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greatooglymooglyyy · 4 days

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It's Never Over (C. S.)

contains: 2nd person pov, angst, somewhat toxic relationship, verbal argument, relationship issues, kissing, smut (softdom!chris), overstimulation, angry/make up sex, unprotected sex, 3.4k words

a/n: hi friends. this is apart of the triple threat event sooo don't forget to go see my babies @luv4kozume and @rootbeerworshiper for two more fics for your smutty needs. j will be posting in one hour and sienna is an hour after that.

masterlist

Maybe we’re too young.

The thought bounces around your head uncontrollably as you watch Chris move silently through the kitchen from your perch on the counter. You haven’t been home long- maybe 10 minutes- but after the day you’ve had, the silence feels like a jab.

“So,” you start, raising your eyebrow as he pulls out a drink and leans against the counter across from you. “How do you think the pictures will turn out?”

He gives you a tired look, seemingly trying to gauge whether your question is a trap. “I actually really fucked with it. It’s a new look for us.”

You two had spent the entire day on the set of a photo and promo shoot for Fresh Love’s new line of products. He was right about it being a new look and he’d gone all out for the launch; the shoot had been completely 90s-themed to match the vibe of the products and he’d recruited some influencers to model.

Not that you were keeping track or anything, but the original idea had been yours and you’d put countless hours in helping him execute it. That isn’t to say you minded at all... at least not until today.

“I’m glad it’s exactly how you envisioned it.” You say, testing the waters unsure if you wanted to raise the issue again.

But Chris takes the bait and groans. “Don’t start.”

“I didn’t even say anything, Chris. But I just don’t understand why my input stops being taken seriously as soon as other people are around.”

“Did you ever stop and consider that maybe my photoshoot wasn’t the place for you to start a random ass argument?”

“I wasn’t trying to start one. And my bad, I didn’t realize you stopped being my boyfriend when you walked on a set.” Your eyes narrow as you stare him down, irritation at the situation resurfacing.

He sighs heavily, running a hand over his face. “I don’t but it’d be cool if my girlfriend supported me on days like this instead of adding more stress.”

Your eyes grow wide and you look around dramatically. “I’m sorry? Is that not all I do? Planning with you. Pitching ideas. Running around finding any little thing I can do to help? You wouldn’t even have the new product ideas without me.”

He throws his hands up in surrender, pushing off the counter and stepping closer. “And I’m grateful, baby. You know I am. I’m not saying you’re not important to me. I’m saying it can’t always be about you.”

“Can it sometimes be about me?” You question, feeling like you’re losing your mind. “I would never have an entire photoshoot full of influencers and not even ask you to join. Do you know how embarrassing that was?”

“Oh my-” He laughs out harshly, turning away for a second and then turning back. “I knew that’s what this was about. The team wanted people with over a million, not me-”

“And who owns Fresh Love, Chris? Don’t act like you have no control.”

“I own it, but it’s not just me who runs it. How stupid would I be if I hired a marketing team and didn't fucking listen to them?” His voice raises slightly and he shakes his head, attempting to regain composure.

“Probably as stupid as I looked pulling up to the set and looking for hair and makeup. You should have told me.” With that you slide off of the counter, intending to let the argument die there and go to bed but he follows behind you.

“How are you mad at me because you assumed you were modeling? I never said that. I invited you to the set like I do every time because You. Are. My. Girlfriend.” He claps to emphasize his points and you spin to glare at him.

“I’m not just your girlfriend, Chris. I work hard on my content just like you.” You say defensively. The decision to even begin posting was his idea so you can’t believe how unsupported you feel.

“And I'm so proud of you. You know I am.” He says with sincerity, bringing a hand to his chest. “But you aren’t..." His sentence trails off and he gives you an uncomfortable look.

“What?” You challenge, knowing exactly where this is going. “Say it. Tell me how little I matter since I haven’t hit the right numbers yet.”

He rolls his eyes and looks up at the ceiling. “It’s business. And they asked for people with reach. What did you want me to do?”

“Fight for me, Chris. That’s what I expected you to do.” You turn and head over to your dresser, snatching out your favorite oversized t-shirt and changing quickly.

Chris leans against the door frame with his arms crossed, watching you intensely until you finally face him with a scowl. “Stop following me.”

“I just can’t believe this is how you want to end this night. Why can’t you celebrate this win with me?” He asks, annoyance coating his tone.

“Go celebrate with Brooke. You two looked comfy today.” You suggest as you pass him to head into the bathroom.

Behind you, he barks out a laugh of disbelief before whispering something under his breath. You don’t even bother asking him to speak up, grabbing your makeup remover instead.

“So what’s that supposed to mean, huh? You're gonna start throwing accusations at me now?” He sounds absolutely over the conversation but won’t walk away to cool off. It’s a flaw you have in common.

“Just saying Addison has twice the followers as her but somehow you put her centerstage. I mean, I thought this was a numbers game.” You say, refusing to look over at him as you lather your face wash.

If you’re being completely honest, it’s not like you actually believe Chris would ever cheat on you. One thing Chris has always been is loyal to a fault. But right now you're itching for a reaction. No matter how you have to get it.

“You have to be fucking kidding.” He says, reacting exactly like you expected him to. “When the fuck would I be cheating on you?”

“How am I supposed to know? People make time for what’s important to them.” You say, letting your voice take on a nonchalant tone as you pat your face dry.

“That’s so fucking stupid and you know it. Look, I’m sorry you’re not where you want to be in your career but don’t take it out on me.” He grinds out, his voice thick with distaste.

You spin to face him, your eyebrows high. There it is. At least he finally said it. “Wow, Chris. Tell me how you really feel.”

“Y/N.” He says, rubbing his eyes roughly. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Do you think I could buy a shoutout, Mr. Six Mill? Only if you have time, of course.” You drawl, pressing your hands together into a begging gesture.

“Tell me what you want to hear, baby. Tell me what I need to say to end this conversation.” He says, stepping toward you but you take a step back instead, leaning against the sink.

“How about an apology? How about recognizing that I worked hard on this launch too and deserved to be a part of it? Anything except this condescending bullshit.”

He drops to his knees dramatically, looking up at you with a faux pleading look on his face. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. Please forgive me.”

You shake your head and curl your lip up in disgust. “Yeah. ‘Cause everything’s a joke, right?”

Chris blows out a huff of irritation and stands up, reaching out to wrap his arms around you and spinning you around to face the mirror. He presses himself into your back and meets your eye in the reflection as he runs his hands up and down your body. “Aren’t you tired of arguing yet?”

Your gaze drops to his hands, watching as he slowly and methodically slides up your oversized t-shirt and rubs teasingly at your inner thighs.

"You know I love you." He whispers, his grip tightening as he trails higher, grazing your heat before dipping his hands back down.

“Do you?” You question childishly, heat flooding your body as his hands travel your skin. He leans in close, the cool breath of his words sending a shiver down your spine. “Let me prove how much.”

Part of you wants to snatch away from him and refuse to reward his arrogance. But there is something so erotic about the way his eyes stay locked on yours as he moves in closer to where you need him most. Without your permission your body melts into his, the muscle memory from every other time he’s made you feel this way activating naturally.

You turn your head to look at him full-on instead of the reflection, the slight flush on his face from the arguing turning you on even more. “Nah. Prove how much you need me.”

If Chris is at all surprised by your demand, he doesn’t show it. He just walks you closer to the sink and spins you around by the waist to face him. His blue eyes are so coated with lust and frustration they seem almost brown under the harsh bathroom lighting.

He lifts you onto the counter, pausing only for the barest of seconds before crashing his lips against yours. The sudden movement pushes the back of your head into the mirror but you barely feel it over the heat and pressure of his kiss.

His hand travels under your shirt, his fingertips grazing your nipple with a frustratingly delicate touch that has you groaning into his mouth. You pull away, drawing a shudder out of him when you lightly nip his bottom lip as you do.

“Stop wasting my time.” You demand, your hands fiddling with the bottom of his shirt in a hint for him to take it off.

He does with a roll of his eyes before he comes back, placing a firm hand on the back of your neck and bringing you closer. “You can drop the attitude now. You know you want this just as much as I do.”

Pain flashes through you again briefly as you consider the possibility that this is the only thing you two will ever agree on wanting but you push it down and lean in to run a tongue over his collarbone. “Shut up and prove it like you said you would.”

A smirk grows across his face before he nods and kneels down slowly, pushing open your legs and roughly snatching off your thin underwear. Pushing your legs open wider, he buries his face in your inner thighs and peppers lingering kisses on them as he trails closer to your heat.

When he finally reaches it, it’s clear he’s not done taking his time as he runs his tongue through your folds purposefully avoiding where you want him most. You push at his shoulders in annoyance and he chuckles darkly, only making your wetness grow despite yourself.

The first kiss he places on your clit is slow and shallow before he leans back to find your eyes. “I always forget how fucking pretty you are.” He says as he smooths a thumb over you before diving back in with a new urgency.

There’s reverence in the way his tongue circles your clit, the movements somehow both precise and desperate. Before you even realize what you’re doing, you find yourself grinding your hips up to chase your pleasure, pathetic whimpers falling from your lips.

You don’t need to glance down to feel his eyes on you, baby blue and laser-focused as he peers up to gauge your reaction, alternating expertly between sucking and flicking his tongue. But instead of giving him the reaction he wants, you press your fist into your mouth and work to keep your face a mask. You’re determined to grant him as little praise as possible, leftover anger spurring on your pettiness.

Smiling against your core at the challenge, he readjusts his hold on you, slinging one of your legs lazily onto his shoulder before locking his arms around your thighs to keep you still. He pulls fully away and you finally snap your eyes to his, a protest on the tip of your tongue.

“I can do this all night and still make sure you never come. Stop playing with me.” His voice is like velvet as he warns you, not even pausing for your response before he buries himself back in. He taps your leg, signaling for you to hold it before he readjusts to add his fingers, swirling them around teasingly before pumping them inside to stretch you out.

All of your pride flies out the window as he fucks into you with his fingers, finding your g spot easily and caressing it. Flinging your head from side to side and calling his name wildly, you feel a familiar pressure building inside of you. “Please, Chris.” You beg as you tangle your hands into his hair.

His pace only increases when he realizes you are close, his moans against your clit sending vibrations through your body and driving you even crazier. You tug his hair lightly as your body tightens and grind your hips against his fingers to ride out your orgasm.

Chris pauses and removes his fingers slowly before placing one last kiss on your throbbing heat. He comes up with his breathing unsteady and a look of pure triumph on his face as he sucks his fingers into his mouth.

Your legs are still trembling slightly as you slide off of the counter and pull his face down to yours. This kiss feels different, like coming home, and you can tell he feels the same. He kisses you back like he loves you like the taste of you is air and he’s suffocating.

It’s been a while since you two were desperate enough to leave marks on each other’s skin but he does tonight. And you let him without a single thought to the effort of covering them up, too focused on his tongue working over the sweet spots of your neck.

You reach down fumbling with his belt impatiently as your breathing goes ragged, and free his hardened length, stroking it slowly.

His lips freeze on your throat as he thrusts into your hand before he yanks away and spins you back around, pressing his palm into your back and kicking your feet apart to give him access.

You feel his tip nudge against your entrance, slipping down further to tease your clit briefly, your only warning before he slides inside of you. A cry tears out of you as he rolls his hips into yours, bottoming out.

You’re still soaked from your orgasm but as he stretches you out around him, you feel yourself coat him even more and he groans. “My pretty girl. Best fucking feeling in the world.” He pushes your shirt further up your back, his fingertips trailing your spine lightly as he continues to thrust into you.

Squirming with a need for him to go faster, you push your hips up to meet his, forcing him deeper and making you both curse. He takes the hint, wrapping his hand tightly around your shirt for leverage before setting a brutal rough pace.

Your vision starts to blur so you close them as you try to hold on to the counter for stability. With your eyes squeezed tightly closed, it’s almost easy to pretend the tears swelling up are from the intensity of the moment and not from everything that came before.

Because it’s nothing if not intense, your stomach pressing into the sink as he slams inside of you roughly. His free hand grips the counter so hard his knuckles turn white and he keeps up his insane pace. His name slips from your mouth as a moan, seeming to spur him on as he increases his tempo even more.

“That’s right, baby. What’s my name?” The sound of his voice barely breaks through your fucked out trance and you lift your head to see him through the mirror.

The sight of him almost pushes you right over the edge immediately and you watch him in a sort of fascination. The way his muscles strain with his movement, his slightly open mouth before he bites down on his bottom lip. But it’s the wink he throws you when he notices you watching that has you contracting around him for the second time tonight.

This orgasm tears through you like a wave and you lose all control as Chris fucks you through it, never missing a stroke. If you had it in you to be embarrassed right now, you would be mortified at the things you say at this moment. Making promises, calling him names you never thought you’d utter, telling him exactly who you belong to.

When you come down, Chris’ pace slows and he pulls you up to face him. He watches you tenderly before he lifts the shirt from over your head and kisses you deeply.

He leads you to your bedroom and lays you down at the center of the bed, climbing on top of you slowly.

He enters you again with a gasp and you bring your mouth up to his to swallow it, his hand traveling up to lightly circle your neck. You moan in contentment and he makes a sound of approval from the back of his throat as he begins to thrust.

His strokes are slow and as deep as he can make them, his hands roaming your body as his tongue explores your mouth. There’s emotion laced in every snap of his hip and you know him well enough to understand every message. I love you. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.

Pleasure coils around you as his thumb finds your clit and circles it, coaxing you closer to the finish line as he drops his head near your ear. His hips stuttering tell you he’s close and you bring your mouth up to his ear to whisper. “Come for me.”

He groans loudly in response, fighting not to lose control yet. “You first.”

“I already did!”

“I don’t care. Give me one more.”

At his words, he pulls himself up and angles himself deeper, finding your g spot and plowing into it mercilessly. You drag your nails down his back, yours arching up off the bed. “Chris, I can’t.”

He shushes you softly, his lips claiming yours again as he continues to push into you. Ultimately it’s his muffled moan of “fuck” against your mouth that sends you over the edge, your face screwed up from an erotic mix of ecstasy and exhaustion.

You know you can’t take much more but Chris follows right behind you, dropping his head on your shoulder and moaning your name into it.

You lay there breathing heavily, skin to skin, for a while before you tap his back and he slides out of you. Awkwardness settles between you, so thick you’re not sure what to do with it so you stand wordlessly and head for a shower.

Your thoughts race as you scrub the remnants of him off your skin. The words you threw back and forth play on repeat in your brain as you wonder how to fix what’s between you before it’s too late.

The bathroom door opens and you watch through the streamy glass as Chris settles on the counter. The same counter he had you bent over not long ago.

You step out of the shower and grab your robe, all the while avoiding his eye contact. This is the part you hate the most. The part that never ends. Because neither of you knows how to force it to end.

He clears his throat, gesturing for you to come to him when you finally meet his eyes. Once you are standing between his legs, he pushes your wet hair out of your face gently as he studies your face. “You know how much you mean to me, don’t you?”

The nod you give is reluctant and slow. It’s never been a question of if Chris loves you. Just a question of whether he appreciates you.

But he continues this time, his eyes holding a fierce sort of intensity. “I’d give this all up for us if I had to. My whole platform if it means I can wake up next to you.”

Your breath hitches at this and you feel the tears threatening to fall so you bury your face in his shoulder, letting him pull your body into his.

And you hope. Hope that his words are more than just words. Hope that you’re not too young to keep each other from slipping between your fingers.

A/N: thanks so much for reading my loves. don't forget to head over to my girl @luv4kozume's page in exactly one hour for her new matt smut. 🗣️

🏷️/ @sttzee @tillies33ssss @miloisdone1 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @mrsmiagreer @asturniolos @teapartyprincess4two @whicked-hazlatwhore @sukiipjs @fratbrochrisgf @sturniolosmind @imfromthediningtable @st4rswrld @thvvluvr @sturnssmuts @littlenerdybee @sturniolossss @iloveneilperry @eclipzw @chrissloverrrrrrr16 @sstvrnioloo @clemlament @maryx2xx @fwskullz

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steinfellds · 1 month

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The Greetings

Pairing: Mobboss!WandaNat x Fem!Reader

Summary: After viewing numerous pets without finding any that sparked their interest, Natasha finally encounters you — an untrained mutt.

Contents: Dark themes, human trafficking, heavy pet play, face slapping, gagging, gun threats, throat-fucking, death threats, mentions of torture, suggestions of abuse, bruising, being kept in kennels.

a/n: this is the first part of the series :3 this series may or may not be abandoned but we'll see how long my motivation lasts for.

Unbreakable Ties Masterlist

The loud footsteps that echoed around the hallway made you shove yourself into the corner of your kennel. You were used to hearing loud footsteps, but these ones were unfamiliar, and that scared you.

“Please, Ms. Romanoff. These ones are untrained, let me show you to our next holding section,” The desperate pleas of your seller only increased your fear.

The footsteps came to a halt.

“I thought I made myself clear. We are looking for something very specific, and we do not care for how untrained it is. Do you understand me, or will I have to repeat myself for a third time?”

The voice was of a woman. Her tone was clipped and full of irritation.

“Yes, I understand. Apologises,”

You heard the familiar noise of a kennel being unlocked and the woman’s quiet remarks. You assumed she didn’t want that pet as she let out a huff before the loud slam of the cage door.

She checked many other pets, gaining the same reaction as the last. It wasn’t until she stepped in front of your kennel that you could finally get a good look at her.

You could tell by her appearance that she was rich and important. She wore a dark black suit and her hair sat neatly above her shoulders. There was so much confidence and power radiating off her. Your seller looked like a puny piece of meat standing next to her.

Your kennel was unlocked, and the woman stepped inside. You shoved your naked body further into the corner.

The woman crouched in front of you, slowly checking you over. She grabbed onto your arm, running her fingers over your dark bruises. She pushed down slightly, making you cry out in discomfort. She smiled at that.

Her fingers tapped your chin, “Open,”

Your eyes narrowed at her request and your jaw stayed in place.

She didn’t like that. She gripped painfully tight on your chin, “Open your mouth,”

You complied with a small grumble.

She checked over your teeth, making sure everything was healthy – which it was. She surprised you when she shoved two fingers down your throat, immediately making you recoil and gag.

“Relax your throat,” She instructed, throat-fucking you.

Tears filled your eyes, and you shake your head, still trying to pull away from her. Her spare hand grabbed a fistful of your hair, keeping you in place. After a few seconds, she pulled away, and you gasped for air.

“Has this one had any training?” She questioned your seller, wiping her wet fingers on your thighs.

“She’s had some, but she isn’t very receptive to it.” He explained, “She normally bites and scratches. I’m surprised that she hasn’t done that to you,”

The woman hummed and pulled out her phone, opening to her camera. Her finger hooked around your chin, tilting your head towards to the camera and snapping a photo. You shifted uncomfortably.

Her phone immediately pinged with notifications.

“We’ll take her,” The woman stood and turned towards your seller, slipping her phone into her pocket.

His face was full of shock, obviously not expecting her to settle on you.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

“Are you questioning my ability to make decisions?” She snapped.

He shook his head, “Of course not! I’ll get her ready for you,”

You cowered at those words. You didn’t want to be alone with him, not after last time. The woman didn’t seem to notice, but your seller did.

The woman nodded and left.

Your sellers face turned sour, and he glared at you. He pulled out a collar and a lead, wrapping the collar around your neck and clipping the lead.

“You made me look like an idiot in front of her. Do you even know who she is?” He hisses, “Natasha fucking Romanoff, the most powerful mob boss in the city. God, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s just buying you to torture you and eventually kill you. I hope that happens, bitch.”

Before you can stop yourself, your mouth wrapped around his hand, and you bit down. Hard. His hand immediately met your cheek, forcing you to drop his hand and pull away.

A scorching pain spread across your cheek. You tried to control your tears, but it was hopeless. Tears fell and you sniffled loudly.

He raised his hand, ready to deliver another hit “Stupid-“

The feeling of a gun being shoved against his head and the sound of the safety being turned off made him freeze.

Natasha stood behind him with a gun pointed at his head and a terrifying glare painted on her face. She grabbed him by his shirt collar and tossed him into the wall. He let out a grunt and stared at her with fearful eyes.

“Touch my property again and I’ll fuckin’ kill you,” She harshly dug the tip of her gun into his temple, “Or worse, Wanda will, and I’m sure you know how violent my wife can be.”

Even with her anger not directed at you, it still scared you. The last thing you wanted was to be on the receiving end of it. The mention of the new name made you curious. Did Natasha send that picture of you to Wanda? Why didn’t Wanda come in with Natasha?

“I-I’m so sorry, Ms. Romanoff.” He spluttered.

He glanced over at you, and you had enough time to poke your tongue out before Natasha pulled his gaze back to her.

“Don’t look at her,” She commanded.

You swore you heard him whimper from fear.

“Now, get the hell out of here before I change my mind and kill you,”

He quickly nodded and ran off.

Natasha crouched in front of you, running her thumb over your sore cheek. It was going to leave a bruise.

Natasha stood, picked your leash from the floor, and tugged on it. You didn’t want to keep her waiting, so you obediently crawled toward her.

You kept your head low as you exited the store, the words of your seller replaying in your mind. You didn't want to be tortured or die. You were scared.

That's when you decided that you weren't going to let that happen to you. Somehow, you were going to escape. If only you knew what a mistake that would be.

Taglist: @alexawynters @tia-thesimp

#wandanat x reader #wandanat x y/n #wandanat x you #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x you #black widow x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #wanda x you #natasha romanoff x reader #kayoposts #unbreakable ties #wanda maximoff x reader

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ghost-proofbaby · 11 months

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who could stay? (you could stay.) (eddie munson x reader)

summary: you're convinced that being loved comes with a cost. he finds a way to prove you wrong. (wc: 9.7k+)

order up! i've got one ash's special for anonymous. ♡

Keep going, keep going, keep going.

Agree to run that errand for someone. Offer a shoulder to cry on for that person. Fix that problem for this friend. Keep going, keep offering, keep becoming indispensable.

You couldn’t pinpoint the exact age you’d figured out the formula. You can never know for sure if the day was sunny or if it were rainy, if it were a calm December morning or a buzzing July night, but those details aren’t very important. The only important detail is that you had finally cracked the code at some point – you had finally figured out the solution to feeling unlovable. And that was that, truthfully, there wasn’t a solution. Once you were destined to feel this way, to feel so sour at your core, there is no easy way to rid yourself of that rotten pit. It would always be there – always churning, always burning, always yearning. Yearning to be loved, yearning to feel those waves of warmth cascading over your brain and down your spine, the ones others had always described to you but you’d just never… experienced. Never became familiar with.

It felt like everyone was playing an over-elaborate prank on you. They’d all conspired against you, invented a false feeling in which someone claims to feel loved, only to sit back and watch as you fumbled to find it. They’d laughed as you dug through a graveyard of relationships, caked your fingernails with dirt as you sobbed and would continue to claw deeper, trying to find just one set of bones that might hold that warmth for you.

The only solution to that detrimental feeling of being unlovable, was to feel needed.

You needed to feel so necessary, so essential, to everyone around you at all times. It never mattered how much of you it took. You’d give away every piece of yourself a million times over just to feel wanted at some capacity, even if that capacity were one you’d forced upon the other person. You didn’t care if you’d built the glass cages of theirs – you just cared that they kept you around to wipe away any smudges that appeared.

