#if you come anywhere near me i’ll scratch your eyes out
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totally normal thing to say, lucien 😬
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cry baby
bucky barnes x fem reader
words: 7.3k
warnings: **18+ ONLY** smut, edging, overstimulation, crying during sex, mentions of flushed cheeks, friends to lovers, misunderstandings, lapslock.
a/n: this is arguably one of my absolute fave fics i've ever written. she is near and dear to my heart :') i've provided the link for ao3 if you prefer to read it there! it's originally posted in two parts but i've combined them here. any and all mistakes are mine. feedback is encouraged & appreciated ♡
“the boys are running late,” natasha informs you when you make your way to the table she’s conquered in the busy cafe. “sam texted a couple minutes ago and said he and bucky got stuck in traffic.”
it’s the second tuesday of the month, which means it’s brunch day. it’s a running tradition that’s stood for the four of you since your college days. the time and place has changed over the years, but everyone does their absolute best to attend every time. these tuesdays are your favorite, naturally.
you plop into an empty chair across from her with a heavy sigh. “good, that means i have time to bitch about how fucking horny i am before they get here.”
she snorts, taking a delicate sip of her latte. “what’s new?” she wonders sarcastically.
“you don’t understand,” you begin, leaning into the table, gripping the edge tightly. “it’s been months, and not like, a few, i mean it’s coming up on a year.”
natasha’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “a year? what about that guy you went on a few dates with a while back? didn’t anything happen with him?”
“no,” you grumble, sitting back in your chair and crossing your arms. you huff. “and even if something had happened, i doubt it would have been satisfying. i can probably count on one hand the amount of times sex has been even kinda pleasurable for me.”
“sounds like you’re picking shitty partners.”
you scowl. “i know that, but it’s not my fault. all these stupid men keep promising they’re gonna fuck me ten ways to sunday and not a single one of them can even get me to wednesday.”
natasha laughs. “you poor thing.”
“you’re really not helping me here,” you whine with a pitiful pout on your lips. “you are getting routine dickings, you have sam! i am not so lucky here.” you notice her attention flicks to somewhere behind you, but you’re not finished with your rant. “nat, i’m serious. all of my sex encounters are the equivalent of asking someone to scratch my back and then they scratch literally anywhere but the spot that itches. i want to be fucked so good that i cry, just—completely reduced to tears. is that too much to ask?”
nat is hiding her smile behind her hand, amusement painted across her sharp features. someone clears their throat behind you and you pinch the bridge of your nose. sam and bucky occupy the empty seats, sam next to natasha and bucky next to you. they’re both sporting wide grins, looking far too pleased about stumbling into this conversation.
sam opens his mouth, no doubt to make a smartass comment, but you cut him off before he can get a good inhale in.
“not a fucking word,” you grouse with a finger pointed in his direction.
he presses a hand to his chest, expression offended. “i would never make a joke about your truly tragic excuse of a sex life.”
bucky snickers quietly, but turns into a cough at your glare.
“i’ll murder you,” you promise.
“leave her alone, boys,” natasha says, rolling her eyes, though she’s visibly biting back her own laughter.
you huff, digging your wallet out of your purse. “i hate all of you,” you announce before getting up and going to stand in line to order.
bucky follows a moment later, coming to stand at your side and throwing an arm around your shoulders.
“that bad, huh?” he asks.
you don’t have to look at his face to know he’s probably smirking right now.
“fuck off,” you retort, not bothering to push his arm away since you know he’d only put it right back.
“aw, come on, don’t be like that,” he jests, “you know we just like to poke a little fun.”
you roll your eyes, throwing him an exasperated look. “yeah, but that was something only nat was supposed to hear. i hate talking about sex with you and sam because you two wouldn’t understand.”
“that’s not true,” bucky insists, which makes you roll your eyes again. “it’s not!”
“first of all, sam’s got natasha, so we both know they’re more than satisfied.” bucky tilts his head in acquiescence. “and you don’t have to worry about if you’re gonna have an orgasm when you hook up with somebody. men have it so easy.”
it’s probably not the best thing to talk about in line of a busy cafe (especially since you haven’t decided between a blueberry muffin or the ham and cheese croissant, and there’s only one person ahead of you now and you’d really rather not be discussing your lack of sex in front of an innocent barista) but it sort of feels good to get this off your chest, even if it’s to bucky.
“okay, definitely not true,” he replies with a frown. “i’m not always guaranteed an orgasm.”
you give him a skeptical glance. “i find that hard to believe.”
this time, it’s bucky who rolls his eyes. “whatever, whether or not i come when i have sex with someone isn’t what i was gonna talk about when i came over here.”
the person in front of you finishes their order and then you’re stepping up for your turn.
“hi, what can i get you today?” the young barista asks with a smile.
“a large mocha iced coffee with sweet cream and a blueberry muffin, please.” you pause, contemplating, then add, “and a ham and cheese croissant.”
if you can’t get fucked within an inch of your life then food will become your lover, you reason.
“just a black coffee for me, please,” bucky tells the girl, taking his wallet out of his back pocket and handing over his card to pay before you can stop him.
“i could’ve paid for mine,” you mumble.
“you also could just say thank you,” he replies with a short laugh as he ushers you to the side to wait for your order.
you pinch his hip, pouting. “thank you.”
“why does your gratitude come with violence?” he asks, rubbing the sore spot.
“you know how i am when people do nice things for me.”
“you should be used to it by now,” he points out.
“well, i’m not,” you huff. “anyway, what did you come over here to talk about then?”
bucky reaches up to scratch the back of his neck, uncharacteristically shy all the sudden. “uh, well. i dunno, i just thought… you know, since you’re not—i mean, not that you couldn’t be, just—you haven’t been, so maybe… fuck.”
“spit it out,” you say with a giggle, wondering what in the world’s got him so tongue-tied.
“why don’t you let me?” he blurts, averting his gaze immediately after.
you tilt your head in confusion. “let you what?”
he sighs heavily, working his jaw in frustration. “you know…” he begins, digging his thumbnail into a knick on the countertop in front of you. “let me fuck you until you cry.”
“what?”
just then, your order is called. bucky quickly grabs it and turns to make his way back to the table, but you grab his arm to stop him.
“i don’t think so, you come back here right now and explain yourself,” you demand.
his eyes lift heavenward. “it’s just an idea, okay?”
“bucky, you’re talking about crossing a huge line. you can’t just throw that out all willy nilly!”
“i know,” he replies earnestly. “and it’s not—“ he grimaces at the phrasing, “willy nilly. you’re one of my best friends. i wouldn’t jeopardize that for anything, and i wouldn’t offer this if i thought that it could. this is something that’s obviously affecting you negatively in your life and i’m willing to help. i trust you, and i’m pretty sure you trust me, yeah?”
“of course i trust you,” you say, frowning.
he shrugs. “so, then it’s just… a friend helping another friend.”
“you make it sound so simple,” you muse in wonder.
“think about it?” he implores.
you swallow roughly, biting the inside of your cheek. “fine. i’ll think about it.”
he nods and walks back over to the table where sam and natasha are waiting. you hesitate for only a split second before following.
needless to say, you’re distracted for the rest of brunch.
***
you: what even makes you think you could fuck me until i cry anyway?
it’s been nearly a week, and as much as you hate to admit it, you’re actually considering taking bucky’s offer. it’s all you can think about since he brought it up. you can’t lie, you’ve always thought bucky was attractive, but ever since you were gently but firmly placed in the friend category back in university, you never allowed yourself to think of there ever being more between the two of you. he’s a wonderful friend to have and you’d have been an idiot to pass it up. bucky is kind and generous and just enough of an asshole to keep things interesting without it being a problem.
but this… this has left you reeling. why would he make such an offer after only ever keeping things strictly friendly and platonic in your relationship? and more importantly, where does he get the confidence to think he could follow through?
bucky: experience?
you make a face at your phone, furiously typing your reply.
you: ew. do you realize how douchey that sounds?
bucky: well, it’s not douchey if it’s true.
you: says you
bucky: and a few other people :)
bucky: you’d know it too if you’d let me fuck you
you exhale harshly through your nose, tapping your foot on the floor anxiously, carefully thinking of what you should say next.
you: it’s apparently a tall request, and thus far, nobody’s been able to deliver. you can understand my skepticism…
bucky: if i don’t leave you shivering and twitching with aftershocks of pleasure, in a mess of sweat and come, and tears stained on your cheeks, then i will have failed you.
your thighs squeeze together at the mental image that brings you. jesus christ, if he’s half as good at fucking as he is dirty talking then he just might do as he’s promising.
bucky: so? what do you say? wanna give it a try?
biting your lip, you give yourself a moment to weigh the pros and cons in your mind one last time.
it doesn’t take you very long to make your decision.
you: okay. we’ll try.
***
it’s a slightly overcast sunday when bucky comes over with the direct intention to fuck you. it should be weird, but strangely, all you feel is anticipation. maybe it’s because you know him so well and know that, no matter what, he’d take care of you.
(or, maybe it’s because those repressed college-aged feelings are doing their best to resurface, even though you steadfastly continue to ignore them.)
you’d taken a thorough shower earlier to ease the little bit of nerves you had when you’d woken up. cleaning up the small mess your apartment gathered over the last couple weeks helped, as well, and soon you found yourself standing in front of your lingerie drawer with your lips pursed.
you weren’t sure if you should even bother with it, but it felt you wouldn’t be putting in any effort into this encounter if you didn’t at least pick out nice underwear. so, with a pleased nod, you settle on some simple black lace panties and a matching bralette. not too much, but enough to satisfy yourself, and hopefully bucky. you pick out a simple sundress to put on over it, since you won’t be wearing much of anything once bucky gets here. that thought has you flushing, but you ignore it to put on some makeup, just to freshen up your face.
by the time he knocks on your door, you’ve already finished a glass of wine and are pouring yourself a second.
he smiles when open the door, a bit boyishly, greeting you with a quiet, “hi.”
“hi,” you return, just as soft. you open the door wider. “come in.”
he walks passed you, stopping to toe his shoes off and hang his jacket on one of the hooks.
“do you want a glass of wine?” you ask as you head to the kitchen to retrieve your own from the counter.
bucky follows, stopping in the entryway with his hands in his pockets. “no, thank you.”
you nod, taking a sip from your glass, trying to figure out what to say. the air feels a little awkward and you’re not sure how to fix it.
“nervous?” he wonders curiously.
you shake your head. “not really.”
he quirks a brow. “then what’s wrong?”
“i don’t know,” you murmur. “i guess i’m just worried we’re making a mistake.”
he hums. you take a larger sip of your wine.
with cautious steps, he comes closer to you. “what if i promise that things won’t be weird after?”
“you can’t really promise that, though.”
“sure i can,” he says, smiling. “it’s me and you. we’ve been friends for so long. plenty of people have sex and stay friends after.”
you’re not just ‘people’ to me, you think.
you sigh, frustrated with yourself. you can’t deny how badly you want this. it’s all you’ve been able to think about since that day in the cafe. but the thought of losing bucky is heartbreaking, and you don’t want your stupid horniness to be the reason that you ruin a friendship, even if he was the one to offer sex.
“why don’t we go make out on the couch for a little while first?” he suggests after a moment’s pause.
you snort, in spite of your thoughts. “like a couple of teenagers?”
his eyes crinkle on the sides when he grins. “yeah. we’ll just see how we feel about that, and if it leads to more, then…” he trails off, shrugging.
“that’s not a bad idea,” you concede.
“great! finish your wine.”
you laugh and do as you’re told, downing the little remaining wine in one go, sitting the glass down on the counter resolutely as you swallow.
“let’s do this,” you say, determined.
bucky huffs a laugh, grabbing your wrist and tugging you behind him as he makes his way to the couch. he settles slightly facing you as you tuck your legs under you beside him.
“do you wanna talk, or do you want to jump straight into it?”
“if we talk anymore i’m gonna change my mind. just kiss me already, bucky.”
“yes ma’am,” he sasses before doing exactly that.
he cups your cheek with one hand as the other is placed on your knee. he guides your face to his and kisses you chastely. you’re not sure where to put your hands at first, but you tell yourself to quit being a goober about it and place them on either side of his neck, your thumbs brushing under his jaw.
it’s an okay kiss, you have to admit, but it’s not really doing anything for you yet. he has soft lips, softer than you thought they’d be. you’re beginning to wonder if maybe this confirms you shouldn’t go any further when he tilts his head, and… hm.
he parts his lips, taking your bottom one between his, kissing it, then nipping it. you wouldn’t say the sound you make is a gasp, necessarily, but it’s close. his tongue lightly caresses the seam of your mouth and you don’t even think before you open up for him, letting his tongue sweep in, flicking against yours. you hum, scooting a tiny bit closer to him, chasing the feeling. his kisses turn insistent then, teeth biting at your bottom lip and tugging, soothing the ache with his tongue. he kisses you like a man quenching his thirst, like you’re the best goddamn thing he’s ever tasted, and it’s leaving you dizzy. you sway more into his space and he pulls away from your mouth.
“c’mere,” he whispers, gripping behind one of your knees to drag it over his hips so you’re straddling him. “much better.”
you don’t have a chance to process anything about the moment, his mouth back on yours in a blink. your fingers wind themselves into his hair, getting a good grip on it as you lick into his mouth. he lets out a soft noise at that and you try your damnedest to pry it out of him again, pressing your chest to his so there’s not even a sliver of space left between you.
his hands travel, down the sides of your torso to your thighs, back up to your hips where he holds on tight. it doesn’t take long after that before you find yourself grinding into him. you both moan at the same time, breaking the kiss to pant for breath.
you swallow roughly. “okay,” you murmur, “i think it’s safe to say this could work.”
bucky laughs quietly. “yeah? wanna move to your bed then?”
your squeeze your thighs around him, shifting minutely on his lap and feeling the beginnings of his erection beneath you. “yes,” you breathe.
quickly, you rise from your position and step back, allowing bucky to stand, then grab his hand and lead him to your bedroom. once you’re standing beside your bed, you turn to face him. he meets your halfway, pulling you into another, filthier kiss. you reach for his belt buckle, unfastening it and sliding it through the loops, tossing it to your floor. next are the button and zip of his jeans, shoved down his legs until he steps out of them and kicks them and his socks aside. he obediently lifts his arms when you slide your hands under his shirt and begin pushing it up, breaking the kiss to nearly yank it off, making bucky huff in amusement. once it’s tossed with the rest of his clothes, bucky grabs fistfuls of your dress and pulls you into him.
“my turn,” he says against your lips.
carefully, bucky helps you out of your dress, eyes raking over every bit of new skin shown to him. he bites his lip when he sees your lacy underthings.
