Jaehyun had always been patient to listen to your opinions and rants, even if he had heard time a thousand times already.

“Should I braid your hair?” he then asked after he had finished brushing. “So while you’re lying down, it’s not gonna tangle again, otherwise I will spend the entire day combing your hair.”

You tilted your head. “You know how to braid?”

“Yeah, thanks to my little cousins.” You then felt his fingers sectioning your hair into three parts. “It’s not gonna be a fancy french braid, but I’ll give it my best. I even brought a hair tie.” Every day, you learned something new about this man. “Now, continue reading. I want to know whether Feyre will pass the second trial.”

He knew the answer to it. He knew the ending of the book and the entire series already, because you talked about it so often, but he also knew how much you loved doing so, which was why he always acted so clueless and let you speak your opinion.

You loved this man so much.

So you continued reading out to Jaehyun while he gently braided your hair. You felt the tips of the strands brushing over your neck and shoulders, laying on your back and swirling around. It took your boyfriend three attempts for the perfect beginning and he sometimes stopped halfway through to open the braid again, because he wasn’t satisfied. One time, he had even reached the end already, but then let out a sigh, seemingly dissatisfied with his work, and started all over again.

He was so focused, breathing regularly with much concentration, so that you weren’t sure whether he was actually still listening to you. But you didn’t care and instead enjoyed this chaste moment between you two.

“Finished,” Jaehyun then declared and put on the pink scrunchie to fix the braid’s end.

You tenderly touched the tips below the scrunchie. “There is no mirror, but I feel pretty.”

“That’s because you are.”

Jaehyun kissed your cheek and then removed the eye patches from your face.

“Come here.” You closed the book, placed it on the nightstand and took the wired headphones before shifting to the far end of the small hospital bed. “Lie down.”

“I’m so tall and the bed is so small, you won’t have enough space. It’s fine.”

“Don’t worry, it will work. Come here.”

You let your boyfriend lie down next to you and rested your head on his chest. One earphone, you put on yourself and gave the other to Jaehyun who then linked it to his phone and started playing music.

You then lied there together, not talking, just listening to his favorite songs and enjoying each other’s company.

Not much later, you heard Jaehyun snoring lightly, and smiled. He had taken care of you the entire night, he deserved this rest, and so you let him.

Yes, it was nice having someone taking care of you when you couldn’t take care of yourself. You would make sure to always do the same for him when you were able to.

#jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun x you #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun fanfiction #nct #nct 127 #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct x you #nct x reader #nct 127 x you #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 scenarios

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queenendless · 4 months

Text

💗Safe Haven (Adult!SatoSugu x Adult!Fem!Reader)💗

A/n: ... I legit had no clue what to write. So it's gonna be short. Sorry. God this JJK burnout is getting worse!

Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, and these two are enemies on opposites sides but in reality are secret lovers (though it ain't a secret to those who truly know them) with you as their third. And like reader-chan, I need comfort right now.

PLEASE DON'T PLAGARIZE, TRANSLATE, COPY, REPOST AND ETC MY FAN CONTENT. Reblog, like, and follow instead thnx u.

The front door of the apartment unlocked, swinging open as that familiar boisterous voice boomed out. “Sweetheart~! Your Toru is here~!” The door slide closed as Satoru Gojo took off his black dress boots to leave by your welcome mat.

His socked, heavy footsteps sounded getting closer in just a few strides. “Did ya miss me? Cause I sure missed — !”

The sounds of glass shattering followed by the loud thump of something falling made him run, honed in on your cursed energy. Finding you crumbled up on the glass shard covered floor of the living room.

“Y/n!?” Using the barest traces of cursed energy in his finger to collect the shards only to erode them into cursed nothingness, he could safely tend to you. “Hold on. I got you.”

Only when he slowly helped you roll around to sit up on your butt did he see crimson dripping down your hand from the cut open wound on your wrist.

“Fuck.” He muttered before speaking out loud. “I don't see any glass in there. Still,” He pulled off his blindfold to bind it tight enough to put enough pressure to stop the bleeding.

“Toru, your blindfold!”

“I have plenty of backups stashed back at my place. And here, of course. Besides, this is just temporary.” His updo now freed to let his hair down hang over those radiant eyes that bore anxious concern for you as well as the utmost confidence, pulling your uninjured hand up gently as his other arm wrapped around your waist to get you on your feet.

“Not to worry, my dearest angel. Your valiant lover will get you all patched up in no time.”

The sliding open of the rolling door leading to the balcony grabbed your attention.

Then again, you both felt that familiar cursed presence coming a mile away.

“Well now,” Seeing the manta ray returning to his own shadow, Suguru Geto hummed deeply. “What have we here?” He took off his zōri sandals to place by the open doorway. “Satoru, you're no healing nurse like Shoko is, ya know.”

“For your information, Suguru,” the sassy hurt in Gojo's voice betrayed the grin that was there. “I happen to be a wonderful nurse!”

Geto cheekily pointed out. “Then you have a small bloody puddle to wipe up, nurse-sama~”

Satoru groaned a bit. “Hang on. I can't be expected to do all the work.”

“My blood, my mess to clean up.” You meekly pointed out.

Satoru gently lifted you up by the waist just to plop you on the couch, clicking his tongue and wagging his finger at you. “Sorry love, but you look exhausted. No wonder you collapsed earlier and got yourself hurt. Now you need to take it easy.”

Suguru sighed deeply. “Very well. I'll help my dear Satoru out if it'll make him happy.”

Both men hummed as Gojo leaned over to smooch Geto for several drawn out moments to fill that mouth with its usual sweet taste. “Thank you~” Gojo beamed before stalking off to the bathroom where you kept the first aid kit under the sink.

Seeing a decent sized, withered red leaved Jubokko tree become sentient with blinking eyes creep out of Suguru's shadow made your curl away from it. “Sorry dearest, but it'll help clean up the mess much faster.” Suguru assured, despite cringing as its hole of a mouth sucked up every trace of blood on that floor, hissing as its root hands reached out for your bloody clothed wrist only to be sucked back into Suguru's shadow again.

“Wretched leech.” He griped, his white tabi socked feet padded over to you.

You flushed pink at the sight of Suguru undoing his gold-colored kāṣāya garment to drape over the couch as he rolled up his black yukata robe sleeves.

“Choosing to leave the sorcerer life is one thing … but living among these … monkeys. Honestly honey, I'd prefer you live with me and the girls … though with everything that's been transpiring lately …” He sat down and gingerly took your wrapped wrist, smiling faintly recognizing Gojo's blindfold even if bloodstained. “I can see why living away from all that chaos does seem safer.”

“I have returned!” Satoru slid in, holding the kit above his head like it was the newborn heir of the Pride Lands. “So, since I got here first and all, I figured you are up to playing nurse this time?”

“Fine by me. But best we clean it in the bathroom.” Geto recommended.

Gojo drooped, whining. “Back the way I came then. Jeez, could've told me that earlier?”

Geto scoffed. “Oh hush you.”

The cold tap water of your bathroom sink ran as the blindfold was unbound, plopping into the sink, crimson draining away as you kept your wrist under the running faucet.

“Fortunately, the cut isn't that deep so no stitching is needed. Still, I suggest you focus your attention elsewhere to make it seem less painful in your mind's eye, love.” Suguru cautioned as he doused a spare soft clothed rag on the countertop with your mild hand soap before letting it get wet enough.

“You can start by explaining why you're so pooped out?” Hugging you from behind meant you could lean on Satoru's sturdy body as your fatigue was coming back in.

“Insomnia.” You whined a bit as he lifted you up again just to plop you on the counter. “Depression. Lonesomeness – Figured it out now?” Your griping did unnerve them.

Your sniffling meant tears blurred your vision, looking away to face the wall and not them. Satoru weaved his hand through your hair, pulling your head to flush your weeping face in between his plush pecs as Suguru began dabbing and cleaning around the cut.

“I mean, work stress for one cause of course there is. Living here by myself for two. And seeing cursed spirits flock around here, harmless ones at that, still makes me anxious if things will escalate to full blown shit.” You felt yourself laxing as Gojo brushed your hair as well as your arm to reassure you that you weren't alone now. “I'm always gonna be worried for the day when you two don't come back … or for when you do return … but I'll be dead or worse.” The sting in your wrist was outweighed by the ache in your cracked heart.

Shadows covered both their faces, letting you speak.

“I know you both went through hell after Riko-chan … and Haibara-kun … and I thought leaving with Nanami-san would mean I find some semblance of peace and try to live as normally as I could.”

Gauze bandages gingerly covered your wrist as Geto's nimble hands got to work.

“Even so, I thought keeping in touch would be better than nothing … despite the risks … I needed to hear your voices again. See your smiles again. I'm sorry. I – !”

Tenderly holding your cheeks to have you look up at him, you became breathless as Gojo kissed you openly, his tongue brushing yours, capturing your sobs, brushing your streaking tears with those calloused thumbs of his.

“Never apologize for your big beautiful heart, you breathtaking angel.” Satoru heaved heavily, hot pants painting your trembling lips as various emotions swept through those big blue eyes.

Your chin was firmly grasped as your face turned to make way for Geto's lips as his thick neck flexed on how much he wanted to swallow your taste to drown out the horridness that is the taste of cursed spirits.

“How did two damaged beasts such as ourselves get to be blessed with the most endearing creature our eyes have ever laid upon?” Suguru whispered, devotion vivacious in his gaze.

Choked whimpers and shaky gasps leave your lips, submerged in their kisses of unified warmth.

“You were with me at my lowest point when I needed someone to hear me the most.”

“You knocked some sense into my dense noggin and dragged me back just so me and Suguru would hash things out.”

“Even prideful maniacs need to hash things out.” You yawned as Gojo carried you bridal style while Geto hurried packing the first aid kit away.

“I'm sorry we haven't made enough time for you, angel. I'm the biggest packing tank for handling the shittest messes those elders can throw at me. Doesn't beat seeing you though.” Satoru purred the last line as he flicked his pinkie finger to get your door to open. You giggled as he fell atop you on the bed, snatching Suguru's wrist as he just came in after. “Both of you~!”

Suguru's exasperated sigh was betrayed by his wistful grin as he smooched the smirk stretching on Satoru's face.

The sky went from cloudy and blue to the warm colors of the sunset.

Giant sculpted fingers traced your face. From your lashes to your nose. Brushing your forehead, your cheeks, then finally your breathing lips. Lost in deep sleep, Suguru watched in wonder at how serene you appeared.

Stripping off that black zip-up work jacket of his to drape over the dresser, Satoru laid down beside you, brushing your hair leisurely.

“So … what happens now?” Suguru murmured.

“Well,” Satoru hummed, raising a finger. “Option one: we keep going as things have been but that will still leave our little lamb all by her lonesome while we're swept up in the war of our ideals.”

“Option two: we both come clean about our secret but be labeled and hunted as partners in crime.” Suguru continued, raising his own finger.

“Or … there's always option three.” Oh Satoru the ominous.

“Which is?” Suguru was hesitant to ask.