Being wanted wasn’t quite the same as being loved. And if you thought about that for too long or too often, you might just break irrevocably.

“I just don’t understand him,” Nancy sighs from the head of your bed, reclining against a wall of pillows you’d lined your headboard with. Two of which were body pillows. Long tubes of fluff to try and fill lonely spaces, you suppose, “Why didn’t he just tell me he didn’t want to go to the same college? Why… Why do I feel like I am forcing him to be with me?”

Because you are. Just like I force you all to need me.

“I don’t know, Nance.”

That bland, bitter, half-thought out answer lingers on your tongue, almost burns your throat with the whisper of say more, say something useful, say something comforting. It’s the whisper of those four words not being enough. It’s the whisper of that threat that those four words could be the beginning of the end, the thing that makes Nancy realize she doesn’t need you.

After all, what use is a friend that can’t give good advice, or be supportive during relationship rants?

You open your mouth to add on something sweeter, something to coat the conversation like honey and smooth out the lines forming on Nancy’s forehead, but she beats you to it, “I’m sorry, I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

Yes. “It’s fine,” at least that wasn’t a lie – you’d dug this specific grave, had rooted down tooth and nail only to find another empty coffin of a friendship curtained with want instead of love. You’d all but asked for this, “What he did really was shitty. It’s not fair to you.”

The words are almost robotic, telling Nancy Wheeler what she wants to hear rather than what she needs to hear. You don’t always do that, you do make a point of investing in the truth from time to time to truly secure your position as someone who is genuinely needed in her life, but the headache nagging at your temples tells you it’s not worth the fight tonight. You’re tired, you’re agitated, and you really just want to get Nancy to the point of contentment in her rambling so that you can send her on her way.

God, you’re an awful friend.

It turns you quiet, a ricocheting thought that bruises your inner skull the rest of the time Nancy sits on your bed. The guilt eats you alive for that moment of irritation the rest of the night. Even after Nancy goes home, even after you’ve brushed your teeth and you’ve tucked yourself into bed. The guilt gnaws on the edges of that emptiness inside of you, that ever-present black hole that already existed, and says this is why you cannot be loved.

Maybe the pity party for feeling like a bad friend is what makes you a bad friend.

And maybe if you were a better friend, you would be loved instead of wanted for once.

It’s all part of a cycle, never-ending and treacherous. It’s always been this way. You make promises to your friends and rip yourself to shreds before remolding yourself into whatever they need; giving rides to the younger kids within your circle to the pool all summer which evolved into taking turns with Steve as to who would pick them all up after their D&D club ran late every Friday night, always lending a listening ear to Nancy once Johnathan moved away and she’d had to witness her relationship and her love vanishing in real time, always being the one person who will listen to Robin ramble for hours about her sudden interests. None of it was born of ill-intent, but when you’d go home lonesome at the end of the night, you could see it all for what it was.

You were trying to fill a void. A hollow rot, a black hole. And it was only working half the time.

Half the time, until he came along.

And make no mistake, his arrival was as bloody as anyone who had previously entered your life. For a while there, you believed his headstone was at the end of the line already, sanctioned away in this graveyard of the ability to be loved. He came crashing into your life on a random Friday night, and you had sworn you could already see the end as it began, but you had been wrong.

“So, you’re the infamous babysitter.”

His voice caught you off guard. You’d been sitting in your car with your windows down, enjoying the reprieve of a cooling autumn evening as you waited for the boys to finish up with their D&D club. With your head buried in the latest sci-fi novel that Dustin had recommended and would no doubt be grilling you on once he got in the car, you hadn’t even heard the club exit the school.

“Nope,” you fought a smile as you glanced up from the pages to see an older guy standing there, closer to yours and Steve’s age than the kids. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that this was the famous Eddie all the boys would ramble on about for hours on end, “Harrington’s the babysitter. I’m just the taxi driver.”

There was something particularly pretty in the way he threw his head back with laughter at your words. Curls that messily fell just beyond his shoulders, full lips disappearing as his teeth peeked through and shined beneath the parking lot’s lamp posts. His denim vest looked purposefully distressed with a mirage of patches and pins, and he was wearing a leather jacket beneath it, even if it wasn’t quite cold enough for it yet outside. He was cute – and watching him laugh because of you sparked something irreversible inside of you.

“C’mon now,” he sighed as his cackles quieted, “Give yourself more credit than that. At least call yourself something fancy, like ‘chauffeur’.”

“Ah, but ‘taxi driver’ insinuates that I charge them,” you don’t miss a beat, and your quick wit has him chuckling again.

You caught sight of his eyes, corners creased with joy – brown. They were deep, russet, tantalizing brown. Almost indiscernible from his pupil in the dark.

“I’m Eddie, by the way.”

You took his hand that he shoved through your open window with ease, and felt an immediate shiver run down your spine. Not quite from the cold, but not quite warm. You saw the first flash of his grave, and you knew you’d be digging your greedy hands into it soon enough.

As you gave him your name in return, you knew you wouldn’t be leaving well enough alone.

You had been half right that night. You wouldn’t be leaving well enough alone, you would be seeking out the impossible from Eddie – but so would he.

It quickly became apparent that Eddie was a pest. Someone who weaseled his way into the lives of others, who made his presence felt and never forgotten.

You’d started with the same slow dance as you did with every new person, a hesitant dipping of your toes into their waters, unsure if your presence in their life would only cause more trouble than you’re worth, when you quickly discovered that nothing could ever be hesitant or slow with Eddie Munson. He’s the one constantly reaching out to you. Driving the kids home now takes double the time it used to, long conversations being had with him that has the kids dragging you away, practically begging to just be taken home. The day he’d asked for your number, you couldn’t tell which one of you burned brighter red. And the moment he had your number in his clutches? Forget about it. You never heard the end of Eddie Munson, and you never really wanted to.

Unlike your friends you already had and loved deeply, Eddie was observant.

It’s within the first month of knowing you that he had picked up on your insecurities. Maybe he hadn’t directly seen that gaping hole in your chest yet, but he noticed your habit of running yourself dry to see others thrive.

The need to be needed. He picked up on it quickly.

“What about Sunday?” Eddie’s voice traveled over the line as you laid on your stomach, stretched out across your bed for a few moments of rest before you had to get up and take the cookies you’d baked for Steve and Robin into Family Video, just like you had promised, “I’m free then if I finish all my fuckin’ homework on Saturday night.”

Surprisingly, that phone call with Eddie hadn’t been something expected or planned. It had been impulsive; in a rare moment of peace, you found yourself craving to hear his voice. Somehow, the two of you had ended up trying to figure out a free day to properly hang out. Eddie wanted to go to Benny’s for milkshakes, and you wouldn’t turn down the free fries he also promised.

“I can’t,” you paused just to hear his predictably dramatic sigh, grinning as you continued to explain, “I’m taking Max to the skatepark that day.”

“And it’s going to take all day?”

“It could!”

“There’s absolutely no way.”

“You clearly haven’t seen that girl skate.”

The conversation continued, light-hearted enough with plentiful jokes made. Something about talking with Eddie made your heart lighter, the usual unbearable and contradictory weight of emptiness no longer on your mind as you listened to him ramble about something that had happened in one of his classes – a teacher tried to embarrass him when he caught Eddie doodling for a D&D campaign by asking him a question, not expecting him to know the answer. Eddie had, of course, leaving the teacher baffled with a smirk.

It’s all about my charm, sweetheart, he responded when you asked how he hadn’t earned a detention from that.

Only towards the end of the call, when the conversation finally lulled and the two of you found yourselves settled into a comfortable silence, did Eddie finally circle back to the beginning of your conversation.

“You know,” he started, “When I first met you, I never took you to be someone so…”

“Amazing? Wonderful? Funny?” you jokingly attempted to finish his sentence.

“Busy.”

Oh. You hadn’t expected that one.

“Busy?” you repeated back to him, “I’m not that busy.”

Your mind immediately started racing with thoughts of what he had meant. Was he feeling neglected? Maybe you should have canceled on Max on Sunday, agreed to Benny’s with him instead. No, you couldn’t bear Max’s disappointment. Maybe you could tell Max you had a time constraint, even though you knew she hated those when it came to her skating days. Was there any other plans you could abandon? Anyone else you could bear to let down for the sake of not leaving Eddie high and dry? No, no – all your other weekend plans involved going to the movies with Robin, helping Steve look into colleges finally, taking the boys to the Starcourt mall to shop for supplies to make figurines for their newest campaign. The room was suddenly getting smaller, your chest constricting, your head spinning. You couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing any of those people, no, but what about Eddie? Maybe he was right in feeling neglected, maybe you deserved whatever guilt was to come from whatever his next words would be. He was your friend, you were supposed to make time for h-

“Sweetheart,” he scoffed over the line, and you swore you heart stopped right then and there, “You’re the highest thing in demand since Cabbage Patch Kids last Christmas – and trust me, I should know how in demand those fuckers were. I worked seasonally at the mall, remember?”

Your breath caught. He was feeling neglected. You weakly began your apology as tears were already filling your eyes, that panic turning over itself in your gut, “I’m-”

“And it’s not a bad thing, don’t get me wrong,” It’s clear your voice had been too soft, too weak, for him to hear you, “Just means I’ve gotta fight harder to be worth your time, am I right?”

You had to clear your throat, but it did nothing to subsidize that anxiety that rattled your bones. It’s blatantly evident as your voice shook with a second attempt at an apology, “I’m sorry, Eddie. I didn’t mean- I can… I’ll… Just tell me when for Benny’s. I can make it work, I swear-”

“Woah, woah, woah.”

He had to have heard the tears that had escaped down your cheeks. The shake of your breath as you’d stuttered over your words, grasping for a solution.

“You don’t need to apologize for that,” his voice was soothing and soft, the most gentle it had been the entire night. You pinched your eyes shut and just tried to imagine those stupid, big doe eyes, those ungodly messy curls (you’d started to tease him about if he ever even brushed or combed them). The panic remained, but Eddie’s voice started to give it a run for its money, “I was just playing around. You know that, right?” he paused to give you room to answer, but your throat was still tightly squeezed by overwhelming emotion, overwhelming fear of having scorned Eddie, “You could only have enough time in your schedule to see me once a year, and I’d still be your friend. We could only have these random phone calls, even if they were never longer than a minute, and you’d still be worth it. You know that, right?” Another pause, another wave of silence from your end, “Sweetheart, you don’t owe me your time. And I don’t need monopoly over it for us to be okay.”

Each word made the panic settle. You weren’t sure how he did it. You weren’t sure how mortified you should be that he had only been in your life for a month at most, and had just overheard you at your most vulnerable.

All you were sure of was that you believed him.

“Okay,” you croaked, finally feeling that ring of fear loosen, vocal chords finally functioning once more.

“Okay,” Eddie repeated back in that same gentle, soothing, soft tone.

You weren’t disappointing him. You weren’t making him feel neglected. He still found use for you, he still wanted you around – he still needed your friendship. That had to be enough.

It was quiet over the line for a few moments.

It has to be enough, you reminded yourself.

“Say,” you finally said, voice back to normal strength and the tears having dried themselves up for the most part. Your heart had almost returned to normal rhythm, “How does Benny’s sound tonight?”

“Tonight?” he chimed back, sounding as excited as a little kid the morning of a cherished holiday, something like Christmas.

A shiver ran down your spine. It’s not from the cold, and you tell yourself it’s not quite warmth – it can’t be warmth.

“Tonight,” you confirmed, “With a detour by Family Video, if you don’t mind. I’ve got a special delivery of cookies to fulfill.”

“What kind?”

“Excuse me?”

You were grinning - God, you were a pathetic fool, grinning and clutching onto that phone like a lifeline. Like if you let go of it, you’d lose his voice, and if you lost his voice, that would be the end of the world.

“What kind of cookies?”

“Chocolate chip.”

He hummed, not answering right away as if he were deliberating this information. When he finally spoke again, another shiver wrapped around your spine, spinning down, down down. Waves of what you almost believed were warmth. “Okay. I suppose I can be your taxi driver, for a price.”

“What’s your price?”

“One cookie.”

“Deal.”

It had to be enough, because you were still clutching that telephone tightly to your cheek, long after the phone call ended with Eddie’s promise of being at your house soon enough. It had to be enough, because after that night, it became clear; the world would not end with the loss of just Eddie’s voice from your life, but the loss of Eddie, period. It was the first night of many in which you played a very, very dangerous game.

Even with Nancy gone, you felt restless. You couldn’t help but linger just a little longer in all that self-pity, still replaying the night and all you could have done differently.

Had she caught on with how out of it you had been? Had she seen through your act and immediately assumed the worst – assumed you weren’t worth keeping around?

The thoughts might be an overreaction.

You were definitely overreacting.

You didn’t really care that you were overreacting, though, because you really couldn’t control it. It was just another dark path you couldn’t stop your mind from traveling down. It was endless, and it was lonesome, and… and it was just normal. What should be devolving into a panic attack can only settle like an emptiness deep within your chest; you’ve been staring at the blank wall of your living room for so long without blinking, your eyes have gone dry.

A pattern. That’s what the therapist said. You had a pattern for overthinking these interactions, for projecting feelings onto others that didn’t exist. You think all your friends hate you, you think that a stranger found your smile to be more of a grimace, you think your mom hasn’t called in months because she recognizes you as a failure finally. But none of it is actually what those people think. It’s like a mirror – you look into the eyes of others, and you see all your own insecurities reflected back.

She’d asked you to work on it. To take a step back and just breathe, just remind yourself of that, whenever this happens. You’d decide whether you’d mention this minor slip up later. For now, you were going to wallow. You were going to spiral with just you, this damn blank wall, and maybe even the bottle of wine in the fridge.

Yes, your mind was made up, and you force yourself to stand from the couch and wander into the kitchen, eyes still dry and chest still caving in on itself as you open the fridge.

That’s as far as you get. Your fridge is wide open, the bright luminescent light flooding your kitchen floor in time with the trickling chill that sneaks up on your warm cheeks and already numb toes, when you spot it.

A box of takeout. It’s old enough now you could throw it out, you had known the moment he’d taken the last of his meal to-go that he wouldn’t finish it. Teased him about it, even. But he was stubborn and you weren’t capable of turning down the opportunity to let another piece of him, another flash of evidence of his place in your life, occupy this apartment. So there it sat, a half-eaten burger he hadn’t revisited.

But he had revisited the apartment – revisited you. He’d been here every night this week, and you’d practically had to shove him out on the street to get him to leave this morning to get to work on time.

The edges of that emptiness that weighs down your insides blur, already lightening microscopically as you slam shut the fridge and forgo the wine completely to grab the phone instead.

“You don’t have to always take care of everyone, you know,” he murmured as he joined you in the kitchen to retrieve popcorn for the gang, everyone gathered in the living room for a movie night.

“Pardon?” you asked, hardly glancing over your shoulder as you punched in the designated time for the microwave to turn the kernels into an easy, mouth-watering snack of butter and crunch.

“You always take care of everyone. You don’t have to.”

His words rang clearer that time, loud enough to have stopped you in your tracks. You paused mid-reach, the cabinet for the Harrington’s bowls wide open and shelves nearly too tall for you.

“I-” you weren’t sure exactly what to say, “What do you mean?”

His brows scrunched, eyes having narrowed in the slightest in your direction, “Please don’t play dumb right now.”

“I’m not playing dumb. I’m trying to get popcorn for our movie night,” you waved your hand towards the shelves lined with bowls for emphasis on your point, “That’s not really taking care of everyone – it was just being polite. Steve’s hosting, it’s the least I can do.”

“The least you can do? The least you can do is actually just sit with friends, enjoy the movie,” the crease between his brow deepened, eyeing you with an unfamiliar concern. You shifted beneath the weight of his gaze.

You don’t know what to say. Except, “It’s not that serious.”

He scoffed, and you nearly flinched from it. Fear threatened to bubble up – he’s upset, he’s getting irritated at you. He’s getting tired of you.

You waited for him to say something more as the buzz of the microwave filled the tense space, but he remained silent. Brooding.

“What?” your voice shook, your entire being torn between succumbing to all that fear and anxiety in upsetting him further and that voice in the back of your mind that urged you to push him, to hear what he really thought. “I know you have something more to say.”

“In the six months I’ve known you, you haven’t taken a single break for yourself.”

He met your push, stood his ground and didn’t let it put any distance between you two. It felt like a goddamn revelation, right there in the Harrington kitchen.

“I take plenty of breaks, Eddie,” you tried to laugh off, “I do spend time away from you all, hard as that may be to belie-”

“Hardly,” he cut you off as sharply as the first resonating pop that echoed from the microwave.

“What’s your point? I just like being around you guys. Like I said, it’s not that serious.”

This was the part where the distance would happen. You kept pushing, took the inch he’d given you to bite back and ran with it. Normally, you avoided conflict with any of your friends vehemently. Always afraid, always assuming the relationships to be so fragile and so delicate. You would take such care in never giving them a reason to hate you that you’d never taken to a battleground before.

But there had been a look in Eddie’s eyes that night. A shine that, breaking through all the worry for you, whispered, fight with me. Stand your ground with me. I’ll still call you tomorrow, no matter what words we exchange tonight.

A safety net had formed that you’d never even noticed. That delicacy wasn’t needed here. You could pick up the sword, there in that kitchen, and it wouldn’t turn Eddie to smoke and shadows.

“My point is…” he paused, he swallowed hard, he exhibited the delicacy that was usually expected from you, “You can like being around us. But you should put yourself first. At least once. At least on movie night.”

“How is me making popcorn not putting myself first?” you got the question out, you took a deep breath, ready to go on some sort of defensive tirade for your habit you were well aware of.

He beat you to it, “Every day last week, you only got three hours of sleep, at most, before your shifts. You gave up sleep to hang out with us all way too late, refused to throw in the towel and go home before anyone else.”

“I could have napped-”

“You didn’t nap,” he stressed, taking a step closer to you. The popping of the snack turning in the microwave was erratic, mere seconds left on the timer. Static noise to the conversation at hand, “I know you didn’t fucking nap after your shifts because you were immediately running errands for everyone else, or hanging out again. You offered to give Robin a ride to work every single day, and her shifts start… what, an hour after yours ended? And then you had to give her rides home, right? But in those hours she was at work, you were helping Dustin with an essay for school – that little fucker told me all about it. You were awake when Johnathan called you and we were all stoned off our asses, went and got us food we didn’t need but still wanted. We didn’t even expect you to pick up, you know? I told them, I swore to them, you wouldn’t pick up. You had a morning shift. You were scheduled literal hours from when we called you. But you picked up. You fucking picked up, and you went and got the fucking food for us fucking idiots.”

Your brain completely malfunctioned. You couldn’t comprehend how he was saying all of these things that should be good things, things that proved you were needed and you were reliable, but with such venom in his tone.

Anger had sparked within you as you pictured how giddy Dustin had been over the B he’d earned on his essay, that sincere appreciation on Robin’s face every time she left your car last week, the dopey grin that Argyle had worn when you’d arrived with their food order in your pajamas. All previously things to fuel you, filling that aching hole inside of you, now being tarnished because he was concerned.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you seethed at him, “Would you prefer I hadn’t been awake? Would you prefer I let Dustin just… get a fucking F on that essay? Or Robin walks to work?”

“Yes!”

You were both shocked at the sudden volume in your voices. The quickness in his reply. The quiver in your lip.

“Yes,” he breathed out, quieter this time, “I would prefer those things if it meant you were taking care of yourself. The word ‘no’ should be in your vocabulary, sweetheart. I… The world doesn’t end just because you don’t constantly make yourself available.”

But you all needing me might.

“Just… just…” your breaths came out in huffs, eyes downcast and unwilling to meet Eddie’s stare. A final push, and it came out more fragile than you’d ever intended, “Just mind your business, Eddie.”

He opened his mouth to say more, but the microwave started to go off, signaling what you saw as the end of the conversation – the fight. You’d raised your voice at him, you’d swung that sword in his direction, and he hadn’t vanished. His friendship – he – wasn’t as breakable as you’d thought.

You spun on your heel, you took the popcorn out and divided it into bowls for the group, busying your hands in any way possible. All the while, he never left the kitchen. He stood just feet away from you and let you do what needed to be done, and only stopped you as you turned to exit the kitchen with the snacks acquired.

His hand caught onto your elbow, “You have bags.”

“Excuse me?”

“You have bags under your eyes,” he elaborated. He no longer looked frustrated, but defeated, a morose distress pinching the edges of his feature.

“Jesus,” you were now scoffing, adjusting your grip on those bowls, “You really know how to compliment a girl, don’t you?”

“They’ve been there for months,” his grip refused to loosen, thumb trailing over the crease in your arm, “Please don’t run yourself into the ground.”

You gave him a cold shoulder as you left him behind to rejoin your friends, unable to shake his consternation. It was so genuine, it terrified you. It made your insides churn, it turned your anxious attachment to dust.

It made a shiver of warmth travel down your spine.

The empty space beside you on the couch only remained for seconds after you’d passed around the bowls, keeping one for yourself. He was back there, back at your side, as if the two of you hadn’t just exited a battle ground. As if a stand-off hadn’t just occurred, as if it all hadn’t ended in a draw.

He looked at you with those eyes.

Fight with me. Stand your ground with me. Don’t walk away from me. I will still call tomorrow.

He did more than call that night. As the movie started, he didn’t so much as flinch when your head fell to his shoulder in exhaustion. He only tucked an arm around your shoulders, only shifted you to be more comfortable as you used him as a personal pillow. He glared at everyone in warning not to grill you on the plot of the movie when you’d awoke mildly disappointed, he’d let you sleep on the drive home. He never once brought the fight back up.

And he still called the next day.

After your shift, he was the first voice you heard after dragging your feet into your apartment. A brief apology was exchanged before it was back to business as usual between you two. And somewhere between his rambles, you fell asleep with your phone balanced half-haphazardly between your cheek and shoulder. You could only dream of the grin he wore when he’d hear your soft snores over the line, quieting down immediately to let you rest. He never hung up – he was content to sit on a hushed line if only for the assuredness that you were finally resting.

The warmth no longer traveled down your spine, instead curling up timidly near that hole inside of you. You let it.

“Munson residence!”

That warmth that had found home in your chest still remains to this day, rousing at Eddie’s voice over the line. It’s nearly enough to make you cry – the relief that floods you just by the sound of him and his endless chipper. His optimism that always seems to exist, even in contrast with those harsh edges he tries to portray.

“Eddie,” you whisper, as if you’re not the only one in your apartment, “Can you… Are you free?”

Even after a year, you still sometimes felt guilt, asking so much of him. Asking so much, and giving so little in return.

But you weren’t the one who set that standard. Eddie had. Ferociously, fiercely, stubbornly. The insistence that you simply being was enough for him.

“For you, sweetness?” he chuckles lowly. He recognizes your voice immediately; you never have to say it’s you calling. You could have shrugged it off as Caller ID, but you knew the Munson’s phone didn’t have that. No, he recognized you by voice only. He’d once joked that only you would one day be able to rouse him from the dead, based on the ‘sweet melody alone’. Recognition in death – you had managed to burrow your way so deeply into his life, you’d earned recognition in death. “Always. What’s up?”