“you got all dolled up for me?” he asks.
shifting under his stare, you nod. “wanted to look nice,” you admit.
he hums. “beautiful.”
he kisses you again, a little softer than before, but no less passionate. the urgency returns as he backs you up until your thighs hit the mattress. gently, he guides you onto your back, never breaking the kiss as he follows you down and settles over you.
you soon find yourself in need of air and pull away with a gasp. bucky is undeterred and instead presses his kisses down your jaw, to your neck where he decides to bite and suck until he’s left a mark you’ll have to reprimand him for later. he licks his way up to your ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth, drawing a whine out of you.
“bucky,” you whisper, hands gripping his sides as you squirm below him.
“hm?”
you close your eyes tightly when he makes his way back down to your collarbones.
“please,” you whimper.
“please what, sweetheart?” he asks, pushing himself up to look you in the eye.
“t-touch me,” you beg, cheeks flushing.
his lips quirk into a smile. “i am touching you.”
“bucky,” you whine.
“where do you want me to touch you, hm?” he wonders. one of his hands trails across your shoulder and down the center of your chest. “here? or… here?”
when his fingers glide, barely there, over your pebbled nipples, you push into the touch eagerly.
“or…” he continues, his feather light touch making a path down your stomach. your breath quickens in anticipation. “here?” he murmurs as his fingertips stop on your pantyline.
“yes, there, anywhere,” you agree hastily, “just —please. please, bucky, don’t tease me.”
he kisses you again, deep, full of promise. “you beg so prettily for me.”
he rearranges your positions until he’s between your spread thighs, sweeping his hands across the inside of them. he nods to your panties.
“may i?”
“yes, please,” you reply, lifting your hips to help him take them off.
he doesn’t give you a chance to close your legs in shyness, firmly grasping your knees in each of his hands and spreading them once again. the way he’s looking at you makes you feel unbelievably desirable, has excitement crawling up your spine.
“don’t forget,” you remind him, making his eyes flick up to yours in question, “you better make me cry.”
a slow, dangerous smile graces his lips. your stomach swoops eagerly.
~
a whine, high pitched and drawn out, escapes your lips. after you unwittingly challenged him, bucky took it upon himself to torture you—with sex. so far, he’s only used his fingers on you, in you, thrusting them steadily but never enough to bring you to climax. he’s taking his time and being a smug prick about it. you go to complain, again, hoping if you beg enough he’ll let you come, but before you can do more than open your mouth he’s quickening his pace.
“oh!” you gasp, clutching the sheets in your hands.
bucky slides his hand down your thigh, bringing his thumb inward to swipe around where his other fingers are buried inside you to gather your wetness and using it to rub circles on your clit. your back arches, head thrown back against your pillows as you feel your orgasm build. it’s not tears, but damn, it feels good enough.
just as you start to clench around his fingers, legs spasming, he stops.
your eyes open in a hurry, brows furrowing in confusion. “no, please, don’t stop,” you plead.
bucky smiles. “i gotta get the right build up.”
you groan in frustration. he laughs quietly and lets the inferno burning within you simmer down to embers, then starts inching his way down until he’s lying on his stomach, mouth poised above your pussy. the feel of his warm breath makes you shiver, and with no warning whatsoever, he leans in and sucks your clit into his mouth.
“fuckin’—oh my— bucky!”
you’re pretty sure you black out for the next several minutes, the only thing you’re aware of is the thudding of your heartbeat in your ears and the feel of bucky’s mouth on you. you’re lost in a mindless haze of pleasure, unable to think or feel anything else. you feel your orgasm cresting for the second time, and just as before, bucky pulls away before you can succumb to it.
“why,” you hiccup on a moan, wanting nothing more than to just come already, but he’s not letting you.
he shushes you, softly kisses your knee. sitting up to take his underwear off, bucky keeps his eyes on you, expression hungry.
“gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” he promises. “just a bit more. you’re being so good for me, yeah?”
“please,” you whimper, feeling completely pathetic.
he makes quick work of putting a condom on and then settles between your thighs. you sigh in relief when he wastes no time and pushes in, being careful not to go too fast. once he’s fully inside you, he pauses, wanting to give you time to adjust, but you’re back to whining.
“bucky, please, please just—fuck me,” you beg, squirming beneath him.
he takes mercy on you, finally, and sets a hard pace. your hands fly up to push against the headboard, moaning and gasping from his harsh thrusts, loving the stretch of him inside you. his thumb is back on your clit and you cry out, clenching hard around him, but his thrusts don’t falter. all too soon, you can feel yourself getting close. you hear your own voice chanting please, please, please, mixed in with bucky’s grunts and the sound of him fucking you.
you whimper, eyes squeezed shut as your climax hits the point of no return, crashing over you in waves. you think you might scream, but it’s hard to pay attention to anything other than the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. part of you thinks this’ll be it, bucky will come now and then you’ll have had one of the best orgasms of your life and he’ll be on his merry way home. but no, that’s not what happens.
instead, bucky keeps thrusting relentlessly into you, dragging out your pleasure to the point of oversensitivity.
“s’too much,” you breathe, gasping for air.
bucky shakes his head, face contorted in concentration. “one more,” he tells you, voice gruff and deep.
unbelievably, you feel tears beginning to gather in the corners of your eyes. bucky’s still rubbing your clit, still keeping a steady rhythm of his hips, and fuck, he’s so beautiful. you watch him fucking you, wondering how the fuck you got to this moment, how you got lucky enough to bear witness to the sight of bucky fucking, let alone be the one he fucks. his body is ridiculous, looking like it’s carved from marble. you know how much strength it holds, as well, know that if he really wanted to, he could probably fuck you against a wall.
it’s with that thought, with the added bonus of the way bucky touches you, looks at you, like you’re something treasured and gorgeous, giving you such intense pleasure, that the tears threatening to spill over finally fall from your lashes.
bucky notices, because of course he does, and he thrusts into you just a little faster, a little harder, and your body seizes up and then you’re falling into another orgasm. it spreads through your veins, slow like honey, making sure this one settles deep into your bones. bucky groans as he, too, reaches climax, hips twitching into you in aftershocks until he stops moving altogether.
you both pant for breath, sweat gathered in every crevice on your bodies. you think you won’t be able to move for the rest of the weekend.
“need to pull out,” bucky says softly, breaking the moment.
you nod and he carefully pulls his hips back, grunting. you poorly suppress a whimper and close your legs, already hating the empty feeling.
“well,” he starts, plopping himself on his back next to you, “i think i deserve some kind of reward.”
when you turn to face him with an exasperated look, he’s got his arms crossed behind his head, a smug smile across his lips.
“how about i don’t kick you in the balls? how’s that for a reward?”
“i literally just did the impossible.”
“what, made me come twice? i can do that all on my own. you’re not special,” you retort with a huff.
he scoffs. “i fucked you so good you cried.”
“you can’t prove it,” you say to the ceiling.
“keep up this attitude and i won’t do it again,” he threatens, poking you in your side.
you wiggle away from the ticklish touch while trying to tamp down on the hope bubbling in your chest.
“oh, we’re doing this again, are we?” you say as casually as possible.
he rolls his eyes. “of course we are. now,” he sits up in your bed, stretching his arms as he stands and picks up his underwear, “i’m starving. wanna order takeout?”
well, you guess if you’d been worried about any kind of awkwardness before, you shouldn’t have. this is bucky, your best friend. he’d never let things change between you.
***
except, things kinda change between the two of you.
it’s not very noticeable at first, changes so subtle you miss them, until one day he showed up at your apartment and greeted you with a kiss. you stood frozen in your doorway as he rambled about how stressful his day had been as he kicked his shoes off. it was only when you heard him calling out from the kitchen that he was gonna eat your leftovers that you snapped out of it, yelling back that you’d kick his ass if he even touched your dumplings.
another day, he facetimes you and asks if you want to go to see that new movie you’ve been talking about.
“oh,” you’d said. “are nat and sam coming, too?”
he’d given you a funny look, replied, “no, i thought it would just be us two.”
“oh,” you said again. “okay.”
so you’d gone to the movies, let him buy you buttery popcorn and peanut m&m’s and a soda bigger than your head. he shared with you, despite your protests, and halfway through the film you felt his hand settle on your thigh. you blinked and stared at it for a beat, turning to him in question. he only smiled at you briefly before focusing back on the movie.
in between all of this, you continued calling him over for sex. honestly, how could you not? as much as you didn’t want to admit it to him, he was the best you’ve ever had. and if he’s so willing, why shouldn’t you take advantage while you can?
a week ago, though, you’d texted him and asked him to come over, replying to his question of what time and then started getting ready. you’d purchased a new piece of lingerie, a periwinkle babydoll nightie, that left very little to the imagination. it had a matching pair of panties and felt soft and luxurious on your skin. you’d taken extra time to do your hair and makeup, wanting to look like sex on legs, and you’re pretty sure you succeeded.
but when he got there and you answered the door in your sexy outfit, he didn’t see it right away. in one hand he held his phone, typing something on it, and in the other hand he held a grocery bag that you eyed curiously.
“i brought stuff to make spaghetti—“
when he did finally look up, his eyes widened and traveled the length of your body several times. you bit your lip, trying and failing to hold back your smile.
“how about we skip dinner?” you’d said, fisting his nice button-up shirt and dragging him inside your apartment. you grabbed the grocery bag from his hand and sat it on the floor, absently noting he was wearing his date jeans.
whoops, you’d thought, hope i didn’t pull him away from someone important.
you hadn’t let yourself dwell on it, standing up on your tippy toes and kissing him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. he’d returned the kiss, licking into your mouth, drawing your tongue out so he could suck on it and made you moan embarrassingly loud.
“wait,” he’d murmured, “we should eat first.”
“or, you could eat me,” you’d retorted with a giggle.
he groaned like it pained him to say no, gripped your hips hard and put a tiny bit of distance between you. the look in his eyes had made you want to find the nearest flat surface and bend over.
“why don’t you be a good girl for me, hm? let me cook dinner for us and after we eat i’ll fuck you however you want me to. okay, sweetheart?”
you whined, but ultimately agreed, knowing he’d make it worth it.
and then there’s tonight, where he came over unannounced, armed with groceries again and promising to cook you the best meal you’ve ever had. to say you were confused would be an understatement, but you also didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth.
it’s just… well, bucky’s not really acting like a friend with benefits. sure, you hung out alone with him all the time before, but he never once cooked you dinner, and he certainly never helped wash dishes after. you guess the hello kisses could be explained away as part of the new aspect of your relationship, but something about that didn’t sit quite right with you.
after a truly delicious dinner, you find yourself on the couch with bucky as he scrolls through netflix to find a movie to put on.
“what do you want to watch?” he asks.
“mm,” you mumble, shifting closer to start kissing his neck, “don’t care.”
as he narrows down his decision and finally picks one, you make your way up to his jaw, sucking a small mark into the skin there.
“baby,” he protests softly, “let’s just watch the movie, yeah?”
you pull back, confused. first at the pet name, then at his words. he’s never denied you before, which isn’t to say that he can’t, it’s just that he’s always seemed on board. and, you know, you thought that was kind of the whole point of this thing.
“okay,” you reply after a moment.
he gives you a smile and a sweet kiss, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his side to cuddle. you can’t help but frown, feeling like you’re missing something, but not knowing what it could be.
it doesn’t take long for drowsiness to creep up on you. before he showed up, you had planned on probably ordering out for dinner and going to bed early since you’d had a pretty rough day. in fact, you remember texting bucky about it just that afternoon. your eyelids get heavier and heavier, finding it harder to keep them open as the seconds pass. your head droops and in the next blink, you’ve fallen asleep.
you’re not sure how much time has passed when bucky wakes you, but you groan, pouting and burrowing into his shoulder more.
he huffs a laugh. “c’mon, sweetheart, let’s get you to bed.”
“don’ wanna move,” you mumble tiredly.
“i’ll carry you,” he offers. “up you go, baby.”
you half heartedly argue about being jostled, but let him carry you to your bed where he carefully places you, helping you out of your sweatpants and pulling your blankets up around you. you sigh in content, feeling yourself already drifting back into sleep. you hear bucky shuffling, but think nothing of it until the bed dips beside you, then feel his warm body slide in underneath the covers and press in close.
“goodnight, darlin’,” he murmurs.
you’d ask him what in the word he’s doing, but sleep is just far too enticing to ignore. you fall into slumber with bucky’s warmth along your back, his arm draped over you.
the next morning, you wake to the feeling of his fingers playing with the tiny bow on the front of your panties and his lips placing gentle kisses on your shoulder. you hum, eyes still closed, in the back of your mind thinking this is a nice way to wake up. at the sound of you, his touches get firmer, more insistent.
“good morning,” he rasps, breath tickling your ear.
you don’t really get a chance to reply. he dips his fingers into your panties, making you inhale sharply, moaning as you buck into his hand. he fingers you for a while, kissing along the column of your throat, biting and sucking marks into the skin there. when you’re begging him for more, he relents, eases your panties off and lifts your leg to slide in from behind. the angle is so nice it has you gasping.
you clutch the sheets weakly, burying your face in your pillow and muffle your whines and moans. bucky keeps a slow, lazy rhythm, acting as if he’s got all the time in the world to draw this out. it’s good, so good, and you can’t hold back your whimper when he kicks up the pace a little, tells you to touch yourself. you come seconds before he does, shuddering through it and humming happily.
as you both lie there and catch your breath, awareness trickles into your mind. you swallow roughly, staring blankly at the wall as you realize your feelings have grown far too much for this to be only casual anymore.
bucky kisses your shoulder again. “i’m gonna go make breakfast, okay? i’ll call you when it’s ready.”
“okay,” you whisper, blinking rapidly to keep tears from forming.
hearing bucky bustle around your kitchen makes your heart clench with want; want for something you can’t have.
***
bucky: dinner tonight?
you bite the inside of your cheek as you stare at the text. you know you need to cut things off with him before you get anymore hurt than you already are. it’s not fair to either of you if you continue with this arrangement when you’ve caught real feelings for him. you have to tell him, and soon. with that thought in mind, you type out a reply.
you: sure. what time?
bucky: reservations are at 8pm, i’ll pick you up by 7:45.
reservations? where was he taking you? you get another text before you can ask.
bucky: dress nice ;)
with a sigh, you text back an affirmative and try to start mentally preparing yourself for the conversation you dreaded having. you could only hope and pray that he agrees to still be your friend after.
by the time there’s a knock on your door that night, you’ve worked yourself up into an anxious mess. you open the door to see bucky standing there with a single peach colored rose and a bashful grin.
“hi,” he greets, leaning in to kiss you on your cheek. “this is for you.”
he hands you the rose and you feel your heart crack in your chest. you muster a small smile.