“We three elope, you two and the girls can move into my place, we get two cats that look like us and we name them Catoru and Cuguru~!”

. . .

Suguru laughed under his breath. “You're such a doofus.”

“Well this doofus is all for you two to deal with til the end of our days.” Gojo drowsily put as he ruffled Geto's already tousled hair; his bun coming undone.

“Best to ask Y/n about it after she finally gets some good rest, first.” Geto kissed the wrist of Gojo's hand cupping his cheek; Gojo thumbed his earring filled, large earlobe.

“Hai Hai,” Pulling the younger man close enough, Satoru blissfully, deeply, lip lock danced with his best friend, partner in infamy, and one and only.

Well, one of two.

Heated panting hitting each other's faces, blue looked down, to which black followed.

Finally at ease, able to sleep with their distinctive scents and comfy warmth enveloping you.

For the first time in a while — what felt like forever to you actually — you were at peace.

Feeling velvety wet sweetness kissing you followed by another pair immediately after had you humming for more, to which brought you slightly out of sleep at how much they peppered your entire face with their loving kisses.

Sunset turned to night as their own exhaustion caught up to them both, spooning you from both sides, legs intertwined, snores filling the room, as three bundled into one among rustled sheets and strewn about pillows.

Your bandaged wrist brushed their bare wrists as their hands held yours.

Intertwined.

In hand.

And in life.

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sirenmoth · 10 months

Text

Family Pack

Everyone x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Your partners help you through a emotional spot in your life

Spanish translations at the end, also half the characters are shown or mentioned by are implied to be there, this is cheesy af

CW: fluff, kinda hurt/comfort. abo dynamics, pregnancy, pregnancy hormones, polygamy, sexual themes, insecure reader

AO3 Previous || Next

You woke after what feels like an eternity later, pleasantly sore all over and satisfied, you turned over hoping to return to the very realistic dream you just had, but doing do brought to things to your attention. The first thing is that your nest is much bigger, now being able to fit much more people, the second is the lack of evidence aside from the love bites and bruises that are sprinkled all over your skin, as well as the claim marks on your neck and shoulders.

Thinking to yourself you just moved around too much in your sleep, stretching your limbs was proving difficult as none of them wanted to cooperate, deciding to sit up was what lead you to notice the bump in your stomach, also, prompted you to reallise the clothes you were wearing are not the right size and don’t smell right. Slowly bringing a hand up to the bump and gentaly pressing down, it was firm. What happanded way real. The events you thought you dream were real. Panic began to set in, did they leave? Did they knock you up and leave you alone? Did they even know?

Overwhelmed with thoughts you didn’t hear the door open nor the smell of food. “Cariño?” a soft, calm voice asks, whipping your head around to find the source, making direct eye contact with Rodolfo in the doorway, a tray of food in hand. Noticing something was wrong he quickly places the tray down, making his way over and crawing into the nest beside you. Looking over your body, assessing for any damages, sighing in relfie when he find nothing physically wrong. Rudy pulled you into his arms, allowing you to cling to him like a lifeline.

The sound of sobs and whimpers was muffed as you buried you face into the side of his neck as Rudy whispered sweet, comforting words into your ear. Carefully he pulled you away, placing a thumb and finger under your chin and turning you head towards him, “¿Qué pasa?” his words were like sugar as he waited for your response “I-I thought you all left me, that this was a dream, that you just got bored and left.” you meekly spoke out between sobs and hiccups, Rudy slowly runs his hand up and down your back, quietly humming as you started to down. “No, not at all mi amor, must have been scary waking up alone, hm?” he smiles “We just wanted to make sure you get enough rest” the younger Mexican explains, keeping his voice low in hopes of not startling you.

Moments pass as you calm down, still keeping a tight hold on your mate, the thoughts of him being nothing more then a dream still present in your mind. Rudy continues to rub small circles in between your shoulder blades “Have you eaten today, mi vida?” he asks, carefully picking up the almost forgotten tray of food he brought with him “Gaz made dinner tonight, thought it was best to let you relax” he smiled down at you, picking up the bowl of soup, “Can you eat something for me, por favor, necesitas comer algo.” he explains as he brough the contents in the bowl to your lips, opening your mouth too allow the meal down your throat. The two of you sat, repeating the process until the food was gone and everything has calmed down.

Rudy got up to take the tray away before you grabbed his arm, scared to let him go, “Where are the others?” you whimpered, not being near the others was making you lonely, scared that they did move on and Rudy didn’t want to hurt you. Looking up at the alpha in front of you as he looks down at you shrunken form, like he was weighing his options, nodding his head, Rudy moved the tray to one hand and extending you the other, helping you to your feet was proving difficullt with your swollen belly, the same with walking. Eventually you both made it to the rec room, the sudden scent of all your alphas calming you almost instantly. as you two entered the chatter in the room died out, all turning their heads to look at you.

Shrinking away behind Rodolfo, in hopes to hide your body as best as you could, feeling like coming here was a mistake. “What ye doin here, bonnie” Soap asks, confused to see you walking about, “Yer not suppo-””Ella estaba sola, la encontré llorando, sorprendida ninguno de ustedes lo sintió” Rudy quickly cut off the Scotsman, explaining to the others what’s going on. All men turned their eyes back to you, worry and concern filled each and every one of them, ashamed they didn’t notice. Price opens his arms, gesturing you to come sit, following his command, sitting between his legs, your back to his chest. The older of the three Brits presses a kiss to your temple “Sorry we didn’t notice something, dear” the others nodding in agreement or throwing in their own “sorry”’s, smiling at them you open your mouth to reassure them it was ok, only to be cut off but a gravel voice as Ghost beat you too it “Don’t. None of that “it’s ok” shit” he growled at you. Sinking into the embrace behind you, mindlessly fidgeting with Köing’s fingers while striking up a conversation with the rest of the group.

The rest of the afternoon was spent with you being wrapped in a figurative blanket of warmth, Gaz helped you back to the nest, collecting items of clothings and blankets along the way as an extra apology, each one of them apologised in their own way, some with cuddes and worshipping you, some by just simply allowing you to rest in their office while they worked. One by one crawled into the bed, few complained about work and the files they had to fill out, others just curled up next to you and drifted off, but all subconsciously kept you in the middle as a small reminder of their love.

Spanish translations: Cariño - sweetheart ¿Qué pasa? - What's the matter? Mi vida - My life por favor, necesitas comer algo - please, you need to eat something Ella estaba sola, la encontré llorando, sorprendida ninguno de ustedes lo sintió - She was alone, I found her crying, surprised none of you felt it

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #john price x reader #captian john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #Rodolfo Parra x reader #rodolfo rudy parra x reader #könig x reader #cod fanfic #cod x reader #task force 141 x reader #COD MW2 #Philip graves x reader

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holylulusworld · 1 year

Text

Truth or dare

Pairing: Mobster!Steve Rogers x Wife!Reader

Side pairings: Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark x Pepper Potts

Characters: Sam Wilson, Sarah Wilson, Clint Barton, Peter Parker

Warnings: angst, Steve being an asshole, mentions of arranged marriage, strong female leads, crack, redemption

A/N: I wrote a hopeful ending. Not a fluffy one.

“Steve, why don’t you wear the blue suit? You know the one I bought some weeks ago. It’ll match the dress I’m going to wear tonight,” you look your husband up and down, smirking as he looks stunning in the suit he chose to wear.

“We won’t match,” Steve is grumpy tonight. He’s usually gentler and softer around you. “No ladies tonight. This meeting is about business and forming an even stronger bond. Things you don’t know shit about.”

“But-“ you frown deeply. “Pepper said she’ll be there. Natasha and Sarah will come. Darcy will bring her better half too.”

He sighs so deeply you fear he’ll stop breathing. “Fine. It’s a meeting for wives,” he waves you off with one flick of his wrists.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Steve?” you are confused as hell. “The ring on my finger means I’m your wife. I think I didn't get the memo we got divorced.”

“Our marriage was an arrangement to help your father out,” he bites back. His tone is filled with venom, and you flinch when he steps toward you. “Do you know why I agreed on this marriage?”

“My father was in trouble and had the money to get him out of said trouble. You wanted me in return,” you meekly reply. It’s the first time you don’t feel comfortable around your husband.

“No. I wanted to stop looking for someone I can fuck. I married you to have a warm place to put my dick. So, you can stop trying so hard to be a good wife. You are all I want. A warm body for me to use.”

You visibly flinch at the blow he just threw at you. That hurt. His words cut so deep you are not sure your heart is still beating.

Arranged or not. Your marriage was special to you. You cherished the bond you believed you have with your husband. Now he claims to not even love you.

It takes you a moment to push the tears away and keep the sob down your throat. You clear your throat and put on your best-faked smile.

“Well, then I can stop trying, Steven,” your voice is even, but inside you are dying. “You should’ve told me so much sooner. I wasted so much time on this marriage. What a shame.”

Steve watches you straighten the dress you are wearing. A dream of blue and silk. His favorite color.

You sigh deeply as you look down at your body. “This dress was fucking expensive, and I can’t return it. Maybe I can sell it on eBay or shit,” you shrug. “Some other women will kill for a second-hand designer dress like this.”

He swallows thickly as you kick off your heels and make your way toward the bathroom. “Have fun with your friends and allies. I hope Pepper is not too disappointed I’m not going to be around. We had plans. You know.”

You enter the bathroom and silently close the door. As you sink to the ground and cradle your face in the palms of your hands, Steve leaves the room.

He slams the door shut, and curses.

“How could I be so wrong? He only ever wanted to use me…”

“Hey, where’s your lovely wife?” Sam cocks his head to search the room for you. “Steve? Where is Y/N?”

“At home, where she can’t disturb business. She knows her place now,” your husband bites back. He scrunches up his nose and shrugs as Pepper and the other women gasp audibly.

“Punk don’t tell me that you took Rumlow’s comment to heart,” Bucky sizes his friend up. He frowns as Steve tells his best friend what happened tonight. “He said that you got soft to fuck with you. He was all over Y/N that night. She turned him down, you idiot!”

“Steve, no!” Sam runs one hand down his face, groaning loudly. “You got us in big trouble! My sister will murder you and me…maybe even all of us!”

Sam points at Sarah who already makes her way toward the other women in the room. Pepper’s head snaps toward Tony, and Natasha, well she opens her clutch to get a knife out.

“Oh-fuck! I won’t ever get laid ever again. Natasha will castrate all of us and make it look like an accident if she gets to know what you did,” Bucky almost whines when his wife and partner in crime stalks toward him.

Tony panics as his wife gets the gun she hides in her clutch out. “We are fucked guys,” he hiccups. “It seems like someone messed with Y/N!”

“It was him!” all men point at Steve. They take a step back and pray their wives won’t punish them for the shit Steve pulled. “We didn’t know.”

Clint starts sweating, he swallows audibly as his wife is ready to rip him a new one. “I swear, we didn’t have anything to do with this. Rumlow said that Steve got weaker and softer. He blamed Y/N for it.”

“Brock Rumlow is not one of us,” Natasha snaps at Clint. “What he says or does is of no interest to us. But—” she points her knife at Steve, “this bastard dared to hurt Y/N. So…we will hurt him.”