You could have just kept him on the phone. Had one of your infamous conversations about everything and nothing. Sat on the cold tiles of your kitchen and smiled like a child as you listened to him rant. But the cold chill of your lonesome apartment was becoming suffocating, and you remembered that take out in the fridge and the way one of his socks had ended up in your laundry last week. You remembered how you started keeping his favorite brand of beer in your fridge and how one of your pillows started to permanently smell like his aftershave.

He had a toothbrush in your bathroom. He had a key to your apartment. He had a space, here, in this lonesome apartment. And all you had to do was beckon to him, and he would come to fill it. Always.

“Can you come over?”

You don’t even have to explain yourself. He complies readily, whispers out a soft yes in the voice you’d also recognize even in death, and promises to be there within ten minutes.

He makes it within eight.

And you’re still leaning on your kitchen counter, your head still swimming dangerously with all the different ways you’d let down Nancy. Once upon a time, you might have worried about inviting him over, worried that your anxieties and your short-comings might bleed into your relationship with him. In the beginning, it had been simple enough. You kept him at an arm’s length away the moment you realized you couldn’t make yourself needed to him, not out of selfishness but out of fear. Fear, because if he didn’t need you, why would he stick around?

Because without need, if you did the wrong thing, there was no necessary thread tying them to you. Because without need, there was no chance for the day that you might find love in your grave robbings, and you couldn’t handle the thought of someone like Eddie Munson deciding you weren’t worth his time.

It hadn’t occurred to you for a very long time that maybe, possibly, you’d been going around the concept of love with a very wrong mindset.

Your safe place. That’s what the back of the van had become over these sticky summer nights – your safest refuge.

It was always the same scene; Eddie on his back beside you, lazily nursing a joint, while you sat up reading passages of the latest book you two had embarked on together. Sometimes it was poetry, sometimes it was fantasy, and sometimes, it was just a reread. That night, it was a reread. The Hobbit.

“‘I don’t see that this will help us much,’ said Thorin disappointedly after a glance. ‘I remember the mountain well-’” you recited off of the page, when Eddie suddenly sat up abruptly and snatched the book from you.

“No, no, no!” he wagged his finger at you after he discarded his joint into the ashtray you’d made him start keeping in the fan, “Sweetheart, you’re doing the voices all wrong.”

You rolled your eyes at him, reaching to take the book back, “Not all of us have a Dungeon Master voice to whip out, Munson. Give it back.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Do I need to say please? I’ll say please.”

It was best like this. Just the two of you, away from everyone else. Some nights, the two of you hadn’t even needed a book to bond over. You’d just gaze at stars, or indulge in whatever weed he’d brought along with him. He never pressured you, though – if you shook your head at his offer of the joint, that was that. He seemed to apply that to most aspects of your friendship this last year.

You never had to prove anything to him. He saw your worth as if it were glaringly obvious, as if it were as simple of a concept as breathing. No extra effort needed from your end.

Just by being, you had managed to become something important to him. He needed you, if only because you were you.

“The puppy dog eyes aren’t gonna work on me,” he snorted, shifting so that his shoulder pressed against your own. A warmth spreads from the point of contact. “Let the master show you how it’s done.”

You tried to not let it show, but your grin was radiant. He was the master at those ridiculous voices, at theatrics and at bringing the story to life. You were transported from the shore of Lover’s Lake, in the back of that stuffy yet comforting van, to meadows of soft grass and hobbit holes of comfort. To a place where all the threats were mythical and all the expectations of you were released.

You’d spent the week helping Steve finish up his college plans. His parents had tried to pressure him into picking his top three universities, but the moment he had confided in you that he might prefer a community college to begin, you’d held his hand as you guided him through the process. A rewarding process, have no doubt, but it had left you numb and reeling. Sharing someone else’s stress, shouldering their burdens – it had been a bit much.

You needed this. You needed Eddie’s ridiculous voices and the sharp press of his shoulder against your temple.

“Falling asleep on me already?” he teased when he’d noticed how quiet you had gone.

“Never,” you lied through a yawn that quickly exposed you.

“Liar,” he huffed. You didn’t even need to glance up to confirm the smile you knew he wore. “We can head back home, if you need. I know it’s getting late-”

“No,” you quickly sat up, effectively making yourself dizzy, “No, I- It’s fine. I’m awake. I swear.”

“It’s okay that you were falling asleep,” he was quick to reach out, to tug you back down to his side, wrapping his arm around you to press you even closer than before, “I just don’t want to keep Cinderella out past Midnight.”

“It’s barely ten.”

“Nothing gets past you, Sherlock,” he scowled as you pressed your grin against his t-shirt clad shoulder, “I’m serious, though. Do I need to take you home?”

“No, Eddie. I’m good.”

“Swear it? Swear you don’t have an early shift, or some… some obligation?”

“No shifts, no obligations.”

“And if I just kidnap you for the weekend? Am I going to have an angry mob at my doorstep, demanding your service?”

You smiled wider at the thought. The idea of him hiding you away, letting you live in this reprieve for the entire weekend. It was a nice thought, “I certainly wouldn’t complain.”

And so the two of you sat there like that for an hour more. Eddie coming up with ridiculous tones for the various characters, you slipping in and out of consciousness as his warmth stayed wrapped around him. You don’t even notice when the warmth he’d planted in you finally covers up that hole inside of you, not even missing the absence of that emptiness until Eddie went quiet.

In the silence, you noticed it.

The gash you’d grown accustomed to, the hole that had become an extra limb for you. Vanished. Gone. Disappeared without a trace.

It was a sudden and terrifying realization. Everything in you urged you to jump up, to scramble around you to find the darkness again, like a comfort blanket you couldn’t stand to lose. You went against the instinct, though, and rose slowly from Eddie’s hold.

In lieu of scrambling, you peered at Eddie curiously. “Hey, Eds. Can I ask you something?”

He nodded sleepily, almost as drowsy as you. You’re shocked when he shifts and instead of pulling you back to him, he opted to lay his head in your lap.

That hole was still gone. The weight of his head on your thighs, the feeling of his breath on your bare thigh. For a moment, you can’t breathe.

You’re warm. Not uncomfortably so, but encapsulated with an internal warmth. Like a fever spreading, the ice in your spine that you had lived with for years had begun to thaw.

“Why do you keep me around?” you whispered, still sitting stiffly, staring in awe down at the way he just nuzzled his face into your lap.

With his eyes still closed, face smooth from any worry from the question, he mumbled, “What do you mean?”

You only hesitated due to the thought crossing your mind; what if you bringing this up reminds him?

You thought back to the night in Harrington’s kitchen. The push and the pull, the bloody battle and the way he still called.

He was not as delicate as you took him for.

“I- What do you get out of this?” you couldn’t figure out how to phrase it correctly. You knew what you got out of this, but what does he get?

“Get out of what?”

“Get out of keeping me around.”

His eyes finally opened, twisting in your lap so that he could stare up at you. “You say that as if you’re forcing me to be your friend.”

I could be, that nagging voice in your mind whispered. You could very well be forcing him, and just be blinded because you were enjoying the summer of warmth that he carried with him too much to let him go.

“You never let me do anything for you,” you sighed, fingers finding themselves tangled in his roots against better judgment. But you needed to touch him, to ground yourself, as you admitted this hard truth, “You do shit for me all the time. You drive all the way out to this lake just because I complain about everything being too much. You’ve started playing chauffeur for the kids to give me a break. Harrington said you even offered to look at college brochures with him. And…. And I’m not stupid, Eds,” your voice shook as you looked down at him, a sudden feeling of undeserving striking you in your chest, “You do so much for me lately. And you don’t ask for anything in return – you don’t let me do anything in return. Why?”

His smile twisted with a hint of sadness, and brown eyes met your gaze without so much as flinching, “Sweetheart, why do you think you have to repay me for that stuff?”

“I-”

“No, hear me out,” he reached up, taking your hand out of his hair and lacing his fingers with yours, slowly dragging it down to rest on his sternum, “I chose to do that stuff. And, yeah, maybe I was trying to take some of that shit off your plate. But you didn’t ask me to. I chose to. I wanted to do those things, do nice things for you, because you won’t let anyone else.”

You bit back a scoff, “I let people do nice things for me-”

“You really don’t,” his hold on your hand tightened, “You really, really don’t. You constantly…. You just, you take care of everyone else, but you act afraid to let someone take care of you. People are allowed to take care of you, too, y’know? You should let them. They love you – they want to take care of you, just like you take care of them.”

They love you.

The air drained from your lungs in a slow, silent sigh. You waited a few minutes, but the oxygen never replenished as you tried to grasp his words.

They love you.

Why would they love me?

“Why wouldn’t they love you, sweetheart?” Eddie looked more concerned now, suddenly prepared to sit up and remove his head for your lap. But his hand still held yours tightly, still clung to you, “You know they love you, right? God, you gotta know that. We all love you.”

You hadn’t realized you’d spoken the bitter thought out loud until he looked at you, utterly heartbroken, in complete disbelief. “I…”

No. I don’t know that. What have I done to deserve their love?

“They need me, sure,” you started, narrowing your eyes at the breaks in the waves of Lover’s Lake, “I mean, I just try to make myself useful to them. It’s the least I can do when I… when they…” you struggled to get the words out. You saw that hole again, like a light at the end of the tunnel, but so far from the relief most mean by that metaphor. Something peeking around the corner, ready to devour you all over again. So you plunged, you prepared yourself for it to spring to life and take you whole as you nearly whimpered, “When they put up with me. It’s the least I can do when they put up with me.”

“No one puts up with you,” Eddie’s voice cracked. You couldn’t even look him in the eyes. “Least of all me.”

The deadliest of blows. He cracked your hardened surface with that, shook the foundations of every belief you’d held for eternity.

“Most of all you,” you corrected without thinking, “God, I- Eddie, seriously. What reason do you have for keeping me around? I don’t know how the fuck you put up with m-”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” you’d never heard him beg so painfully before then, “Please. Don’t… You want to know my reason?” you nodded numbly, finally looking to find him with wet eyes and lips pressed into a fine line, “Because you’re you. I… Fuck, I love you. I keep you around because you’re you. You’re good for me. Whether you believe it or not. You’re good for me just by being you, and there’s nothing you have to do to accomplish that,” you started to look away before he grabbed your cheeks, turning you to face him as he emphasized each word, “You don’t have to earn love. That’s not what love is. Got it?”

You looked into his eyes, and saw all the soft declarations of love echoed back to you, even from the very start.

‘Sweetheart, you don’t owe me your time. And I don’t need monopoly over it for us to be okay.’

‘The world doesn’t end just because you don’t constantly make yourself available.’

The entire time you’d been so worried about taking care of everyone else, he’d been worried about taking care of you. Endless late night phone calls, careful check-ins when he saw the exhaustion take the frontlines, sparse fights about putting yourself first. The only thing he ever wanted from you was for you to take care of yourself.

While you were busy being there for everyone else, he was busy being there for you.

He never once made you dig to the bottom of his grave to find the warmth. He’d handed it over on a silver platter.

So how could you look him in his at that moment, and tell him that you didn’t ‘get it’? That you’d never been sure if what you were seeking from your friends was really love? That, really, you’d given up on being loved a long time ago, assuming it was asking too much?

How do you look him in his eyes in that moment and tell him you had long since declared yourself unlovable?

He didn’t make you say it. Only kept your cheeks pressed between his palms, as he leaned forward, forehead meeting yours and whispering words for only you, “I love you, no strings attached. You’re my… friend. I love you. Okay?”

No one had ever fought so valiantly to get the point across. Not just that night at the lake, but in the entirety of his friendship with you.

The hole slinked back behind the corner. The darkness decided it could wait another day. And in its place, warm brown eyes filled the void. Whether he even realized it or not.

You nearly believed him. Nearly. But you bit down hard on that belief, throwing it out of sight, and instead of echoing back the ‘okay’ you assumed he was seeking out, all you did was sob out another, “Why?”

When you collapsed into him, he held you. Your sobs remained dry, your confusion palpable as you clung to him and tried to let that belief envelope you like his arms had.

I love you.

How could someone love you?

He didn’t press it the way you thought he would. He didn’t scold you for continuing to question him and he didn’t lash out at your disbelief.

He just held you. Letting your face press into his neck as his fingers ran up and down your spine, giving it a moment before he started talking again.

“Your humor,” he hummed after a couple moments of silence, heavy breathing eventually evening out.

“What?”

“The way you take care of others,” he continued on like he hadn’t heard you, “That spark you get in your eyes when you tell someone about something good. A favorite book, movie, story from your day – whatever it is. The way you give the best hugs – and you don’t give me them nearly often enough. The way you snore, and the way you definitely deny snoring.”

You opened your mouth, about to lift your head and argue with him, but he just placed an encouraging palm on the back of your head to keep you close to him.

“The way your favorite color changes with the seasons. The way you only like artificial cherry flavoring, not the real stuff. The way you look at night when we’re driving and you’re just screaming your favorite lyrics. The way you look at me to see if a joke lands. The way you fuss about my wrinkled clothes, even when you also don’t care about the wrinkles in your own shirts. The way you take your coffee. The way you always offer to paint one of my nails to match yours. The way you treat your recipe for chocolate chip cookies like some top secret, government trade. But we both know it’s just some recipe from a cookbook you thrifted when you were ten. The way you get excited over the small things, like the cows we pass by on the way out here. They're always there, and you always point them out. The way you just… are.”

He didn’t have to say it. He was answering your question.

He was listing his whys.

“You don’t have to earn it,” he didn’t say the word, not this time. You felt it, “It just… it’s there. It’s there and it’s not going anywhere. I’ll remind you of that every day if I have to.”

Loved. For the first time ever, it felt like a possibility; to be loved.

Eddie always knocks on your front door a certain way – a pattern he rarely strays from. But you can always tell. He’s the only fool who would find humor in knocking out such an annoying compilation of hits on the wooden panels until you finally unlatch the lock and open it to find him standing in your threshold.

His hair is frizzy and in a low ponytail, wearing a baggy band shirt and plaid pajama pants. He greets you with such a wide smile, your chest aches.

“Hey there, sweetness.”

You don’t say a word, just drag him inside before you wrap your arms around his waist. Ever since that night, and his admittance of enjoying your hugs, you made a conscious effort to hug him more often.

“Miss me?” he chuckles, and you feel the vibrations against your cheek as you softly pinch his side. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make him only laugh harder once you pull away.

“Not at all,” you snark back as you make sure the door is securely shut and properly locked.

“Not even a little bit?”

“Nope.”

He smacks a fist to his chest as if you had stabbed him with your words, “Ouch. You wound me, sweetheart.”

“Get over it,” you tease. Your head has finally stopped swimming, your chest no longer tight with the fear of not being enough. Nancy is long forgotten as you say, “Have you eaten dinner?”

“Depends,” he hums as he toes off his boots, “If you’re offering to buy me some, then no, I definitely did not eat spaghetti with Wayne right before you called.”

You throw your head back laughing as he’s already making a beeline for your kitchen, digging out that damned takeout menu and reaching for the phone, already so sure of your order.

Knowing your order at restaurants. Without having to ask. Apparently, that was part of the whole ‘being loved’ gig.

Adjusting has taken months. Since that night in Eddie’s van, he’d kept his word. Not a day went by without him finding a way to remind you, whether it be by direct words or small actions, that he loved you. You both kept it under that friendly guise. He loved you in that familiar way, the way the others supposedly loved you. A way you could manage to recognize some days.

Other days were still rough. Days like today were still rough.

The takeout is ordered and Eddie sets up camp on your couch, rambling about something that had happened during one of the DnD nights he still hosted with the kids. Something about a dumb decision Mike did that cost most of the group their character’s lives. You have a hard time following along, and he’s quick to pick up on it.

“Hey, sweetheart?” he murmurs as you lean into the back couch cushion, smooshing your cheek as you watched him animatedly speak.

“Hm?”

“Bad day?”

He never judged you for the rough days. He never judged you for the days you still couldn’t find the love, even after he worked so virtuously to show it to you. He may never understand it, that hollow ache that resided in your darkest corners and whispered that none of it was real, but it never deterred him.

He loved you on good days, and he especially loved you on bad days.

You consider lying to him, but you can’t. Not when he looks at you so earnestly, “Yeah. It… yeah.”

“Wanna talk about it?” he asks you, shuffling to be more comfortable where he sits as he motions for you to lay down. You do so immediately, head finding a home against his thigh and his fingers stroking over your cheek before they toy with the ends of your hair.

All you can do is shake your head. You didn’t want to talk about that fear of failing Nancy as a friend, especially when you know that wasn’t her take away from it. It felt silly now; all that overthinking, when you know now if you questioned her on it, all she would have seen from the day was a friend lending a caring ear. You know because you had asked her about it once, if she found your listening habits too callous, upon Eddie’s insistence.

She hadn’t. In fact, all she could do was thank you, had insisted that she was just grateful someone would listen to her ramblings. And you understood that, left it at that.

“Okay,” he murmurs, voice so quiet you nearly miss it. His fingers continue to play across your shoulders now, barely weighted against bare skin, “That’s fine.”

He didn’t mind if you didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t mind if you never spoke another word, if all you needed was him here. You just needed him close by and to sit with you, to make it all a little less much.

Nothing. He needed absolutely nothing from you, asked nothing of you. Because you didn’t have to earn this. All you had to do was simply be, and he would provide this.

Love. What an odd concept, to have found warmth in a grave you never even got the chance to dig your shovel into.

“Hey, Eddie?” his fingers pause at your croaking voice. You smile at his stillness, at the way he hums carefully in response, still trying to offer the silence you quietly begged for, “I love you.”

There’s more to unpack there. More than just familial love, more than just two friends that love each other without conditions. But tonight is not the night, and you both see that it is enough. There will be other nights to dig your claws in and to dissect what those three little words mean between you two. There will be other nights to consider how your other friends don’t have a permanent spare toothbrush on your bathroom counter or a space for their takeout in your fridge. But not tonight.

For tonight, this was enough. The quiet, and the warmth, the being was enough.

“I love you,” he emphasizes the last word, leaning down and his lips grazing your temple.

You notice the way he leaves off the too. He’d love you, even if you didn’t love him. You’d love him, even if he didn’t love you. Unconditional, no strings attached. A warmth you do not have to fight to earn. A rarity you never encountered before, and may never encounter again, but you have for tonight and for as long as he chooses to stick around.

Your shovel sits abandoned in a shed in the distance. Your fingernails are clean of the dirt. The graveyard, it seems, would go another night without its robber.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #yeah the archer has a chokehold on me #idk man this is scary to post a put... a lot of myself in here #my bad #3k celebration

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adragonprinceswhore · 4 months

Text

Breathe Fire Into Me I Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Smuffy Christmas I Masterlist

An anon request for some uncle-daddy! I’m sorry this was postponed, I hope you like it 🩵 This can be read as a continuation of Greedy Girl.

Prompt: Acting like they're cold to have an excuse to cuddle and share clothes + Overstim

Summary: You’re used to confide in your husband whenever you’re in need of help. So, when you shiver next to him one winters evening, he takes it upon himself to heat you up

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns (3rd person) slight angst (canon-typical sexism and gender roles), fingering, breeding kink, size kink, overstim, (maybe kinda) breath play

Word Count: 1300

Dividers by @saradika

The heavy doors of her marital chambers fly open as her husband, Prince Daemon Targaryen, enters.

If she didn’t know him, she’d assume his thunderous entrance was due to exasperation. But in the months since their union, she’d learned that her husband simply existed loudly, demanding attention from anyone within earshot.

“Ābrazȳrys”, he greets, throwing a fleeting nod her way before making way towards the decanter with wine waiting on the small serving table, pouring himself a cup.

She’s bundled up on the settee in front of the hearth, knees pulled up to her chin and wrapped in two thick furs. Her hidden frame is shivering despite the attempts she’d taken to warm up.

Being raised as a noble lady, she is gravely aware of the importance that proper manners hold. Yet, she does not stand to greet her husband as she should, the threat that the furs enveloping her might slip from her frozen body too alarming.

“H-, Husband”, she greets between clattering teeth from her seat, head nodding down slightly.

‘Will he take pity on my miserable state?’, she ponders, gauging his reaction as she strays from the usual dutiful charade expected of her.

‘Tis said to be the coldest day in Grand Maester Runciter’s service. Surely he will understand my wish to hide under warmth’

Daemon takes a sip from his chalice, a drop of dark red clinging to his lower lip as he observes her over the rim.

He always regards her like a wolf would watch a deer; eyes dark with promises of ruination and teeth bared.

His unpredictability is what drew her to him even before their betrothal was announced. He possessed the potential to destroy her if he so wished, a thought equally thrilling as it was daunting.

To be burned by the dragon.

Yet, she’d managed to channel his fire, playing with it in the palm of her hand without getting burned.

Eyes unmoving from his wifes trembling form, Daemon lets out a chuckle, clicking his tongue at her pitiable state.

He places the cup back on the table, wordlessly moving to the chest by the foot of their shared bed to pull out a tunic made of thick, coarse wool. He places it next to her on the settee, silently pushing the furs off her shoulder to free her arms before dressing her in his warming attire.

“I wear this under my coat when I ride in winter”, he explains in a low voice. “It will warm you”, he assures.

She feels the drum of her heart speed up at his display of tenderness, calloused palms gentle as they pull the wool down her body.

“Thank you”, she mumbles, astonished by how careful her husband can be. When he wants to.

He leans in slightly as he adjusts the garment, pulling at the hem. The faint smirk flashing by tells her what she suspected, the tunic resembles a gown more than a fitted riding attire on her narrow shoulders.

Satisfied with himself, her husband withdraws, feet carrying him back to his chalice of wine to take another leisure sip, eyes never leaving her.

A wolf and a deer.

A dragon and… anything standing in its way.

She sees mirth dance in his lilac eyes, seemingly entertained by her helplessness.

Would he take further pity on her? Reward another display of remiss?

A proper lady wife never asks her lord husband for anything, for he knows best.

Yet, she cannot help but crave his touch, a lovesick fool desperate to be burnt.

Could she be so selfish? To ask for his aid, without him offering it first?

“Do you have any duties to attend to this evening, lord husband?”, she gently prods, moving further to the side of the elongated seat in hope that he’ll join her. To her delight, he indulges her.

He places an arm on the backrest behind her, close enough to let her sense his heat but not offer her it, “Duties?”, he repeats, feigning confusion behind a grin.

She already feels her body coming loose from the tight grip of icy winter, but can not decipher if it is from the wool swaddling her body or the dragon prince seated next to her.

Steering a bold hand towards his muscular thigh, she gently places it over his breeches in invitation as she leans against his side, “I’ve been thinking about duties of my own today”.

Daemon hums, encouraging her to elaborate as he brings out two fingers to draw circles on the back of her hand. His touch feels like breaths of fire, heating her skin with a sting.

“I’m afraid I have yet to give you a son, my love”, she begins.

“Perhaps that is why I find myself so cold. My body craves the blood of the dragon coursing through my veins”

Her fingers squeeze her husband’s strong leg, eyes meeting his in a selfish plea,

‘Breathe fire into me’

Satisfaction, or mayhaps smugness, reflected in Daemon’s face as he moves closer, pressing his body towards hers, offering her some escape from the cold.

“My poor little wife”, he tuts, mouth right by her ear, sending warm puffs of air over her skin, “How would you like me to aid you?”

“I-, I’m afraid I still find my body stiff from coldness”, she breathes, uncertainty causing her to doubt her own tactics momentarily. “Perhaps if you hold me, I’ll thaw”.