“thank you. let me go put this in a vase and we can head out.”
he nods and waits patiently at the door. as you fill a vase with a little water, you take a deep breath, giving yourself a mental pep talk.
this was going to suck.
the drive to the restaurant doesn’t take too long, and when you see where he’s taken you, your eyebrows shoot up. this is one of the nicer places in the city, definitely not on the affordable side. he helps you out of the car, leading you inside with his hand on the small of your back. you’re led to a small booth in a far corner with overhead lighting that feels too intimate. maybe you’d have to wait until you left to tell him…
conversation is light, a bit surface level, and you get the feeling that bucky is a little nervous. you wonder if maybe he’s gonna let you down gently first, hoping that he doesn’t, because you’d rather not cry in such a fancy restaurant.
after the waiter takes your drink orders, bucky sighs.
“okay, let me just… get this off my chest.”
oh fuck, here it goes.
“i know i’ve never really come across at the most romantic guy, especially since i’ve never felt the need to be.” he runs a nervous hand through his hair. “you’ve always been so important to me, and this last month has been so, so wonderful.”
“bucky…” you trail off, attempting to somehow stop him, but he powers through.
“i just—i never thought i’d find somebody, you know?” he says, earnest, gaze locked on yours. another crack in your heart. “especially not somebody who was my friend first, that i already had a solid foundation with. the attraction had always been there, but the friendship meant more to me, and finally allowing that to blossom into this amazing, new, fun relationship has got to be the best decision i’ve ever made.”
did he start dating someone and not tell you? oh god, has he been sleeping with someone else? at the same time? your stomach turns, eyes burning, hating yourself more and more as he speaks.
“so, i guess what i’m trying to say is,” he says, rolling his eyes at himself and smiling, “happy one month anniversary, sweetheart.”
you blink, feeling a tear slip down your cheek. “what?” you croak, beyond confused.
bucky, however, looks concerned. “baby, why are you crying?”
“i…” you blink some more, eyes flitting around the room as if you’ll get some kind of clarity that way to the situation currently happening. “what?” you repeat.
“did i come on too strong?” he asks, looking embarrassed now. “i wasn’t sure if you’d even want to celebrate, but i’ve just been so happy with you—i’m sorry, baby, i should’ve asked.”
“bucky, what are you talking about?” you finally manage, unable to keep the bewilderment out of your tone. “anniversary?”
bucky frowns. “i didn’t get the date wrong, did i?”
“no, i—this isn’t—i’m not talking about—ugh, i mean, when did we even start having an anniversary to celebrate?”
bucky’s face goes blank, sitting back in his chair. your heart is pounding wildly in your chest, so fucking confused, so fucking hopeful.
“we… we’re dating,” he says, slow, unsure. “aren’t we?”
“since when?” you ask probably too loudly, cheeks flushing.
he opens and closes his mouth a couple times. “when i asked you out?”
“bucky, oh my god, you’re gonna have to be more specific before i lose my goddamn mind. when did you ask me out?”
he huffs, his own cheeks flushing. “at the cafe! a month ago, at brunch with natasha and sam.”
your eyes widen in disbelief. “when you asked if you could fuck me until i cried?” you hiss, ignoring the scandalized look on the waiter’s face as he brings your drinks over.
smiling apologetically, you thank him and wait until he’s gone before sending a glare bucky’s way.
“that’s not how you ask a person out,” you seethe.
“i asked if you wanted to give this a try and you said yes!” he replies desperately. “i’ve taken you on dates!”
you pinch the bridge of your nose, thinking of all the times you thought he was being too romantic, more-than-friends type of behavior. you’re a fucking idiot, but god, so was he.
“at no point did you say anything even remotely close about us starting a relationship. i thought we were just fucking, bucky, i didn’t realize it was more than that!”
“you don’t—“ he starts, then stops, looking down at the plate in front of him. “you don’t want to be with me?”
“i didn’t know it was an option,” you say carefully.
“well, it is.” he meets your gaze, cautious. “i just spilled my guts to you. you know how i feel now. how do you feel? about me?”
you lick your lips. “bucky, i… i was planning to end things with you tonight.” his expression drops, even though he tries to mask it, so you’re quick to explain. “not because i don’t like you, but because i do like you and i thought you wouldn’t want anything more than just sex with me.”
“it’s never been and never could have been just sex with you,” he replies, quiet and relieved. he reaches across the table to take your hand in his. “i meant it when i said you’re the best decision i’ve ever made. i want this—the sex, the dinners, dates, all the gross and sappy shit i never wanted before… i want it all with you, if you’ll have me.”
you can’t fight the smile spreading across your lips. “of course i’ll have you, bucky.”
he smiles in return, a laugh bubbling out of him, which makes you giggle, until you’re both laughing so hard and loud that patrons from other tables are sending dirty looks your way, which only makes you laugh more.
“do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, laughter dying down. “there’s pizza and sex calling our names, i think.”
bucky moans dramatically. “i knew i liked you for a reason.”
he leaves money on the table and then the two of you quickly make your way through the restaurant, giggling and holding hands the whole way, even in the car.
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Title: Bared Fangs.
Commissioned by the very lovely @ohsotearful.
Pairing: Yandere!Childe x Reader (Genshin).
Word Count: 3.0k.
TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Modern/Serial Killer AU, Kidnapping, Prolonged Imprisonment, Blood/Gore, Reader Gets Hurt, Obsessive Behavior, Gun Violence, and Unhealthy Relationships. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.
You should’ve known something was wrong as soon as Childe asked you if you wanted to go outside.
Honestly, you should’ve known something was wrong as soon as he found you reading in front of his fireplace, as soon as that crooked, schoolboy grin found its way to his lips and he forewent his usual routine of draping himself on top of you like some muscled, zealously homicidal weighted blanket in favor of ruffling your hair and toying with the collar of the flannel you were wearing (his flannel, technically, but you tried not to let yourself acknowledge how accustomed you’d grown to wearing your captor’s clothes or, more troublingly, how long it’d been since the last time you’d felt disgusted by it). “Snow should be done for a couple hours,” he started, nodding towards the frost-coated windows. It might’ve been a more charming sight if not for the scratches carved into the surface of the glass – souvenirs from there the first time you got your hands on one of his axes. “I’m thinking of stepping out, doing a little hunting before the storm kicks up again. Wanna come with me?”
You narrowed your eyes at your book, trying to hide the way your heart beat a little faster at the suggestion of being able to leave his claustrophobic cabin. But, with Childe, you were usually better off staying safely tucked behind the bars of your rustic cage. “Is this going to be a normal hunting trip or a you hunting trip?”
He only hummed. “’fraid I don’t know what you mean by that, princess.”
“Are we going to be hunting animals, or…” You trailed off, swallowing down the bitter taste that came with remembering why you were here. “… or, you know. People, or whatever.”
“This time of year?” He let out an airy laugh, like you’d asked to go skiing in the middle of summer. “There’s nobody on the mountain ’cept me and you.”
Still, you dug your teeth into the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to try and think beyond your near-overwhelming desire to be anywhere but here. Childe was a murderer, a sadist, a kidnapper, but he wasn’t the type to play mind games. He tended to divide his reality between the world outside – where people could be hunted like quarry, their bodies left to rot in tents and rivers with only the occasional token taken as a keepsake – and the world inside the walls of his cabin – where he sat you down in front of a low-burning fire and told you stories about ice-fishing with his siblings and pouted when you admit his (admittedly, not entirely inedible) cooking could use a little more seasoning. After that first night – the worst night of your fucking life – he seemed to want to keep you resigned to the latter, at least until he came home covered in blood and desperate for something warm and familiar to fuck until he passed out.
Eventually, you sighed, closing your book and sitting up. “Fine. When do we leave?”
His grin widened, head lulling forward as he pressed a kiss into the top of your head. “The front door’s already unlocked. I’ll give you a head start, a full five minutes. Actually, make it ten – just to make it a little more fun for you.”
There was a beat of silence, then another. “Childe, you’re making it sound like you’re—”
“Like I said, there’s nobody on the mountain but me and you.” He pulled away, turning on his heel. “I’ll be nice, too – won’t use anything with more than a twenty-foot range.”
“But, you— you can’t just—”
“Tick-tock.” He clicked his tongue, winking at you over his shoulder. “Unless you’d rather cut straight to the good part.”
You should’ve known something was wrong, and now, running through the frozen wilderness desperately lost and barely dressed, your ten minutes spent and a killer undoubtedly chasing you down, you were paying the price for it.
You didn’t have time to be tactical. The snow was fresh enough to make every interruption unbearable obvious, meaning that – even if you were willing to stop and spare the seconds it’d take to hide your tracks, it wouldn’t have done you much good. Your only option was to run, but even that was easier said than done. Childe preferred to keep you in a state of hand-crafted domestic bliss, meaning what few clothes you did have were either picked out by or borrowed from him. Currently, all that separated you from the cold was his flannel, an oversized shirt, and a pair of his boots that you’d snagged on your way out. The chill snapped at your cold legs like the teeth of some unseen predator, the frigid air burning holes in your lungs, but the thought of what Childe would do when he caught you was enough to keep your feet moving, to keep you sprinting blindly through the forest. He wouldn’t kill you. You had to believe that he wouldn’t kill you, but—
A high-pitched holler, the sound of branches snapping underfoot and foliage being pushed aside somewhere behind you. You hadn’t stopped running after your first trembling steps away from the cabin, and yet, he couldn’t have been more than a few hundred feet behind you – half a mile, at your most generous guess. You started to curse under your breath, then thought better of it, biting down on your bottom lip with enough force to draw blood and pivoting to the left, where the forest seemed to be just a little thicker. If you couldn’t get away from him, you could at least try to hide before he got to you.
It was a haphazard, half-baked plan that was cruelly and immediately cut short as your foot caught on a root hidden by the snow, tearing away your right boot and leaving you sprawled over the frozen ground. Dampness sunk into your thin clothes, and you shut your eyes, trying to listen for Childe’s footsteps, but there was a reason none of his victims ever seemed to hear him coming. The forest’s minimal white noise was enough to swallow him entirely, the sound of birdsong and distant car engines disguising his presence despite your best attempts to—
Your realization was delayed, but intense.
Cars.
Cars meant roads. Cars meant civilization. Cars meant people, people who could take you away from here, away from Childe. You clambered to your feet, but failed to take so much as a step before a sudden, stabbing pain bit into your calf, your leg immediately buckling underneath you. You would’ve fallen entirely if it hadn’t been for the adrenaline running through your system, numbing the agony and choking the ragged scream that threatened to rise from the pit of your chest into a cracked whimper. It was one of Childe’s arrows – you would’ve been able to recognize that black steel from a mile away – but you didn’t let yourself linger on the implications. With grit teeth and balled fists, you limped forward, leaving a thin trail of crimson in your wake. You would’ve missed it if you hadn’t been looking, but it was there – a thin, wobbling, unpaved dirt road, only marked by two thin rows of tire tracks that sliced harshly through the otherwise unmarred blanket of snow. God, you never thought you’d be so happy to see dirt.
There wasn’t time to think. You stumbled out of the woods and into the road, the arrow’s head sinking that much deeper with every stuttering movement. The car you’d heard was still there, too; a by-the-numbers sedan, only a few hundred feet down the road. You threw up your arms up, then thought better of it; cupping your shaking hands around your mouth. You moved to call out, but whatever you might’ve said was stolen away from you as something dark flashed across your peripheral and another arrow planted itself in your right shoulder. This time, you crumbled like a dead leaf – broken into pieces by a morning gale.
Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Childe emerge from the tree line, his crossbow still in-hand. As he came to stand in front of you, your gaze shifted back to the car. You watched, your mind buzzing with pain, as it disappeared around a sharp bend, never so much as slowing down.
You didn’t realize you were crying until you heard Childe coo, wiping away the tears flowing down your cheeks before they could freeze against your skin. “Sorry, princess,” he muttered, his voice low with a painful edge. “I guess I cheated, huh? Couldn’t help it – just knew you’d look so cute all bruised up and bleeding.”
Dropping his crossbow carelessly, he fell to your height. He was dressed for one of his usual hunts; a cut-off shotgun slung over his back, a hunting knife sheathed at his hip. The leather casing of the latter pressed into your side as he dipped lower, burying his face in the crook of your neck and pressing a long, open-mouthed kiss into the base of your throat. You felt his knee settle between your thighs, and weakly, your hands found their way to his chest. “Not here,” you mumbled, more afraid of the chill quickly seeping under your skin than being seen. “It hurts, Childe. I—I think you hit something imp—”
“I’ll be fast.” Another kiss, this one to the exposed skin of your collarbone. His calloused hands skirted over your sides, then your waist, hiking the thin fabric of your oversized shirt up to your midriff. You were already past the point of total numbness, and yet, the rough gravel beneath the snow cut harshly into your exposed skin. Rather than distracting you from the pain in your calf, your shoulder, it only seemed to draw more attention to your bleeding wounds, only seemed to make it harder to ignore the dull heat of Childe’s mouth against your chest. “Gotta take you out more often. You’re always beautiful, but I didn’t know you’d look this pretty.”
It hurt, it hurt, it hurt. His arrow burnt into the tattered skin of your calf as his hands fell to your legs, groping at the plush of your thighs playfully before shifting his attention to the fly of his jeans. You knew what he wanted, he’d always been transparent, but the sound of shifting fabric, the sight of his rosy-tipped, stiff cock pressing flush against his stomach – that was enough for the loose coil of dread writhing in the pit of your chest to tighten into a tight, jagged knot of pure terror. You tried to sit up, to make your refusal that much more apparent, but Childe only caught you by your uninjured shoulder, shoving you into the ground with enough force to earn a pained scowl, a fractured whimper. His only response was a wordless, vaguely sympathetic noise, a softened lull to his wide smile. “No skipping out on this, babydoll. I can’t guarantee you’ll end up in one piece if I have to wait ‘till we get home.”
It was a fair warning, but anything he could have said would’ve been lost on you. Your heart was beating in your ears, blocking out any other sound. Pools of red blood and piles of limp bodies flashed across your vision and desperately, futilely, you clawed at the hand on your shoulder, kicked at his chest, thrashed underneath him like an animal unaware that resistance would only make the predator want to drive its teeth that much deeper. It was more Childe’s divided attention than your strength, but your heel found his side and, just for a moment, he slipped, letting out a soft grunt as the hand pinning you down fell away. You were scrambling onto your knees in a second, attempting to get your feet underneath you in another, but your little stunt was cut short as Childe lashed out, wrapping his arm around your neck and forcing your stomach against the ground. There was no whimpering, anymore – just a ragged, ear-piercing scream as his free hand found the arrow in your shoulder, tearing it out of you in one clean, unfaltering motion. His only response came in the form of a throaty moan; deep and terrible and followed immediately by the feeling of his cock against your dry cunt. You would’ve begged him to stop, offered to let him do anything he wanted to you if he just didn’t do this, but he didn’t give you time to bargain. Without hesitation, he thrust into you, bottoming out in the same motion.