“Agreed,” Pepper smirks darkly. “Ladies…get him…”

“Do you remember when you married Y/N?” Natasha circles Steve like a lion waiting to pounce on their prey. “Didn’t she look beautiful in her wedding gown? All for you, you moron.”

“Yeah,” he splutters. “You have to understand, a man my stand can’t let a woman rule his life. I need to make sure no one damages my reputation. If not, people will think I'm easy prey. Just like my family and friends.”

“You’re not an easy target because your friends protect you,” Pepper snaps at Steve. “Because all of us are a family we protect each other. We welcomed Y/N into this family, and you hurt our sister.”

“Damn right,” Sarah slaps the back of Sam’s head. “Don’t you have anything to say to your friend, Sammy?”

“Steve…uh…maybe you should go home and fix things with Y/N?” Sam offers. “I bet she’s crying her eyes out right now.”

Tony rolls his eyes and groans loudly. “You’re not helpful at all, Wilson.”

“You may think you and your allies rule this world,” Natasha clicks her tongue. “You are dead wrong.” She sneers as Bucky, Steve, and Tony glare at her.

“We, the women behind all of you make sure no war breaks out. Do you know how often an afternoon tea with one of our enemies’ wives saved your ungrateful asses?”

Natasha slaps the back of Bucky’s head. “Because in the end, you are all just angry children trying to get a new toy. Rumlow’s fiancé will set him straight too. We called her, his mother, and every female family member we could reach.”

“Oh-uh…he’s fucked too,” Bucky chuckles. “At least he will go down with all of us.”

I’m going to experience a dry spell,” Tony sighs deeply. “Again…Thanks, Rogers. Thank you so very much for fucking with your wife.”

“You!” Sarah points at Steve. “You will go home and apologize to Y/N. If she sheds only one more tear because of you, you’re going to lose more than your reputation.”

“BALLS!” Pepper exclaims. “We will cut them off.”

“Along with your dick,” Natasha grunts. “Now, off and you better make things up to her.”

“Darling?” Steve silently tiptoes inside the mansion. He has a huge bouquet of roses in his arms. “Baby doll? Uh-I’m back home. Doll? Y/N?”

He sighs as you don’t run toward him. Usually, you would drop everything and run into his arms to pepper kisses all over his face. Or drop to your knees to get your hands on his dick. Depends on your mood.

“Sir, Mr. Rogers,” Peter, the youngest member of Steve’s organization stutters. “Mrs. Rogers retreated to one of the guest rooms.”

“What?”

“She said that you could have the bedroom and that you can visit her when you feel the need…” Peter’s face turns crimson as he must tell his boss about all the things you told him. “Marriage duties…uh…Sir…please don’t make me say it.”

“Fuck’s sake, Rumlow,” Steve grunts. He pushes the roses into Peter’s hands. “Put them in a vase and bring them to my wife. Tell her to come back to the bedroom.”

“Sir. I think…”

“I don’t pay you to think,” Steve yells now. “She will come back, or I’ll make her come back. It’s up to her.”

“Sir…I think you should…”

“One more word and you can look for a new job.”

Steve storms off. He’s fuming. There he was, believing you lie awake, waiting for him to come home and make things up to you. But no. You moved out of your shared room to be a brat…

“Mrs. Rogers, good morning,” one of the maids' chirps. “Do you want to make breakfast for Mr. Rogers again?” She smiles softly.

In silence, you pass your husband sitting at the kitchen counter without even looking at him.

“No. Someone thinks that I should stop trying to be a good wife. I’ll go for an apple. You can ask Mr. Rogers if he wants breakfast this morning.”

You open the fridge to get a bottle of water. Steve flinches as you slam the door shut. He watches you grab an apple and leave the kitchen before he can even say a single word.

“Sir, do you want breakfast?” the maid meekly asks. She doesn’t know what happened between you and your husband. But she knows it’s better to duck your head and stay out of Steve Rogers’ business.

“No. I’m already fed up,” he grunts and gets up from the stool, knocking it over. “Take the day off. All of you. I need some time with my wife…”

Steve enters the living room, huffing as you pump up the volume. Lily Ellen yells ‘Fuck you’ at him, and he makes a face.

“We need to talk.”

You ignore his presence, even shy away when he sits next to you on the sofa.

“Doll, look at me.”

You don’t look at him. It hurts too damn much to look at the man you believed is an angel when in reality he’s a cruel demon.

“I want to talk to my wife,” he groans as you shut off the TV and get up from the sofa. You don’t speak, or at least look at him.

He’s left behind with fond memories of the last time you watched a movie together. You were seated on his lap and played with his hair.

Steve tried to convince you to watch the movie but you crawled off his lap to open his fly. You got his dick out to play with little Steve while he struggled to focus on the movie.

He closes his eyes, basking in the memory of your pouty lips when you insisted on sucking his dick. Steve gave in. As so often. You only had to bat an eyelash and he caved in.

“Sir, Mr. Rogers," Peter pokes his head inside. He feels his cheeks heat up as Steve cups his crotch. “Do you want me to drive Mrs. Rogers?”

“Drive…what?” Steve realizes what he was doing and drops his hand from his crotch as he stares at Peter. “What are you talking about?”

“She said something about lawyers."

Steve hurriedly steps inside the guest room, watching you undress. “What are you doing? Doll, I tried to talk to you and now you are…”

“What the fuck? Can a woman not change clothes without you creeping on me?” you snap at Steve. “Get out!”

“You love it when I watch you undress.”

“I made you believe I do,” you chuckle darkly. “I’m damn skilled at faking things. Aren't I?" you ask as you glance at Steve. “All these times I pretended you made me cum or turned me on? I should get a fucking Oscar.”

“Doll, don’t go there,” he warns.

“I had to play with my toys before you came home to get wet for you. I never wanted to marry you. And I never had feelings for you.”

Steve knows you are lying. The way you tend to his wounds after a fight, gentle yet determined tells a different story. You always worried about him.

After a particularly hard day, or rather after you tended to a deep gash on his lower back you wouldn’t let him out of sight for a week. You clung to him like you were glued to his hips.

“Why not? All you want from me is a dripping hole, right?” you wrinkle your nose to push the tears away. “I’m nothing to you.”

He steps closer to you and places his hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, I’m sorry for the stupid things I said. You know that I only tried to protect my reputation.”

“I will go on a short vacation with Pepper, Sarah, Darcy, Natasha, and Okoye. If you need to get off in the meantime, use your hand, Steven. I think you’ll remember how to jerk off by the end of my vacation.”

“Vacation…what?”

He gasps when you shove his hand off your shoulder. “If you would excuse me now, I need to pack a few things for my little getaway…”

Steve watches you storm out of the guest room. He huffs and curses his damn pride. If only he didn’t listen to Brock Rumlow.

“I didn’t have sex for three weeks thanks to you, Steve!” Bucky complains loudly. “Natasha and I do it daily. Now. Nothing. Not even a handjob!”

Tony nods in agreement. “Same.”

“Don’t ask me,” Clint grumbles. “I will never see a boob in my life.”

“Our wives are officially on strike,” Tony buries his face in his hands. “Pepper said they won’t do shit for us, or with us if you don’t make things up to Y/N.”

“Do something, punk! I want to have sex in this decade again!” Bucky threatens. “If not, I’ll make your life living hell!”

“How? She refuses to talk to me, Buck! I tried to apologize, and she decided to go on vacation with your wife and the others. I tried,” Steve replies.

“Try harder then, punk.”

Steve gives his friend a stern look before deciding it’s time to get his wife back. He won’t back down now. “I’ll get my girl back. No matter what!”

“Steven Grant Rogers! Why are you here, in my room covered in blood?” you put your hands on your hips as you drink your husband’s appearance in. “Why are you hurt?”

His tie hangs losely around his neck. Someone ripped his shirt open. Steve’s hair is a mess, and his face had to endure a few punches at least.

“I got into a fight with security at the spa,” he huffs. “They are damn tough for security guards at a spa! I told them I want to see my wife.”

“Well, it’s their job to keep creeps out of here,” you sass. “I see now they did a poor job of keeping you out.”

“I’m not some creep, Y/N.”

He stuffs his hands in his pockets and gives you a puppy dog look. “I came here to apologize again. You know I didn’t mean a thing I said that night.”

“You sure about that? Because it sounded like you are damn serious to me that night,” you quip and turn your back on Steve. “Maybe you should file for divorce. A hooker is cheaper than a wife.”

“I was wrong,” he moves toward you. Steve sighs as you shy away again. “One thing wasn’t a lie.”

You sniff, ready for another blow.

“You are all I need," he says as he wraps his arms around your waistline. “I would’ve helped your father a thousand times to get you, doll. You know that. Deep inside your fractured heart, you know that I love you.”

“I’m not sure about it.”

“How about I reassure you that I love you, Y/N?” he offers. “I’ll take a whole month off and we will fly to Paris just like you always wanted.”

“I’ll consider your suggestion,” you won’t give in so easily. Steve hurt you deeply. Even worse. He made you feel unwanted, unloved, and worthless. “For now, all I can offer is to fix the mess you call your face.”

He grins. “That’s a start…”

>> Part 2

Tags in reblog.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #mobster!steve rogers x fem!reader #mobster!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #mafia au

722 notes · View notes

zweetpea · 4 months

Text

Contracts or Biddability (part 1 of 2)

cw: Pg13, innuendos and vulgar language, and so much cringe, some pop culture references too.

“The end.” The cryo abyss herald closed the book.

“That was a really sad story.” You said as your eyes glazed over. The Abyss order had kidnapped you and held you captive for a while now. You weren’t sure how long you’ve been down here but the food was good enough and they’d borrow enough books from the surface to keep you entertained.

“I’m sorry. We weren’t been able to borrow anything else because of the security around the Favonius library.”

“Well, you could just let me go and I can find something on my own.”

“No! We need you here to further our plans!” He panicked.

“What plans? What happened to Dvalin? What’s the deal with Andrius?”

“Just calm down my liege. All will be revealed in time.” He patted your head and walked away.

“I want to go home.” You curled up in a ball.

“Aaaaahh!” Someone yelled. That ear piercing scream roused you from your sleep.

‘Should I shout for someone?’ You thought. ‘What if somebody broke in? But if it’s a fire and they don’t know that I’m still here…’

“Help! Help me please! I don’t care who! I just want to see the Sun again!”

The door squeaked open and you thought that maybe your pleas would be recognized, until you saw that the man who walked in was a Pyroslinger Bracer. “Why is the Fatui here?” You whispered meekly.

He raised his rifle towards you head. “Wait, please! Don’t kill me! I wanna live, wanna live!” He shot, but the bullet bounced off of your skull and fell on the ground. “Well… that was anticlimactic.”

He shot you again 3 more time. “Ow! That hurts, dickhead!”

“How are you alive?”

“Hehe. We’re immortal Buffy we can do anything. Oh yeah? Clap.”

“My name’s Vincent.”

“Oh for shucks sakes.” You roll your eyes.