There were few things she loves more than to be held by him; to feel his strong arms, the source of so much brutality, hold her securely against his sturdy, snug chest.

Her husband shuffles on the settee, hands grabbing her arms softly to lay her down on her back before sinking down above her, trapping her body between his larger frame and the seat.

Though the heaviness of his battle-worn body makes it hard to breathe, she’s finally been granted her selfish wish; to feel his touch.

She can feel his heat all over, glowing so fiercely it travels through the clothes they both still wear.

The familiarity of their position sends a different kind of heat through her; one that lives in her core and seeps out by the hand of her husband. His predatory eyes watch her, still buoyantly hungry.

Playing with his meal.

The skirts she’s wearing are no match for Daemon’s skilled hand, fingers finding the wetness that his presence has elicited in a haste. She recognises the grin that cracks his face open. He’s always proud of his work.

“Such a wanton thing for your husband”.

Her hips greet his fingers eagerly, rolling into his hand as he explores her heat, fingers pressing lightly to her entrance to collect the wetness there, bringing it to her pearl.

He can feel how her heart beats viciously through her cunt, begging him to fill it, to take what is his.

He steals a peak from her quickly, feeling the way her back arches beneath him, chest pressing against his.

He pushes two rough fingers into her heat when her walls begin to hungrily pulsate, causing her to whimper under his body, the restriction of air to her lungs making her whine almost unheard.

She’s far from cold now, sweat dampening the hair by her forehead, a slick veil over her face making her look like a painting of the Maiden.

Daemon places kisses on her glowing halo in reward, fierclessly fucking her with his fingers until she trembles under him again, walls aggressively trapping him inside.

Her moans sound weak, body already spent from being trapped under her predator’s overpowering statue, forced to give him what he wants.

Withdrawing his hand from between her thighs, her husband pushes himself up to allow her a deep inhale before stealing another with a kiss.

He looks into her teary eyes with a stern glare,

“You promised me a son, dear wife, and I will not leave these quarters until you grow round with a dragon of your own”.

#daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x you #daemon x reader #my fics #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen fic #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targeryan #Smuffy Christmas event

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temis-de-leon · 2 months

Text

Replaced MC AU/AU - Intro

Characters: demon brothers, Diavolo, Barbatos, gn!MC and gn!NES (New Exchange Student)

How’s it gonna be , Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3

Masterlist

CW: insecure and jealous MC, condescending Diavolo and Lucifer, they like that you're jealous but they mean no harm

The brothers tried not to smile when they saw MC’s pout, most of them enjoying their insecurity to some extent and letting it feed their egos. It was flattering, seeing them jealous of the possible presence of a new human, the threat of being replaced by the newest atraction. And although MC knew they didn’t really want to cause any harm, it was impossible not to feel a pang in their chest when they saw how interested the demons were in bringing another human.

“But I don’t understand” they said “Why do you need another exchange student from the human realm? You already have Solomon and me”

Diavolo laughed and crossed his arms over his chest, looking at their frown with condescendence before bringing his serious diplomatic expression back and explaining himself once again, this time slower.

“We think the program could work better if there was a human more similar to you, someone with a normal lifespan and a more… naive understanding of magic”

“Having Solomon as the second human student would only slow the process of building a relationship with the human realm” intervened Lucifer with a know-it-all smile.

“We need another human that acts like a human” concluded the prince.

But still, it didn’t make any sense. Having a regular human wouldn’t speed the process, not unless they were an important political figure, in which case it wouldn’t be a regular human anymore; and even then, two humans on their own would never be able to convince the whole world to accept Diavolo’s offer.

Their explanation sounded like a convenience and MC suspected with a heavy heart that what the royals and the brothers really wanted was something different that could expand their knowledge on the modern human society; as if MC was a comfort plushie from their childhood that would be there no matter how abandoned they felt.

They didn’t want to hurt their feelings, MC knew that, but lying made everything worse. What if the new exchange student brought more than they could ever offer, even with their powers? What if they were prettier or more interesting or stronger? What if MC wasn’t enough anymore?

“You’ll always be our favourite human, MC” murmured Belphie with a soft smile, guessing their thoughts.

He said it with good intentions, no doubt, but MC grew angry nonetheless. What made him think he was the right one to say that? He, who wanted to destroy all human mankind over a grudge and a misunderstanding, suddenly wanted to meet more humans?

MC scoffed and crossed their arms, knowing the new student would be there no matter how jealous or insecure that made them feel.

“And when will they be here?”

Just one month passed until they were all present in the castle, impatiently waiting for the new human to arrive.

The brothers had spent everything they had on MC: free time, money and words of affirmation, but none of that seemed to have any type of importance when they all looked so happy to be there.

Only half of them were there the first time MC arrived, for crying out loud!

“Is everyone ready?” Barbatos asked stepping into the red circle engraved on the floor.

He didn’t wait for an answer before opening the portal. Had he waited, MC would’ve begged for a couple of minutes. They felt their heart beating in their throat, acting like an obstacle for the bile that threatened to come out.

A figure appeared with a flash of light, gasping and grasping their chest with urgency. The mist cleared within seconds and all of them stared at the new human with open wide eyes, simply watching as they got up on their feet, alarmed at their surroundings and looking at everyone like a prey amongst predators, which wasn’t that far off.

Not even a minute later, their gaze stopped on MC and their expression softened, instincts surely recognizing the only other human in the room.

“Hey”

I'm going to tag everyone who specifically asked me to tag them and some of those who wrote the positive feedback because i love you all (but if you don't want me to, just tell me, i won't get offended): @stfuchaase @k1-an @megs-wonderland @kkeromenoo @va109 @marvelous-maniac @cruzerforce4256 @blarsh @marathedemonoverlord @junni-berry

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azrielsdove · 3 months

Text

Don’t Blame Me: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Violence, Suggestive

(loosely based on the don’t blame me x LWYMMD mashup from the eras tour ngl)

***

You heard a desperate, strangled shout of your name as he went down. You screamed, anger and fear taking over. No, no, no, you chanted in your head, diving in the direction Azriel had fallen. This couldn’t happen, not to him.

The two of you were sent on a mission to investigate unknown creatures breaching the borders of the Night Court. Rhys wasn’t even able to tell you what they were, just that they were more dangerous than anything you’d dealt with before. You had been given explicit instruction to leave once you found where they were residing and report back the location. From there a larger team would be sent out to eradicate the threat.

You had been tracking them carefully for days, trying to find their home base. You were beginning to think they didn’t have one, that these creatures were nomadic. Until an hour ago. Azriel had practically dragged you as high as you could go in the sky, pointing to a cluster of trees a while away. “There,” he explained, “they reconvene there during the day.” You nodded, preparing to fly back to Velaris and tell Rhys. Azriel caught your arm, shaking his head. “I want to track them a little longer. Make sure I have the pattern right so when we come back we can have the best chance at taking them out.”

You didn’t have a good feeling about staying out, but you agreed anyway. It was important to ensure the information you had was as detailed as possible. That’s how you ended up here, wind rushing past your face as you free fell down to where Azriel landed. Please be okay.

You dropped to the ground and surveyed the area for any sign of life. There was nothing there. If you hadn’t seen Azriel fall yourself you would have assumed nothing was ever down here. You took off through the trees, heading in the direction of what you assumed was their camp. You listened carefully for any sound, whether it be danger or Azriel himself. You were nearing the clearing he had spotted earlier when you heard a slow hum, ducking back behind a tree and tucking your wings tight against you. You poked your head out to watch two of the creatures move farther in the area, Azriel dragged between the two of them. Your heart ached at the blood running down his face and his limp body.

You followed the creatures until you were at the edge of the camp, watching their moves intently. The tied Azriel to a tree trunk, moving and muttering around him. You were taking in how many you saw, estimating that about 30 of these things were living here. Your nose wrinkled at the sight of the insect-like beings, their long stingers the supposed most dangerous part of them. The creatures were roughly the size of an Illyrian soldier, resembling wasps more than any type of fae. Large, disgusting wasps. The hum grew louder as what you supposed was the leader approached Azriel. Your toes curled as you watched the way it yanked his face up, inspecting the unconscious male.

It turned to one of its workers, a horrible clicking sound coming from its mouth. The other responded in the same way, the language grating against your ears. They turned back to Azriel, continuing to talk about him. You wished more than anything you could understand what they were saying. You looked over Azriel again, noticing that his blades were still strapped to his body. Did the creatures not realize what they were? Or were they truly so deadly they didn’t need to worry about disarming their enemies? A chill ran through your spine at the thought.

The leader let out a loud screech and the others filed into neat rows in front of it. You paled at the sight of them all together. What were you going to do? You desperately called for Rhys in your mind, knowing he likely would never hear you. Even if he did, how long would it take him to get here? Azriel might not have that much time left.

The leader gave some sort of command, and you watched in horrified shock as they all opened their mouths. Long, sharp, straw-like tubes came out, heading straight towards Azriel. You didn’t have time to think before you ran out there, quick enough to take them by surprise and get in front of him. The creatures all stopped, taking in this new sight in front of them. Adrenaline was pumping through your body, the only thought you had was to save Azriel.

Don’t blame me.

You pressed your back to his front, reaching behind to grab on to one of the swords strapped to his chest. Your warrior eyes darted around the creatures, desperately searching for any sign of weakness.

Don’t blame me.

The leader moved towards you, that horrible straw coming straight to your face instead. In a split-second decision you ripped the sword from its place on Azriel’s chest, a loud scream tearing from your throat as you swung. Tense silence spread through the woods, followed by a sickening squelch as the creature split in half.

Don’t blame me for what you made me do.

The other creatures all swarmed towards you at once, your screams and the sounds of bodies hitting the floor echoing through the woods around you. You became feral, tapping into the deepest parts of your Illyrian training. All you knew was to not let them touch Azriel. One of those horrid straws sank into your thigh, a searing pain ripping through your skin. You yelled, the next strike aimed at the creature who attacked. The wound burned like acid had been poured into your bloodstream, and knowing the way these creatures worked it probably had. You couldn’t let that stop you, not when Azriel was in danger.

Look what you made me do.

You fought back with more anger, cutting down creature after creature. You were a force of pure power, midnight blue siphons a thing of deadly beauty. Another straw embedded itself into your arm, the sword clanging to the ground. You wrapped your uninjured hand around the pulsating thing, ripping it out of your skin. You squeezed your hand around it, harder and harder until you felt the satisfying pop of it breaking. The creature it was attached to howled and you shot it square in the chest with your power. You looked around, noting there were only three of these left. Even with your arm and leg out of commission, you felt you could finish these last few off.

Don’t blame me, love made me crazy.

Your uninjured arm slid down, pulling out a dagger you had strapped to your thigh. You surveyed the three creatures around you, deciding to go for the middle one. You roared, jumping forward and latching on to the nasty beast. Your dagger rammed into its chest and you slid down, your weight pulling the blade down its body. It screeched as you were showered with its sticky green blood, collapsing backwards. You turned to the other two, adrenaline dulling the pain of your injuries as you pulled out a second dagger.

Oh, Lord save me, my drug is my baby I’ll be using for the rest of my life.

The two convened on you at the same time and you swung out both arms, spinning in a death dance with the blades. You landed on one knee in front of Azriel, twin thuds from behind you letting you know you struck true. Your breathing was heavy as you looked up, up into his wide eyes. He murmured your name and you dropped the daggers, the adrenaline rushing out of you. You winced at the sudden pain in your arm and leg, spreading quickly from your intense use of them. You fell forward, body shaking while you tried to push yourself up. You had to untie Azriel, he had to get out of here.

Don’t blame me, love made me crazy.

You forced yourself up with a cry, fingers undoing the knots the creatures had used to keep Azriel trapped. He pulled out of them the second he could, catching you as your weakened body fell against him. “I got you, I got you,” he whispered, cradling you tight to his chest before shooting off into the sky. Far, far away from the carnage you unleashed on those creatures who dared to threaten him.

***

“No, Rhys, i’ve never seen anything quite like it. She took out all of them. Heavily injured on top of that.” You recognized Azriel’s voice, muffled as if he was standing behind a door. You tried to open your eyes, but your eyelids felt as if they were ten thousand pounds each.

“That can’t be. You’re certain no one else was around? I’ve never heard of one single person taking out 30 of them. I’ve rarely heard of someone taking out just one on their own.” Rhysands voice was contemplative, trying to understand how you could have pulled off such a feat.

“I know that. I saw her do it Rhys. She was a true force of raw power.” Azriel sounded…in awe of you. You forced your eyes open, blinking as you adjusted to the soft light pouring in from the windows. You looked around the room, realizing Rhys and Azriel must be standing right outside the cracked door. You tried to sit up, a loud gasp of pain ripping from you at the action.

The sound alerted the two males outside, the door flinging open as they rushed in. “How are you feeling?” Azriel demanded, immediately coming to your side. You tried to sit again, the pain knocking the breath out of you. “Let me help,” he said softly, gently pulling you into a sitting position.

“I think i’m okay. In a lot of pain. What happened?” Your throat was sore, voice gravelly. You assumed you had been out for some time. Rhys observed you carefully, like you were a specimen he was investigating.

“You took on a hoard of those creatures. Alone. Do you remember that?” His question was almost accusatory, as if he didn’t believe the story.

You nodded. “Yes.” The reminder of those horrible bug creatures made you shiver, the sounds of them dying echoing in your ears.

“Can you show me? How you did it?” Rhys’ eyes bore into you, almost a threat. You stared right back, not appreciating the doubt from your friend.

“Go ahead. I have nothing to hide.” A claw stroked your mental shields and you dropped them easily. The memories of the fight began playing, the anger you felt overtaking your senses. If you hadn’t been there you wouldn’t have believed the strength you showed to defeat all of them. The reminder of your wounds stung your healing skin, Rhys even wincing as he watched. He could feel your rage, your power.

He could feel the dedication and love you felt towards Azriel.

You threw your shields back up at that, not wishing to let him in any further. He had seen enough. Rhys blinked at you, eyes flitting between you and Azriel. “I see,” he mused. “Well, you certainly did kill them all. That’s quite some feat of power. I think perhaps I should tell Cassian to up your training.” He winked at you and moved to leave the room. “I’ll let the healers know you are awake. I will be back later to check in.” He left, closing the door quietly behind him. Leaving you with Azriel.

Azriel, who was looking at you like you were the most delicate flower he had ever seen. “Are you sure you’re alright?” His concern struck a chord in you, a hand reaching out for his.

“I will be just fine. How are you? Is your head okay?” Your eyes scanned his hairline, relieved that there seemed to be no permanent damage.

“I’m good. My wounds weren’t half as bad as yours. They knocked me unconscious once I hit the ground.” His eyes lowered and he ran his thumb over your joined hands. “I should’ve been there for you. To help.”

You squeezed his hand in your own. “You were attacked, Az. I’m just glad I was able to get to you in time. If I were a moment later…” your voice trailed off and tears pricked at your eyes. Those straws were so close to stabbing into his body, sucking the life out of him.

“Hey,” he said, looking back up at you. “You saved my life. That’s all that matters.” He gave you a smile, your heart squeezing tight.

“Yea,” you agreed, even though you wished to say more. You wanted to tell him you loved him, be honest about your feelings. You were so close to losing him, to losing any chance to be with him. The fear of rejection stopped you from continuing, the way it always did.

Azriel was looking at you intently, eyes seeming to read your mind. You put on a small smile, pushing your feelings back down. His eyes dipped down to your lips, gaze heavy. Your heart skipped at his expression of hunger. “Az,” you whispered as he leaned closer to you.

“Hm?” He asked, not taking his eyes off your mouth.

“What are you doing?” Your voice was a whisper, so quiet you weren’t sure he could hear you.

“Something I should’ve done a long time ago.” He ducked his head down then, pressing his lips to yours. You went completely still at the touch of him, mind in overdrive. He began to pull away when you came to, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him back. You kissed him hard then, the way you wished you had when you thought he was going to die. When you thought you’d never get the chance to.

His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you tight to him. You ignored the protest of pain in your arm and leg, focusing on the feel of Azriel pressed up against you. Of his mouth on yours. The way one of his hands began traveling down your thigh, fingers running along the edge of your nightgown. He bit gently on your lower lip, a silent question to open your mouth. You obliged, moaning at the taste of him. His fingers dug into your thigh at the noise and you let out a cry of pain.

Azriel pulled away from you quickly, apologizing immediately. “Maybe we should wait until you’re healed.” You sighed at the statement, but unfortunately agreed. You wanted to enjoy your first time tasting, feeling, loving Azriel. You pouted at him as he readjusted you, laying you back down on your pillows. He brushed a stray piece of hair off your forehead, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your skin. “I love you.”

Your heart was going to thud out of your chest. “I love you too.” Your declaration was a tad breathless, trying to decide if you could actually ignore the pain long enough to get on top of the male. He laughed, sensing your thoughts and gave you a soft kiss. You had waited so long for this moment, to have your love reciprocated.

“You need to rest.” He moved to hover slightly over you, carefully moving his way down your body. His fingers found the edge of your gown again, eyes looking up to yours from between your legs. “There are plenty of other ways I can please you.”

***

I needed to write something that was a request or a series, so this is what happened. I hope you guys enjoyed it!!! <3

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #acotar x you #acotar x y/n #acotar #azriel #azriel angst #azriel smut #don’t blame me

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iambilliejeanok · 4 months

Text

Warnings: 18+, explicit, smut, rough penetration, fingering, dirty talk, friends to lovers.

Summary: Gojo won against Sukuna, but lost his eye sight after the battle. Being the good friend you are, you stayed in his home with him for months, helping him get used to being blind through stimulative play. After a particularly hot game of Hide and Seek, Gojo takes the initiative to make the first move and takes your friendship to another level.

It has been three months since the battle that made history. Three months since Gojo had successfully dealt with a threat that could’ve negatively affected the economy of Japan. Three months since your very, intelligent, extremely attractive and closest of friends had executed the king of the curses. You were ever so grateful to still be breathing today, and you could be grateful to non other than Gojo Satoru. To show your gratitude to someone who had significantly upgraded in importance in your perspective. He was so amazing during the fight, every blow Sukuna took so powerful, you could feel the vibration of it reverberate through your body every time. It was as though the gods were fighting.

It was easy to admit that Gojo was a little annoying and sometimes made you feel like he was often running low on thoughts, but there were also many moments where he showcased a bit of seriousness, and for reasons you couldn’t understand, made you feel nervous at times. When he took the lead, he really took the lead, and you couldn’t bring yourself to admit what that did to you, but this time around, you couldn’t help but feel hot and bothered despite your panic during his fight with Sukuna. He was so strong and his intensity made you throb in ways that made you burn and pant for him in the safe privacy of your head. And after three months of lusting after him like a whore, you decided you could no longer hold yourself back from him.

Gojo had won the fight against Sukuna, but has lost his eyesight as a result. Over usage of the Six Eyes. Shoko had explained to you and everyone else. You were heartbroken for him. He didn’t deserve this kind of return for single handedly saving countless of lives all across the country, but he took it well, and you promised yourself you’d help him with whatever he needs until he gets used to it.

After preparing his lunch in the large kitchen of his home, that you had been staying in since the fight, you placed it down infront of him. “Thank you, Y/N-chan”, he smiled, leaning forward to feel for his food, and start munching it. You took a seat next to him on the grey leather couch, crossing your legs together without a care for your panties showing since you wore a skirt and fully turning towards him to secretly admire him eating. He was blind, he couldn’t see, so there was no harm in not behaving modestly in your mini skirt. Even though you found it strange how quickly he had adapted to being blind, you still kept him company anyways, he was always freakishly good at everything anyhow, so you didn’t think about it too deeply and tried to keep his other senses stimulated with games like Guess the Object and Hide and Seek.

He had become a whole lot more calmer since the fight, and you felt calm being near him. Every morning you would wake up and attend to him, helping him feel his way through the wardrobe while describing the clothing he would feel between his hands, until he got it down easily. You would place your hand over his, and for the first time, you really grasped just large they were. They were much bigger than yours, and sometimes, when he playfully grabbed your hand in his own, you were always shocked at how it would engulf your own. Or when he yanked you by the arm, you felt so tiny and fragilenext to him.

Your mind wondered though all sorts of scenarios as you silently watched him finish his food, instinctively licking your lips whenever you saw him lick his, pressing your thighs together as you let your thoughts wonder. “You wanna play Hide and Seek?”, he asked, distracting yourself from the dirty thoughts you were secretly indulging in. Gojo softly chucked beside you, rinsing his hands in the small bowl of soap and lemons you placed next to his now finished meal. “I know you really like that game huh”, he said, now wiping his hands on a dry cloth. Hide and Seek had been something you two had been playing more often than not and every time you played, you found that the game turned you on. It didn’t take too much thought to figure out why. “No”, you responded all too quickly, trying to think of something else to say to hide your obvious denial, squirming in your seat for a more comfortable position. “W-well, we haven’t done anything fun today yet. I guess it’s fine”. Gojo chuckled some more. Sure he was blind, but he wasn’t an idiot. He was clearly taking advantage of his blindness with these games and you were just so horny, he could almost sense your lust during moments like this. He didn’t blame you though. Being a sorcerer took away a few fun things in life, such as getting laid. And you and Gojo knew that all too well from the many opportunities the two of you had and couldn’t take up. Even your tone of voice had changed. It was much higher than usual, and he thought if anything, as friends, he needed to finally to help relieve you of your little horny spell.

He was truly grateful for all your help during these short three months, and thought he’d thank you by giving you some much needed physical attention, suppressing the fact that he himself, was struggling to come to terms with his growing feelings towards you. Hide and Seek started out as a fun little activity that kept the two of you busy at times. While Gojo prepared breakfast, you’d quietly walk into the kitchen and realized you went unnoticed. You wondered how long you could go unnoticed for, remaining silent as you sat in the kitchen with him, what you didn’t actually know, was that Gojo wasn’t blind the way we all knew it in ours heads. He had lost his vision, but could still use the Six Eyes to sense energy and although you’d always emitted low wavelengths of cursed energy, it never went passed by Gojo. Little did you know, he decided to play along, allowing you to continue thinking you were invisible on the opposite end of the kitchen island, your eyes slowly taking him in, your thoughts trailing elsewhere as you carefully avoided him while he moved around the kitchen with his arms stretched out infront of him, feeling for everything. You stood beside him now, watching him plate up some food, in two plates, imaging those fingers brushing against your lips while he fed you. Lost in thought, you didn’t noticed him turn towards you and jumped back to dodge him, but you slipped and fell backwards, Gojo arm’s instantly wrapping around you, holding you close enough as he caught you, your chest pressed against his and his face so close to yours. You knew he was strong, but feeling him carry all your weight in his arms was the biggest turn on you’d had in a very long while. For a few seconds, the two of you remained like this, Gojo loved the feel of your body against his, especially how your soft breasts smooshed against his chest. From this day on, he couldn’t stop imagining how they’d feel in the palms of his hands and thought you probably werent wearing a bra. How else could they have been so soft. He thought about all the things he wanted to do to them, what your nipples looked liked in your shirt, and if you didn’t wear a bra anymore since he couldn’t see. And from that day onwards, you two continued to play this little game of hide and seek, silently hiding from him, waiting for him to suddenly grab you and pull you near him, to remind you that he always knew where you were and the two of you secretly always looked forward to these few seconds of intimacy.