Trembling sobs tore at your throat and past your lips, tears now flowing unabashedly down your cheeks. Childe kept his full weight against your back as he fucked into you with short, sharp thrusts – never happy unless he was burying himself in the deepest pocket of your poor, freezing pussy. Rather than desensitizing you, letting you fall back into some distant state of nonexistence, the snow seemed to burn where it was pressed into your cheek, your chest. You wished he would’ve taken off the rest of your clothes. You wished he would’ve just shot his stupid arrows into your skull and put you out of your misery.
It shouldn’t have felt good, you didn’t want it to feel good, but your body didn’t know that. Your cunt clenched and drooled around him, trying in vain to turn his assault into something you could enjoy, but the way he grunted into your ear snuffed out any pleasure you might’ve been able to feel. “Tryin’ to pull me back in,” he muttered, his voice already airy, already strung out. You couldn’t help but wonder if, had you only been able to run from him for another minute, he would’ve found something else to shove his dick into and left you out here to freeze to death. “Is that your goal? Wanna – Fuck, wanna help me warm you up?”
His hands fell to your hips, pulling your ass flush against his hips and letting him fuck into you that much deeper, that much more brutally. Your injured leg grated against the dirt of the road and you cried out, your voice ragged and barely coherent. “St— Hurts, stop, stop, please, stop—”
“That’s it, always making such pretty sounds for me.” He buried his face in the dip of your shoulder. “Sometimes, it feels like all I wanna do it cut you open and crawl—”
He was interrupted by the dull roar of an approaching engine and something brightened inside of you, your eyes shifting towards the road, towards the well-beaten pick-up truck speeding in your direction. The breaks screeched as you and Childe came into the driver’s view, and for a second, you let yourself go slack underneath him, relief overwhelming your better judgement.
Childe wasn’t so sentimental.
His shotgun was in his hand before you could so much as process that he’d moved. Wordlessly, he fired off two shots; the first to the windshield on the driver’s side and the second to one of the front tires. You watched on helplessly as your last hope for salvation bucked, swerved, then veered off of the road entirely, catching on a snowbank and turning over once before crashing into the trunk of an oak that failed to so much as shake under the force of the collision. It was quieter than you’d expected it to be, the only sounds that of shattering glass and crunching metal. If there were survivors, no one screamed, or called for help, or came stumbling out of the wreckage. Childe’s breath hitched in his throat, his pace growing that much more erratic as he buckled into you – his pointed canines finding the tender junction at the base of your throat and burying themselves in your skin. It was less a love-bite and more an effort to eat you alive. What little blood he didn’t lap up washed over your chest, melting the frost and mixing into the snow beneath you. “Look—” He groaned, tried and failed to pull away from you. His voice reverberated against the curve of your neck as he went on. “Look what you turn me into, princess. Got me making all kinds of messes for you.”
Blood. Bodies. The taste of his cum on your tongue as your friends bled out under the same roof. You would’ve choked the air in your lungs if you’d been able to breathe, but there was no point lingering on pleasant hypotheticals. There were no distractions from the feeling of Childe’s hips grating against yours, the way his cock twitched as settled against you. A guttural moan tore past his lips as something thick and searing flooded into you, and you refused to let yourself acknowledge that this was the warmest you’d felt in days.
You stayed there, limp and frozen and miserable, as Childe pulled away from you, pulled out of you. Your eyes fell shut as he stumbled to his feet, your skin too numb to feel anything aside from the pressure of his arms around your motionless body. He pulled you against his chest, then let out a low whistle. “Might’ve gone a little overboard there. Sorry ‘bout that, princess.” A low chuckle, a gentle squeeze. “I just can’t help it, not when it comes to you. You’ll forgive me after a warm bath, right?”
You didn’t answer. The arrow in your calf must’ve fallen out, or maybe not – you couldn’t feel anything below your knees. Your hands felt like dead weight too, utterly disconnected from anything you might’ve used to control them, but every drop of panic, every ounce of horror – that all paled in comparison to the never-ending pit of pitch-black loathing that formed in your chest as you stared up at Childe. You hated him, wanted to see him torn apart with his own stockpile of weapons, but you really couldn’t blame him. Not for this, at least.
You should’ve known something was wrong as soon as the monster bared its fangs.
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere imagines#yandere oneshot#genshin impact#genshin impact imagines#genshin imagines#genshin x reader#yandere genshin impact#yandere childe#childe x reader#yanderecore#yancore
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MOVED TO @seratopia
miles morales x reader - purple
miles takes you out to get slushies
You’re in the zone, notebooks and textbooks laid out, pens scattered everywhere, music from your headphones blasting in your headphones. You’re studying in your dorm, nodding your head to the music while you scratch down a few notes on paper.
Midterms are coming up, and you’re studying hard. Students have been clawing their way through classes like zombies, grunting and sighing to themselves like half-dead corpses.
It’s already dark outside, the only source of light in your room being the technicolor laptop screen in front of you. You hear a beeping and occasional crash outside, but that’s just New York.
At first, you don’t hear the knocking on your window, too endorsed in your music to notice. It’s only when the knocking gets louder and faster that you pause your study session.
Hesitantly pulling down your headphones, you look towards your glass window. You recognize that black suit anywhere, the one that looks like he’s bleeding from his armpits.
It’s Miles.
You get up from your desk chair, flipping the lock on the window and pushing the glass pane all the way up. Like the thousands of times he’s done before, Miles crawls through your window, stepping onto the soft carpet of your dorm.
He’s been getting bigger, stronger, lately. Only shame of that is the fact that it’s harder for him to fit through your window.
Miles dusts himself off, and you spread your arms wide for a hug with a smile on your face. He practically lands into you, squeezing you tight and forcing the air out of your lungs. He’s so happy to see you.
He sighs into your hair.
“M’ glad you’ve been keeping your window locked.“
“You said you hated it yesterday.“
“Shhh....“
The two of you unclasp, and Miles tugs his mask off his face. He presses a kiss to your temple, shifting his gaze towards the array of study materials on your desk.
“Midterms?“
“Yep.“ You say, popping the “p.“
Miles ponders for a moment, peering from the bags under your eyes to the impossibly large stack of papers on your study space. Subconsciously, he kneads a hand into your side.
“Hey, you wanna go somewhere?“
“Miles, it’s 10 at night.“
“How bout’ the 7-Eleven down the street?“
“Mmmm....“
“I’ll keep you safe. You’re lookin’ at the one and only Spiderman.“ Miles says, gesturing to himself with a smirk.
You playfully roll your eyes. “Alright. I think I need a break anyway.”
“For real.“ Miles mutters.
Miles scouts your dorm room for a jacket, maybe some sweatpants. He usually leaves clothes at your dorm anyway. You throw a pair of grey sweatpants at his head, but he catches them in his fist. Over his suit, Miles throws on a jacket, slotting his legs through the sweatpants.
It’s cold out, so you throw on a jacket, putting on slippers over your fuzzy socks. Miles shoves his mask back on just so his identity is concealed. If anyone asks, Spiderman was just saving a person who got lost
“C’mere.“ Miles says, his arms already out near your window.
You gingerly rise up on your tip-toes, wrapping your arms around Miles’s neck. He slots one hand onto the lower curve of your back, and the other where your thighs and calves meet, carrying you in a somewhat twisted princess carry.
Miles carefully inches through your tiny apartment window, and you duck your head down to make sure you don’t hit it on the way out.
Your heart already pumping in your veins, Miles jumps out into the open air, one hand slinging the both of you through Brooklyn, the other slotted underneath your upper thighs to keep you from plummeting to the ground.
You never really admit it, but you love when Miles slings you both places. The wind in your face, Miles holding you close, the sounds of New York. You adore it.
It’s not very long before the ride ends, and Miles pulls lands in a very suspicious alleyway.
“I knew you were plotting against me all along.“ You joke, and he sets you down onto the concrete. He yanks his mask off, shoving it into his jacket pocket.
The florescent lights of the 7-Eleven glow a bright white, as if it were it’s own sun. Miles pulls the door open for you, such a gentleman. You step inside, and Miles gives a nod to the cashier.
“Ooh! Slushies.“ You say, staring at the almost hypnotizing swirl of neon colors in the tank. It’s so inviting, the perfect thing to have at 10pm.
Miles already helps himself, grabbing a cup and handing one to you. As you suspect, Miles gets the blue flavor, while you get the red cherry cola. You can hear the light pop and sizzle of the slush as it pours, making you all the more thirsty.
You take a sip, and you sigh in enjoyment.
“You want anything else?“ Miles asks, and you shake your head no. He guides you with a hand on your back to the cashier counter, and the man already starts typing in the order.
Miles reaches into both jacket pockets, but no avail.
“Shit, forgot my wallet.“
A.K.A, Miles doesn’t keep his wallet on him during patrol.
“All good man, on the house.“
“Thanks, man.“
You nod, and Miles reaches his arm past your head, pushing the door open in front you. The cold air of Brooklyn engulfs you, and you can nearly see your breath cloud up.
Slowly, the both of you talk, inching back towards the dark alleyway from before. On your tip-toes again, you press a chilled kiss to Miles’s chin.
“Thanks, Miles.“
“I didn’t even buy it.“ He chuckles, shamelessly pulling you into him after taking another sip of his slush.
One thing leads to another, and Miles starts kissing you, starting from your cheeks but eventually leading down to your lips. Simultaneously, he draws you in and holds his slush with the same hand, using the other to bury it in your hair.
Miles chuckles into your mouth; it’s fun to kiss when you taste like cherry cola. Miles is taken by surprise when you boldly prod your tongue into his mouth, a blush rising high onto his face. With the slight privacy of the alleyway, Miles feels brave enough prod and poke your lips with his teeth.
When you finally let go, Miles’s face is warm in contrast to the cold air, almost hot to the touch. It’s rare when you two ever truly swap spit, but Miles thinks its special when you do.
Its a bit silent for a moment after, but neither of you can stop smiling. Miles in particular can’t stop touching you all over.
A thought pops into your head.
You rummage through your pockets for your phone, switching it on and pressing the button to activate your flashlight.
“Miles, open your mouth.“
“Woah, babe, didn’t know you were into th-“ He jokes.
“Oh my gosh Miles, it’s not that.“
Miles chuckles. He loves poking at you. As he was told, he opens his mouth, and you point the flashlight at it. You start laughing to yourself, the light of the flash flickering everywhere.
“What? Is it my face?“
“No, look!“ You pull up the selfie mode on your phone, using the brightness of your phone to the best of it’s ability. You press your cheek to Miles, sticking your tongue out for the camera.
“It’s purple!“ You cackle, and Miles starts chuckling along with you.
There’s spots on Miles’s tongue that are deeper in blue, but still nonetheless a lavender color. You giggle, snapping a few photos.
“We should try again but with different colors.” Miles smirks, slyly resting his head against your temple.
You smirk. “Just tell me you wanna make out more, Miles.”
He shrugs, dropping an arm around your shoulders. “Hmm. Maybe.“
© 𝒄𝒐𝒔𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒔.
#miles morales#spiderman#spiderman across the spiderverse#atsv#miles morales x you#miles morales x reader#miles morales x y/n#fluff#making out#romance#reader insert#spiderman 1610B#atsv miles morales#across the spiderverse#atsv x reader#cosmosis-writes ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎
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Heatwave
RAN HAITANI x f!reader
A heatwave hits Tokyo and you have to deal with a clingy, and way too hot, Ran Haitani.
cw: nsfw, mdni, smut, fluff, vaginal sex, oral (fem receiving), overstimulation, whiny ran, ran is smitten.
words count: 3.8k
Sleeping in the same bed as Ran means waking up in a furnace. Lanky body stretching over the mattress, long limbs reaching over for you the moment you try running away from the heat.
It’s almost like he can sense you’re not by his side anymore, unconsciously trying to have you back in his arms.
Tonight the air in the room is unbreathable. It’s summer, the humidity makes the city feel way hotter than it should be. You forgot to turn the ac on and the idea of getting up to look for the remote in the dark is so far out of your mind.
“Ran, baby. Let go of me,” You mumble between shallow breaths, still too groggy to care about not slurring your words. You know it’s pointless, though, Ran is never gonna hear your desperate tone unless you arouse him from his sleep.
He is a deep sleeper and he doesn’t particularly enjoy getting woken up.
You try, once again, removing yourself from his hold. It hurts you, knowing how much he likes to cuddle with you in his sleep and how inviting his hands look resting on your skin, but you can already feel the sweat wetting the back of your neck. The moment you raise his heavy arm and lift the blanket from your body, you can hear him groan.
“Mh,” he grunts at you angrily, big palm coming to rest on your hip as he grabs it to pull your frame back into his chest.
God, this annoying man-child.
If he won’t let you go, there’s no other way to go about it if not by waking him up. You really don’t want to disturb his sleep, considering the ungodly hours he does at his job and how much he cares for his beauty rest, but he’s now impeding yours. You feel like dying in this heat and your throat is getting perched as minutes go by.
You turn in his hold, now facing him, shaking his frame as you call his name once again, “Baby please, just let me go, it’s too hot.”
“No,” his answer is raspy and stubborn like the man he is, and he lowers his head to rest it on the plush of your chest as he hums happily.
You let out a sigh of defeat and bring your hands to the back of his head, running the tips of your fingers between his un-gelled short locks out of habit.
“Just know that you’ll wake up tomorrow and I’ll be dead,” you’re just kidding, but the statement makes Ran slightly release his hold on you.
“Please, don’t go,” He sleepily whispers with such vulnerability that makes your heart ache for him. You scratch the patch of skin behind his ear and make him shiver in your embrace as you bend to kiss the crown of his head.
You love this man so much, you don’t think you could ever live without him.
You leave another peck on his forehead, then another on his nose as you scoot down to his level. His handsome face is puffy from sleep, and his lavender haze is now focused on you as you move closer to kiss his soft lips.
The press of your mouths together is short and sweet as he finally awakens.
“I’m not going anywhere, just a couple centimeters away from the radiator that is your body,” you try to explain, grasping his clenched jaw between your palms.
“Can’t sleep without you near,” he states as a matter of fact.
You know that is a lie, this man could sleep anywhere and at all times, but you don’t get to protest as he reaches over once again to kiss you. His lips encase yours while his nose rubs against your own, his eyes closing to savor the moment.
You gently push him away, scolding him with your stare as you tell him he’s not being reasonable or helpful, “At least get up to turn on the ac, if you wanna hold me so bad.”
“Or you could just get naked,” he suggests, winking as a smug grin makes its way on his pretty face. You know the moment the suggestion popped up in his head, he’s already getting ideas, you can sense it in the way his fingers are now running under the hem of your sleep shirt.