“I’m sure the Doctor will be very interested in you. For now I’ll take you back to Childe though.”

“Ew! Dottore needs to back the F up before he gets smacked the F up for what he did to Collei.” Vincent bound you hands, then grabbed your arm and pushed you through the Abyss. “Hey real quick for my internal monologue I need to know what pronouns you use. My names Gen with a G apparently. I’m gender fluid and I go by they/them.”

“…uh, Vincent Powers and I’m a man.”

“So… he and him?”

“Yes? I’m so confused why you’re confused.”

“Well, I didn’t want to assume.”

He brought you back to the surface and it felt wonderful. Then he placed you in the back of a cart and you two and the rest of his squad set sail for Liyue.

It’s been maybe two hours since the Fatui captured you and you’re finally at Liyue Harbor. They’ve taken you to the Northland Bank to meet Tartaglia. Vincent threw you onto the ground at Childe’s feet.

“What the Abyss is that thing?” His presence is all consuming.

“That “thing” said that they’re name is Gen with a G.”

You look up and see the red head eying you up with disgust. You return the glare and proclaimed, “I finally get to meet my rival. I swear to you, I’m going to seduce Zhongli and get his cock!”

“Excuse me?” He looks at you even colder than before.

“You heard me! I’m willing to take him up my ass if he’s gay.”

“You are vulgar and repulsive.” He pressed his water blade things against my throat and sliced across it. You fell back onto your butt at the pressure.

“Ow. Yeah, um—Mr. Tartar sauce—that’s not going to work. I’m kinda immortal, somehow.”

“How dare you insult me! Do you know who I am!?” He grabbed you by the top of your head to look him in his eyes.

“Honestly if you look at me like that more often I’d let you have a piece of my ass any day. I just assumed that you were a bottom but I’ll let you creampie me if you become my sugar daddy.” His face burst into crimson. He threw me onto the ground and stomped on my throat. “This is turning me on.”

“Get this thing out of my sight.”

“Hey I’m a person! I have feelings you know!”

“But what about Dottore? Wouldn’t he like to examine them?”

“Dottore will have both of our heads if we bring him this thing.”

“I’m not an object, I’m a person! You see, this is why Zhongli will never love you.

“You know what? Since you’re so obsessed with Mr. Zhongli, why don’t I just send you to him?”

“You’d do that for me?!” You shouted excitedly.

“Sure. If it get’s you to leave me alone.”

“But Childe, they’re immortal. You don’t come across something like that every day.”

“Hey can I have a delusions? I don’t have power over the elements but I don’t think I can die so a delusion shouldn’t be a problem for me.”

“Fine!” He threw a delusion connected to a chain at you. “NOW GET OUT! TAKE THEM TO SEE ZHONGLI IF THEY WANTS TO SO BADLY!!”

“Hey! This one’s broken!” You yelled at him as you were being dragged away.

“You never specified if you wanted a working one or not!” He smirked back at you.

Ugh this sucks! You still have nothing to defend yourself with! You can at least tie the stupid thing around your wrist.

“Mr. Zhongli? Is Mr. Zhongli here?” You asked someone at the Funeral Parlor.

“Hm? Did someone call for me? I was just about to head out.”

“Hello Mr. Zhongli. I’m Gen Z, spelt with a G.” You extended you hand to shake his.

“Hello Gen.” He took your hand and shook it. ‘His hands are so big.’ You thought. ‘Heheh, dirty mind dirty mind dir-dir-dir-dir- dirty mind!’

“Excuse me. Why is your bracelet glowing?” He asked. You look down and see that your delusion has started to glow yellow. “Huh?”

‘Have I resonated with geo?’

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stranger-nightmare · 2 years

Text

𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫

Part Two

Pairing: Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x (female) Reader

Summary: (this is set during a time when our young Top Gun pilots were still training at the academy) at another function hosted by the academy you find Bob being his usual wallflower self, sneaking off somewhere to be alone and away from the crowd, but this time you decide to keep him company... and maybe teach him a thing or two…

Warnings: inexperienced / virgin Bob, fluff, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, bit of praise kink, minors DNI

A/N: this does directly follow on from part one so I do recommend reading it beforehand but this can technically still be read as a oneshot I guess! other than that, honestly all I have to say is enjoy and I hope it makes you as horny as it did me whilst I was writing it lmao

Part One | Part Three

“Huh,” you scoff with a light smile, “now who’s drunk.”

You wipe a finger over your lips, brushing aside a drop of Bob’s spit that lingered there, before you move away from Bob and the wall to sit on top of the desk in the centre of the room.

“I- I’m not,” Bob huffs earnestly, quickly tucking himself back into his suit pants and redoing the fastenings before he hastily pads over to you.

He stands in front of you where you were sat on the desk. He hesitates for a second, as if debating with himself, before he slowly reaches out to cup your face in his hands. One of his thumbs strokes over cheekbone. The other moves to trace over your mouth, tugging at your bottom lip lightly. Your breath hitches in your throat as he looks down at you intensely.

“I mean it,” he breathes, his face barely more than a few inches away from yours. “I want to… I want…I just… want to make you feel as good as you made me feel,” he murmurs, his face inching closer to yours.

After a second of being so close you could practically taste his breath in your mouth, he finally takes the step the close the gap between you. He lets his lips slide over yours, kissing you slow and tender, no rushing, no pushing. A moan slips past your lips, your legs instinctively opening for him, letting him slot his hips between your thighs. He groans as he takes his place between your legs, pressing into you as you wrap them around his waist, keeping him in place. His hands stay cupping your face gently, even as yours move to cup his neck again, clawing at him, pulling him tighter against you. Your pussy is already slick and aching, already incredibly aroused just from blowing him a few minutes ago.

“Are you sure?” You whisper against his lips, feeling the restraint weaken in your body.

Bob nods enthusiastically with a small grin; “I’m sure. Really sure,” he confirms.

You groan as you pull him in for another kiss, this time letting your tongue invade his mouth again. He groans as he opens his mouth up to you and meets your tongue with gentle strokes of his own. His hands tentatively make their way down your body, landing on your hips with a shaky grip.

“I- er, you… I don’t actually know… like… what to do,” he admits meekly.

You nod lightly with a reassuring smile.

“I’ll teach you,” you whisper gently as you stroke the back of his head.

He returns your nod with a small smile of his own. You let one of your hands run down his body until you grab his hand in your own. You look him in the eyes and nod once more, checking for that permission again. He nods again, letting out a shaky exhale as he watches where you guide his hand. You trace his fingertips down your body, letting them brush over the bare skin of your thigh. Both of your breathing is heavy and uneven as you push his fingers up your thigh, goosebumps raising on your skin. You let his fingers slide under your short dress, pushing it up and bunching it at your hips. Bob lets out a quiet moan as he finally gets a look at the thin panties you were wearing.

“I’m gonna show how to do it with your fingers first,” you hum quietly, “then you can taste me, okay?”

He nods, his eyes never actually leaving the space between your thighs, his tongue sweeping over his lips quickly. You lean up and let your lips brush against the shell of his ear.

“First, pull my panties off,” you purr, relishing in the shiver and whimper that rolls through Bob’s body.

You can hear him audibly gulp as he brings his other hand up your leg too, his trembling fingers hooking into the waistband of your underwear. He lets out another shaky exhale as he slowly pulls them down your legs and off your body completely. You bite back the urge to giggle lightly as he places them neatly on the table beside you; no haphazard discarding of clothing like you’d done with his tie just moments ago. His hands quickly slide back up your thighs and you instinctively react to the touch, opening your legs wider for him. You can hear the breath that hitches in his throat as he gazes at your glistening cunt. You can’t be sure but you think you hear him murmur ‘holy shit’ under his breath.

You take a deep breath to help steady yourself as you once again take his hand in yours, moving it towards your centre. You go slow, giving him plenty of opportunity to change his mind. But he doesn’t, he keeps his gaze fixed on where your hand guides him.

Both of you let out a soft gasping moan as you drag one of his fingers through your folds. Your body moves on instinct, arching and bucking into his touch. You guide his finger up and down your slit a few times, letting your slick coat him.

“You feel that? Feel how wet I am for you?” You croak with a pleasure-strained whisper.

Bob lets out a noise somewhere between a gasp and a moan; “f-for me?”

“Mhmm,” you confirm as you add another one of Bob’s fingers between your folds.

You run his two fingers through your folds a few more times before you finally let them linger on your clit.

“Oh,” you moan involuntarily as you push his fingers down lightly against your clit, “you feel that?” You gasp.

Bob nods, looking at you curiously, eagerly.

“That’s my clit,” you explain in a tight voice, “that’s what you want to focus on.”

Bob just nods again.

“Just circle it with your fingers gently. Just pay decent attention to it,” you instruct as you let go of his hand.

Bob nods his head once more before he follows your instructions, moving his fingers in a circle motion around your clit. His fingers are a little unsure at first, taking a moment to adjust to movement. But soon he finds a rhythm and is circling your bundle of nerves with remarkable skill. Your hands struggle to find purchase on his shoulders, your fingers digging into his suit jacket as you pull yourself against him. You already feel euphoria start to course through you, even just Bob’s gentle fingers setting a pleasurable burn alight in your veins. You let your moans fly freely, your chest lurching into Bob’s as he works you with his fingers.

“Is- is this good?” He looks at you sincerely.

“Uh-uh,” is the best you can respond with as he speeds up his circles a little more.

Your head feels clouded, dizzy with pleasure. For a moment you almost forget Bob’s original request; you almost let him make you cum on his fingers.

“Okay, okay,” you pant heavily. “Do you want to try using your mouth now?” You ask breathlessly.

“Yes!” Bob responds quickly, almost too quickly.

“You sure?” You look at him seriously, “we can stop at any time if you want to, okay?” You cup his cheek again.

He shakes his head, a serious expression painting his face; “I don’t want to stop.”

You can’t help the warmth that floods your heart, and the heat that pools between your legs. That pool only grows even more as Bob looks at you with those intense, soft eyes of his, keeping his gaze locked on yours as he sinks to his knees in front of you. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, trying to supress the sinful moan that threatened to rip past your lips. Bob keeps his eyes on yours even as you shuffle forward towards the edge of the desk. He whimpers softly as you lift up your legs, letting your knees hook over his shoulders.

His face was so close to your dripping cunt you can feel his breath ghosting over you. Bob dips his head forwards, his lips a fraction away from you, before he flashes a final confirming glance, checking that was indeed still okay with you too. You nod frantically as you bring a hand to slide through his soft blond hair, cupping the back of his head.

And then, at last, Bob pushes out his tongue and lets it sweep through your folds.

“O-oh, wow,” Bob blushes furiously, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear him; you think it probably wasn’t actually meant to be heard by you.

“What?” You breathe in a slight panic.

“N-no, nothing,” he stammers. “It’s just… um… you… you taste really good,” he murmurs awkwardly.

You bite back a moan at his words, digging your teeth into your bottom lip again.

“Yeah?” You ask with a shaky breath.

“Yeah,” he smiles sheepishly.