Ever since the two of you started playing such games, the sexual tension between y’all had grown significantly. He noticed how even now, you were slightly nervous, and your temperature had increased since you sat down beside him. “You like it when I like I catch you huh?”, he playfully teased, stretching his arms across the couch, his arm reaching behind you. “Uh w-what? “, you stuttered, “Whatever Satoru”, you quickly added, feeling rather caught off guard. Of course it had to be in his nature to be so blunt and upfront. “Go. Hide. I’ll count to twenty and then I’ll find you”, he spoke softly, with the usual warm smile he wore. “You’re so confident that you’ll be able to find me Satoru?”, you spoke, raising your brow. “I have no doubt that I’ll find you princess”, he replied. You felt a wave of arousal at the little nick name. He always called you princess when he belittled you, but lately, instead of feeling annoyed and irritated when you heard it, you felt happy. You were beginning to like him calling you that. Something about the way he said it made you feel so precious and for some reason, obedient. “And what do I get if you don’t?”, twirling your braided ponytail between your fingers, you waited for him to respond. “Absolutely anything you’d like”, he said, and you smiled at that, shifting to stand up. “And if I do find you, can we please resolve this sexual tension between us ?”, he added, and you whipped your head around to face him, not sure if you’d just heard him right. “What?”, you swallowed, your eyes wide with shock, Gojo leaning his head back onto the couch, He was so big, he took up most of it with how he sat with his arms across and his knees wide apart. “Go, unless you want me to fuck you here on the couch? I can do that too princess”. Lost for words, you could only walk away, dusting off your skirt and crossing your arms. With that, he began counting out loud.

You stood quietly behind the midnight blue curtain that draped the tall window of the mini library on the opposite end of the house. Your heart raced from the minute you stood up until you found this hiding spot, wondering if the words you remember Gojo saying were real, or if you were simply imagining them. You wondered if you were perhaps dreaming, the sound of a door creaking near by bringing you back to reality. The reality was that he always found you and you were never fast enough to outrun him when he did, remembering the feel of his arms wrapping around you each time he did and then remembering those words “Can we please resolve the sexual tension between us”. There’s no ways he was bold enough to actually fuck you. Sure he was an arrogant and overconfident prick that spoke a lot of shit like he did on that couch, but he wouldn’t actually try to do that right? You tried your best to calm down, breathing in through your nose and out your mouth as you focused on steadying your heartbeat, wondering if he would use that to find you. You felt yourself begin to reach a state of complete calmness, your eyes closed and your mind empty as you remained as still and quiet as you possibly could. You felt a cool breeze against your cheek and opened your eyes. All that breathing was all for nothing, your heart skipping several beats as Gojo towered over you, holding the curtain to the side with one hand, the other still in his pocket. His eyes were bandaged as usual, his arms bare in the white t shirt he wore that hugged his muscles as though the fabric itself was a slut. “Found you”, he said. Your throat felt dry. “How?”, you whispered, more to yourself than him. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find you? How cute”, he teased, taking a step closer to you and letting the curtain fall behind him. You were shocked at how your body responded to the proximity, the violent arousal you felt increasing your temperature as well as the ache between your legs. Did he really mean what he said? You wondered, slowly beginning to believe him when he snaked his arms around your waste to pull you closer.

“Do you want me princess?”, he asked, his big hand tracing up your body to find your face, palming your cheek to rub his thumb across your lips, tilting your head upwards. Your heart raced so fiercely you thought it would explode. You nodded your head, desperately waiting for him to kiss you, his lips only centimeters from yours. You tried to get on your tip toes to close the distance, but he slightly backed away and a whine you absolutely did not intend to release left your lips. You felt hot with embarrassment, lust, arousal, nervousness and fear shying away from his bandaged gaze to only have his hand pull your face back towards him. You felt like he could really see you and wondered for a split second if him going blind was all a lie. That scenario was a bit believable. “Tell me”, he said. You froze, Gojo now pressing you against the window behind you, and you felt something big and hard pressing against your tummy, widening your eyes in disbelief that it could’ve been his erection. “Tell me you want me”. You gulped, and a part of you still thought he was joking. “I want you so bad”, you almost moaned, your pussy now hurting like hell. He immediately leaned down to press his lips against yours. They felt so soft as they moved against your own. You felt them melt in between yours when you sucked on his bottom lip, and you couldn’t believe you had been deprived of such magic up until this moment. You didn’t want him to stop, softly moaning and gripping his shirt as you longed for more, wanting him to deepen the kiss already and shove his tongue down your throat. Sensing your desire, he gave in, you were so cute to him, he didn’t have it in his heart to tease you. Immediately, you latched onto it, desperately sucking it, wrestling your tongue with his to taste more of him. He tasted better than you’d expected and he felt the same way. You could faintly taste the green tea he had with his lunch on his tongue as you sucked it, his hand keeping your head in place, leaving you with no room to move much, but you didn’t mind him taking the lead, not even wanting to part for a breath. He finally broke the kiss, looking down at you panting hard. He looked so beautiful, the sun shone through the window and onto his face. “You really wanna do this with me”, you asked, feeling shy all over again. “Yes. I’ve run out of patience, I don’t think I wanna hold back for another day”, he replied against your lips, pecking them a few times before deepening the kiss.

The kiss became a little feverish, and Gojo grew more and more ferocious with each passing second, picking up your thigh and pinning you against the warm window, his big erection pressing right against your coochie as he grabbed and groped you. He was big and tall and you felt all of him on you as your other foot barely touched the ground. Your thighs were spread wide to accommodate his hips in between them. He was so rough, which you didn’t expect from him, but it also made sense. You couldn’t sop the onslaught of the embarrassingly needy sounds you made as he ground his erection into you, his jeans rubbing against your soaked panties. You gasped and broke the kiss when you felt his knuckles brush against your clit, Gojo unbuttoning his jeans pulling down his zipper to reduce the friction, his jeans sliding down below his ass as he humped you, your privates separated by the thin material of both your cotton undies. You were wet, and your pussy ached so bad, you didn’t care about soaking his draws in your arousal as he perfectly brushed his big cock right against your panty covered clit. He was rubbing you the right way and it felt incredible. You were sure you’d be able to come if he kept this up long enough. You didn’t want him to stop, but you were too shy to verbally communicate your want just yet, worried that this perfect stimulation would come to an end pretty soon, but he didn’t dare slow down. You were softly breathing right above his ear as he sucked and kissed your neck, the neediness in the sounds you made telling him you really liked what he was doing, so he didn’t want to stop, gently bumping and grinding himself right against you. His lips locked onto yours in a searing kiss as he dialed up his aggressiveness a tad and you felt a light gush of fluids soak your panties, as your pussy throbbed painfully. You felt yourself quickly reaching an orgasm, unable to hold back or dial down the sounds of your moans as he kept your lips in between his. You grabbed the back of his shirt slightly tugging on it as you came, expecting him to stop now, but he kept on moving his hips in slow circles and soon enough you were able to quickly gather yourself, despite how amazing he felt against you.

“Satoru why are we doing this?”, you moaned in his ear, Gojo halting the kisses he placed on your neck to answer you. “Because we both want each other just like this”. “But we’re supposed to be friends Satoru”, “We’d literally die for each, at least this is a more pleasurable favor”, he said, his hand now lifting up your tee, pleased that you were not wearing a bra. Before you had a chance to respond, he already latched his warm mouth onto your nipple, your other titty filling his palm up as he roughly fondled you, squeezing and tugging one of boobs while greedily sucking and nipping at the other. Your head fell back as you enjoyed the way he played with you, you’d let this man do anything to you, you decided, wrapping your legs tighter around him. Letting go of your boob, he easily pried apart your legs that wrapped around his hips, adjusting you to stand up with your back slightly pressing against his chest. He had a much better angle at sucking on your tits and was able to slip his hand under your skirt and between your thighs, cupping your soaked panty covered pussy. He pressed the pads of his fingers against your clit as he stroked your pussy and you silently gasped, his hand now creeping inside your underwear to begin rubbing your clit in circles. You wanted to melt in his arms, he was touching you in all the right places, and you were growing more and more excited with every minute that went by. “Satoru”, you moaned when he picked up the pace, rubbing your clit fast until you felt like you were so close and just as you began to grip his shirt he immediately stopped, you snapped your eyes open, confused as to what just happened. You were so close and he just stopped, completely removing his hand from your undies. You arched your back, Gojo only focused on decorating your tits with hickies. Did he do that on purpose? You wondered, the work he performed on your chest now growing so sensitive, you whimpered with every nip and couldn’t believe how good you felt, wondering if he could actually make you cum like this. You felt yourself reaching that familiar peak, more than ready to cum for him, and to your shocking surprise, he quickly shifted your underwear to the side and buried his middle finger inside of you, all the down to the third knuckle, in one swift move and you moaned so ridiculously loud you instantly regretted it, but still couldn’t do anything to stop yourself, Gojo twirling his finger deep inside of, forcing you onto your tip toes and you immediately came, your body lightly shivering against him, the white haired man beginning to work his middle finger inside of you, dragging it along your gspot several times before burying it deep inside of you, repeating this a few times as he slowly massaged you into an unexpected orgasm, your entire genitalia still so deliciously sensitive from your previous orgasm as this current one wracked you. You shamelessly whimpered in his face, completely thrown into orgasmic bliss as he continued, warm liquid spurting onto his hand.

“Good girl”, he whispered in your ear, and you whimpered as he spoke to you, completely lost as he continued to stimulate you, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in circles for a while, watching your eyes roll as your hand clutched his shirt again. He now shoved his middle finger along with this ring finger back inside of you, and the stretch made you shiver, moaning loudly as he repeated his earlier pattern, but a little faster this time. “Do you think you can do that again?’, he spoke, his voice so deep in your ear. “Yeeesssss”, you moaned, squirming against his chest keeping you snug against him with the arm wrapped around you as you began shaking, going silent for a while as you shuddered. You screamed loudly, squirting in his hand once again. “That’s it princess, keep going”, he coaxed, and you didn’t think you’d be able to stop if he didn’t, moaning and pulling on his hair as you lost yourself for a few seconds, your body jerking in his hold. Picking you up and pinning you against the window, you sobered up a little with wide eyes when you felt the tip of his dick slowly stretch out your entrance. He let gravity help him fit the rest of his shaft inside of you, and you held on to him for dear life with your mouth and o shape as you tried to adjust to the ridiculous stretch. “Stoop I can’t take anymore!”, you cried. You could feel him so deep inside of you, afraid that he would hurt you if he went any deeper. You’d never been penetrated by something this big and you wondered if you’d actually be able to take him, growing nervous with each passing second. “Okay, that’s okay, we can settle for this no?”, he said, lifting you up and slowly letting you sink onto him once again and you felt him go deeper, screaming as you gripped his shirt. He held your thighs over his arms, his hands underneath your ass to control the rhythm and pace. You didn’t have much room to run, and you wished he could see the desperate look on your face. “You’re too big”, you spoke through gritted teeth, your toes curling from the mixture of pleasure and the burn. “You don’t have to be nervous about it, I’m only gonna make you feel good”, he whispered in your ear, lifting you up again. Your heart skipped a beat when you realised he seriously would make you take him. “F-Fuck no I need a break p-please!”, you cried when he penetrated you again. He bit his lip, he was absolutely enjoying how snug your pussy felt around him. You hugged him like a glove and every time he lifted you up, your pussy would tug on him, as though it didn’t want him to leave. “But you feel so fucking good”, he panted, keeping to the slow rhythm of lifting you up and pushing you back down. You wanted to protest but were cut off by a jolt of pleasure that left you panting. Gojo felt you clench him, and grip one of your thighs, panting against your neck. He could tell that you really were nervous. “Isn’t this what you wanted”, he spoke softly in your ear, lifting your legs and placing them on his shoulders. “Satoruuuu!”, you screamed, feeling him go much deeper inside of you. “Yes princess, I’m right here, deep inside of you, just how you wanted me”. You felt yourself giving up. No man had ever put you in this position before, but Gojo was seriously gonna fuck you like this. He was going to fuck you whether you could take him or not, in such a compromising position. Right here in the library room, against the warm window for god knows how long. With each thrust, you felt him tearing you up, a pleasure building up inside of you so intense, you didn’t quite know how to handle it, screaming and whimpering, as you could no nothing but take it.

“I’ll fuck you so good, so you’ll keep coming back and begging me to make you cry like this”, he said, thrusting into you hard a few times, ignoring your cries and screams before going in as deep as he could and holding you right there for a few seconds. He did this again and you started gushing hard, your liquids dripping down your ass and onto the window sill and floorboards. You came all over the place, and couldn’t do anything but scream and cry, panting hard as you tried to catch your breath. What the hell was that! Was all you could think, your legs still shivering on his shoulders. Gojo rested his forehead against yours, heavily breathing against your lips. While you were cumming your pussy squeezed and clenched his dick so good that he lost his breath too. He didn’t want to come so soon, realizing how much he was enjoying make you feel so good. He fought back against the urge and held out throughout your entire orgasm. You were too tired to speak, grateful that he held you up because your entire body felt weak. Blinking your eyes open, you looked up at Gojo, his bandages still covering his eyes, drenched in sweat as he began moving his hips again. It didn’t take long for you to realize what he was up to, a sharp whine leaving your lips when he thrusted into you. “S-Satorruuuuuuu!”, you whined again, feeling far too sensitive as he slowly thrusted in and out of you. “Yes princess, I’m nowhere near done with you”.

You kicked, screamed and even bit him, but despite this, he still fucked you like a machine, his hips now moving at a steady pace, grinding his hips in deep circles against you to keep you still every time you jerked to wildly, returning to pumping himself in and out of you with hard, eye rolling slow strokes. You were no longer aware of your surroundings. You were trapped in a bubble of intense pleasure, and simply knowing who was giving this to you was enough to drive you over the edge. “Feels so good huh?”, he teased, licking up a tear that ran down your cheek as soon as he felt against his lips. After a pleasurably agonizing twenty more minutes, Gojo was satisfied. You came three more times and he came twice and even placed you on the rug to finish you off there since the window grew slippery covered in sweat and cum. You lay ontop of him, his arms and a blanket wrapped over you as the two of you recovered in his bed. The curtains were still open and the first thing you could see was the beautiful sunset, setting behind the woods surrounding Gojo’s home. You weren’t surprised to see that he had managed to get you into his bed, he was actually much better now at navigating through the house than he was three months ago. “You’re finally awake?”, he spoke, his voice deep and thick with sleep. “Hey”, you squeaked, suddenly feeling incredibly shy. He lay with one arm draping over his eyes, his bandages were removed. You realised that he was naked underneath you, and you were naked too. You felt yourself burning up. Why did he make you feel so shy and nervous. “You okay? Did you get enough rest?”, he asked, patting around to feel you and grab your arm, lifting you up closer until you were face to face. “I wouldn’t mind sleeping a little longer, but I’m okay. How about you?” “I’m not sure”, he said, and you raised an eyebrow, his once blue eyes now cloudy and grey. He snuggled into your neck and leaned over until he was ontop of you. “You’re not sure?”, you asked. “I want more of you”, he confessed and your eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Is that okay?”, he added. “Satoru is what okay?”, you anxiously wondered. “What we just did…can we reserve that for just the two of us. Can you stay here longer. Please can I be your boyfriend?”, he asked, his words muffled since he spoke into your neck. You didn’t mean to be silent for so long, but you also couldn’t believe your ears. You actually needed to time to process everything that happened today. Despite your long suppressed desire for him, you really still couldn’t believe what was happening.

#jjk imagines #jjk fanfic #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujustu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo imagine #gojo satoru imagines #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader

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saijspellhart · 2 months

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Things I liked about the Netflix ATLA and some critiques:

Before you read. Please go watch the series, take off your blinders and keep an open mind. It’s surprisingly good. This review has spoilers.

They reordered some scenes so that emotional moments would have a larger pay off. Like getting to see and experience Aang’s relationship with Monk Gyatsu, and seeing his tribe before it was destroyed. So when he has his breakdown in the air temple with Sokka and Katara later, you really feel and understand his agony.

Azula is introduced earlier, with a story running simultaneously with the Aang’s journey but not involved with his. So she has a chance to be more fleshed out and explored before she becomes a major threat. Only time will tell if this more complicated Azula comes close to the animated one. Big shoes to fill, but not a bad start.

Fire Lord Ozai plays a more sinister and oppressive role. Not a faceless boogeyman anymore. You get to see his machinations and the cruel games he’s playing with his family, and see the emotional abuse that warps them.

Appa is adorable as fuck, and so is Momo. So well animated, such gorgeous care put into them.

Kyoshi, Kuruk, and Roku make more of an appearance. With Kyoshi narrating the prologue. And if you loved the novels you’ll see they incorporated more of Kyoshi and Kuruk’s backstory from the novels than what we saw in the animated cartoon.

The acting was competent, even if a little wonky at times. I found Sokka very endearing, I loved the kid they cast as Aang and you can tell they really tried to find a balance between serious and playful. They didn’t always hit it, but the effort was there.

Zuko was great. I think they nailed him and he had great chemistry with the actor playing Iroh.

King Bumi was great, I love how they made his internal struggles more complex. He wasn’t just a crazy old man anymore. He was a crazy old man who was weary and worn down by the horrors of loss and war. A crazy old man who struggled to reconcile that the best friend he lost is the avatar and wasn’t there for him.

I loved the costume and set design. It was like stepping into the actual world of ATLA. Cities were complex and well constructed. Every setting was incredible and the attention to detail was intense.

Zuko’s boat is full of artifacts he pilfered from the Air Nomads while hunting for the avatar.

They changed how Aang got the bison whistle so it makes more sense and fits more seamlessly into the story. It never made sense why a random peddler would be selling a bison whistle if air nomads and bison have been gone for 100 years. Not impossible for a peddler to do, but not probable. The Netflix series actually gave more meaning for the artifact and changed how Aang received it.

Emotional points in the show are now more intense and brought me to tears.

Commander Zhao is more competent and conniving, and his presence felt more dangerous and less comedic.

Sokka’s outright sexism was changed from putting girls down, to just manly machismo, talking himself up. Not gone, but not degrading. They decided to let the sexism message shine more prominently with the northern water tribe, rather than tackle it twice with Sokka too. (Sokka’s sexism being solved in one episode was never well written to begin with. And the animated series quickly forgot about it and moved on to him tackling more important issues, like his being a non bender inadequacy, his leadership journey, his physical combat journey, and him finding himself as more than just the funny sarcastic guy.) For time constraints, it was better the Netflix series did not to tackle the same problem twice, especially when you might not have the resources to give both sexism issues the gravity it deserves. By focusing the sexism problem to the northern water tribe they were able to give Katara more attention.

We got to see Katara’s water-bending go from being ultra sloppy and weak to badass. It feels like they are spending more time focusing on her developing into a warrior rather than being the mom of the group. I’m honestly not sad about it. She’s still the hope ridden, emotional glue, but now it feels like she explores that warrior side a little deeper. It felt so earned when she got the title of master at the northern water tribe finale.

The actor playing uncle Iroh nailed the role. I couldn’t think of a better live action adaptation of Iroh. I love him so much.

The shirshu looks fucking phemonal.

Koh was scary as fuck and I love it. They really nailed his horror elements. Even if I’m a little sad that they changed some things about his face stealing. (He eats faces now to steal them, rather than stealing when someone shows emotion.)

The three actresses who play Mei, Azula and Tailee actually look appropriate for their age. Since they are introduced earlier, they are clearly younger, and since this show is intended to get more seasons, the casting choice made sense as we are intended to watch these girls grow up over the course of the entire show. These actors will get older, and the characters will get more menacing and sharper. It’s great. It’s thoughtful. I love it.

We get to see Zuko’s dynamics with his crew more. And find out that he did more than just speak out against his father at that meeting. His outburst at that meeting saved an entire squad of soldiers, and they don’t even know it. Zuko feels such disdain and bitterness because of the situation, and his crew doesn’t even know why. It’s so complex, you can see how the abuse Zuko endured causes him to take out his anger on his crew, and in turn they are bitter back. And it’s this cycle, that festers. But the crew also grows with Zuko, they change and evolve as he evolves. And it’s such a delight to watch.

They could have cut the Secret Tunnel minstrels altogether, given the time constraints and that the episode was mostly fluff in season two. A fun romp, but not necessary. But the creators knew people loved the minstrels so they found a way to use them anyway. Because they knew they were special. I am thankful for that, even if they show up waaay earlier than they should.

I was honestly more sold on Sokka and Suki’s relationship in the live action. It’s was so adorkable. Do I wish it had more time to develop? Yeah, of course I love a good slow burn. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t fun as hell watching the two flirt so badly with each other. Sokka being a buffoon, and Suki overstepping and being too rough, before realizing she was being too hard.

Some Critiques:

They reordered some episode storylines to happen at the same time, and while it does bloat some episodes. it’s understandable due the episode and budget limitations. In the cartoon, during the inventor episode Katara didn’t have a lot to do, and during the freedom fighters episode Sokka didn’t have a lot to do. So they ended up combining both stories into one hour long episode in the live action, so that both Katara and Sokka would be involved in something. Is it the best? No. But it makes sense. I get it.

Katara starts off bland in the first episode and it takes a bit for her to grow into the character.

The past avatars can be a bit strong with the doom and gloom, and I wish they’d toned that back.

Koh and Heibei (I dunno how to spell the panda spirit’s name) got combined to the same episode, and Koh stole Heibei’s spotlight. Again, I understand why these got combined, but I think it could have been handled a little better and Heibei should have gotten more closure.

There should have been a ninth episode, placed between the two episode Koh storyline, and the Northern Water Tribe storyline. Why? Because the Koh storyline was really heavy and intense. And it leads right into the season finale. An extra ninth episode should have been added with a more lighthearted tone. Something to ease the tension between the two very intense storylines.

Aang should have been using a glider to flit about the temples in the first episode. But it’s not something that ruins the whole show. It was a dumb that only happens in a single episode in the season.

I really missed Momo and Appa’s presence. They appeared atleast once in every episode, but it was still sad they weren’t more of a presence. Again I understand why. They were so beautifully animated that everytime they were on screen it (without a doubt) cost the production thousands of dollars. They were generous including as many of the unique animals and creatures as they had.

I still don’t think Sokka had enough time to develop a relationship with Yue at the northern water tribe. It was rushed and contrived in the animated version, and it was rushed and contrived in this Netflix version. There also wasn’t any of the chemistry like Sokka had with Suki to make the whirlwind romance work. I never liked the romance from the original, and I wasn’t a fan of it here. But that’s ok, because it’s such a small and insignificant thing.

In conclusion most of the changes I can see made were due to budget, and episode limitations. The creators were clearly trying to bring theater-cinematic quality to what was essentially an eight hour long film. And you cannot deny that this show is stunning. Absolutely breathtaking. Most of the episodes cut were filler, and while hilarious and mostly loved by fans, were stories not as necessary in the grand scope. You could feel the love and appreciation the creators included in this series. It wasn’t soulless, it wasn’t a heartless cash grab, it wasn’t a shot for shot (thank god) but it also didn’t butcher the source material.

I understand that the animated show creators had creative differences with the live action Netflix adaptation creators. But that doesn’t mean that the Netflix series completely failed. As every fanfic writer out there knows, the original authors are not going to love what you create based on their works. Tolkien hated every adaptation of his works, HATED them. But no one is going about saying that the Lord of the Rings trilogy movies were hot garbage. A creator doesn’t have to endorse a project for it to be good.