“Turn the ac on. And bring me some water while you’re at it, then I might even take my clothes off. Just for you,” you try to bribe him, but can’t help hiding an amused smile.
At first you think he’s not gonna do it, but then you hear him let out a groan as he stretches his long body and leaves the bed. Out of the two, he’s the one who cherishes sleep the most, but you’re the laziest.
The beep of the ac as he turns it on and the steps he takes to the kitchen resound in the otherwise silent room as you kick the covers to the bottom of the bed. As promised, you grasp the hem of your shirt to remove it and chunk it in the direction of the sofa, waiting for the cooling air to hit your panties-covered body.
When Ran comes back in the room, you’re slipping back into a slumber, but he pats your shoulder and cradles the back of your head in his palm, raising it to help you drink the cold water you requested.
“Thank you, baby,” you pull him in by the back of his neck as he sits the glass on the nightstand, now moving over your frame as he rests on his bent elbows.
“My pleasure,” he hums, lowering himself to touch your skin with his, hips settling between your parted legs while he pecks your lips, “Mh, I see you did get naked.”
Another peck, “‘course, I keep all of my promises.”
“That’s good,” your arms are draped loosely over his broad shoulders, hands running along the skin as you drag him even closer, “Means I get to be the one making you sweat now.”
Your chuckle gets cut short by his mouth descending onto yours, this time with a purpose. His kisses start slow, lips repeatedly encasing your own, as he sucks the skin enough to make it hurt, pleasurably.
Ran’s tongue runs across the seam of your mouth which you part willingly to let him in, meeting him halfway trying to fight for dominance because you like to irk him, no matter how pointless it might be.
He lets out a moan in your mouth, liking the way you’re fighting back, and your body instantly reacts to the sound by enclosing his hips between your thighs.
Ran starts rubbing against you while his cock hardens. He can already feel how wet you are through the cloth, the both of you only clad in underwear.
“Ran-“ you whisper his name between rushed kisses and the knocking of your teeth. He recognizes the desperation in your tone and reels in it. “Sh, baby. Let’s take it slow, mh?”
He’s doing it on purpose, he likes to drive you mad as much as you do. He’s a generous lover, but does not give without a little teasing.
His lips start carefully mapping out the path that he knows oh so well down your body. He has it memorized by now, and knows where to kiss, lick and bite to make you sound just the way he craves.
Ran reaches your exposed chest, sucking the pebbled nipple in his mouth as he caresses the other breast. You arch your back and press against him. He knows not to leave any part of you unattended, Ran loves to spoil you.
That’s why he can’t bring himself to tell you no when you grip his messy hair and bring him back up for another kiss, one of your hands reaching down to snap the elastic of his boxers over his pelvis, making him flinch and the both of you let out a laugh against each others’ lips at his reaction.
You reach inside the cotton to grasp his hardened length. He’s heavy and warm in your hold, you stroke him a couple of times and feel him get stiffer. With the pad of your thumb you circle his head, “Fuck,” he hisses when you press against his silt, precome collecting on your fingertips.
He’s kissing your neck now, enjoying the slow touches on his hardness, bucking his hips against your hand when you squeeze just a little tighter, “I thought you said to take it slow?” you tease him. Sometimes he needs to get a taste of his own medicine.
He stamps a kiss on your lips, loud and wet, and doesn’t even bother replying to you as he squats between your legs before grasping the sides of your panties. He drags them down slowly, fixed on your cunt getting exposed and the strings of your wetness sticking to the lace.
Ran takes a look at you, hair messy and sprawled on the pillow, cheeks rosy and chest heaving. Your pebbled nipples and spread legs are not the only things giving away how needy you are, “Fuck, so pretty.”
He bends down and your thighs squish his head the moment he laps at your clit. You love when he dives straight in, means he can’t wait to get a taste of you, but the zero warning on his side makes you moan loudly.
You lower your gaze onto his, fixed on your reddening face to memorize every single one of your reactions as he flattens his tongue over your cunt, the tip parting your lips to collect the liquid he has been craving a taste of.
“This wet already?” he snickers as he slaps your cunt with his palm, making you jump. His fingers find their way to your opening to massage and stretch the entrance as his lips are circling your clit, sucking it into his mouth to make sure you start pleading for him.
“Ran, baby. Please, want you inside,” you’re pulling on his hair, trying to get his face away from between your legs.
He complies, your neediness starting to get to him. He would love to spend hours between your thighs as he normally does, but he also knows the both of you are too tired for that, so he makes a mental note to wake you up with his tongue in the morning.
You take off his boxers swiftly, and he lets you because he lives off that look you get when you concentrate while doing something, whatever that may be. He’s just so smitten, if you could read his mind you’d never stop making fun of him. But he doesn’t really care. Sometimes he wishes you could, just so you might finally understand the weight of what he feels. Ran has never been great at sharing his feelings.
Settling between your legs is what he does after. Usually, he lets you ride him whenever he’s too tired to put you to sleep himself, but tonight he just wants you to lay there and let him love you. It’s been a long week of grueling work and he misses you. Craves you so much that he can’t resist your whines anymore.
“You sure you can take me like this, pretty girl?”
“Mhmh, ‘m positive. I need you so bad,” His cock is big, he usually spends some time prepping you, but you seem resolute about this as you grasp the base of his length and position his tip at your entrance. Ran hisses, the feeling of your warm skin brushing his is so delicious. You’re aware of how needy Ran can get when he’s tired, unlike his usual dominant self, and you have to admit you can’t help but feel even more turned on whenever you manage to make him whine for you.
When he pushes in, your jaw goes slack, no sound is coming out of your open mouth other than the deep breaths you take to keep yourself grounded. He is girthy, the very first time you had him made you nearly give up halfway through, but you’ve gotten used to taking him, and the burning stretch is now nothing but a reassurance of what pleasure is gonna come after.
The warmth of his forehead rests on your shoulder as he heaves in your ear, eyes squeezed shut and hands holding the fat of your hips to pin you down tightly. Ran needs a second to collect himself cause if he doesn’t he’s either gonna start fucking into you before you’re ready or just come from the way you’re gripping him alone.
You’re so wet, his cock is slipping in slowly and you can feel all of him, rounded tip and the veins on his length, brushing against your walls. Ran bottoms out but doesn’t dare to move, navel pressed so tightly against yours that when you try raising your hips you have very little wiggle room.
“Ran, baby, please?” Oh, Ran is just delighted. He loves when you call him baby, makes him feel loved and cared for, especially paired with the way you’re stroking the back of his head while cradling him and softly begging for him to move. So of course he does just that, he’d do anything to please you.
The canting of his hips starts slow, the drag of his cock feels delicious inside of you, and you spread your legs wider to make him reach even deeper. “Fuck, pretty girl. You feel so fucking good. S’good.” He’s a blubbering mess, his lips are leaving wet kisses all over your neck, making you moan out when he sucks on the soft patch of skin right below your ear.
“Want me to ride you?” You ask him, not wanting to move from under the weight of his body but also needing him to feel as good and taken care of as he always makes you feel.
“No need princess,” the kisses are now dragging lower towards your chest, he bites one of your nipples between his teeth making you arch your back once again, a sign that he’s collected himself and is offended by how quickly you were ready to take over. He grasps the back of your left knee in his hand, bending the leg while opening you up to him, far more than what you’re able to stretch on your own, and you feel him brush your cervix with his leaky tip. His thrusts are now harsher, he pulls out all the way just to slam back in, heavy balls slapping against your ass as he aims for that spot inside of you, the one he loves to hit while watching down on you as he is now, resting on his bent arm.
All the confidence you were sporting a moment ago is wiped from your face in mere seconds, now replaced by your big eyes filling with tears as the pleasure knocks the breath out of you. “Mh, that’s it, there’s my good girl. Let me do all the fucking now, will you?”
His cheeks are stained red, spit-slicked lips being bitten between his pearly whites as he glances down at where the two of you are connected. “Shit, look at that.” He’s not asking, he’s ordering you and you know better than to let your eyes flutter shut.
The grasp on the back of your thigh doesn’t waver as he pulls out, his other hand fisting the base of his length as he slaps it over your clit, dragging his precome and your wetness all over the reddening skin. He’s making a show of it. “You’re making a fucking mess. S’pretty and wet, all fo’ me. Right? Say it’s all fo’ me.”
The pad of his thumb is rubbing your puffy clit as he awaits your answer, holding back from fucking you until you can’t utter a single sentence anymore, “All for you, Ran!”
“That’s right, pretty girl. This pretty pussy is all mine.”
He slips back in, the squelching sound and panting are the only things your ringing ears can process after his sentence. You’re full-on moaning now, hands holding onto his shoulders as he moves above you. His fingers grasp the back of your other knee, locking both of them in the crease of his bent arms, bending your body at an angle that makes it so easy for him to piston into you, no matter how hard your cunt is clenching down on him. The coil in your lower belly is about to snap, you can’t think straight anymore with the way his purple eyes are staring down at you under the shade of his pretty lashes. “Ra-Ran!” You whine, scratching down his back with one of your hands, sure to be drawing blood. “‘m gonna come, baby, ‘m coming.”
His left hand slithers down between your bodies as he applies pressure over your navel, pushing down with all his might as he abuses your spot from the inside, thumb reaching lower to massage your clit. “Give it to me, pretty, come all over my cock.”
His deep voice is your undoing. You come with a call of his name, tightening your grip around his neck to pull him closer to your quivering body and down for a kiss. You can barely breathe, but the way his tongue sneaks inside your mouth makes the feeling of asphyxiation even sweeter.
Your orgasm is dragged out by his unstopping thrusts, the only giveaway of him acknowledging the fact that you came is the groans and moans the lets out against your lips at the way you’re squeezing him.
“Fuck Ran, baby, too much,” You’re back to begging, but now for him to stop. You’re getting overstimulated, the coarse hair over his length is brushing against your soft spot just right. But he’s relentless and starts to get ruthless in his speed.
You know he needs to come and that he’s not gonna let himself go unless you reach your high again. That’s just how Ran is, ripping one orgasm out of you is not enough for him. It’s not only to stroke his big ego, but also cause that is his way of showing love, of putting himself out there and drilling into your head how much he wants and needs you.
“One more pretty girl, just one more.”
You could tell him that you can’t, that you’re spent, but the both of you know it would be a lie. You want it just as much as he does, and all it takes is a couple more minutes for you to get used to his thrusting again, and for the overstimulation to blend into burning pleasure.
“Oh my fucking god– Ran, fuck fuck–“ You’re swearing loudly, gripping onto his body with both your arms and legs as he fucks into you like he means it. You love the way his frame towers over you, he’s so big and the strength he puts into his thrusts is impressive, hips slamming into yours repeatedly, the pressure of your pelvises crashing into one another is just as good as the way he’s shaping your insides.
“Want you to come fo’ me, need to feel you, my love,” His fingers find your clit once again, he flicks it before rubbing against it with precision, the wetness on the skin aiding his fast movements as he takes you to your end once again. “That’s it, baby, just like that. What a fucking good girl, milk me dry.” He’s holding your chin in a firm hold with his big palm, to keep you from looking away from him as fat tears run down your pretty face.
The sight of you makes him double over, his teeth are scraping your earlobe, Ran’s warm breath hits your neck as he pants and groans. He’s so close he’s lost it, his hips are stuttering and you take matters into your own hands as you buck up into him, your walls are clenching around his length with the aftermath of your orgasm.
“Come for me, baby,” You beg him in between deep breaths, hands tangled in his short locks. You use the hold on his hair to redirect his face in front of yours, planting your lips on his and stealing the remaining of his breath away, just like he loves doing to you. “Fill me up,” you whisper against his parted mouth, an invitation he can’t help but accept as he comes while saying your name, white ropes of cum sticking to your walls and overflowing your cunt as he pushes it back in with his sensitive cock.
“‘m gonna eat it out of you in the morning,” he promises shamelessly, referring to the mess the both of you made as he squeezes your ass, and a whimper leaves your lips at the picture he just painted in your head.
He crashes over your body, kissing your collarbone as he regains his breath.
Your mind is so foggy, all you can feel, hear, smell, and taste is Ran. It’s so euphoric. His movements slow to an alt as he comes down from his high. You feel full, warm, and sweaty and for a moment you remember the reason why you even got in this predicament in the first place, but you don’t care about the temperature of the room anymore as your spent bodies stay tangled together.
“Can’t move, ‘m too tired,” he mumbles against your damp skin, lazy eyes staring up at you apologetically.
“‘s okay, baby, rest,” You lay a kiss on his forehead after brushing away the loose hair, “Thank you for turning on the ac.”
Your voice is soft, you look at him with tired eyes and the gentle rise and fall of your chest is pulling him back under. He thinks he would do anything for you if you asked him.
“Mhmh, can I stay inside?” His eyelids are fluttering closed while you nod, not ready to part from his body just yet, “You’re gonna get cold if I don’t, I know you won’t last long with the ac on and I’m not getting up again, babygirl.” You laugh at his raspy voice, maybe he’s already slipping back into dreamland if he hasn’t realized you’ve already given your consent and he’s trying to bargain for a little more of you.
“You can keep me warm, my love. Thank you.”
And Ran is gonna do just that, not only tonight but every other night for the rest of your lives. He leaves a kiss above your left breast.
“No, thank you… I love you.”
Your heart does a backflip, and you hold him closer.
“Love you more, Ran.”
You’re never gonna ask him to let go of you ever again, no matter how hot it might get.
#ran haitani#ran haitani smut#ran smut#ran x reader#ran haitani x reader#ran x you#ran haitani x you#ran x oc#ran x y/n#ran haitani x y/n#ran haitani imagines#ran imagines#tokyo revengers#tokyo revengers smut
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getting saved by an underground hero but he’s pretty
imagine you’re walking home one night and there’s a villain attack nearby. somehow you wind up in a villain’s arms, their hand clamped over your mouth with your back to their chest. they’re using you as collateral to get what they want, and you’re terrified that this person might actually hurt you.
then out of the darkness, a man jumps down silently from the top of a building in all black, eyes glowing red through his goggles and long, dark hair floating as he makes his way toward you. you’ve never seen or heard of him, but the villain behind you curses.
it happens so fast you almost don’t see it; a long, thin scarf comes flying your direction and you panic, screwing your eyes shut as it misses you entirely. a fight breaks out. you wind up getting shoved to the ground in the process with a bloody scratch on your cheek. soon, the villain is tied up and on the ground with the hero’s boot on his chest. the glow in his eyes fades as he pulls off his goggles. messy hair falls down around his shoulders. he’s contacting authorities and heroes for backup to take care of the offender under his foot. you move to stand, but he catches you in his peripheral.