He smiles at you for a second longer before he lets his tongue slowly delve back between your folds. He licks up your slit a few times, essentially following the same movements you’d just guided him through with his fingers. You gasp, your body lurching, each time his tongue glides over your clit. After a few times licking through your folds, you can feel when he starts to essentially feel around with his tongue, looking for that special spot that you’d just showed him.

When he does find it, his tongue connecting with your small bundle of nerves, you release a sinfully loud moan, your fingers curling in his hair even tighter. He lets his tongue slowly explore your clit, swirling and circling it, feeling out its shape. The whole time he looks up at you, watching you, your reaction, using it to help coax his movements. Your gasps and moans start to get louder, more frequent, as Bob works your clit with a soft fervour.

“Oh fuck, Bob,” you knot your fingers his short hair, pulling hard, harder than you’d probably meant to.

Bob pulls back, looking up at you with concern lacing his puppy-dog eyes.

“Yes? Sorry, did… did I do something wrong? Was that not good? Do you want me to do something different? I-” He rambles, his cheeks flushing red again.

“No, no,” you interrupt his short ramble, “that was good. Really good. I was… I was saying that in a good way,” you feel a flush creep into your own cheeks now.

“Oh, I see,” he smiles dopily before returning to his previous action, pursing his lips just around your clit and letting his tongue swirl and circle around it.

You let him continue his movements for a while, your hips grinding against his face desperately, before you add your next instruction.

“Bob?” You venture lightly,

“Mmm,” he hums against you in acknowledgment, keeping up with his circling motion.

“Now- now just try sucking on it a bit. But like, gently,” you pant.

Bob hesitates for a second as he processes your instruction. But, soon enough, you feel his lips latch around your clit and a gentle suckling motion pull on your bundle of nerves.

“Fuck,” you sigh with a quiet gasp, your head thrown back with pure ecstasy. “Now you can just kinda switch between the sucking and circling if you want, whatever feels right.”

Bob pulls back for a second again, those blue eyes shining bright even in the dimness of the room. You feel your insides clench when you catch your wetness glistening on his chin, on his plump and kiss-swollen lips.

“But it should be whatever feels best for you; it’s not about what feels right to me, is it?” He asks sheepishly. “So, what is it that you like specifically?”

Your stomach feels fuzzy and light; you don’t think you’d ever really been asked that before. You don’t think you’ve ever really had a partner genuinely start a discussion about what specifically it was that you liked. They usually just went for it and you kinda moved your hips with them and hoped you’d be able to find your high somewhere along the way. It was your turn to blush now under Bob’s intense gaze, the way he was looking at you so earnestly, just waiting to be told how to please.

“Um, I guess I like a bit of both,” you smile awkwardly, “but mostly the… um… circling motion.”

A part of you wants to feel embarrassed by having to explain yourself so openly. But something about the sincere look in Bob’s eyes just made you feel at ease. Comforted. Safe.

Bob gives you a small nod before he returns his mouth to your pussy. His tongue pushes between your folds, seeking out your clit again. When he finds it, he quickly gets back to work circling it. He keeps his main focus on circling your bundle of nerves. But he still sucks lightly at the same time, sending flares of pleasure like you’d never felt before through your body.

“Y-yes,” you sigh with a moan, your head falling back again, “just like that. Fuck yes, just like that. Don’t stop, don’t stop. Please, don’t stop,” you pant incoherently, completely overwhelmed by how good this was feeling, how good Bob actually was at this. A small part at the back of your mind wondered if this really was his first time doing this.

You sigh a moan as you arch your back, an aching kind of pleasure rolling through your body. Bob whimpers a small groan around your clit, the lightest of vibrations radiating through to you. The sensation makes your pussy clench, a desperate need to be filled racking through your body.

“Bob, please,” you whine. “I need… I need to feel you inside me… your fingers… please,” you pant desperately.

The sincerity of before making you feel bold enough to ask for what you want, what you need, knowing that Bob would be more than eager to oblige, or at lest try to anyway.

Bob hesitates for a moment; “I- uh- I don’t-“ he mumbles.

You cut him off by reaching down and grabbing his right hand off your hip.

“Like this,” you instruct, manipulating his hand so just his index and middle finger were out straight.

You then hold his hand, guiding him down towards your arousal and saliva soaked cunt. You let his fingers brush through your folds, your body lurching slightly as his touch glides over your clit. Bob watches your actions like a man entranced, his eyes alight with a burning curiosity. His mouth falls open, jaw hanging open slack, as he watches you drag his fingers even lower, circling them around your entrance. A high-pitched moan hitches in your throat as you guide him to push his two fingers inside you. Bob groans lightly as he feels your tight, warm pussy squeeze his fingers. Your eyes shut as you revel in the feeling of his long fingers inside you, the feeling of finally having something inside you, helping you to feel full. You pant heavily as you release Bob’s hand, letting yours go back to cupping his face. You force your eyes to open and look down at Bob’s waiting gaze.

“Okay, now just… like… move them,” you explain awkwardly.

Bob sputters slightly, looking at you helplessly.

“Just like… like this,” you whisper just as you start to rock your hips, letting yourself slide up and down Bob’s still hand.

You let out a soft moan as Bob quickly takes the hint, starting to pump his fingers slowly in and out of you. You steadily decrease the grinding of your hips as you let Bob take over, setting his own pace and rhythm.

You let your fingers twist back into Bob’s hair, guiding his head back towards your pussy. He obliges your silent request, letting his lips latch back onto your clit, sucking on your small bundle of nerves softly. You keen at the sensation, your hips bucking up towards his face. He sucks at your clit for just a moment before his tongue moves in that circular motion again.

“Fuck. Yeah, that’s it,” you mewl quietly, twisting your head so your face was almost buried against your shoulder.

You swear you can feel Bob smile against your cunt as he keeps up his now perfected swirling and sucking motion. He starts to speed up his fingers as he steadily gains confidence; not going too fast but definitely fast enough that you could feel yourself scrambling towards a climax.

“Oh sh-shit,” you sigh with a tremble, a wistful smile curving your lips. “You’re like, really good at this,” you moan with a light chuckle.

“Really?” Bob’s question is muffled against your cunt.

“Uh-huh,” you confirm with another soft giggle, “so good.”

Bob smiles proudly against you. Your compliment seems to give him even more confidence, his lips and his fingers moving with more self-assurance. He starts to take initiative again, steadily building a pace as he pumps you with his fingers a bit faster, sucks on your clit a little harder, swirls his tongue slightly faster.

It’s not long before he hits the perfect rhythm, the perfect combination and it has you seeing stars. Your mouth hangs open in a silent cry, your breathing coming out in heavy pants, gasps and moans pouring from your lips. You have to fight the urge to clamp your thighs around his head, not wanting to confuse or frighten the poor boy. Your one hand fists in his tight, probably hurting him, but if it was, he wasn’t complaining. Your other hand lands on his where it was resting on your hips. You cling on to his hand desperately, letting your fingers intertwine with his as you feel yourself steadily build towards one of the best climaxes of your life, you could already tell. The pleasure was building slowly, starting in all corners of your body, radiating towards your centre.

“Fuck, oh fuck Bob. I’m close. I- I’m gonna…. oh, just don’t stop. Don’t stop I’m so close…” your ramble is barely more than a breathy cry as you feel your groin start to tighten, just needing that tiny last bit of pressure to tip you over the edge.

Bob groans around, enthusiastically reacting to your words. Too enthusiastically. He speeds up his fingers as they fuck into you. He tries to speed up the swirl of his tongue too, but ultimately ends up losing the pressure, leaving you hanging on the precipice. Your orgasm refuses to break over you without that last bit of friction.

“Wait, wait,” you plead, pulling your hips slightly away from him, giving his hand a squeeze to get his attention.

He stops immediately, looking at you worriedly. You smile as gently as you can at him, letting your hand stroke his cheek.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him before he has the chance to voice his apology. “It’s okay. It’s just- when I girl says ‘don’t stop’, she means don’t stop. Not speed up or switch tactics or anything. Just keep doing exactly what you’re doing. Just don’t stop, ya know?” You tell him softly.

“Sorry,” he looks up at you sadly.

You shake your head at him gently; “no, it’s okay,” you stroke your thumb over his lips. “Just keep going. Please. I’m so close,” you whine, your voice barley audible, laced with a shaky desperation.

Bob gives you a quick nod of understanding before he gets back to his previous actions, clearly sensing the need within you. He swirls his tongue around your clit with a steady pace and consistent pressure, sending fireworks through your body. His fingers work back up to a matching pace, pumping you deep and thorough.

“Yes, yes, yes…” you sigh incoherently as your orgasm starts to build back inside your belly. “Just- just curl your fingers forward a bit, please,” you whine.

“Like this?” He hums, doing as instructed.

Bob lets his fingers curl slightly against your front wall, his fingertips brushing against that sensitive spot inside you.

“Shit, yes. Just like that baby. Feels so good. You’re so good,” your voice almost sounds unrecognisable as it’s heavily laced with pleasure.

“Fuck, right there. Don’t stop Bob,” you cry again, feeling that wave raise to the surface, just seconds away from crashing. “O-oh, I- I’m gonna cum… oh fuck, Bob.”

His name is a broken and wrecked cry from your lips as you finally feel pure euphoria crash over you. Bob moans almost as loud as you do as he feels your pussy tighten and clench around his fingers. Your hips buck wildly off the desk, pushing desperately against Bob’s mouth as his tongue keeps flicking against your clit. He moves with you, determined to keep his mouth latched to you, determined to provide you with as much pleasure as possible.

As he keeps his tongue moving over your clit, his fingers curling inside you, you start to feel your body tense with overstimulation.

“Okay, okay, you can stop now,” you mewl softly.

Bob looks up at you in concern, but you reassure him quickly, explaining that girls just tended to get a bit sensitive after they’ve orgasmed. You then let your body go slack, lying back on the desk. Bob stays for a moment between your thighs, just letting his lips kiss over your thighs and pussy lips. Your hands stay in his hair, scratching his scalp lightly.

“Uh fuck, you’re such a good boy Bob,” you sigh in a heavy pant, your lips smiling lazily as the last remnants of your orgasm wash over you.

Bob’s answering moan almost has you concerned that he might have just cummed in his pants at that compliment. In fact, his moan was so pronounced that it has you sitting up on your elbows to look at him. He stares back at you wide-eyed, a dark glint behind the gentle blue hue of his irises, his glasses askew on his face. You’re barely able to let out another breath before he’s reaching out for you, one of his hands snaking behind your neck, cupping your head. He pulls you to sit up just as he lurches forward, slamming your chest against his. Within an instant his lips are back on yours with a hungry fervour you’d never have expected from quiet and timid Bob.

Bob kisses you hard, a fever in his lips. He groans into your mouth, his hands grabbing onto your waist with a firm and assured grip, pulling your hips flush against his. You return his enthusiastic moans as you taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue. His body rocks against yours, curving over you as he leans into the kiss. Your legs are still spread wide, settled on either side of his hips. Your crotch is pressed right against him, letting you feel just how hard he’d gotten again from going down on you. So, he hadn’t cum in his pants, but he probably wasn’t far from it. One of his hands seems to move instinct, moving from your waist to your thigh. His strong hand runs up over your skin, pushing up your dress again as he lets his fingers slip under the fabric.