Netflix ATLA is good, it’s not perfect. And it never was going to be perfect. The cartoon it was based on wasn’t perfect either. But the ATLA cartoon was definitely some huge shoes to fill that set a bar very high. Any adaptation was going to struggle to be just as good.

I think the Netflix adaptation was a treat and a pleasure to watch. I think people should go into it with an open mind and see that it’s not trying to replace the cartoon. It’s a love letter to the cartoon.

PS: According to behind the scenes commentary on the Nickelodeon ATLA cartoon, the reason we didn’t get a season 4 was because the creators wanted a live action film. Nickelodeon offered the original cartoon creators the option to make season 4 or to spend the budget meant for season four on a live action ATLA film. The original creators chose the live action film directed by M. Night Shamalan. They wanted a live action for their show over a 4th season. They had no idea M. night would butcher their baby with his pathetic film all those years ago.

This show was a second chance after the M. night abomination. And you know what? It’s a pretty decent adaptation. And guess what? With a resurgence of interest in the series, we are getting more animated content for the original animated series. There’s definitely something for everyone on the horizon if this succeeds.

#netflix atla #avatar the last airbender #atla #live action adaptation #live action avatar #review #my thoughts #positive #loved it #it was great #go watch it #recommendation #pros and cons #a thoughtful and positive breakdown from someone who is generally picky and pessimistic about adaptations #spoilers #many spoilers

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scoonsalicious · 1 month

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Unwanted, Chapter 1: Unarmed, Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: (For this part only) Following the events of CA:CW, Tony Stark has offered Steve Rogers an olive branch of sorts to bring The Avengers back together. You, CTO of Stark Industries and head of Innovation & Technology for the Avengers' Initiative, have your doubts, as you're not quite ready to forgive Captain America for ripping your family apart just yet. Steve had one condition, however, when agreeing to return to the team, one that's going to turn your life upside down and inside out: If he's coming back to join The Avengers, he's bringing his best friend, Bucky Barnes, with him.

Warnings: (For this part only) Language (obviously), minor mention of alcohol, I'm obviously on Team Tony during the CW; don't come for me, awful jokes, minor use of (Y/N). As always, if I missed any, please let me know.

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Here's a little preview of Unwanted. In it's current form, it's standing at about 50k words, with about 25k still in editing, and I'm maybe about half done with writing the entire thing? I'm not going to lie, it starts out cute and fluffy, but it's gonna get real angsty and painful. Dear Reader has unresolved emotional trauma and Bucky doesn't understand the importance of boundaries in 21st century relationships. This piece has been my baby for several months now; I really hope ya'll enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it! Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you'd like to be added!) @blackhawkfanatic

"You're sure you're cool with this, Boss?" you asked Tony Stark, for what was probably the ten thousandth time in the last hour. The two of you were sitting by yourselves off in a corner of the common area of the Avengers Tower while the rest of your team congregated around the bar, eagerly anticipating the official return of Captain America to the Avengers. That, by itself, would be enough to warrant a gathering of Earth's mightiest heroes, but what had everyone in attendance talking was the fact that Steve Rogers wouldn't be returning alone.

Your billionaire employer sighed and swirled his glass of Laphroaig, the amber liquid sloshing along the sides of the tumbler. "I don't love it, Pocket, but it was Cap's only condition for coming back into the fold, and since Barton, Wilson, and Maximoff all went off the reservation with him, it seemed a small price to pay to get everyone back under one roof." He took a swig of his whiskey and smacked his lips.

You couldn't help but smile at his use of your nickname. Thor had inadvertently given it to you when you first met the God of Thunder years ago, remarking for everyone to hear that you were so small and tiny, he could tuck you into his pocket and abscond away with you to Asgard. Somehow, it stuck. You'd hated it at first; it had felt dismissive and condescending, which of course meant that it soon became the only thing the members of your team called you, but the more they used in their daily lives, the more you actually came to love it. It was a brand new, unique identity that came to embody the person you’d become, and the past you’d worked so hard to put behind you. You were more likely to answer to 'Pocket,' now, than you were your legal name, and you were grateful for it.

"Besides," Tony continued with a shrug, "if letting the Barnes thing go means we get the band back together, I'm willing to be the bigger person about it."

You stared at him, impressed. "Well look at you. When did you get so emotionally evolved?"

"Since Pepper told me I needed to start seeing a therapist or she’d leave me once and for all," he admitted to you with a cheeky wink; you both knew that, though Tony drove his partner, Pepper Potts, absolutely insane sometimes, she loved him far too much to ever walk away from him for good. That didn’t stop the threats, though. Lord knows he tried her patience. In your opinion, the woman was a saint.

Your eyes widened at the revelation and you let out a low whistle of appreciation. "You're going to therapy? Wow. Tony, That's amazing. I'm proud of you."

"Oh please," Tony scoffed, "I have much more important things to do than sit on a couch and spill my feelings. Besides, my secrets are too valuable to divulge to an actual human being. I just trained FRIDAY on therapeutic conversational datasets so she can handle all that psychological mumbo jumbo and then I paired that with BARF's augmented reality-- it's seriously the platinum standard in mental healthcare. No awkward silences or judgmental stares, just pure efficiency. You should try it; it’d do you wonders. And the best part? No copays."

You chuckled as you took a sip of your pineapple and Malibu. "Yeah, okay. That completely tracks for you," you told him with a smile. "So, what did Dr. FRIDAY tell you that got you to change your mind about the Barnes situation?"

Furrows appeared between Tony's eyebrows as he took another sip of whiskey to buy time for collecting his thoughts. There was still so much pain in him where Bucky Barnes was concerned. You'd worked for him in some capacity for nearly fifteen years and you'd never seen him as defeated as he'd been when he got off that Quinjet from Siberia. He'd been bloodied, battered and utterly broken, body and soul. Seeing him like that had shattered you, and you never wanted to live through something like that again.

Tony ran you through his experience with his therapeutic innovation, and you had to admit, it was impressive. The system had helped him realize that Bucky Barnes wasn't responsible for the heinous crimes Hydra had brainwashed him into completing, and so his anger over the death of his parents, while justified, had been misdirected.

"Once I processed that, it was a quick jump to realizing we can't be the best version of the Avengers if we only have half the team at home, and it's innocent people who would pay the price for it. So, when I reached out to Cap and he agreed to come back if I agreed to let him bring Barnes with him, well..." Tony trailed off, gesturing vaguely with his hand toward the where the rest of the team was waiting.

"So, you and Rogers are just, what? Good then? All water under the bridge?" you asked him, mild irritation clouding your voice.

"Oh, absolutely not." Tony took another sip of whiskey. "I can work with him again, and I'm glad to, but we're not going to be braiding each other's hair anytime soon."

"Good," you said, raising your glass in a mock toast to Tony. "I'm not quite ready to forgive him on your behalf just yet." Tony had essentially saved your life when you first met him, and he’d continued to support and guide your career to heights you could have never imagined. You'd started as a systems analyst and mechanical engineer at Stark Industries fresh out of college, and under Tony’s mentorship, it wasn’t long before you found yourself rising to the position of the company’s Chief Technical Officer, second in command only to Pepper, now that Tony had passed on the reins to her. All this happened long before he'd ever brought you in to work with him on the Avengers Initiative, and now you spent the majority of your time heading up their Technology and Innovation Department, as well.

Any kind of healthy respect you might have had for your boss had died out a long, long time ago, because Tony Stark was Tony Stark, but now he was just Tony-- more like an annoying older brother you loved dearly, whose name just happened to be on your paychecks. You owed him everything and that had earned him your unwavering loyalty. You'd follow him to hell and back again if he asked it of you, though he knew he’d never have to; you’d be paving the path there right alongside him.

The sound of laughter made its way across to you from the other side of the room and you felt warmth at the sound-- everyone, together again and happy. Just a few short months ago, you never would have been able to imagine the scene before you, not after the fight in Berlin and its brutal aftermath. You had thought for sure that this little family you'd found yourself in the middle of had been destroyed beyond repair.

So, you might have had your own reasons to be pissed at Steve Rogers.

"What's Barnes like?" you asked Tony. Having only ever glimpsed him from a distance, or from behind a computer monitor, you'd utilized all the resources at your disposal to dig up as much information on the Winter Soldier as possible, but even your skills hadn't been able to get you what simply didn't exist. "You know I don't like unknown quantities."

Tony seemed to think for a moment. "You mean, aside from being a brainwashed, murderous assassin?"

"Tony," you chastised. You knew that Barnes had spent a good deal of time in Wakanda before coming home to New York, working on having the words that triggered his homicidal alter-ego neutralized. Rogers may not always acted rationally when it came to making decisions about his oldest friend, but you were sure he wouldn’t be bringing Barnes back to the Tower if he posed a serious danger to the rest of you. Right?

"Fine," Tony said, with a typical exaggerated sigh. "Aside from being a former brainwashed, murderous assassin; better?" You rolled your eyes but nodded. "Don't really know, didn't care enough to ask. I'll be happy as long as he doesn't start murdering us all in our sleep. Cap vouches for him, so that counts for something. Maybe not as much as it did once upon a time, but something. But T’Challa seems to think he’s harmless enough now, so that’s good enough for me."

You nodded, taking another sip of your pineapple and Malibu, then leaned back, pensive. "Oh, God," you said after a moment of thought, sitting up in alarm. "You don't think it’s going to be like having an entire extra Rogers around, do you? All '40s morality and emotional repression? Because I am so over having him police my language." It wasn't that you had anything against Captain America as an Avenger, but there was only so much of the Boy Scout act you could take before you started getting nauseous. And okay, fine, you weren't too proud to admit it-- there was a not-so-small part of you that still hadn't forgiven him for what you saw as his blatant betrayal of Tony when he refused to sign the Accords. You'd promised to play nice, though, for the sake of your family, but your personal relationship with The Star-Spangled Man had taken heavy damage since Berlin.

Tony chuckled. "As if you'd ever let Cap's presence keep you from a good profanity. I should put out a swear jar. We could fund that crisis algorithm project of yours off your mouth alone."

"Fuck you, Tony," you uttered with a chuckle, fully aware that he had your number. You never met a four-letter word you didn’t fall immediately in love with.

"And look at that," Tony said with a smirk, "I just made another dollar. Hey FRIDAY, open up a new savings account and deposit a dollar into every time Pocket has a potty mouth."

"On it, Boss," the AI replied cheerfully.

You swore at Tony a few more times for good measure. "I fully intend to financially bleed you dry now, asshole."

"Oh no, I'm shaking in my custom Tom Ford's," Tony mockingly bemoaned, putting his feet, enclosed in the aforementioned ridiculously expensive loafers, up on the coffee table.

Raised voices from the other side of the room caught your attention. You stood up and craned your neck, trying to see what had caused the commotion. "I think they're here, Boss," you said.

"Alright," Tony said, standing up and putting an arm around your shoulder, "big smiles, kiddo. Remember, we're supposed to be happy about this." You suppressed a chuckle as you watched Rogers present Bucky Barnes to the rest of the team. Everyone was welcoming; you wouldn’t have expected any less, but as you watched their body language, the only word that came to mind was guarded. And you completely understood; The Winter Soldier’s reputation had preceded him, after all. There were hugs for Rogers, of course, but no one made any attempt to reach out to his friend.

Despite your overall annoyance with Rogers, you couldn't help but feel some degree of happiness for the giant oaf. When you'd been assigned on a mission with him (which happened fairly frequently, as he was so pathetically abysmal with anything having to do with technology) and ended up having to hole up in a safehouse for an extra couple of days while waiting for extraction, he'd started opening up to you about James Buchanan Barnes, and the reminiscing had made him so happy, you encouraged Steve to tell you everything about this Bucky. After that, the trouble was getting Rogers to stop telling his Bucky stories. If he wasn't sharing tales about growing up with his best friend during the Great Depression and all the absolute mischief they got into, he was sharing war stories of their time together with the Howling Commandos. He'd even shared his grief with you– how painful it had been to watch Barnes fall from that train and the guilt he carried for not being able to save him. He’d confessed to you once that, when he went into the ice, fully prepared to die, there was a part of him that was relieved to be reunited with Barnes in the next life, and waking up some 70 years later to a world where he was still alive but Bucky was still gone had broken his heart all over again. And yet, here they were– together in the next life, after all. If you were a different kind of person, you’d say it was a goddamn miracle.

Because of the way Rogers described his best friend in those old stories, you were expecting Bucky Barnes to come swaggering along next to him, with a cocksure tilt to his head and a panty-dropping smirk playing along his lips, but the man who accompanied Steve was the furthest thing from that.

He shuffled behind Rogers slowly, looking at the floor and avoiding making eye contact with anyone else from the team. His hair hung long and limp, curtaining off his face as though it were a protective barrier. Though, if it was keeping him away from everyone else, or everyone else away from him, you couldn't be sure. He was much thinner than you'd anticipated, especially for a super soldier– though still extremely muscular, giving you the impression that it had been a long time since he'd let himself indulge in anything more than the bare minimum amount of calories he needed for survival. Tilting your head, you tried to steal a glance at his infamous metal arm, the thing of legends that had turned him from a run-of-the-mill assassin into the stuff of waking nightmares.

But the sleeve of his jacket hung limp, only empty space where the appendage should have been.

Curious. He'd come to Tony Stark's home unarmed. Your hand flew to your mouth to try and stop the uncontrollable snicker that broke loose at your own stupid joke. Tony elbowed you gently in the ribs to shut you up, and you hoped you were too far away and the others too distracted by Steve's introductions to notice you, but that thought flew right out the window when Bucky Barnes' head snapped up at the sound, his eyes locking onto yours from across the room.

"Holy shit," you breathed, knowing another dollar would go into Tony's digital swear jar, but damn if the man didn't have the most striking blue eyes you had ever seen. There were dark circles under them, and he looked incredibly tired, yeah, but they were beautiful. You didn't mean to stare, but you found you couldn't look away, either, and so the two of you were locked into some sort of impromptu staring contest. The longer you looked at him, the more you could sense an overwhelming sadness coming from him, as well as a level of wariness at being in a room full of strangers. It was almost overwhelming.

But then, just as suddenly as it began, the spell was broken. Blinking once, Bucky looked away and you felt the tension vanish from between you.

"What was that about?" Tony asked you in a low singsong voice.

"I have no idea," you answered, honestly. There had been so much pain and loneliness in his eyes. You'd seen eyes like that before, when you were younger and looked at your own reflection in the mirror following a scalding shower with your skin scrubbed raw and bloody. You suppressed a shiver.

Finally, Steve managed to disengage himself and Bucky from the other Avengers and began making his way toward you and Tony. Up close, you were struck by how tall Bucky was. He had to be at least a foot taller than you, if not more. And God, he was handsome. Granted, in a kind of heroin-chic sort of way, but still. A couple of good nights' sleep, a few good meals, some light personal grooming, and... well, there was a very good chance you were going to be in trouble once he got his shit together, that was for sure.

"And Buck," Steve was saying, drawing you out of your ogling, "This is our resident computer genius, Pocket (Y/L/N). You ever need help with anything technology-related, she's your girl."

"A bit of an over-simplified version, Rogers," you said, sticking your hand out to shake Bucky’s, "but yeah, that about covers it."

Bucky looked at you, then down at your hand, making no move to take it.

"What the hell kind of name is Pocket?" he asked, voice rough as though he hadn’t been using it a lot. Pulling your hand back, you shot him an annoyed glare.

"I don't know," you oozed back sarcastically. "What the hell kind of name is Bucky?"

"It's his nickname, Pocket," Steve supplied helpfully, though not without a trace of confusion. You gave him an annoyed, pointed look.

"No shit, Rogers." You turned back to Bucky and spoke slowly, as if to a child. "So, what do you think Pocket is, then?"

"Oh," said Bucky, catching on. The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. "Gotcha; m'sorry about that. My manners are rusty from a severe lack of use."

You didn't mean it, but your mouth curved up into a hint of a smile, too. And then, almost as if you couldn't stop yourself from doing it, you found yourself saying "I see you've arrived unarmed."

There was a long, heavy beat of silence as Steve and Tony stared at you, mouths slightly agape, and you wondered if you'd made a critical error. You were just about to punch yourself in the face and claim you had a concussion and therefore couldn't be held responsible for what you said when Bucky burst into laughter.

It was the most beautiful sound you'd ever heard, and it was contagious. Through your own laughter, you risked a glance up at Steve. He was looking back and forth between you and Bucky, an indiscernible look in his eyes, and you couldn't help but wonder how long it had been since he'd heard his best friend laugh. Hell, you wondered how long it had been since Bucky Barnes had laughed at all.

"Pocket," Tony groaned, palming his face, "that was truly terrible, even for you."

"I'm sorry," you said, trying to catch your breath through your burst of giggles. "It just slipped out-- I couldn’t help it. You know once these things come into my head, they just bounce around in there until they fall out. I didn't mean it."

Steve smiled at you. "So that's what you were snickering at," he said, amused. Damn that enhanced super soldier hearing. Rogers didn't need to be so nosy with it.

You shrugged. "What can I say? Bad jokes are my superpower. Don't be jealous that all you got was super strength and a six pack, Rogers."

Bucky laughed again, then nudged Steve playfully with his elbow. "I like this one, Stevie," he said. "She's funny."

You weren't sure why, exactly, but something in Bucky's words turned your insides into a warm puddle of goo.

Oh, you were going to be in trouble, indeed.

Next Part ->

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky x you #mcu bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n

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lucid-loves · 2 months

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First Light ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 2

Pairing: bodyguard!Ghost x princess!reader (fem!reader)

Word Count: 4.4k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, verbal abuse by parents, physical abuse by parents, psychological abuse by parents, opposites attract, forbidden love, slow burn, fluff, attraction and sexual tension, reader POV and ghost POV, minors DNI, eventual smut, virgin reader

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: After receiving death threats from a mysterious terrorist organization, your royal parents make a decision to reach out to the United States for help. Specifically, they want the US to send a bodyguard to protect their precious princess. When the 141 is called upon to investigate, Ghost is the one assigned to protect you. With your lack of experiences outside of your royal life and his experience with nothing but deadly, worldly affairs, opposites attract.

Chapter Synopsis: You and Ghost have grown more comfortable with each other as both of you got used to a new routine. However, a sudden party announcement along with a marriage proposal from a new bachelor drives the both of you to become even closer.

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5

It’s been a couple weeks since Ghost was introduced to you as your new bodyguard. The first few days were rough as Ghost spent most of his time understanding the palace layout and your daily schedules. Once he got more familiar with the entire place, though, he was much more relaxed. He got used to following close behind you all while understanding where to go if things went south. He took his job of protecting you very seriously, especially after getting to know you little by little.

You settled into the new addition to your routine nicely. While it was awkward trying to figure out what to talk about around bedtime, you always ended up finding something to open up about. Ghost always listened carefully.

At the end of the day, you both still managed to keep your distance. Besides the occasional stolen glances, the both of you were good about maintaining some professionalism. Even during tea time when he would accept your offer to sit with you. You normally didn’t speak about anything too specific since you didn’t want to get in trouble, so most of that time was enjoyed in complete silence. Ghost never minded. He understood that you had to be selective with your words. Sometimes, he admired how seriously you took your responsibilities as well.

It was a rainy day when you were given a revised schedule to follow for the next few days, one that had you raise your brows as soon as you saw how even more unusually packed it was. Your independent study time was scrapped. You didn’t have to attend piano lessons anymore either. Instead, they were replaced with etiquette-type classes. Table setting, conversation practice, ballroom dancing. Everything pointed to the preparation of a party.

As you looked over your schedule, the room was silent save for the patter of rain against the glass. Thunder lightly rumbled in the distance. Your mother sat across from you, giving you time to drink it all in. Ghost stood behind you near the shadows, watching everything unfold.

When you were done comprehending your schedule, you looked up at your mother inquisitively. “What is the occasion?”

“There is a gentleman that we have been communicating with who has recently entered the country for a trip abroad. He is an exceptional bachelor with the money and status to support a proper lifestyle. He sent an invitation for tea with us, but we figured that an important man like him needed a more memorable experience in Stuoca.” Your mother cheerfully explained, clearly excited for this party. She sipped her tea, proud of herself for orchestrating such an event to happen.

You picked up your favorite teacup and gripped it firmly. The warmth of the tea passing the porcelain and into your palms provided you comfort as your head swirled. Your mother wasn’t explicit in her intentions of this party and it bothered you. Reading into her words, you knew what she intended for you, though.

“You are marrying me off.” You revealed, your eyes widening at your little slip. You meant to choose better words, but perhaps you were growing too bitter to think straight. Ghost, who was listening intently, was now fully at attention like he was called by his captain.

At first, he listened for information. An outside party needed to be investigated in order to keep you safe. He didn’t pick up on what your mother was implying in the midst of it. When you exposed this truth, that’s when he grew rigid.

“Come now, you shouldn’t say it like that. We are securing your future. If you want to maintain the life that you have, then it would be good to marry. Besides, you are not getting any younger.” The queen jabbed with a bright smile. Her implicit insult stung.

Your mother was always like this. She was even more subtle in front of your father, so this was actually rather explicit of her. You had to bite your tongue to avoid letting your bitterness seep out once more. “My apologies. I am just surprised that this is happening so quickly.”

Her gaze sharpened as she graded your sincerity. It wasn’t like you had lied, but you avoided telling the full truth on how you felt. Your mother scoffed as you failed to exchange more grateful words with her. “This is for the best. You should be appreciative of this effort. Most women your age have to search for their security all by themselves. They rarely find the perfect one on the first try too. You're lucky that you won’t have to go through the pain of that.”

You bit your cheek hard to avoid an outburst, a metallic taste on your tastebuds. You didn’t say anything as your mother got up and left the room, allowing you to finish your teatime all by yourself. This was her idea of a punishment. If you couldn’t be grateful for her time, then she would give you only a little of her time. Little did she know that you preferred it when she gave you none of her time at all.

As soon as the door was completely closed and her heels clicked further down the hall, you buried your face in your hands. You didn’t know if you wanted to cry or break the throw the expensive teapot out of the window. The stinging in your chest grew to a malicious weight, making you feel like you were drowning. You already had so little control of your life. Now you were expected to give up your life to a man you didn’t know.

“Princess?” A deep yet soft voice called out. You looked up only to find Ghost sitting on the couch across from you. Lightning flashed from the window followed by a bellowing rumble. Your breath caught in your throat as he looked at you with a patient gaze. He wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what to say.

Actually, he knew exactly what he wanted to say. He wanted to go up to your mother and rip her a new one. It wasn’t like you were withering away from old age like your mother seemed to think. You were young, intelligent, skilled. For someone that dedicated your schedule on a regular basis, she sure didn’t know a thing about you. From what Ghost had seen from you in the past two weeks, you were very much capable of handling yourself or learning quickly how to.

Ghost could say a million things. The problem was that none of those words may be the right words you needed. Your world was different from his and he was still trying to figure it out. Saying what he wanted to say from his perspective may not have been appropriate or helpful to you.

Finally, you spoke up. Your tone was quiet and grave. “My apologies that you had to overhear that conversation. I shouldn’t be surprised that my parents are ready for me to marry. I just never expected that I would be the one having to do the impressing.”

You were right. Why should you be the one having to dance for this stranger? It should be him that should be trying to impress you. Ghost poured himself some tea, thinking about how backwards this all seemed. “You don’t know anything about this man, right? Your parents have never mentioned him before today?”