“stay where you are. there may be others nearby,” he says.
so you stay. in a few minutes time, he’s kneeling down next to you as you pull away.
“it’s alright. my name’s eraser head. i’m an underground hero. are you injured anywhere else?” he looks exhausted and stern with red lining the whites of his baggy eyes, but there’s a softness to his deep voice as though he’s trying not to scare you.
“n-no. i fell pretty hard, but i’m okay,” you reply.
eraser head reaches out with a hand to examine your cheek, pulling out a few small items from somewhere on his hero costume to clean up your face.
“you’re lucky i was nearby. the hero on patrol was several blocks away. you shouldn’t be out alone in this part of the city this late at night,” he says. his fingers are gentle as he takes you by the chin and cleans the blood off your face.
your neck flushes. “s-sorry, mr. eraser head. i was on my way home.”
the corner of his mouth curls up at the formalization of his hero name. “it’s just eraser head, sweetheart. relax, you’re safe now. we’ll make sure you get home.”
“thank you, sir.” you’re trying not to stare at him as he works, but it’s almost hard to look away.
he can’t be much older than you if at all, maybe a few years at most. there’s a scar under his right eye and scruff on his chin and cheeks. his face is near expressionless as the small smile fades from his lips. he looks into your eyes, making it known that you’re staring. a flush blooms across your features and you quickly avert your gaze. you don’t see it, but another smile pulls on his lips.
“all done.” he offers you a hand to stand. “wait here.”
eraser head walks over to an officer for a brief moment and exchanges a few words out of earshot. with his scarf now back on his neck, he turns around and walks to you with his hands in his pockets and the slightest hint of a grin.
“i’ll walk you home. let’s go.”
if you’d like to be added to my tag list, let me know. ♡
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#would aizawa casually call a civilian sweetheart? heck no but it’s my fic and i want it so 😠#not me dreaming abt a damsel in distress trope with my fav fictional hero#ugh soft hero aizawa just does smth to me#another early morning drabble with no edits#bnha#mha#x reader#f!reader#aizawa shouta#aizawa shota#aizawa x reader#aizawa fluff#eraserhead#eraser head#bakubunny#mdni
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Jack Harlow x Reader : CRAVINGS AND ARGUMENTS
This pregnancy was different from your first to say the least. The first pregnancy you had no cravings, so when you woke up today craving some weird food combinations you had a plan set in motion.
The only problem is? Your husband hasn’t left your side since he got home two days ago. He doesn’t let you drive and he doesn’t let you be alone for more than five minutes.
If you had to go to the restroom he made sure to be outside the door to hear in case you fell or something. He was every bit dramatic and worried, you loved that about him. But after two days, you were growing annoyed.
You were putting your sandals on when Jack walked into the living room.
“I know you’re not going anywhere right now.” He crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow . “I see you have your purse and keys, were you sneaking out?”
You groan. “You and Mia were taking a nap so I was going to make a quick run to the store.”
“Absolutely not, I told you-“
“Yes, yes, I know Jackman.” You roll your eyes.
“Okay first of all, calm down.” He goes to hug you, rubbing circles on your back. “Second of all, hand me the list and I’ll go for you.”
You shake your head. “Jack, I want to go. I need to get fresh air.”
“Go outside then, I finally built your swing.”
“Ughh, okay okay. Just go.” You plop down on the couch. “I’ll text you the list.”
He bends down, lifts up your chin so you can look at him. “Don’t be moody baby.” He pecks your lips and smiles. “I’ll be back.”
******
It was thirty minutes later that Jack was walking back inside the house with two bags in hand.
You’re immediately confused. “What’s wrong? Did you forget your wallet?”
“Huh? Oh no, I’m done.” He says, walking into the kitchen. You quickly follow behind him.
“Babe, you usually take forever at the store when I send you with a list. No way you’re back this fast.”
He starts taking out the groceries from the bags and you look at the stuff in confusion. “What’s all this?”
“Your snacks and food.”
You grab a bag of green beans, “This wasn’t on my list.” You look at the peas, the wheat thins. “I definitely didn’t put this down.”
Jack doesn’t say anything. “Jack, where are my pickles? My hot Cheetos, my Dr. Pepper?” You dig through the stuff he brought home. “Most importantly, where are my spicy noodles?”
He scratches his neck. “About that.”
“What?”
“Baby, that’s all unhealthy stuff. You need to watch what you eat for the baby.”
You glare at him. “Jackman, please tell me you’re pranking me right now. Because if you didn’t bring me what I asked for, you’ll be sleeping on the couch.”
“Okay so I didn’t bring- wait before you get mad.” He goes up to you. “There weren't any noodles and babe, Dr Pepper with creamer? That’s gross so I’m saving you the disgust.”
“You don’t see me give you shit about your chicken and peanut butter.” You glare.
“Wait, that's not fair. Mia actually likes my chicken with peanut butter.”
You chuckle. “News flash, she doesn’t. She hates it and throws it to the neighbor's dog.”
He gasps. “Wow, what a way to shatter my heart.”
You glare at him and walk out of the kitchen and make your way back to the living room. You snatch your phone and sit down.
Jack follows behind you, smirking “What are you doing grumpy pants?”
You ignore him, continuing to scroll through your phone.
“Babe, are you really going to ignore me?” You stay quiet again.
“So what snacks do you want from the kitchen? I’ll cut you some veggies and fruit.”
You glare at him. “If you come near me with those wanna be snacks, I will hurt you.”
“Babe, stop being dramatic.” He chuckles, placing his hands on your bump.
“I’ll be whatever I want to be right now.” You push his hands away. “Don’t touch me.”
“What? What’s wrong?”
You roll your eyes. “You offered to go to the store for me, the least you could’ve done was bring me what I asked for.”
“That is what has you so mad?” He shakes his head. “Babe, I’m just looking out for you.”
You hum, but continue scrolling through your phone. “Who are you texting?”
“Gerald.”
“What did he say?- WAIT WHAT?” He snaps his head towards you. “You’re texting who?”
“Maybe he’ll bring me what I actually ask for.”
“Stop being petty.”
“Who said I was being petty? You can’t give me what I want, let me go ask all the guys who are in my dms begging for scraps.”
“All this pettiness over fucking food?”
“YES.” You yell. “You know I don’t play about my food, especially with this pregnancy. I crave weird things, you think I’m happy about that? I watch what I eat every other day but god forbid I get a weird craving, don’t blame me if your son comes out with a cone head.”
The doorbell rings and you get up as fast as your belly lets you and head to the door.
You grab the bags and close the door.
“Who dropped that off?”
“Gerald.” You snap at him.
Trying to head to the kitchen but he takes the bags from you. “Quit fucking playing.”
“Maybe you should’ve brought me what I asked for.” You shrug and start unpacking the bags.
You smile at what he dropped off. “He’s the best.”
“Who dropped these off? Because no way delivery got here this quick.”
“My favorite Harlow.” You bite into a pickle and do a little dance at the juicy flavor. “Your brother knew you’d pull some shit so he asked me to send him my list.”
You grab the monitor from the counter to double check Mia was still down for her nap. Once you see that she is, you continue to unpack the groceries your brother in law dropped off.
“Okay, I get it but I was only looking out for you.” He groans once he sees the pack of noodles. “I hate when you eat these.”
You shrug, “That sounds like a you problem.”
He nods and scratches his beard. “Do you need anything else ?”
You shake your head. “Oh no, I’m good, wouldn’t want you ruining anything else.”
“I’m going back to bed with Mia.” He kisses the top of your head. “Sorry for all of this.” He mumbles quietly and walks out.
You pick nothing up on his tone so you continue with putting away the groceries that you weren’t going to use right now.
In a plate you placed two pickles, baby carrots, and peanut butter. You filled a glass cup with ice and poured some Dr Pepper with creamer.
You made your way to the table, grabbing the black bag of hot Cheetos. Once you take a few bites of your snacks, dipping your pickles with peanut butter. You get a wave of emotions crashing in on you.
You can’t help but let the tears out, you push away your plate. You were about to head upstairs but you came face to face with Jack.
“What’s wrong.?” He asked, scared.
You hug him. “I’m sorry, I was being a bitch and you didn’t deserve that. I know you’re looking out for me but I just get annoyed so quickly and I hate it that I take it out on you.”
“Hey, hey.” He rubs your back. “Deep breath’s baby, you’re okay.”
You shake your head. “But I’m not, I shouldn’t be so mean to you, over snacks and food. That’s so silly.”
“I should’ve brought you what you asked for, so it’s on me.” He hugs you tighter against his chest.
“Why couldn’t you get the weird cravings again this time?” You joke, remembering how when you were pregnant with Mia, it was him with the mood swings and cravings.
He laughs, “That was a crazy time.” He pulls back a bit so he can look at you. “We’re okay baby, I understand you feel different this time around. I shouldn’t be pushing your buttons about it either.”
“I’m still sorry though, I know you’re trying your best.” You get on your tippy toes and kiss his neck. “You’ve been amazing and I’m just bitchy and moody.”
“Baby relax, everything is okay.” he places his hands on your round bump. “Let me help you”
“I’m going to hold it for a little while, is that okay?” You nod, as he quickly places his hands under your belly, lifting it up a bit.
You lean back on his chest and leave out a deep sigh. “That feels good.”
He kisses your neck, “Little man is really kicking at your side right now.”
“You know he does that whenever we fight or whenever he hears your voice.” You close your eyes as he starts swaying you both side to side.
“He’s going to be good at soccer.” At those words, you feel a big kick on your side, you and Jack chuckle at that.
“We’re good baby boy, just mommy and daddy having a disagreement.” You place your hand where he kicked.
“We’re more than okay little man.” He whispers. After his words, your son kicks again making you and Jack smile and shed a few tears of happiness.
This pregnancy wasn’t easy by any means but Angel “Ez” Harlow was worth it.
• • • • • • • • • • •
TAG LIST
@heavyhitterheaux @harlowsbby @arination99 @cmalass @jackharloww @minkookie95 @deannaard @jacksmoviestar @harlowcomehome @fdl305 @httpkoylinnn @xoxokiaraaxoxo @hoodharlow @automaticpeachsong @amethyst09 @aliciacat20 @allyson15 @gabbylovesreading @stefansalvatoresgf @violetdreamsworld @carma-fanficaddict @jasminxts @itsaaliyah2 @itsyagirljaz @harrycanyonmoonn @neon-lights-and-glitter @awhore4moree @toocriticalharlow @thefemalestorywriter @lightsoutstyles
#jack harlow#jack harlow x yn#jack harlow x you#jack harlow x oc#jack harlow x y/n#jack harlow x reader#jackman thomas harlow#come home the kids miss you#jack harlow fic#jack harlow fanfic
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Head Over Heels - Goose
Pairing: Nick "Goose" Bradshaw / Fem!Reader (Nicknamed Honey)
Word Count: 1.5k
This work, all my works, and my entire blog is 18+ Only.
Warnings: Accidents; Referenced Bad Dates; Slight Self-Loathing; Female Reader with No Description, No "Y/N" or "You," Nicknamed "Honey"
Summary: Goose goes on a bad date and wants to give up. Maverick tells him that he just can't sit around and wait for the perfect girl to come around. Except fate has other plans.
Note: Set pre-Top Gun 1986. No Carole in this universe. She's off living her best life elsewhere. Bradley's not here (but maybe he'll come later? We'll see)
Master List
“I’m hopeless, Mav! Absolutely hopeless!” Goose complained, holding his face in his hands.
“You are not hopeless,” Maverick assured Goose, though his expression gave away his real opinion. “Just a little . . . rusty.”
The two were walking down the boardwalk after a disaster of a double date with two women that they met in town. And to say that it was a complete mess would have been generous. It all started with a spilled glass of water and ended with Maverick getting whacked in the face with a purse while defending Goose’s honor.
“Mav, let’s just face facts,” Goose sighed, turning to his pilot and best friend. “I’m hopeless, I have no idea how to impress women, and I’ll probably die alone because of it.”
“Goose, you’re overreacting,” Maverick cut in, clapping his best friend on his shoulder. “She just wasn’t the one. Anywhere near the one. But, hey, there’s got to be some girl out there who’ll be the perfect match to you. I can sense it.”
“But where the hell is she Mav?” Goose sighed, starting to walk along again.
“I don’t know, Goose, you’ve got to go out and look for her. The perfect girl isn’t just going to fall into your arms,” Maverick replied, shaking his head.
“Watch out!” a voice suddenly called out.
Goose turned just in time to see a woman on a pair of roller skates heading towards him. He had about a split second to react. Reaching out his arms as a reflex, Goose managed to catch her as she tripped on the uneven wooden paneling on the ground. Her momentum caused them to both dip towards the ground until they were rolling together.
Goose managed to stop their rolling and found himself staring down at the most beautiful woman that he had ever set his sights on. She stared up at him with wide eyes, panting a bit, and resting her hand on his firm chest. He didn’t know her name, but Honey just felt right. She looked sweet, just like honey, and he wouldn’t mind a—no, Goose, no, he scolded himself.
“Hi,” Goose breathed out, memorizing by the literal angel that crashed into him.
“Hi,” Honey returned, similarly dazed.
“Jesus Christ, are you two alright!?” Maverick yelled, startling the two of them back to reality.
“I’m so sorry!” Honey immediately yelped, trying to scramble up. “Are you hurt?”
“No, no, I’m fine,” Goose replied, getting up and keeping a hold on her hand to steady her. “Just a little dust. Nothing more.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, glancing over his form for any scratches.
“Yeah, it’ll take more than that to take me out,” Goose chuckled, holding her steady as she slipped a bit on her skates. “Are you alright?”
“Just a bit embarrassed,” she sighed, grabbing Goose a bit tighter. “This is what I get for trying to be someone that I’m not.”
And no sooner had she finished her sentence then Honey slipped towards the ground. Luckily, Goose had quick reflexes and managed to wrap his arms around her before she fell to the ground again. Of course, his maneuver ended up with her hanging in his arms like they were dancing partners and he was dipping her for some romantic move, which caused them both to grow even more flustered.
Maverick glanced between Goose and Honey with wide eyes. Glancing up at the sky and then down at his own hands for a moment, Maverick quietly wondered if he somehow summoned this woman to this exact spot.
“Why don’t we get you over to a bench?” Goose suggested with a chuckled, straightening her up again.
“That’s probably for the best,” she agreed, letting Goose help her over to a wooden bench.
Carefully setting her down on the bench, Goose kneeled down in front of Honey and started to untie the skates on her feet. Maverick hid a smirk behind his hand when he saw just how flustered and pleased Honey looked as Goose helped her with her skates.
Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Goose just needed to stand there and let fate do the work for him.
“There, now you’re safe,” Goose joked, setting the two skates beside her on the bench.