You pant heavily as you pull away slightly, letting your hands rest on his pecs, holding him just an inch away from you.

“Okay, maybe we should stop,” you breathe, your voice tight with barely contained restraint.

Bob practically freezes, his hands pulling off you.

“Oh, oh I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean… I didn’t mean to push you or like take things too far, I- I’m sorry,” he pants just as heavily as you, his words coming out in a rushed exhale.

You shake your head and quickly lace your fingers around his beck, not letting him pull back too far as he was about too.

“No, no it’s okay,” you reassure him gently, letting your fingers stroke the nape of his neck. “Trust me, I want to carry on. I really do.”

His eyes brighten a little at that, but he still looks sceptical and slightly disappointed.

“I just think we’ve probably been missing from the party for long enough now,” you tell him quietly, smiling sympathetically.

“Oh right, yeah,” he smiles sheepishly.

You lean forward and place another kiss to his lips.

“We can…um…carry on later, if you want,” you hum the invitation against his lips.

“Y-yeah?” He stammers, hope and delight glinting in his eyes again.

“Mhmm,” you kiss him again, “think you can do your usual sneaking off trick and meet me in my dorm later?”

His sheepish smile turns into a gentle smirk; “I think so.”

“Good. Then I’ll let you fuck me,” you purr with a smirk.

Bob practically whimpers at the promise. You giggle lightly as you push him gently back, giving yourself enough space to slide off the table until your feet were back on the floor. Smoothing your hair back into place you smile to yourself as you watch Bob frantically try and comb his hair back into place.

“Um, here,” Bob gives a sheepish smirk as he grabs your panties off the table and goes to give them back to you.

You chuckle darkly to yourself as you take them from him. You push yourself flush against his chest, pulling him against you by the buckle of his trousers. Your eyes stay locked on his as you take your panties and tuck them into the inside pocket of his jacket. He stares at you dumbfounded, his mouth agape. You smirk wickedly as you place another kiss to his neck, just below his ear.

“You can return them to me later,” you purr.

Bob groans deeply as he looks at you completely bewildered.

“I’ll go out first. You can take a few minutes to… uh… collect yourself,” you smirk in reference to his still painfully obvious erection, “then you can come back out too. Sound good?” You reach up and tuck a lose strand of his hair that he’d missed back into place.

Bob nods lightly in agreement as another blush creeps into his cheeks.

“Good,” you confirm quietly before pulling your dress back down, smoothing it over your body, and turning on your heel towards the door.

But you’re stopped when you feel a gentle grip on your waist, pulling you back. You twist, about to ask what was wrong, but Bob silences you by placing a quick and tender kiss to your lips. You can feel his smile against his lips, and you can’t help but smile in return. He kisses you tenderly for just a moment before he releases you with a small nod as if to say ‘okay, now you can go’.

You have to take a second outside the door to the main hall, trying to wipe the giddy grin off your face and replace with it a look of neutrality before you went back into the crowd. Once inside you quickly made your way back over to Pheonix and Payback as they both rolled their eyes in sync as Hangman was reaching the end of his story. You deflect Phoenix’s line of questioning about your absence, saying you’d simply gone to find the bathrooms and then got wrapped up and distracted by some of the gorgeous artwork that decorated the large mansion. She eyes you suspiciously but doesn’t say anything.

Until Bob finally makes his way back over, joining the group, settling right beside you. It doesn’t take long for people to spot the error in Bob’s attire. Phoenix’s eyes flash with realisation, darting between you and Bob. Then Hangman spots Phoenix’s gaze and quickly realises the same thing.

“Hey, weren’t you wearing a tie earlier?” Hangman cocks his head to the side as his eyes rake over Bob knowingly.

Bob flushes beetroot red, his mouth opening and shutting with no sound as he scrambles for an answer. Hangman practically guffaws as he looks between the two of you. You glare at him, but he just flashes you both a shit-eating grin.

“Hey, good for you, Wallflower,” Hangman slaps Bob on the shoulder, flashes a wink, shaking his head in disbelief and chuckling lightly to himself as he saunters off again.

You hear a meek voice beside you, quiet enough for only you to hear. But his words warm your heart, evaporating any kind of embarrassment you might have been tempted to feel.

“I only like it when you call me that.”

Part Three

Masterlist

A/N: I am, humbly, fucking obsessed with this! idk what it is you guys but my Top Gun content is just hitting different for me, like I’ve never been so happy with my own work before honestly lmao! like I don’t think me writing for Top Gun is gonna go away anytime soon, sorry ‘bout it!! anyways, I really hope you enjoyed this <33

I am tempted to write a part three of this when Bob does indeed meet reader in their room later but idk, if you guys would like it just let me know🙈

Taglist // Join My Nightmare Realm // Ko-fi

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haunt3dh3art · 1 year

Text

Promise | Yandere! Simon "Ghost" Riley X Reader

˚ . ✦ . ˳ · ˖ ✶ ⋆ . ✧̣̇☽༺♰༻☾✧̣̇ . ⋆ ✶ ˖ · ˳ . ✦ . ˚

Lemme know if you wanna see more Ghost! Send or comment scenarios!

TWs/Warnings:

[ Obsessive behaviour, yandere behaviours, threatening behaviours, non-canon behaviour, murder mention, obsessive behaviour]

Ghost has been running rampant in my silly little brain recently, so enjoy this little tidbit🍒💗

˚ . ✦ . ˳ · ˖ ✶ ⋆ . ✧̣̇☽༺♰༻☾✧̣̇ . ⋆ ✶ ˖ · ˳ . ✦ . ˚

"Ghost! I wanted to speak to you!"

You see him walking down the hallway and put your hand on his shoulder. He turns and as you look into his eyes, you get a shiver down your spine.

His eyes seemed.. empty. Lifeless.

"Are you okay?" You ask tentatively.

Ghost doesn't say anything, just looks at you with no hint that he even acknowledged what you said. You can tell something is seriously fucking wrong.

You pull him into a nearby empty storage room and close the door, making sure to lock it.

"Ghost, what's got you like this? You're unresponsive at the best of times, but something looks actually wrong. If I can help, tell me how."

He blinks at you, but starts to take off his headgear. He places his helmet next to him.

"I don't know if you can help," He says flatly. "I think it's past the point of no return."

You shake your head. "I'm not quite sure I-"

"You have no idea the things I've done while thinking of you, Y/N."

His voice is deep, heavy with an emotion you can't pinpoint. Anger? Disgust? The things he's done?

"I live for you, I've killed for you, I'd die for you."

Time stood still. Nothing outside of this room existed for a torturous, endless minute.

"Killed?"

The word sounds almost ridiculous when you say it so meekly; killing is what you do, it's your profession. And yet, the way you say it now, you've never been more repulsed by.

Ghost only nods.

He doesn't even offer up a name.

Your mind runs rampant for what seems like hours and your body welcomes a sudden influx of adrenaline.

It couldn't of been anyone close to you or even on 141.

Your mind only shoots blanks as you try to think of someone you don't see around base anymore.

Bile builds up in your throat as you realise Ghost has earned his name.

"This was for you, Y/N. For your safety. For us."

You look at Ghost and he takes the form of a predator.

He steps forward and gently takes your face in his hands.

"You are my top priority, my highest concern. Everything I do for you is to make sure you are healthy and safe," He says softly.

Ghost's eyes are all you can see as the room around you goes dark.

"I'm always going to be in the shadows, watching, waiting."

He's never going to let you out of his iron sights again.

"I'm always going to be near."

A warning.

"You won't even know it."

#mw2 x reader #modern warfare 2 #simon ghost riley #yandere simon riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #yandere simon riley #cod mw2 #cod ghost #ghost mw2

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mybutcheredtongue · 4 months

Text

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

Harry Potter timeline Sirius Black x fem!reader

CHAPTER SIX (see full series list here)

1992

You feel your breath catch in your throat, stumbling backwards at Peeves' words. Remus rushes forward to place a steadying hand on your arm and you swallow hard, brushing yourself off. You don't want your students to see you like this.

You look back at the torn canvas, viciously slit and ripped.

Would Sirius really do that?

Why would he even want to get into the Gryffindor Tower?

You can feel the other teachers looking at you and you attempt to steady your racing heart, though not to much success.

"P — Professor Dumbledore, we need to get the children out of here," you say meekly, and he nods slowly.

"Yes, yes...please, lead these students to the Great Hall. Professor Snape, please go get the Slytherins, and Professor McGonagall and I will collect the rest," he says, and you nod shakily, smiling weakly at the Gryffindors.

"Alright, everyone, let's go...Percy, will you please help me?"

Percy nods affirmatively, striding to the head of the group and marching forward towards the Great Hall.

Remus looks at you with worry laced in his features and you just shrug at him. You have no idea what to do.

The students stand in the Great Hall, chattering worriedly between themselves, before you're eventually joined by the rest of the school and faculty.

"The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle," Dumbledore says as McGonagall and Flitwick close all doors into the Great Hall. "I'm afraid that, for your own safety, you will all have to spend the night here. I want the Prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the Hall and I am leaving the Head Girl and Boy in charge. Any disturbance should be reported immediately. Send word with one of the ghosts."

Dumbledore pauses, about to leave the Hall, and says, "Oh, yes, you'll be needing..."

He waves his wand casually and the long tables fly to the edges of the Hall and stand themselves up against the walls; another wave, and the floor is covered with hundreds of squashy purple sleeping bags.

"Sleep well," he says, exiting the Hall. You glance at Remus and quickly scurry after the Headmaster.

Outside, the entire faculty have gathered, grim looks on their faces. Many of them are just staring at you, and you just swallow nervously, looking down at your shoes.

"How could he have possibly gotten in, Professor Dumbledore?" McGonagall asks in disbelief.

Snape tuts. "Perhaps he had inside help," he says, looking pointedly at you.

You glare back at him. "Yes, Severus, you got me. I helped Sirius get in the castle just so he could go slashing at paintings!"

"Well, considering how you foolishly maintain that that madman is innocent — "

"He is innocent!"

"Then why, pray tell, is he breaking into the castle and 'slashing at paintings''?" Snape snaps and you falter.

"I — I don't...I don't — "

"Enough. I do not believe a single person in this castle would let Black in, Severus," Dumbledore intervenes calmly, though Snape still glares accusingly at you. "Now, there is an escaped convict in our school, and we must find him. Severus, you take the West Wing. Minerva, Filius, the courtyard and outer grounds, please..."

He glances at you, a sympathetic look on his face. "I think it's best if you stay with the students."

You nod wordlessly, eyes stinging, before turning around and returning to the Great Hall. The lights are out and the students appear to be trying to get to sleep, though most are whispering quietly between themselves. It's only illuminated by the silvery ghosts bobbing in the air, talking seriously with the Prefects, and the starry night sky above you.