“No. They don’t usually say anything to me until events are just around the corner. I don’t have much of a social life outside of the palace walls either, so there wouldn’t be any way for me to really know this bachelor’s true character.” You began thinking more clearly, Ghost’s questions actually helping you approach this much more tactfully. It was like he was helping you come up with a plan.

“You don’t want to marry this guy or just in general?” He asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. It was a rather personal question, one that would have to be kept secret between the both of you.

You paused, thinking about his question very carefully. Once again, he was trying to get to know how you really felt about things. Ghost seemed to be the only one in the palace that genuinely wanted to know what you thought. After a sip of warm, slightly sweet tea, you gave him your truth.

A truth that a princess would give too. “I want to marry who I choose and I would choose out of love. I refuse to marry someone that I do not love. This potential bachelor. . . who is to say that I would not fall in love with him the moment I lay my eyes on him? Though, I do doubt this. I am unsure if I could trust his potential personality if the only people who could vouch for him are my parents. Their values in a partner may not reflect my own.”

Ghost has been getting better at deciphering your cryptic princess language. From what he understood, you didn’t reject the idea of marriage. You just wanted it to be out of your own choice of love. A reasonable answer. A bit romantic too. Like a true princess, you believed that love at first sight was possible. Ghost didn’t think he could agree with that. Though, your hint at valuing certain characteristics in a potential spouse piqued his interest in a way he couldn’t explain. “What do you value?”

For a moment, you looked out the window, another flash of lightning illuminating the rainy gray outside. As the light hit your features for a brief moment, Ghost felt his heart skip a beat. Now, you were giving a daydreaming, sweet smile. “I value courage, ambition, and openly high morals. Someone that isn’t afraid of pursuing their passions, satiating their curiosities appropriately, and standing up for what is right. Someone that I could grow alongside with their complete support. Someone that would not only see me as a lover, but as my own person too.”

He couldn’t help but feel his face grow a little warm as you described your ideal man. Though he couldn’t say he checked off all of those boxes, a part of him did feel like you were describing someone like him, even if you didn’t know it. At the very least, you obviously wanted someone that could put their money where their mouth was. Someone with bark and bite.

Not that he would actively pursue you. He lightly shook his head while you weren’t looking, ridding his thoughts of the idea of him being the perfect man for you. “It sounds like you know what you want.”

Those words gave you courage for some reason. Confidence. It surprised you to be filled with such confidence from that simple sentence alone. You looked towards Ghost, your breath hitching slightly as he stared at you with those blue eyes of his. “Yes, I do know what I want.”

“I’ll help you however I can, then. I’m going to run background checks on this guy. Checks on everyone that received an invite as well. I’ll make sure that you are only present at the party for strictly one hour. I still have my job to protect you, after all.” He promised you. If you couldn’t speak up against your parents due to decorum, then hopefully this would give you what you need to fight back instead.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Ghost. I truly do appreciate it.” You gratefully beamed. Who knew that when you were given a bodyguard that you would be given a friend as well.

The next few days were busy. While Ghost followed you around to your now tighter classes, he was also doing background checks on every single person that your parents sent an invite out to. Which was a lot. Jesus, when he saw the list of people he wanted to smack them both. It was incredibly dangerous for them to have so many people at the palace at once considering the threats against them and their daughter. It became clear that your parents were more concerned about protecting their public image or parading you around like a doll than about your true safety.

You felt that classes were a little easier to handle with Ghost being so focused on his laptop. Normally, he would be watching you carry on with your classes. Now that he was preoccupied with his own work, you felt less like you were giving a performance and like you were genuinely learning. Though, you did wish that he would look at you once you were finished with a successful new dance. For some reason, you craved some of his attention now that you had less of it.

Nights were different as well. While you had grown accustomed to talking yourself to sleep with Ghost listening to your every word, he had to focus on getting all the background checks complete. He also took it upon himself to tighten up some security detail. He was extremely busy making sure that you were safe, so it was hard to be upset with him. Yet, you still felt a bit lonely.

One night, you just couldn’t sleep. You laid awake for hours, trying to drift off to dreamland to no avail. Part of it was nerves over the upcoming party. Part of it was fear of being assassinated or kidnapped. Part of it was bundles of creative energy that needed to be released. You usually got it out of your system during independent study or piano, but now that it was gone for now, your fingers were itching to do something you wanted to do.

Quietly, you sat up in bed, listening carefully outside the door. You knew that Ghost usually spent his time guarding you out there. You wondered if he was still there or borrowing an office somewhere to complete his work. Either way, you wanted to be a little sneaky with or without him.

You opened the bedroom door a smidge, looking along the hallways to see if Ghost or anyone was up and around. Moonlight shined through the large windows, illuminating the halls brightly in a white light. You stepped out, now seeing Ghost situated at a small oak desk that was placed out in the hall for him right outside the door. His attention was already on you, having noticed the small opening of the door. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“I have too much energy.” You explained briefly, fearful that he may tell you to go back into your room. Thankfully, he seemed to understand.

“You usually sneak out in the middle of the night?” He teased, catching you off guard. You didn’t realize that Ghost could have such a playful tone.

“Sometimes, yes.” You answered honestly. Ghost was a little surprised by your answer. You were more defiant than you usually looked. Sneaking banned books, sneaking out of your bedroom at night. Not that you were doing anything bad. You just did what you could to explore your true interests.

Ghost closed his laptop and picked it up, ready to follow you to wherever you wished to go. “Where to then?”

Swiftly, you led him to a far part of the palace, a room that was far from your parent’s wing. Without alerting any palace staff, the both of you snuck into the room. In the middle of the room was a pure white grand piano. There were some shelves lined with books about music along with piano sheet music. There was a couch with a table as well, which would allow Ghost to continue working while you tired yourself out.

As you situated yourself in front of the piano, the lieutenant got himself all set up on the couch. For some reason, you were calm. Comfortable. You thought that you would be nervous with Ghost being your audience once more, but that wasn’t the case. In fact, you have never felt more secure than you did then. Even as you had the chance to play the music that you weren’t normally allowed to play.

You started up with warm-ups. Simple scales, listening to the tune of the piano. Feeling the weight of the pedals under your feet along with the weight of the keys under your fingertips. Ghost has grown familiar with that scale. He didn’t have any particular musical talent, yet he still appreciated it. The classics and simple songs you played were good.

As Ghost worked to the sound of your playing, the both of you fell into a comfortable groove. With your playing, Ghost felt more efficient in his work. You felt more confident in your abilities. Along with this, you began to branch out a little more, practicing classical songs that you were familiar with.

However, you played them. Truly. Not how your instructors guided you to play or how the sheet music dictated. No. You felt the emotions in each note. Each sound was played naturally as if it was second nature to you. Full of passion like the songs were intended to be played. Classical music that Ghost had admittedly grew bored of listening to just about every day, no matter how well you played, was now completely enthralled. Even songs he’s heard before meeting you seemed to breathe new life as you played with your heart rather than your head.

Before Ghost knew it, all of his attention was on watching and listening to you play. He saw how you closed your eyes, your fingers naturally finding each key without the use of sheet music. How you swayed as your hands moved. How you beautifully smiled to yourself as you heard the wonderful sounds your hands made.

It only got better when you began to play songs that weren’t of the classical variety. Songs that would have you banned from playing the piano in the palace. Hell, banned from music in general. There were some modern songs that Ghost recognized, now given your own flair. He didn’t even know how you knew some of those songs, but that didn’t matter.

You had talent. Real talent. A clear love for music and the piano.

An hour passed by of him neglecting his work just to watch you play. When you finished a final song, you were breathing heavily as if you had just worked out. Your heart was beating hard in your chest. Once you managed to catch your breath, Ghost spoke up, unable to remain just the silent audience. “Why don’t you play like that during classes? You only play the basics with your tutor.”

You nearly had forgotten that Ghost had been there. You weren’t even aware that he had been listening to you play the entire time. A blush spread across your cheeks as you grew bashful all of a sudden. “It is believed that I am slow at learning the piano. I don’t correct this assumption since I don’t want to be pressured to play even more songs that I don’t find much joy in. At least, not the way they want me to play. I. . . I also don’t want to give my parents another party trick that they can exploit.”

His fists clenched at the mention of your parents. With each passing day, he’s come to resent your parents more and more. How they treat you, control your life, and regard you like a pet rather than a daughter was making his blood simmer more each day. It was getting harder for him to hold his true opinions back. “You deserve more. You deserve to play whatever you want whenever you want.”

Your eyes grew wide at his open criticism. This was the first time he spoke his mind like this. Ghost was careful in his words just as you were up until this point. It was actually rather refreshing to hear him not hold back for once. “Thank you. I hope that I can someday get to that point.”

It felt like a wall between the both of you had crumbled down. As the moonlight fell upon your soft features, your optimism for the future bright in your eyes, Ghost felt himself choke up. This was you at your rebelliousness. You were a princess that snuck around in the night to enjoy forbidden knowledge. And he wanted to be part of that.

For a moment, he understood how people could fall in love at first sight.

You began to toy around with the piano again, this time playing a little more quietly and simpler so that Ghost could get back to work. While it was hard to focus on what he needed to do because he wanted to take in more of the beauty he was in the presence of, he managed to finish what he wanted to do for the night.

He finished his background check on this bachelor that your mother wanted you to marry. Ghost read everything that he could find on the guy. Net worth, news coverage, social media, and even criminal history. Kate was a massive help in finding more confidential information too. Everything was compiled into a report that he wrote himself. When it was done, he got up from the couch and sat down beside you on the piano bench.

“Would you like to hear the report?” He simply offered, not wanting to break your light playing.

With a nod, you prepared yourself for what Ghost found. He took a deep breath before reading. “Royal background. A duke. Only a couple of years older than you are. Owns a lot of land and has a lot of wealth-”

“I don’t care about any of that.” You interrupted, your tone suddenly a bit colder. As Ghost looked at you with slight shock, you turned your head away. He didn’t expect you to speak up like that. The fact that you did meant that you were getting more comfortable with him though. You were taking this seriously as well.

“What would you like to hear then, Princess?” He offered, giving you more control that you deserved.

When he spoke back to you so softly, you met his eyes once more. The piano bench was decently big, but Ghost was a big man. You could feel his body heat radiating off of him. As you looked up, you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach. The way he looked at you like you deserved the world made you feel lighter than air. When you gazed into his eyes, you felt like you could see his genuinity.

You trusted him. You trusted that he was an excellent judge of character as well. Much more than your own parents. “Based on the values that you know I am looking for, is he a good fit for me?”

Ghost bit his tongue hard, stopping his immediate response from escaping. He wanted to say no. Based on everything he read, this guy seemed stuck-up. Seedy. He had quite a few exes under his belt, not even counting just one-off flings. He didn’t have a criminal record or seemed to be dealing with anything particularly shady, but he did take advantage of his wealthy and royal status to experience certain things in life, regardless of how others may feel.

Then again, Ghost felt like his brain was foggy. Like he couldn’t really make a fair judgment because he wanted to reject him immediately. He had a bias against him. Where it came from exactly, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he didn’t trust him to be the one for you. He didn’t want you anywhere near him either.

For now, he decided to be earnest yet nice. “I don’t think he would be a good match based on his track records, but who’s to say that he isn’t better in person. You’ll have an hour to judge him at the very least.”

Your heart fell as you heard his answer. It wasn’t that you were disappointed over this stranger probably not being the best for you. No. You were disappointed that Ghost wasn’t more blunt with what he thought. You appreciated how he was trying to preserve your feelings, but you didn’t want that right now. You wished that he could protest some more, any excuse not to meet this stranger and play into the hands of your parents.

As he saw the flash of anguish on your face, Ghost felt his heart break. He could tell that you were really hesitant about this man. You didn’t even want to meet him if you had the choice. Without thinking, he took up your hands and squeezed. His hand was so much bigger than yours. Rougher, sturdier. Hands that have done things that you would never be able to fully comprehend. And now, they were holding yours.

“One hour. That’s all. However, if you tell me that you hate him, even within the first second of seeing him, I’ll make sure that he won’t even get to touch you.” His tone was resolute, unwavering.

As he put the control back in your hands, you squeezed his hands right back. Your heart swelled again as if on a rollercoaster. The moonlight cutting across the skull mask you have gotten used to only to brighten his deep, blue eyes made you melt. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

Taglist: @angel-anna @ghostlythots @maiyatheprettiestprincess

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urdepressedslut · 9 months

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You’re Mine, Sunshine ❝part six❞

♡ Pairing: Grumpy!Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: Bucky receives a morning visit from Steve, with the news about what was in the box. Bucky continues to think about what he should do. Should he tell you the truth about your stalker?

♡ Warnings: language, angst, fluff, stalking, hints to death threats, mentions of parent death

Part 7

Trope ⇢ Grumpy x Sunshine | Mob!Au Bodyguard!Au

Loud knocking had woken Bucky up from his slumber— his sagging body in the chair next to your bed, straightening.

He felt his back crack, along with his neck— the seat wasn’t the most comfortable. But there was no way he was going to leave you last night— not after you had asked him to stay.

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, giving you a quick look— smiling at your sprawled out form on the bed.

He made it down the hall and down the stairs, checking through the frosty glass before opening. His body was tense— on alert for a possible intruder. It was only Steve. Swinging the door open, he was met with a tight lipped smile— one that didn’t mean good news in his opinion.

“Good morning Buck. Sorry to wake you up, but this is pretty important.” Steve told him, and Bucky rolled his neck around— already feeling stressed for the day.

“Morning— yeah come on in.” He stepped aside to allow Steve to enter.

Steve walked in and shut the door, securing the locks before the two headed towards the living room to sit down.

“So what’s going on?” Bucky asked, running a hand through his hair.

Steve took a deep breath, rubbing his temples in preparation. That didn’t make Bucky feel better. Truthfully— he’s rather never see Steve too often. He felt like it only meant bad news when he saw him. Or maybe he just wanted it to be you two instead.

“Well trust me, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.” Steve added, and Bucky nodded for him to continue. “It’s about the box.”

At first Bucky was confused— having forgot about it completely after yesterdays events. But now with the mention from Steve, his mind spiraled. He dreaded to find out what was in the box— but he also was curious.

“What was in it?” Bucky asked the golden question.

Steve looked down nervously to the floor, taking a second to glance around— making sure you weren’t around.

“If I tell you— it’s not to be repeated to her.” Steve warned, and Bucky scoffed and shook his head.

Here we go again— the big secret that is being kept from you. When in reality, you deserve to know out of everyone. It was about you— a threat to your life.

“Steve this is bullshit— she deserves to know someone is stalking her for fucks sake!” Bucky complained, frustrated that he had to keep something from you.

The more he got to know you better— the more he truly believed you didn’t deserve this. He blamed his defensive behavior on the fact that he was your bodyguard— nothing more.

“We have orders from the boss Buck— I would think you’d understand that.” Steve pointed out.

“Yeah well, it’s not right. She deserves to know. She deserves better.” Bucky defended you, running his hand through his hair stressfully.

Steve gave Bucky a once over, looking at him like he had five heads. Steve was confused at his change in behavior.

“Seriously Steve, what was in the box?” Bucky changed the topic, clearly still frustrated but trying to focus on business.

Steve dismissed his confusion for now and got serious again. Doing another quick glance to make sure you weren’t listening in on the conversation.

“There was another note,” Steve started, “It read wonder if you’d squeal like a pig just like your mother.”

Bucky’s stomach knotted up at the sinister message, the way he was glad you didn’t know about this one. This was something that wouldn’t just shock you— it would disturb you to no ends— haunt you to your core.

“And along with the note was her Mother’s necklace.” Steve finished, and Bucky’s eyes went wide.

This wasn’t just a stalker— this was someone with bad intentions. Someone who already had blood on their hands possibly. Someone who was capable of sick shit.

“The necklace was a locket of her and (Y/n).” He explained. “We still aren’t sure if this has something to do with Pierce— or if this is just a secret admirer.”

Bucky bit the inside of his lip in thought, the whole situation making him uncomfortable— for you. He felt even more protective every time Steve came with bad news. For a second his protective side wasn’t coming out because it was his job— it was coming from the heart.

“She needs to know about this shit.” Bucky muttered lowly.

Steve scoffed, leaning back in his seat. An entertained expression etched his face.

“What happened to you Buck?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, glaring at Steve for a moment before he spoke. His voice defensive— annoyed.

“What are you talking about?”

He wondered for a quick second— was Steve always this annoying?

Steve scoffed again, rubbing a hand down his face, but he wore a shit eating grin, a knowing look sporting his face.

“Miss perfect rubbing off on you?” Steve chuckled, watching Bucky furrow his brows in confusion.

Bucky tried to ignore the anger that built up inside at the nickname Steve gave you.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Bucky pushed.

“Buck— you’re soft man. Quit defending her, the things her dad has said— you need to be watching your back man.” Steve warned and it only had Bucky boiling with anger.

Bucky was sick and tired of this judgement that everyone held against you— this persona that didn’t even exist. You were wrongly labeled as a monster. Bucky just knew it wasn’t fair, especially when you were as sweet as pie. The farthest thing from a monster. He had also seen a side of you— a sensitive side of you that made him melt even more. He saw through the cracks of your bubbly personality— the side that was secretly broken. It made him hurt, and in a way he related to you.

Another part of him hated the way you were able to break down his walls. He had built them for a reason, protecting his heart from the pain the world could cause. Then here you were, skipping right into his life— turning the walls to dust with just the touch of your finger. He felt indifferent about it all— hating it and loving it.

“You don’t know her— so I’d quit talking about her like you do.” Bucky warned, the air now thick with tension as Steve huffed in his seat.

“She could be tricking you Buck. It’s still early— you only just met her.” Steve argued.

“Again— I know her better than you ever will.”

Steve scoffed again, waving his hands towards him.

“Look at you, defending her,” Steve laughed, “You’re her bodyguard— not her boyfriend.”

With that last sentence, Bucky’s jaw was clenched painfully in anger. His hands fisted uncomfortably— his knuckles whitening.

“Thanks for the info— you need to leave.” He tried to say calmly. Although his face was red with frustration.

Steve shook his head, a flash of emotion that looked apologetic passing through his features.

“I’ll see you later.” Steve said lastly, standing up to exit.

Bucky stayed silent, with angry eyes— watching Steve walk to the door until he left. As soon as the door closing sounded, he relaxed in his seat. The air seemed to be breathable now that he was gone. He liked it when it was just you two. Things seemed easier, everything felt lighter.

You’re her bodyguard, not her boyfriend.

The words shouldn’t of rang through his head— but they did. Over and over and over. He was confused at his reaction, but wouldn’t of reacted any other way. Things would be different if you were everything your Father said you were— but you were the opposite. He knew parts of you now and was learning more about you everyday. He had to react like that, if your Father wasn’t going to defend you— he’d do it.

His being craved the lightness your brought— the peaceful aura you’d leave when you were in the room. He found himself wanting to head back upstairs to you— needing to drown himself in the comfort that was your company.

He decided to do just that— headed upstairs to find you. Without him knowing it, he walked up the stairs and down the hall— all with a gentle smile on his lips.

He opened the door slowly, peeking in to make sure you were still asleep— afraid that his knocking would wake you. He was shocked to find you sitting up, legs hanging over the bed.

The door was open, but your back was to him and he knocked anyway— alerting you he was coming in.

“Hey, is it okay to come in?” He asked, his tone soft now versus the harshness from talking with Steve.

You didn’t jump like you usually did, instead you turned slowly and sent him a tired smile. Your hair was messy from sleep, and your eyes were slightly puffy from just waking up. Bucky had to bite his lip to stop the smile from approaching.

God— you looked like… an angel.

You nodded for him to come in, watching his bulky form walk towards the bed.

“You sleep okay?” He asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

He was suddenly feeling nervous around you, and he wasn’t sure if it was Steve’s comment that kept repeating in his brain.

“Yeah, I did.” You told him shyly, your cheeks heating up.

He nodded and avoided eye contact as the silence was killing him. He had so much to say, yet there was so much stopping him from doing so. He’d try again later when he didn’t feel so stressed out.

“Listen uh…” He started, sitting on the edge of your bed, a professional distance away from you, “I’m sorry about last night— I shouldn’t of said what I did.”

You grew serious but still kept a small smile etched on your face.

“James, it’s okay— you don’t have to keep apologizing.” You reassured him, waving it off like no big deal.

Truthfully, you weren’t upset with him.

He shook his head, his face flushed in embarrassment.

“Yeah I do. You’ve been…” He trailed off, wondering if he should go there, “You’ve been nothing but sweet to me since we met, and I’ve been… well— me.”

He dropped his head in shame, missing the way you were looking at him in awe.

“I’m sorry I’ve been acting like a dick most of the time— I promise I’ll try to be better.” He told you, and you scooted closer and placed your hand on his arm.

“James, I don’t want you to feel like you have to change yourself for me.” You told him.

Bucky felt hot under your touch, but otherwise ignored the feeling and totally disagreed with your statement. Of course he had to change— he wanted to change. He wanted to be a better version of himself for you. He hated that he did, but he couldn’t control it.

“I just wanna make it up to you, you know— for being a dick.” He repeated and you playfully glared at him.

“James if you tell me you’re being a dick one more time— I’m gonna slap you.” You threatened playfully.

Your words sounded goofy coming out of your mouth, but you didn’t expect the reaction from Bucky. His head leaned back and he let out a hearty laugh— one that was echoing off your room walls. You stared at him in shock— the bear was laughing? The bear was smiling like the cheshire cat. You were speechless.

Bucky wiped his eyes, noticing your shocked expression and smiled even more.

“Doll— I’d like to see you slap me. In fact, I’d like to see you beat someone up.” He pushed, the scenario playing through his head— it was adorable.

You shook your head, ridding yourself of the shock that had paralyzed you for a moment.

“Hey! I could hurt somebody if I wanted to!” You argued, crossing your arms in offense. But the corners of your mouth were lifting— his smile contagious.

Bucky had to hold back the snort that tried to escape, and just gazed down at you with a grin.

“Whatever you say doll.” He teased, loving the way you kept blushing at the nickname.

Why else do you think he keeps saying it?

You both sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, both of you content with each other’s presence. Bucky lost his smile just lightly before he spoke again.

“So— I wanna make it up to you,” He started, grabbing your attention, “How about we go get the baking supplies you wanted?”

You beamed at his suggestion, nodding you head excitedly.

“That sounds perfect, thanks James.” You said softly, his gaze giving you butterflies.

He nodded his head in a welcome, and stood up to head out of the room— to give you some space. You watched him leave with a look you had never sported before.

Something within you longed for him, even when you dismissed the thought— it’d come back stronger. You couldn’t starve yourself for the affection that Bucky had provided. Maybe you’d think differently about his suggestion, not thinking twice about it. But after witnessing Bucky defending you— your heart sped up at the memory.

You knew you shouldn’t of spied— but you had heard raised voices from the hallway and grew concerned.

Earlier…

You had cracked your eyes open, just enough to see Bucky’s back retreat from the room. The way his steps were sluggish— sleep still consuming him.

He stayed. Just as you had asked him to.

You opened your eyes all the way and felt the corners of your mouth lifting. Butterflies started to swarm your tummy. You had just woken up and he was already giving you butterflies. He had your day starting good.

While getting lost in a daydream about him— you decided to follow him. You weren’t sure what you even wanted to say to him— if there was anything to say. You just wanted to be around him, even if no words were spoken.