“Thank you,” she replied meekly, still highly embarrassed. “And I’m so sorry about running into you.”
“Don’t sweat it,” Goose assured her with a kind smile. “But, can I ask why you’re skating around the boardwalk if you . . .?”
“Can’t skate?” Honey offered with a laugh. “My friend somehow managed to rope me into it.”
“Where’s your friend then?” Goose asked her.
The call of her actual name caused Goose, Maverick, and Honey to turn around to see another woman quickly skating towards them. She was more than likely the friend who indirectly caused the whole interaction based on the way that Honey sheepishly waved to her.
“Penny, I told you that this was a bad idea,” Honey sighed, gesturing towards the skates. “I was this close to going into the water. And I accidentally tackled him along the way.”
“Better than most linebackers,” Maverick joked, smiling brighter as he turned to face Penny. Well, if Goose got a beautiful girl to pay attention to him, why should Maverick get the same opportunity? “I’m Pete, Pete Mitchell. But you can call me Maverick. And the sack of potatoes that your friend took down is my RIO Goose.”
“Goose?” Honey repeated, sounding confused.
“You two are naval aviators?” Penny asked curiously, glancing between Maverick and Goose with newfound interest.
“It’s a callsign,” Goose explained to Honey. “My real name is Nick. You can call me whatever you prefer. I answer to both.”
“Goose somehow seems to fit you more,” Honey mused, turning to Goose again with a bashful smile.
“I think so,” Goose agreed, his cheeks literally aching from how hard he was smiling.
“Are you two free the rest of tonight?” Penny asked, shooting a knowing smirk at her friend. “We were just going to grab some dessert down at the end of the boardwalk. If you two are interested.”
“Well, it would be completely rude and downright unchivalrous if we didn’t take them up on their offer. Wouldn’t it, Goose?”
“It would,” Goose quickly blurted out before he turned to Honey. “Unless, of course, you think it wouldn’t be.”
“No, no, you should come,” Honey agreed, grabbing his hand. “So that I can properly thank you for the mess that I created.”
“Well, I can’t say ‘no’ to that,” Goose stated with a wide smile.
“Great, it’s settled! Let’s go,” Penny urged, gesturing down the boardwalk.
“Penny, we should grab our real shoes first,” Honey insisted, standing up. “I can’t walk barefoot all the way down there. And the parking lot is just up there.”
“I can carry you,” Goose offered, causing Honey’s eyes to widen a bit.
“Are you sure?”
“Don’t let the chicken frame throw you off,” Maverick vouched on Goose’s behalf. “He’s stronger than he looks.”
“Thanks, Mav,” Goose hissed out, shooting his best friend a look.
“Great! Goose will carry you to the car and then we’ll all grab dessert together,” Penny stated, leaving no room for argument.
“You don’t have to carry me,” Honey assured Goose, but he simply smiled in return.
“No, no, I insist. Here, you can climb up onto my back,” Goose offered, turning around.
With some careful maneuvering, Honey clambered up onto Goose’s back and the new group of four headed up to Honey’s car. Goose and Honey fell into their own separate conversation from Penny and Maverick, who seemed to have instantly clicked. They reached Honey’s car in no time and with a quick shoe change, they were on their way down to the ice cream shop.
“So, what would you prefer me to call you?” Goose asked Honey, who smiled up at him.
“You can call me . . . tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? What kind of—oh,” Goose quickly caught on, causing Honey to giggle a bit. “Sorry, that wasn’t smooth at all.”
“I think it’s cute,” Honey replied, smiling at Goose bashfully.
“I think they’re so cute,” Penny whispered to Maverick, grabbing his arm lightly. “It’s been so long since she felt confident around a guy. She gets flustered so easily and they all make fun of her.”
“Goose isn’t like that at all. He’s a complete gentleman,” Maverick assured Penny, glancing back at Goose and Honey. “And between you and me, his confidence has been shot. The last couple of dates that he’s been on were disasters.”
“Who knows? Maybe they’re just what each other needs,” Penny mused before turning to Maverick. “So, tell me about yourself, Maverick.”
#top gun#top gun fanfiction#nick goose bradshaw x reader#nick bradshaw#nick bradshaw x reader#nick goose bradshaw#goose top gun#top gun 1986#goose x reader#top gun goose#goose bradshaw#pete maverick mitchell#penny benjamin
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Worrywart
Notes: Okay not all of my prompt replies are going to be ANYWHERE near this long probably BUT this has been sitting in my drafts for a while AND will technically contain the ask from this anon for kiss prompts:
I hope you enjoy, nonnie
Warnings: Fluff! Domestic Bond and Pup from the Old Dog ‘Verse
Summary: Regardless of having his own place, Bond hardly ever occupies it. His mail (the little bit that he gets) is directed to your flat. He has no clothing at his flat; M's bulldog token to him now sits on your mantle, beneath the television, beside the framed picture of Holly and Bernard in their Christmas costumes.
"Are we getting up?"
"...Not yet," Comes James grumbling answer. It's mumbled against the nape of your neck as his arm tightens around your middle.
"We'll have to at some point," You glance back, "Holly and Bernard need to be walked."
"They're still asleep."
"How do you know that?"
"They'd be scratching at the door if they weren't. They're as impatient as you are."
"Really?" You smile, "I think they take after their father in that respect." You squirm as James pokes your middle.
"It's too early to bicker, Pup."
"I don't think it's ever too early for that."
James hushes you, snuggling closer.
"I've just gotten back, love. I'm not in the mood."
Your teasing goes soft with the endearment. You hesitate before you shift, rolling over to face him. Once he realizes that you're not rushing to get up, James loosens his grip just enough to allow you to adjust. He smooths his hand up under your shirt as you settle back down. His eyes are still closed; his blonde head is dimly haloed by the sunlight pushing in through the curtains behind him. You raise a hand to cup his roughening cheek, careful to avoid touching the small cut on his cheekbone.
"...You didn't tell me how it went," You murmur.
"It's not important.”
"It is to me."
"...It was fine."
"James."
“Don’t be such a worrywart.”
He turns his head, brushing his lips along your palm. You push a soft sigh out through your nose, closing your eyes. The two of you lay there in the early morning quiet, settling back into sleepiness for a little while. When you hear the scratching at the door, you lift your head, glancing back toward it. You grin as James groans, turning his head and pressing his face into the pillow.
"I've got them,"You offer.
"Hang on,"James uses his grip on you to tug you closer. His eyes are still closed, and you smile as his lips blindly seek out yours. He brushes a kiss to your chin, your cheek.
"You've almost got it—you've almost—" You giggle, grinning when his lips finally smooth over yours. You curl your fingers under his jaw, kissing James warmly. The touches linger, lips slipping tenderly along one another's—until you hear Holly whine.
"Okay," You murmur, drawing back from James, "I can't hear that, it breaks my heart."
"You're such a soft-touch these days," James sighs, flopping back in bed. You reach down, tweaking his nose before you stand, heading for the dresser. You get changed into joggers and a comfy sweater before you sit on the edge of the bed to pull on socks. You have to fight the urge to giggle as James' foot nudges along your thigh.
"Having fun back there?"You ask.
"Get back quickly."
"So bossy. We'll see what the babies want to do."
"Must I bat my eyelashes and say please?"
You roll your eyes, turning to look at James, and grinning when you find him gazing at you sleepily.
"I'll put the coffee on before I go out," You reach down, patting his calf before standing.
--
When the puppies (they're not really puppies anymore, but they'll always be puppies to you) charge back into the apartment, you hear the scratching and scrambling of paws charging for the kitchen.
"You're lucky it wasn't raining out," You call out as you shrug out of your coat.
"Oh?"
"Mm. I'd've had to wipe down their paws. I'd be making you mop up the floor right now."
"I checked before I put their food out."
"Good boy, old dog," You tease as you stroll into the kitchen. James shakes his head a little bit, a smile adorning his lips as you lean in for a gentle peck. James' arm snakes around your middle, tugging you closer before you can pull away. He groans softly as the kiss grows deeper, his tongue slipping between your lips. You loop your arms around his shoulders, gently pressing them into his skin before drawing away. You smile, sliding a hand up into his sleep-mussed hair.
"Love that you've neglected a shirt this morning," You tease.
"The apartment's warm enough."
"Mm. Giving the neighbors an eyeful."
James chuckles, nudging your nose with his.
"Don’t be jealous. Coffee?"
"Please."
James lets go of you just long enough to push a mug closer to you on the counter.
"You're a saint," You mutter, stepping back.
"Innumerable sources would disagree with you," James comments, heading for the fridge. You push yourself back to sit on the counter, glancing over to where Holly and Bernard are chowing down.
"I'm surprised you're up," You admit.
"Of course I'm up. I was told there would be coffee."
You smile, watching James putter around the kitchen. He still has his own flat, but it’s simply to keep up appearances at HQ. It's all for show; Mallory is more than aware of your entanglement with the double oh these days. He hasn't acknowledged it openly, but in your time working as a handler, you've come to recognize his displeasure or disapproval with a look. You'd had one such a look when you'd returned from your brief excursion helping Breanna. Of course, that disapproval may've been related to your undertaking a non MI6-related mission and potentially endangering a relationship with a foreign government by acting alone...Or it would've be interpreted as such, if Mallory's eyes hadn't darted from the back of Bond's head, then to you, narrowing slightly in the process.
Regardless of having his own place, Bond hardly ever occupies it. His mail (the little bit that he gets) is directed to your flat. All of his clothing is in your dresser and closet; M's bulldog token to him now sits on your mantle, beneath the television, beside the framed picture of Holly and Bernard in their Christmas costumes.
"How hungry are you?" He asks.
"Slightly...Don't forget, we're going to Eve’s tonight for dinner."
Bond grunts, and you can't help but grin in turn.
"C'mon, you love it, really," You tease, "It's good for you to socialize, old dog."
James shoots you a sidelong glance as he rifles through the fridge before he turns back, taking out the eggs, bread, milk, and setting them on the counter.
"What are you making, then?" You press.
"French toast."
"You're too good to me."
--
“There you are—Christ, hurry in,” Eve insists. “You look half-drowned.”
“I couldn’t get away from the office,” You sigh, “And then once I did, I couldn’t get an uber. They kept cancelling.” You shrug out of your coat, glancing down at your damp top. Maybe Moneypenny has one that you could borrow.
“About time,” Bond drawls from down the hall. You cast him an irritate glance, grumbling, “Don’t you start.”
His amused smile drops away as he gets a proper look at you, and he straightened up, sliding past Eve. You watch as he pulls his jumper off, his undershirt untucking slightly and revealing a thin strip of his belly.
“Bond,” You sigh softly as he steps closer, gesturing for you to remove your damp top. You glance toward an amused Eve, her grin wide as James shields your body with his. You hurriedly remove your shirt, hanging it up beside your coat before you let Bond pull the warm jumper down over your head. You catch on the scent of his cologne as he does, reveling in the warmth of him as you push your arms through the sleeves.
“You’re such a worrywart.”
“I should’ve brought you a spare,” Bond grumbles to himself as he draws the thick fabric down over your sides.
“You couldn’t have known I’d need one.” You gaze him with a warm, chastising smile before you reach up, cupping his cheek. “Thank you.”
James leans in, giving you a warm, gentle kiss before drawing away, his warm nose nudging your chilled one.
“My god, Bond,” Moneypenny sighs, leading the way into her living room. “Who knew you were such a romantic?”
#James Bond x Reader#James Bond x You#James Bond/Reader#James Bond/You#James Bond fic#James Bond imagine#Old Dog
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Hey I was wondering if you could do a fic w hobie where the reader is one year clean of sh? Next week I’ll be a year clean n stuff! If not then please ignore this 💗💗💗 ty loves💗
Hi angel! I'm so proud of you! sending you my love 💕 I hope I wrote this okay.
Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader
Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, cw food mention, FLUFF.
It's Fluffy Friday!
ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ
"It's not a big deal" you say softly, all cuddled up in Hobie's hoodie, comfortable with a shy smile on your lips. You sit on the kitchen's counter top, granite cold against the back of your legs, it swings giddily as you watch Hobie take out the freshly baked cake on the counter.
The sweet smell of vanilla and chocolate wafts inside the modest flat, you bite your lip to prevent another wobbly smile. You lose though, when Hobie turns around in your bright yellow apron complete with matching oven mitts.
"It's not a big deal" he says, mimicking your voice with a huge grin on his face. "It is, love. Now let me finish this up so we can properly celebrate, yeah?"
Hobie sits the hot pan on the counter, careful to not place it anywhere near you. Thankfulness in your chest, you lift up your arms, flexing your fingers, signaling him to come closer to you.
He doesn't miss a beat, slotting himself in between your thighs, eyes soft. You lock him in place, wrapping your legs around his waist. Hobie holds your face with his mitted hands. You relax from the lingering warmth. Hands softly over his neck, fingers lovingly tracing over his skin.
"Can you at least let me help decorate it?" You tilt your head, pursing your lips into a smile. "Help you with the icing?"
"With your chicken scratch handwriting?" He chuckles through his own quip, you match his laugh. "You're on sprinkle duty"
"I'll take it" you press a weighted kiss on his cheek, eyes closed, placing your head on his shoulder, you embrace him tightly.
"It's a big deal, love. Really proud of you" Hobie rubs your back, kneading and affectionately as best as he could with the mittens still on.
"Thank you" You hug him tighter, eyes glossy.
"I'm here for you." You nod, already knowing that he is. "Do you need anything else?"
"Let's just stay like this for awhile" voice muffled by his skin, the back of your head held protectively by Hobie, his lips lovingly over your temple.
"Alright" he breathes you in, whispering tenderly. "As long as you want to"
#request done#fluffy fridays#hobie brown x reader#spider punk x reader#the kr8tor's creations#hobie brown#spider punk#x reader#atsv fanfiction#spider man across the spider verse#atsv fanfic#atsv x reader#atsv fluff#atsv hobie#spider punk x gn! reader#spider punk x you#hobie brown x gn!reader#hobie brown x you#cw food mention#hobie fluff#fanfic
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blurb 4 of blurb night eeeeee!!!
Sleepy
Gregory Hirsch x Reader
prompt: “I need some sleepy Greg just enjoying the early morning dare it be the don’t start work till later or even a lil stay in after a night out.!!”
this was so much fun to write!! shout out to the homie mittos, thank u for requesting i love youuuu <3 I hope u love it
Word Count: 690
Head buried in his chest, legs intertwined with his, arms hooked around his torso. The sheets are warm, he’s warm.
Greg’s fingers dig into your back, holding you to him tightly. Even in his sleep, he can’t let you go. He refuses to. You wake up slowly, blinking away the grogginess. You shift, pulling yourself upward, readjusting to instead tuck your face in the crook of his neck.