"Did you find him, Professor?" One student pipes up as you enter and nearly all heads turn to look at you.

You sigh, shaking your head. "No, Mr Thomas, not yet."

You make your way through the sleeping bags, arriving at the head of the Hall and place your forehead against the wall in disbelief.

Why would he do that?

Why was he trying to get into Gryffindor Tower?

Was he looking for you?

No, surely not. How could he know you work here?

No. He must have been looking for something else.

Someone else.

But who?

You spend the next while full of thoughts and questions before Dumbledore finally enters the Hall, and heads for Percy. You glance up at the enchanted ceiling, and you estimate that it's around three in the morning. Snape then enters soon after, speaking with Dumbledore, casting a judgemental look your way. Probably trying to convince Dumbledore to fire you or something. Lock you away, maybe.

You watch as Snape then leaves, and Dumbledore makes his way over to you. You mentally prepare yourself for the onslaught, wiping away the silent tears that have stained your cheeks.

"Any sign of him, sir?" You ask nervously, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

He shakes his head. "No, I am afraid not."

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. You're not sure whether you should be glad they haven't found him or to be worried that they haven't found him.

Maybe he really was looking for you. Found out about your job somehow. Maybe he's angry that you never visited, never wrote him letters. Not that you were allowed to — the Ministry always said that such a dangerous criminal doesn't deserve such kindness.

"Headmaster, I swear to you I had no involvement in this. I know I've always said he's innocent, but I would never compromise the safety of my students like that," you splutter desperately, looking up at Dumbledore in worry.

He just nods as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. "I know. I trust you."

Something in the genuineness with which he says those words makes your eyes water again and your bottom lip tremble. You sigh shakily, putting your head in your hands.

"I just...I just had so much faith in him. I was so certain..." you whisper. "But now...I don't know. I'm just so confused. I don't understand why he would do that. Why would he ever do that?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

You laugh humourlessly, kissing your teeth. "Perhaps all those years in Azkaban really did turn him mad. Maybe I really have been acting like a fool all along. I feel so stupid."

"Seeing the good in someone does not make you a fool," Dumbledore replies gently.

You smile weakly. "You may be the only one who thinks that."

Dumbledore says your name softly, comfortingly. "Often, it is the ones we love that cause us the most pain. When an outsider tells you to stop loving someone who has done something wrong, it is never as easy as they think."

"I just don't want it to feel like a waste. Like I wasted my wedding, my home, my life — loving a bloody murderer," you spit, looking away from him and inhaling deeply.

Dumbledore says nothing for a moment, before speaking quietly, "Do you feel as though you married a murderer?"

You pause, thinking hard for a moment. You remember all those times Sirius kissed you. All the times he told you he loved you. You remember how much fun the two of you used to have together, even more, when you were with your friends. With James and Lily. You remember how James and Sirius were connected at the hip, two sides of the same coin. They were brothers in every way but by blood. You remember the pure joy and pride on his face when he held his baby godson for the first time. You look down at the wedding ring around your finger, twisting it. It's been easy to twist ever since you got it, as you've fiddled with it every time you've been worried or anxious about something. You remember him slipping that wedding ring around your finger on the happiest day of your life.

"No, I don't."

He doesn't respond to that, simply giving you a small, understanding smile, and leaving you.

⁠

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

The next few days, Sirius is the talk of the school. If you got a galleon for every time you heard his name during your classes you'd probably be able to buy the castle.

It's almost like your school days. Well, back then it was talk of how handsome he was. Now, it's conspiracies of how he got inside the castle and just how demented he actually is.

One class, you're correcting homework while your third-year students work with their telescopes, and Seamus Finnigan throws a question your way:

"Professor, do you know how Black got into the castle?"

"No, Mr Finnigan," you respond curtly, not looking up from your work.

"I reckon he tunnelled under the ground," he says simply.

You shake your head tiredly. "Perhaps."

Days later, you hurry down to the Quidditch pitch, cursing angrily at the torrential rain currently battering your face and body. You shuffle into an empty seat, squinting out onto the pitch. Everything looks grey and murky, the rain and wind overpowering everything.

You can barely even see the players, though you do notice Harry getting thrown around in the wind from time to time. You're shivering beneath the multiple layers you're wearing, and as much as you love Quidditch, you're just waiting for the match to be over at this point and you can return to your lovely warm quarters.

Lightning flashes, and as you skim your eyes around the pitch, you have to do a double take when you see something that makes your breath catch in your throat. There, directly across from you, in the topmost, empty row of seats in the far box is the silhouette of a shaggy black dog. You blink rapidly, leaning forward to see if what you're seeing is really real.

Harry whizzes past on his broomstick, momentarily blocking your line of sight. When he's gone, so is the dog, and you sigh, leaning back in your seat again.

Maybe I'm finally going mad, you think.

And then you really do think you're going mad, because an eerie silence suddenly falls over the stadium. It even feels like the wind is holding its breath.

A horrible cold washes over you, even colder than you already are. Movement catches your eye and you look to the pitch, noticing at least a hundred cloaked figures gliding creepily along, looking up at the Quidditch players.

You stand up in shock, and watch in horror as Harry starts to sway on his broomstick, before slipping and plummeting towards the ground. Without a moment's hesitation, you plunge your hand into your pocket and produce your wand, yelling, "Aresto Momentum!"

Harry's fall slows, and he lands semi-gently on the pitch floor. You run down to the pitch, just in time to find Dumbledore, outraged and bellowing furiously at the Dementors. He casts his patronus and the silvery phoenix drives the Dementors out of the stadium. Then he magicks up a stretcher for Harry, and walks with him out of the stadium. You follow them in worry, glancing behind you to see Cedric Diggory clasping the golden snitch in his hands, as he talks rapidly with Madam Hooch.

Harry is fine, of course. Madam Pomfrey fetched large bars of chocolate and left them on his bedside, muttering angrily about Dementors on school grounds and chatting furiously with Dumbledore, who was equally angry. You leave soon after Harry arrives at the hospital wing, thinking that his friends and teammates may find it odd that you're there.

You spend the rest of the evening mulling over your sight of Sirius. You have no doubt that that was his animagus, but you're not sure whether you imagined it or not. Would he really be that stupid to watch a Quidditch game when he's on the run?

Part of you wouldn't be surprised at that. Can't keep that man away from his favourite game.

You remember when he was a Gryffindor Beater, playing alongside James. You commentated during your time at school, and while you were supposed to be focused on the game itself, most of the time you were ogling Sirius whizzing around the pitch. And getting reprimanded by McGonagall for not being impartial — but that's beside the point.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

->-> read chapter seven here!

→ all kinds of interaction are appreciated ♡

#angst #sirius black #sirius black x you #sirius black x reader #fanfic #harry potter #the marauders #hp #fanfiction #angst with a happy ending #marauders

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stuffeddeer · 9 months

Text

small insinuation of self harm

Dazai realizing he loves his s/o, telling them, and then wanting to tell the world ! He's very dramatic, so he repeats it religiously at the agency - a mantra that follows him everywhere :))

Until afterwards when he's alone in his apartment, heart beating out of his chest and feeling especially anxious. What's wrong with him? He didn't do anything differently today than he normally does...

He thinks hard as to what might be causing this, when the door opens and you step in. Oh, he's anxious about you.

But why? He loves you! He's quick to say it as you close and lock his door, and the feeling suddenly returns.

Oh.

He feels a sudden urge to break up with you, loosen contact, drive you away - Does he love you? He didn't want to tell anyone else (he did, he regrets it now). What happens if he falls out of love? Why did he do that? His chest just keeps squeezing, keeps constricting — feeling almost as though he was drowning in his thoughts. A moment of reprieve is granted only by the gentle placement of your hand over his heart.

"Are you alright?"

A few deep breaths and Dazai's heart rate is back in his control. Yes, he loves you, he thinks. But saying it is too scary.

Dazai just looks at you, a war tearing between his brain and his heart, unable to decide how to feel. His brain wants him to vanish: pack up and leave you forever so he doesn't have to deal with this vulnerability. His heart, however, wants to pull you closer. Never leave you, never let you out of his sight, always keep you within six feet of him to protect and love— and like you.

You pull his head onto your chest, cradling it in one hand as the other cards through his hair. "You can tell me anything, you know."

Dazai knows. But telling you he's not actually sure he loves you after his huge breakthrough what was merely the night before feels cruel.

It took a lot for him to open up and admit that, and he's not sure he can open up and admit that he regrets it. He should leave you - you deserve someone better, someone who can shout from the rooftops that you're theirs. But selfishly, he wants to hold you close and let you sooth him.

Seeing him still so torn, not moving as you hold him, causes a frown to come onto your face. All you want is for him to be happy and healthy and loved, and you'd thought you had a 66.67% success rate (you're working on the health thing). Like Dazai had moments prior, you wrack your brain for a change, and quickly land the same place he did: his love for you.

You smile softly, maybe a little sadly, and pull him closer until he's sitting on your lap. "Osamu," you press a kiss to the crown of his head.

He says nothing, just staring blankly. This is the hardest he's ever had to work to keep his heart in check, to stop the frantic beating. Is it hot in here? Should he take off his coat? Why can't he tell everyone he loves his partner? He does love them, he does.

How are you supposed to approach this? If you say you don't have to love me, he could go on the defensive. You just want him to relax. "I'd never force you to do something against your best interest."

Dazai meekly nods. Of course not. You always focus on him and his needs, emotionally and physically. You pack him lunches so he doesn't skip it at work and force him to eat dinners with you most nights. He just now notices the plastic takeout bag on the table - you must have brought that in when you first arrived. You want what's best for him, and he loves you for that! Doesn't he? Does he?

"I don't want you to force yourself into doing anything— saying anything you aren't ready for yet."

Dazai shuts his eyes tightly. Of course you figured it out. Feeling anxious, his heart beats desperately as he relinquishes control, not caring if you notice. Several soft apologies begin to fall from his lips quicker than you can stop them. The turmoil of this is eating him alive, and he hates it. Is running still an option? Does he even want to? The only thing keeping him from opening up new scars tonight is the feeling of your fingers in his hair. He's not sure if he'd leave even if you made him.

Fuck, but staying is so hard. His hands move up to tightly grip the fabric of your shirt, bunching it up between his fingers in hopes to ground himself.

You say nothing, allowing Dazai time to collect himself. Minutes pass, the food you brought likely cold now as Dazai just breathes in your embrace. A small growl from your stomach pulls him from his head finally, a small smile on his face as he looks up, seeing an embarrassed blush decorating your cheeks.

"Sorry, sorry!" Suddenly you're burying your head in Dazai's chest, seeking solace from your embarrassment. You trust him, love him enough to let him comfort you, just as he does you. A groan comes out of your mouth as your hands cover your face.

Dazai chuckles, pulling your head up before gently removing the hands covering your face. Your shoulders fall as Dazai's smile makes you relax. Whatever's bothering him won't go away over night, but you'll always be there to help.

"Come on, let's go eat," Dazai says, voice much calmer than it is when he's loudly boasting about his s/o at the agency. You don't mind. You like this version of Dazai all the same.