Sneaking down the stairs, you slowed your steps. Questing your breathing when you heard the sound of two voices. They sounded like they were arguing.

“What are you talking about?”

Bucky had sounded annoyed, the way his voice was edgier around this Steve guy.

“Ms. Perfect rubbing off on you?” The man called Steve laughed.

You couldn’t help the hurt that came to you from those words. You weren’t trying to be perfect— bell you knew you’d never be. You weren’t sure what you had done to earn that label. But you hoped it was some misunderstanding.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Bucky boomed, and you were sure if he was spitting those words at you— you’d be intimidated. His voice was thick, heavy with anger.

“Buck— you’re soft man. Quit defending her, the things her dad has said— you need to be watching your back man.”

The mention of your dad had you biting your lip, willing the tears to stay away. Of course he had something to do with this. You wondered like always— what you had done to make him hate you. You loved him and only ever talked highly of him.

“You don’t know her— so I’d quit talking about her like you do.” Bucky defended you, his voice laced with venom towards Steve.

Your heart sped up at the way he was defending you, no one had ever had your back like that. After your Mother passed, it was just you. You unfortunately learned that the only person that had your back— was you. It was depressing but that’s how things were. That was until you heard Bucky.

“She could be tricking you Buck. It’s still early— you only just met her.” Steve pointed out.

You opened your mouth in shock, confused and hurt with the way he spoke about you. You were talked about like you were a disease and nothing more. What did you ever do to him?

“Again— I know her better than you ever will.” Bucky hissed, the venom unfamiliar— at least with you.

“Look at you, defending her,” Steve laughed, “You’re her bodyguard— not her boyfriend.”

You were again— shocked at Steve’s words. But you forgot your own reaction and slightly peeked around the corner— trying to see Bucky’s reaction. From the thick silence that covered the room, you knew his reaction couldn’t be good.

Just barely you could see the side of Bucky’s face, and one of his arms. His metal one that is. You could see the metal fist shake, the way his jaw was clenched so tightly it looked uncomfortable.

“Thanks for the info but— you need to leave.” You heard Bucky try to say calmly.

You could easily tell that he was still angry, but was trying his hardest to hide it. You wanted to know why that sentence out of them all bothered him the most. Just the random theories flying through your head had you blushing.

You had heard enough, deciding to tip toe back up the stairs— and wait patiently for Bucky to come back up. Should you tell him you had listened in?

You found yourself stuck in an internal debate, until you had heard soft knocking come from your door. You knew who it was. You weren’t sure why you felt shy all of a sudden— Bucky had clearly seen you at a pretty low point. You knew you should tell him you were spying— but found yourself backing down in the moment.

Bucky knew it wasn’t smart to be out while someone was threatening you. But he’d be damned if he let anything happen to you. He’d kill anyone without hesitation if they tried anything towards you.

In fact, he’d cleared out the entire grocery store just for you. Letting you roam freely through the place, in search of your ingredients without having to worry. Instead he kept his eyes trained on the glass doors at the front. He didn’t know if he has the power to request such a thing— but had done it anyway.

He didn’t miss the glaring men across the street, who obviously worked for your Father. They sent him judgmental stares— most likely sending a message to Pierce. Bucky knew he should be worried about his position after going against Pierce’s orders. But he was starting not to care. You were deserving of so much more than what your Father had given you.

He rolled his eyes, breaking his staring contest with the men— focusing back on your humming throughout the isles. The music was muted in the store, leaving the sweet sound of your voice echoing throughout the space.

He wasn’t sure if it was paranoia— but everyone that passed by the window and glanced into the store. He immediately labeled them as the stalker. He wasn’t sure if it was his brain desperately wanting to find them— or if he was just worried about you. He obviously was taking a risk bringing you out, but you didn’t deserve to be locked up.

He knew he needed to tell you, and with his brain going back in fourth in a stressful debate— he had found his answer.

He was going to tell you.

“Okay, I got everything. Ready to go?” You announced, pushing your cart towards the only cashier in the store.

Bucky glanced back at you, giving you a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was still lost in his internal debate.

With a nod of his head, you headed towards the checkout. Bucky watched as you talked politely with the cashier— causing them to smile widely at whatever you were saying.

Truthfully he was too stuck in his head to hear what you were saying, but he wasn’t surprised to find you making someone beam. You seemed to have that effect on people.

🤍taglist for this series is officially closed 🤍

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ozzgin · 8 months

Text

Yandere! Baki Headcanons (II)

Featuring Jack Hanma, Kaoru Hanayama, Katsumi Orochi and Chiharu Shiba since the latest Baki season is out. TW: Violence, dubious consent

[Baki Masterlist] [Part I]

Jack Hanma

Once Jack finds a purpose or a goal to achieve, he will hunt it down in deplorable mania with no regard to any impediment along the way. He’s deemed you to be his newfound motivation and minor details such as your opinion of it are but a slight detour. He’s already had one dream robbed from him - that of being the strongest. He’s not as generous as to accept yet another loss. Really, (Y/N), why so afraid? He promises you won’t regret it.

Outside of his obsessive tendencies, Jack is rather kind and understanding. He pays great attention to detail when it comes to you and is willing to go to great lengths for your sake. Being a servant on the knee is a small price to pay if he gets to see your satisfied expression. What a strange effect you have on him. To think that his pride immediately crumbles at your feet…No, it’s the other way around. It’s because of you that he can keep his head up, no matter what.

Jealousy or possessiveness are not things that plague Jack. His mere presence is enough to signal loud and clear that you’re not to be approached. Like a wild animal guarding his territory, he finds intruders a warm-up sport to entertain himself with and nothing more. But what if, say, it was you trying to get out instead? Now that would be just plain nonsense. No one else can guarantee your safety to such degree. You must be confused, and in situations like these Jack has no choice but to bring you back to your senses. Regardless of what it takes.

I have to say, if you choose Jack as your boyfriend you should definitely brace yourself. He has vowed to shield you from all threats, but his love for you doesn’t count as one. The fact that you’re laying there bruised all over further shows how intoxicating you are to him. His brain turns into mush and the only thing he can focus on is that you belong entirely to him. He could crush you, break you, kiss you until your lips bleed, hold you until your ribs crack. He holds the power over you and you have willingly offered this vulnerability to him. He doesn’t expect you to hold back, either. He is yours to mark as you please.

He will return to his senses and apologize for the vicious, feral attack during intimacy. He is a man of instinct and logic rarely prevails when dealing with temptations. And you, darling (Y/N), happen to be the strongest drug he’s ever dealt with.

Kaoru Hanayama

Hanayama is initially very conflicted about his feelings. Has he not sworn to dedicate himself entirely to the Family? What kind of puny leader loses focus in the middle of an important agreement between clans to think of a normal civilian? What kind of respected kumichou asks his subordinates to take a detour in their debt collection to check on some regular human? Here he is, sitting between the women working for his business, reluctant to touch them in fear of being disloyal. To whom? You don’t even know him and he’s already built an entire code of honor to follow. Shameful.

It doesn’t take him too long to rationalize his inexplicable attachment. Just like his father had found his mother, he too was bound to stumble upon someone for him, a partner fit to bear the weight of the family honor. He isn’t betraying his Group, he’s providing it with an equally capable leading hand. Oh, he just knows you’ll do great. You were made for this. You were made for him.

Confessing to you is a difficult task. Hanayama usually conveys his feelings with his fists, and he’d rather not pummel you down as the sweet “will you date me” invitation. So you’ll often find him staring intently at you, a frightening aura surrounding him. Any moment now, he’ll say it. And what if you respond with no? He hasn’t considered that. He’s been so entranced by your future together that he didn’t even entertain the idea you wouldn’t want to be part of it. Small obstacle, you just need a little bit of convincing.

He’s not the type to show his jealously, mainly because there’s no need to. If someone flirts with you, you’re not worried for Hanayama’s feelings but for this stranger’s safety. You’ll choke in terror trying to warn them to step away and if they still persist you know you’ll never see them again. One does not mess with the yakuza and lives to tell about it. Hanayama further contributes to this reputation.

The young man is very much aware of your fragility and would never do anything to permanently damage you. That said, he really can’t help the dizzying adoration that overwhelms him whenever he uses his knife on you. Just small, superficial lines gently tracing across your body, that immediately bloom into bright red flowers, cluttering along until they finally burst into an intricate mosaic. He feels like a poet penning his love for you in the most intimate way conceivable, because you’ve offered yourself as a canvas for his eyes and his control only. The Madonna of his existence.

Katsumi Orochi

Katsumi wouldn’t say that he’s taking it too far. He followed all the proper steps, from the innocent secret crush, to shyly confessing his feelings, and finally the drunken delight of hearing your acceptance to date him. There’s nothing wrong with skipping some steps. There’s no textbook claiming that love has to be gradual and evolve in time. If you know you’ve met your soulmate there’s no reason to hold back. And from the moment he laid his eyes on you he’s been certain, this was not mere coincidence.

He’s clumsier than he’d like to admit when it comes to romance, but one thing his extensive karate training has provided him with is discipline. He has a little notebook to keep track of your interests and likes, and if he’s completely clueless about something he will research it later. It helps him keep his plans organized and simultaneously make sure he won’t miss any detail about you.

It he thinks about it, love is a lot like karate indeed. A natural charm for it can hardly compete with raw passion and hard work. Step by step, he can see the fruits of his labor. Martial arts require a cool mind however, and while he’s learned to remain collected and act without haste in a fight, when it comes to you he can’t seem to remain still. His thoughts are burning hot and erratic and the tangled chaos in his head is exhausting. He wishes he could lay out his love for you and carefully smoothen all the folds, but maybe the inability to do so just further proves you’re a special case.

He also doesn’t consider himself to be a jealous individual. Right? In the middle of his training he finds himself idly pondering about such a scenario. He faces the wall, trying to picture a rival that might steal you from him. Silly. You wouldn’t leave him like that. You know how much he loves you. Or do you? He loves you so much. So much. So fucking much. His vision returns and his eyes widen at the large dents and cracks he left in the wall. The skin of his fists is throbbing, irritated.

Katsumi is rather needy during intimate moments. Whether you want him as your dominant or submissive accomplice, he will beg or demand for your words of love. Let him know that you don’t belong to anyone else. That you’re all his, forever and ever and even after death. Always.

Chiharu Shiba

Chiharu is an extremely stubborn man, so if he concludes that he has feelings for you, absolutely no rejection will get through to him. He doesn’t just fall for anyone and isn’t as shallow as to base his interest on appearance alone (though he did almost crash his bike once daydreaming about your face). It’s everything about you that’s convinced him there’s no one else for him. So now he just has to prove that similarly, no one else is better for you.

I feel like he would use his sturdiness and resistance to pain as a way to manipulate you into agreeing with him. You’re unsure whether you like him more than a friend? Is it because he’s not skilled enough? You don’t trust him? He’ll pick random fights with anyone and no matter how battered and bloodied he is, no matter how much you plead he stops, he’ll keep going until he’s dead or until you give in.

It’s his personality to show off. From the flashy bosozoku uniform to his customized retro Kawasaki, he likes to make it clear to others where his priorities lay. That includes his partner, of course. Not only is he the proud leader of Tokkoutai, but more importantly the one you belong to. If he’s feeling extra cheesy he will greet you with a dramatic spin and reveal he had his jacket stitched to some kanji symbols representing your relationship.

Chiharu is not particularly proud of it, but his bouts of jealousy often end in violence. Potential rivals lead him on a downward spiral of anxious what-ifs. He struggles with a certain feeling of inadequacy whenever he compares himself to other fighters. Put him next to someone like Baki and he fades into nothingness; No elaborate fighting skills, just a hard skull and a bunch of dirty tricks. Will that be enough to protect you from anyone? For how long? Before he knows it, his knuckles are dyed red and whoever approached you too fondly is scattered on the ground.

Safe to say this man has a lot of stamina and will be at your service 24/7. Anytime, anywhere. Just let him know. Feeling especially needy? He’ll throw you on the hood of the nearest car and just take care of you regardless of who’s watching. You’re strongly considering keeping a spray water bottle in your bag to keep him under control when you’re in public.

Despite all this he is very soft spoken and careful around you. He would never, ever hurt his precious darling (Y/N). And he won’t allow anything else to hurt you, either. He would die for you. Actually, scratch that. He’ll do you one better. He would kill for you.

#baki #baki hanma #baki the grappler #baki x reader #baki headcanons #jack hanma #katsumi orochi #kaoru hanayama #chiharu shiba #shiba chiharu #yandere baki #yandere x reader

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sunnytarg · 1 year

Note

How would Yandere!Aegon I, Aemond, Daemon and Margor react to a Stark!Reader who refused to marry them on religious grounds? (As in she doesn’t want to marry and have children with someone that doesn’t worship the Old Gods)

I’m still having a hard time writing Daemon and I have no idea if anyone can tell through my writing. Anyways, enjoy!

TW: Somnophilia, dubcon, kidnapping(?), and stalking.

Aegon I (The Conqueror)

Aegon was a persistent man. When he wanted something he would eventually get it even if it took him a while.

None were surprised when after the Lord of Winterfell finally bent the knee to him, Aegon soon set his eyes on conquering another part of the North. The Lord of Winterfell’s sister. Unlike most that had come before her, she was not bending over backward to fulfill his every want nor was she cold and distant. She was dismissive, as though he didn’t have a dragon perched outside the walls of the cold castle. The more she acted as if he was not there, the more attention he paid to her.

He soon learned she was unwed and that every day she would take a stroll out to a tree that he had been told was where they worshipped the Old Gods. While his sister-wives were entertained by the feasts the northerners put together in their honor, Aegon found himself following Lady Stark out into the forest. He tried his best not to be seen. He watched as she knelt in front of the tree’s face for several minutes before getting up to leave. He didn’t follow her back that night. He only stayed for a few moments longer and watched the tree. He knew nothing about the Old Gods and why the northerners worshipped them. Truthfully, he didn’t care enough to know. He couldn’t see why it would be so important to him.

The next morning as Visenya and Rhaenys still slumbered, as well as most of the castle, Aegon went to the Lord of Winterfell. With the Lady barely giving him the time of day, he knew he wouldn’t get the answer he wanted so he decided to ask her brother for her hand in marriage. The man agreed quickly, stating that his sister only needed to agree, and once she did they would be wed.

Aegon had not expected an immediate yes but he hadn’t expected the Lady to say no so quickly and with so little thought. She refused to marry him due to her Gods. The Gods he did not worship. She stated that she could not marry nor bare children for a man who did not understand her Gods or the way of her people. Aegon had suggested that a Weirwood tree be brought to King’s Landing for her to which she only laughed, claiming he clearly understood nothing of what it represented. With a forced smile, he nodded and left the Lady to herself.

That night he had asked his dear sister-wife Rhaenys to find a Weirwood tree and place it in King’s Landing. She left without question and when Visenya raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for an answer he gave none.

He went to the Lord of Winterfell again who patted Aegon on the shoulder and pitied him for the rejection. Aegon had only to remind the Lord of the two dragons that stood outside his gates and what had happened to his previous enemies when they went against him. It was a threat and the Lord could see that. It was something Aegon appreciated because he didn’t care to dance around this for much longer.

The next morning, Visenya made sure that their things were packed and atop their dragons. Along with Lady Stark’s belongings. When the Lady herself was brought into the room in which Aegon stood with her brother, the look of boredom that was present on her face every time she saw Aegon was wiped away with a look of worry. Aegon stood back as her brother explained to her that she would not be wed to Aegon, as she wished, but she would be going to King’s Landing with him. When a look of confusion appeared on her beautiful face Aegon smiled and took her hands and told her that she would live with him as his mistress. She would not need to bare him any children and a Weirwood tree had been brought to her new home for her.

It may not have been what he wanted initially but perhaps after years as his mistress and years without a child of her own, Aegon could only hope that the love he showed her would be enough for her to finally agree to wed him but for now, he could settle for this.

Maegor

When it is whispered that the Stark family might join his nephew in rebelling against his claim to the throne, Maegor himself goes to Winterfell to sort things out with the Lord of Winterfell. When he first arrived, though, it was not the Lord that caught his eye but one of his daughters. She was beautiful, Maegor noted, but that was not what drew him to her. There was a fire in her eyes that he had truly ever seen in dragons when she looked at him.

That night, as he was talking to the Lord of Winterfell, he brought up his daughter. He claimed she was a Snow, a bastard, but he had loved her mother very much and had agreed to raise her alongside his sons. Maegor seeing the opportunity had suggested that if the Lord held no objections to Maegor marrying her, he would simply forget about the talks of the Starks rebelling. The Lord quickly agreed, knowing how Maegor handled his enemies and he wasn’t going to disagree with the man whilst his dragon, the same dragon that frightened his father enough to bend the knee, was outside the castle walls. Despite his agreeing to give his daughter's hand to Maegor, he warned the king of how devoted his daughter was to the Old Gods. Maegor simply laughed and said that it could be dealt with.

The next morning, as they were breaking their fast, Lord Stark announced the union that would be had between their House and House Targaryen. When his daughter heard this news she immediately protested but it didn’t matter. Maegor had already decided she was to be his wife so under his command he had his men take her to her rooms and have her locked in there. She was only to be let out that night when they were to be married. Lord Stark said nothing as the guards took away his daughter, who only spat in Maegor’s direction before she was out of view. When everyone at the table was settled again, Maegor smirked and said to no one in particular, “I think I will enjoy this marriage.”

When night fell he stood before the Weirwood tree and awaits his bride. When she was walked down to Maegor by her father, her beautiful dress could not hide the chains Maegor had requested be placed on her. She glared at him the entire ceremony and after she said her vows, she declared that this was a mockery of The Old Gods. Maegor refused to acknowledge her as the ceremony continued and when it ended he brought her to the chambers he was staying in by himself, although, he refused to remove the chains. She would learn that despite his name, he could treat the things he wanted well as he believed he did when he had their wedding ceremony before her precious Weirwood tree.

Daemon

Daemon had asked the sister of Lord Stark to marry him on several occasions. The first time in his youth and the most recently after his first wife had died. He made no secret his love for the Stark woman. Proclaiming she was his to anyone that had ears. She was not his, of course, as she would remind people. She never would be. She could never marry anyone who did not understand and worship the Old Gods. She would not compromise on this it infuriated Daemon because he was no king and his brother had refused to make the match on the grounds that the Lady, herself refused.

So, Daemon watched her. He was lucky enough that she lived in King’s Landing as one of the queen’s lady-in-waiting. When many thought he snuck down to the city and the depravity below them, he only snuck through the hidden passageways in the castle to find Lady Stark in her chambers. She mostly read or slept and when he saw her leave her room he would enter it. Searching for things that smelt like her. Once, he found her nightgowns and decided to take them all. Knowing that until she could have more purchased for herself she would have to sleep naked. It was something he enjoyed watching immensely. He didn’t know if she knew that he was behind the stolen clothes or if he watched her every step but even if she did, he would not stop.

Eventually, though, as most Ladies-in-waiting do, she got married. It was to a man who belonged to a Northern House a house no one could really remember. He did pray to The Old Gods, though, and apparently, that was enough for the woman he had so longed to marry to agree to be another man’s wife. Luckily, because he was not the Lord of his House the Queen could request that they stay in King’s Landing.

Daemon was glad that his love wasn’t going to be taken away from him but he couldn’t help but roll his eyes and glare daggers into the ungrateful man that his Lady now called her husband. At the feast to celebrate such a joyous event, Daemon made sure to sneak out when the newly married couple decided to take their leave for the night. He hide in his usual spot and watched as his Lady undressed for her new husband and laid down on the bed with her legs open for him. Daemon pulled out his own hard cock at the sight of her naked form. Her breasts her soft and he would give anything to taste her cunt. Her new husband didn’t even think to have her on his tongue, he only climbed on the bed and thrust his cock into her.

Daemon watched as her tits bounced with every thrust and pumped his own cock harder when she moaned. Her own husband had finished before she had and rolled off of her and promptly fell asleep. Daemon bit the inside of his cheek to not growl at the thought. How could a man have this beautiful northern lady underneath him and not have her cum with pleasure? He stayed long enough for her to fall asleep and he debated with himself for a few seconds on if he should enter the room.

Her husband had drunk so much wine, Daemon doubted that a wild horse running about their chambers would wake him. His lady had also had a fair amount to drink, especially after her husband had fallen asleep. So after a moment of rationalizing to himself, Daemon snuck into the chambers for the first time that she was also in there as well. He walked over to her side of the bed with his cock still out. He knew simply jerking off to her would no longer simply suffice. So he positioned himself on the bed carefully, so as not to jostle her husband or wake her, and slipped his hard cock into her. Her poor cunt was still wet and after a few slow and deep thrusts, he could tell it was just begging to be pleased.

He leaned down and latched his mouth onto one of her soft tits to muffle his moans as he continued to thrust into her. He brought one hand to her weeping cunt and rubbed at her clit. She clenched around his cock which made him buck harder into her. She moaned in her sleep but did not wake and when Daemon was sure she wouldn’t wake he continued until he felt her clenching again and soaking his cock with her creamy cum. When he felt her release he quickened his own thrusts and finally spilled his seed in her. When he pulled away he stood and looked down at his Lady. Her cunt was a mess of her own cream as well as her husband’s and Daemon’s seed. He snuck out of the chambers the same way he came in and told himself he would find another opportunity to taste her on his tongue.

Nearly nine moons after her wedding she gave birth to a son and when Daemon finally saw him he smiled in triumph. The babe had patchy white hair on the top of his head and large lilac eyes. Despite her marrying another man, Daemon had still managed to make it so they were bonded through blood.

Aemond

When Aemond is sent out to all of the great Houses of Westeros to gain the support of his brother he wasn’t expecting his attention to be grabbed by a widowed Stark. While the Lord would deliberate and talk to his counselors, Aemond would find himself sitting with the Lady and talking. He learned of how her husband was a Stark and how he died of a fever a little less than a year ago. When Aemond offered her his sympathies she only smiled sadly and shook her head saying, “I prayed to The Old Gods, and they saw it right to take him. Who am I to argue with that?”

After their talks, Aemond would find the library in Winterfell and read about The Old Gods. They clearly meant quite a bit to this widow. When he searched out a maester who resided in Winterfell and believed in The Old Gods, he told Aemond that the widow he had his eye on would never marry him nor bare his children because he did not worship The Old Gods. Aemond refused to believe the old man and on his second week in Winterfell, he went to his dear widow and asked for her hand. She smiled sadly at him and declined. Claiming that she had grown to care for Aemond and that despite her love for The Old Gods she would never want him to pretend to believe in something he truly didn’t. She kissed him on the cheek in parting and left.

Aemond didn’t know what to do with himself. He was certain he loved the sad woman despite barely knowing her. He wouldn’t force her to marry him and she was right, as fascinating as The Old Gods seemed, he didn’t believe in them. When he realized that his affection for her couldn’t go on any longer he drowned himself in ale with a rather burly northerner.

The northern man took pity on Aemond and brought him to the only brothel in Winterfell, there Aemond found a woman who looked like his widow from behind. He spent the entire night with her and when he married her the next day he was still slightly drunk because that was the only way he could look at her face and see the woman he truly wanted. By the time he left Winterfell, he did not have the North’s allegiance to the new king nor the widow he had coveted but a new wife who when he bedded her he would moan the name of another.

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