He loves you, he's sure of it. He just needs some time to properly accept it before yelling it from the rooftops - and you're more than happy to give him that time.

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castlevaniacentral · 6 months

Text

Chapter four.

Peculiar

It had been a brief two days since you were brought to the large castle. Alucard usually was the one who instigated the conversations. Your responses were usually quick, you muttering a thank you, or you explaining that you felt all right when he questioned about your wounds. Although he did so much for you

You just couldn’t sleep. Throughout the nights, you found yourself, twisting and turning well—pretty pathetic attempts at twisting and turning as your side ached with each slight movement you made on the soft bed.

Your eyes settled on the ceiling, your hair sprawled out on the pillow under your head. you were in a better position, a better position than you had ever been in before. Usually, you’d be ducking for safety— but this stern man brought you in.

Surely though….It wouldn’t be long before he returned with chains. It wouldn’t be long before he told you that he owned you now for his charity. But, kindness in this world had to exist.

in every piece of your hopeful, innocent, naïve, being. The thought of a kind world still tickled the back of your brain. You turned your head to the side glancing back at the far-off window as you blinked sluggishly. This man called himself Alucard was a kind man.

Slowly, but carefully you shuffled out of the bed the sheets followed you as you dragged yourself. your bare feet, hitting the cold ground you looked around before walking off to the grand door. He had to be asleep by now it was late, probably the middle of the night if you’d estimated right hopefully you wouldn’t run into him and disturb him.

Slowly opening the door, you hope that it didn’t creek. Curiosity had gotten the best of you, and now you wanted to see how great this place was. There was nothing in here that you wanted to steal or in admire in that case. Because you knew none of these things would ever be yours. You were simply just looking out, usually big manors like this give themselves away.

The intentions were clear in the decor. Sometimes they would hang up belongings of the slaves that they found interesting. Or they would have a dedicated room for the slaves at the house. Usually that room would be outside in the barn, but as you walk through the grand lavish halls that were meekly illuminated by a couple of torches.

You seen no sign of the evil the only thing you could make out was the fact that this was a home at some point. You weren’t sure which room belong to the man that helped you. You weren’t trying to go there though. You didn’t want to wake him up accidentally.

you took great care to ensure that your footsteps didn’t make too much noise as you walked. But as you innocently strolled around you stopped when you came into sight of a room that had been lined with books, a grand chair sat in the centre. But you didn’t care about that. What had caught your attention was the fire.

walking inside you sat in front of the fireplace, holding up your shaky hands towards it, you rubbed them together. Before lying on the floor.

The bed wasn’t comfortable for you. not because it was uncomfortable, but you weren’t used to beds. even back at the manor you didn’t have a bed so sleeping on something that wasn’t a hard surface to you was a little strange. But you found comfort, right here, snuggled up in front of this fire.

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep. Your soft snores filled the deafening silence of the room.

It was just you and the crackling of the fire.

Alucard himself was having a hard time sleeping, though he wasn’t a type of being that relied on sleep he could go a very long time without it. he found himself reading at the dawns of night to occupy his time.

Raising his head from his book. He heard the sounds of little footsteps, making its way throughout the hallways. Surely it had to be you as you were the only person in this castle aside from him, a soft sigh escaped his lips.

You were probably searching for something to steal. wondering where Draculas secrets where kept. Of course as innocent as you appeared. You were still just like everyone else.

No.

His trust made up very littleof his being. after being betrayed in his past, he found it hard to sympathize with others, and even trust. The voice in the back of his head reminded him that human beings weren’t to be trusted, and it was better for him to be alone. though this voice at the back of his head tormented him at the late hours of the night, and at the break of early morning

Something in his gut told him otherwise.

Standing up from his seat, Alucard placed the book beside him before walking out of his quarters. he stood out in the middle of the hallway, listening to where you could’ve been, following the sounds of the little noises you made.

It didn’t take long for him to find you as this was his castle, and he knew it like the back of his hand. but what he didn’t expect was that when he did find you, you’d be curled up in front of a fire sleeping.

He stared at you silently. This has probably been one of the first nights you had actually slept. When he came to check up on you in the mornings to bring you breakfast. He could tell that you hadn’t slept, under your eyes appeared dark. And your movements were sluggish. And because you were being fed, he knew that your body should of reacted differently to this, unless you weren’t sleeping.

walking over to you, he removed the cape from his back, draping it over you gently in attempts not to wake you. “A pain in the ass indeed” he muttered out pulling the cape over you ensuring you were covered all over.

Though slightly worried. He didn’t judge. Almost immediately it was as if he understood your situation. You slightly stirred from the action feeling a blanket of warmth, Your eyes fluttered open darting over to the fire before settling on Alucard for second.

Looking back at you expressionless he halted his movements. Until your eyelids closed once again and you had fallen back into sleep

It was moments like this that had reminded him why he was on the side of humanity. He looked at you, how to docile and innocent you looked. People like you need to be protected from the monsters of this world. Resting his forearm on his knee. A low chuckle emerged from his chest.

“A Peculiar one aren’t you.”

#alucard tepes x reader #alucard castlevania #alucard x reader #castlevania alucard

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cacoetheswriting · 11 months

Text

you’re losing me

pairing: eddie munson x gn!reader word count: 1.1k

summary: an exchange of forgotten items after the end of long-term a relationship.

content warnings: angsty angst, no happy ending (sorry), heartbreak, hurt / no comfort, mentions of marriage, eddie has commitment issues, minor use of pet names, adult language — also, this is very much unedited as i wrote it in one sitting, so excuse any & all mistakes, thank you! <3

“Here you go,” you say, arms stretching outward to hand Eddie a cardboard box. “This is everything you left behind at our— ehm,” you clear your throat, “at my place.”

Eddie hesitates for a moment, glancing between his packed belongings in your grasp and the sad expression on your face. You look tired, that much is clear. Sleep-less and puffy-eyed from all the tears you’ve undoubtedly shed as a result of his actions — or lack thereof.

The tremble of your lip alone causes his insides to twist. He’s never meant to bring you any pain, all though he knew that to be inevitable.

After all, a five year relationship coming to an end in one night is bound to bring pain.

“I don’t understand,” Eddie said, to which you replied, “I know you don’t.”

“I thought we were good,” it sounded like a plea.

You wiped the tears with the sleeve of your jumper. “How can we be good when you prioritise everything over me?” You questioned, voice breaking. “How can we be good, Eddie, when I give you all my best me’s, my endless empathy, and all you do is hurt my feelings?”

The brunette reached for you, but you instantly pulled back.

“You don’t want to get married.”

Eventually, Eddie drops the arm that was pressing against the doorframe above his head, and reaches for the box. His ring-clad fingers brush against yours gently as he holds onto the cardboard, an action that makes the air in your throat hitch momentarily.

“I’m sorry it took so long,” you mumble, hiding your hands in the pockets of your jacket. The imprints of his brief touch lingering on your skin.

A small, nervous smile circles your lips.

Eddie returns the expression.

“It’s okay,” he reassures quietly. “Thank you for even bringing this over, you didn’t have to do that. You could've called and I would’ve swung by our— uhm, by your place after my shift.”

“I just thought this would be easier,” you lie, the real reason being a lot more complicated. You really wanted to see him. To say you missed him, missed the life you two had, would be an understatement of the century.

Eddie nods, placing the cardboard box on the floor then kicking it slightly to the side — out of sight, out of mind. He glances around the trailer, hands now on his hips, before settling his attention back on you, not really sure what to say next.

He used to be able to talk to you for hours on end, about everything and nothing all at once. Town gossip, respective hobbies, work days, memories shared, his life before you, your life before him, the life you were planning to have together. No topic left unscathed. And now, whenever you bumped into one another, as rare as these meetings have been, he bites his tongue, afraid to say the wrong thing.

You do the same and it’s heartbreaking, really.

Especially because you still loved him.

— Deeply.

“I better get going,” you say meekly, breaking the silence that has surrounded the two of you. “Have a good day at work.”

“Yeah. Thanks, sweetheart.”

Jesus, fuck. Eddie bites his tongue, albeit a little too late, and instantly hates himself for letting the moniker slip. But you don’t react.

Instead, with one last longing look, you turn on your heel and begin your short journey down the concrete steps and dusty driveway. You can feel your ex-boyfriends eyes burn into the back of your frame, silently observing as you unlock the car and slide in behind the wheel, but you do your best to ignore his gaze.

Just like you ignored the pet name.

“Sweetheart—”

“And honestly, I wouldn’t marry me either,” it was a low blow, but the words escaped your lips before you got a chance to think about the repercussions.

Eddie said your name then with an over-exaggerated eye roll. However, that’s all he did. There was no rebuttal to your sentence. He didn’t argue or tell you how wrong you were. He didn’t offer any willingness to fight for you, fight for what was left of your relationship.

There was an ache in your chest. Slow, excruciating. The invisible walls were closing in around you, cutting off the oxygen, and as a result, your limbs seemed too heavy for your body. Like they no longer belonged to you. Almost alien.

It was hard to breathe. And all you wanted to do was scream for him to wake the fuck up because he was losing you. You wanted to scream and plead with him to do something, anything at all. Risk something, even though he’s already risked it all by not reacting the way you selfishly hoped he would.

Yet, Eddie simply stared at you.

And just like that, you knew it was over. Completely and utterly, over.

One hand on the wheel, you exhale. Eddie used to say he’d choose you no matter what, and now, not only did you know that wasn’t entirely true — because he let you walk away too easily, without a fight — your lives were also going to change and you were going to be heading in completely different directions, metaphorically as well as physically.

Key in the ignition, you’re about to start the engine when the sound of your name shifts your attention back to the person you’re trying to leave behind. For good, this time.

His tone, and the way your name falls off his tongue so effortlessly, as it’s done so many times before, is enough to make your heart skip a beat, and against your better judgement, you turn to face him again, rolling down your car window so he can lean his forearm against the glass.

Dipping his head to your eye level, Eddie clears his throat.

“I was wondering,” he begins, “The guys and I are playing in Indianapolis on Friday night, maybe you’d like to come?” He asks, then quickly adds, “If you’re free, that is.”

Your heart soars at his invite. You think to immediately say yes, because you’d go to the ends of the Earth if he’d only ask. But reality quickly clocks you in the head when you remember where you are, and why you’re here in the first place.

“You don’t want to get married, and I don’t want to settle any longer.”

Despite how much you still loved him, agreeing to go see him play would only bring more sorrow. It would tangle the two of you in an endless loop of sacrifices and that wasn’t fair.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Eddie.”

He tries to hide the disappointment by plastering a kind smile on his face, but you notice it regardless. Which of course you do. You’ve loved this man for five years before it all went to shit.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.”

There’s the moniker again. However, this time, he means to use it.

And when he taps his fingers on the roof of your car, retreating backwards, you smile at him one last time and say your goodbye, “I’ll see you around, Eddie.”.

as always, thank you so so much for reading <3

main masterlist

#idk how i feel about this but ive been listening to this song nonstop and it really has me in tears #anyways i hope you enjoy this sad little fic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things

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