His hand comes to the back of your neck, and you feel his lips press to the side of your head.
“You’re up?” you ask quietly.
He grunts noncommittally, his arms going to wind around your waist. His palm smooths over your hip before climbing up your spine, the way he knows you like. His eyes are still closed. His lashes are long, dark, fluffy. His face is serene- he’s at peace with you in his arms.
His hands rub up and down your body, one at your hip, the other at your back. You sigh and readjust again, hooking your arms around his neck and bringing his head to the crook of your neck. He presses a kiss to the skin right under his mouth before turning so that he can nuzzle further into you. Your fingers find his hair, stroking. You scratch gently at his scalp, and his breathing deepens once again.
You’d gone out together the night before, an ‘adventure date’, as he’d called it. You’d walked to and through Times Square, admiring the lights. He’d never been before, surprisingly. He’d attributed it to his initial brokeness and then to the general decrease in time to himself he’d experienced after starting at Waystar. Hand in hand, you’d spent the entire night out at dinner then exploring. The night out had also produced some of your favorite photos of you and Greg- the two of you trying on silly hats in a gift shop, the both of your faces squished together in a mirror out on the street.
Greg had surprised you the night before. He’d taken what feels like millions and millions of photos of just you. You giggling sitting across from him at the restaurant. Your face staring up at him from his point of view out on the sidewalk. You walking ahead of him, surrounded by the Times Square billboard lights, your hand gripping his.
When the two of you had gotten home last night, you’d noticed he’d changed the wallpaper on his phone to a picture of you staring out the window of the restaurant, a giddy grin splitting your face. You remember the stupid joke he’d told- it wasn’t even funny. You’d just laughed because he was giggling while speaking.
Fully awake now, you attempt sliding out of bed, but Greg’s vice grip on you keeps you from going anywhere.
“Don’t leave,” he whines, voice raspy from overnight’s misuse. “Why’re you trying to leave me?”
He pulls you back, and now his chest is pressed against your back. You let out an airy laugh, his lips brushing over your jaw. “I need to pee, Greg.”
“Will you come back fast? Please? For me?”
“I’ll be quick, don’t worry.”
He plants a final kiss to your cheek before rolling over, taking his arms with him. You sit up, leaning over him. You give his shoulder a squeeze, pressing your lips to his neck. He makes a satisfied noise in response, still not opening his eyes.
You’re in and out of the bathroom as quickly as you can. When you pad back into your bedroom, you find Greg sprawled out on the bed, arms and legs askew, snoring lightly. You smile down at him, crawling back onto the mattress. You try fitting yourself back into him, but he’s spread out starfish-style.
It’s as if he can read your mind, though, because the moment your near him, he brings his limbs back into him. In his sleep, he reaches for you, and you fold yourself back into him.
“Mm,” he murmurs subconsciously, pulling you flush against him and burying his face back into your neck.
You pepper kisses into his hair. You suppose you’ll just let him sleep.
#gregory hirsch#gregory hirsch x you#gregory hirsch x reader#greg hirsch#greg hirsch x you#greg hirsch x reader#succession#succession hbo#wambsgansshoelaces#blurb#blurb night#succession blurb
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Just Hold Me, Please
Rafe Cameron x fem!reader
Warnings: swearing, mentions of abuse, blood, drug addiction relapse, Ward, some violence but it doesn't really happen?, my shitty writing because I was sleep-deprived while writing this (as is my norm apparently)
WC: 1k
His hair is disheveled, and his eyes are bloodshot. A near-empty bottle of tequila hangs from his hand. He's loosened his tie and relinquished his suit jacket to the mercy of the floor. A bruise is blooming on his cheekbone, and his eye is almost swollen shut because of it. There are tear streaks on his cheeks. Blood trails from his temple and the corner of his mouth, and drips onto his white button-up.
Rafe’s breath falters, coming in hard pants, ragged from crying and over-exertion. The floor creaks faintly, unobtrusively. Rafe whirls, eyes glowing with anger and brimming with tears.
Y/n freezes where she stands, hands flying up in a motion of surrender.
“Hey, baby.”
Rafe set his jaw and sat down on his bed. “What do you want?”
“I… I just wanted to check up on you. Is that okay?”
“You’ve checked on me. Can you leave now?”
“Rafe--”
In a quick movement, Rafe flung the bottle at the wall by his door, mere inches from Y/n. It shattered, and the little amount of tequila left in the bottom dripped down the wall.
“Hey, you don't--”
“Don’t tell me I don’t have to be violent. I’ll be fucking violent if I want to be, okay?”
Rafe’s eyes were wide, danger lurking under the surface of his psychotic look. Y/n stepped back, just outside Rafe’s room.
“Go on, get out of here!” Rafe’s bottom lip quivered.
“I’m not going anywhere, Rafe.”
“You will. Everyone else does once they find out.”
Y/n’s eyes widened. “Oh, my God.” Her eyes shot past Rafe and landed on a bag on his nightstand. The inside was still coated in a white powdery residue.
“You relapsed.”
“Shut up!” Rafe roared, hands coming up in a hostile move, but he didn't touch her. His fists were clenched, veins pulsing hotly.
“Rafe--”
“Get the fuck out of here, Y/n. I’m warning you, bitch.”
“Did he hit you?”
Rafe stumbled back as if she’d hit him. “No. He’d never hit me--”
“Sweetheart--” Rafe leaned backward as Y/n reached up and cradled his face. His breathing stuttered and an almost-sob shook through his body.
“You can tell me anything, darling. I promise I’ll do the best I can to fix it.”
Rafe shook his head. “I can't.”
She tilted her head, almost looking like a lost puppy. “Why not?”
Rafe blinked back tears. “I just-- I can’t.”
Y/n’s eyes softened and she nodded.
“Okay, baby.” She looked at him a moment, quizzicality making itself known in her raised eyebrows. “Do you want me to help you clean up?”
He nodded. As she let go of him and moved to step away, he wrapped his arms around her, hiding his face in her neck, body heaving with sobs.
“Do-Don’t go, please. Don’t le-leave me.”
“Oh, Rafe.” Y/n rubbed his back, right between his shoulder blades. He continued to sob into her neck and he gripped her hips tightly, grounding himself.
“My baby boy,” Y/n whispered into his ear, pressing sweet kisses on his shoulder. She guided him backward and sat him on the bed. Her fingers made their way up his back and into his hair, where she scratched comfortingly at his scalp.
“Baby, baby,” She soothed, dropping a kiss on the crown of his head. “You’re okay, alright? I promise.” Rafe’s arms encircled her waist and his chin sat at her hp. His last few tears dripped onto her shorts and she continued to play with his hair. His hands slipped from her waist to the backs of her thighs. He looked up at her, eyes wet and bluer than ever.
Y/n smiled faintly. “You wanna get cleaned up, change your clothes?”
Rafe’s tired nod was pitiful and she swept a stray strand of hair out of his face.
“You change your clothes, alright? I’ll get the first aid kit and clean up that glass.”
Rafe’s bottom lip jutted out in an inadvertent pout.
“I’ll be gone for two minutes, max. Okay?”
He reluctantly let go of her, and Y/n kissed his forehead before going to the bathroom. In the mirror, she could see the tearstains on the neck and shoulder of her shirt. She reached under the counter for the first aid kit and returns to Rafe’s room.
Rafe is staring into the full-length mirror in his room, eyebrows furrowed, his eyes unsure of what they were seeing.
“Baby?” Y/n questions from the door, her eyebrows crinkling to match his.
Rafe tugged at his shirt, undoing a few buttons. “I look like shit.”
“No, babe, you look fine.”
“I look like a Pogue.”
Y/n scoffed before setting the kit on his bed and helping him out of his shirt. “You look tired, that’s all. Let’s clean you up, yeah?”
Rafe fixes her with a look. “I do look like shit. You can’t deny that.”
“Whatever you want to say, darling. Put on your sweatpants and lay down for me.”
Rafe complies as Y/n sits on the bed, pulling out the things she needs to make her boyfriend pretty again. He lays his head in her lap and looks up at her.
“Ready?”
Rafe makes a face. “The antiseptic stings, though.”
“It’ll make you pretty again. Less pogue-y.”
Rafe huffs and turns his head, exposing the swelling and blood on the side of his face.
Y/n soaks a cotton ball with antiseptic and drags it across Rafe’s jaw. “Your dad did this?”
He nodded, pain hidden behind screwed-shut eyes.
“Because you relapsed?”
Rafe clenched his teeth. “I stole from him to pay for the coke, so… yeah.”
“Horseshit.” Rafe’s eyes snapped open to meet hers. She’d stopped cleaning the side of his face and looked at him with fire in her eyes. “I told you to come see me if you felt like you needed something. You didn’t have to steal from him!”
“I-I know. It was-- I was embarrassed. I didn’t want you to know.”
“You can tell me anything, Rafe. You know that I’d protect you and be on your side no matter what. Right?”
Rafe nodded. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, baby.” Y/n set the case on the nightstand and pulls down Rafe’s sheets. “Hop under, sleepyhead.”
Rafe yawned, a soft smile on his face. He scooted up his bed and worked his way under the sheets.
“You’ll stay, right?”
“Yes, sir, I will. ‘M gonna clean that up first.” She pointed at the broken glass.
“You promise you’ll stay?”
“Swear on my life, Rafe. I’d never leave you alone.”
#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x fem!reader#rafe cameron angst#rafe cameron
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Ruhn Danaan: Sweet Relief
Pairing: Ruhn Danaan x female!reader (she/her)
Summary: “You would—you would be open to that?” you asked him quietly. Tentatively.
He let his hand spread across your stomach, and the neutral, cautious expression he was wearing slowly turned into a grin.
“Fuck yeah I would be open to that.”
Warnings: Period Sex, heavy descriptions of period blood, she uses a sanitary pad, p in v sex, slight dirty talk, SWEARING, reader is insecure, she has severe period cramps, spoilers for all of CC, the White Raven is alive, Queen Bryce is here for like 30 seconds, protected sex, orgasming, and Ruhn being a gentleman. This could also work in the Personal universe, but it also works outside of it.
A/N: if anyone can find me a real life Ruhn Danaan, I’d very much appreciate it. I hope you all enjoy this. Thank you to anyone who supports me or my writing. It means a lot. :)
If you’d like to leave a like, comment, reblog, or ask, it is very appreciated <3
SJM Masterlist
(Pic gotten from Pinterest)
“Give me a break, Bryce,” Ruhn mumbled into his drink.
“I’m serious!” she defended, her amber eyes widening even more.
“The last thing Y/N wants me to do right now is touch her. You’re just trying to get my face bitten off.”
Bryce huffed out of her nose, and set her drink on the sticky wooden bar. Ruhn knew her well enough to know he had delightfully riled her up.
“I’m not fucking around Ruhn. Look it up for fuck’s sake.”
Ruhn shook his head again and chuckled.
“Look, I didn’t want to have to say this, but Hunt and I have tried this many times—”
“Fuck Bryce, okay—”
“—and it’s always worked!” Bryce said, but the end of her sentence was cut off by her own laughter.
Ruhn laughed with her, enough that his shoulders began to shake. He shook his head again, trying to keep any images of his sister locked away from his mind.
“All I’m saying is that even suggesting it would impress her. Trust me.”
Ruhn hummed, thinking of all of the other ways he had tried to impress you, bedroom or otherwise. His drink burned nearly as badly as not having you by his side, laughing along with Bryce and her lack of filter.
He had seen you an hour ago, and you were currently lying in his bed, yet he still managed to ache for you.
“Ache for you?” Was he a fucking teenager?
You made him feel like one, that’s for sure.
Your period had come with a vengeance, and there was no way in Hel you would make it to the White Raven for your weekly drinks with Bryce.
Your words, not his.
You apologized profusely, of course, and told him to tell Bryce that you would make it up to her.
“I know,” he mumbled, and kissed you on the forehead. He offered to stay home with you at least fifty times before you practically shoved him out of the bedroom.
He then explained to Bryce why you were not bound to his side as you usually were, which led Bryce into spilling her “period advice of the century.”
In simple terms: sex. In Bryce’s terms: “Earth-shattering orgasms.”
Which led him here.
“Thanks Bryce,” he replied. “I’ll sure as Hel try.”
Bryce winked at him as she sipped her champagne. She could see how his eyes simmered at the mere mention of your name.
She couldn’t be happier for her brother.
“You’re a better male than half the ones in this bar,” she said quietly. “Most males wouldn’t put their dick anywhere near that.”
He swirled the liquid in his glass, smirking to himself.
“I’m not like most males.”
~*~
You’d never wanted to crawl out of your own skin more than you did that night.
You swore there was a wolf inside of you, scratching and shredding you from the inside out. The muscles from your thighs to your toes tingled with a pins-and-needles sensation, and you felt the blood continuously draining from your face.
Ruhn’s never-ending supply of heating pads and massagers were helping, but the waves were never ending. The first few days were always agony , and there was no part of your body that wasn’t contorting in pain.
You were nauseous, sweating, and fucking pissed.
All you wanted was to go out for drinks with the love of your life and your best friend. That’s all.
You weren’t even strong enough to do that.
You wanted to cry. Everything hurt and you just wanted a few minutes of nothing. No pain, no headaches, no pajamas soaked in sweat. That’s all you needed.
You brought your hands to your lower stomach, pressing the heating pad so tightly against your bare stomach it burned, but you didn’t care. Tears began to dribble down your cheek. Nothing else would make you feel better.
“Y/N?”
Except for that.
You recognized him from his steps alone. He didn’t even need to announce himself.
You heard him discard his boots, setting them on the shoe rack, and unzip his jacket. The fabric ruffled when he set it on its designated hanger, and a plastic bag ruffled as well.
If he brought you back food, you would propose on the spot.
“I have a surprise,” he said from behind the bedroom door.
Your sweat-covered mouth turned into a smile involuntarily. “Will you marry me?”
He chuckled as he opened the door, and your stomach ignited at his beauty. Those butterflies never seemed to disappear around him.
“You know I will,” he replied, and you smiled even wider.
He was in black jeans and a grey T-shirt, with his hair down and clean. His blue eyes pierced the darkness of the room even more so than usual, probably from the drink or two he had with Bryce. His right hand curled around the bag of takeout, highlighting the veins in his forearms.
What really got you, however, was how his broad and muscular body was highlighted by the yellow-toned lamps you had on, making him and his glorious tattoos that much more accentuated. 
Maybe it was your hormones, or maybe it was the way he set his fucking house keys down on the night stand perfectly domestically, but parts of your body began heating up in a way that masked the tension in your muscles just so.
“I brought your favorite,” he said, rocking the bag back and forth in his grip. “Shitty White Raven food always makes you feel better.”
He made you feel better. He always made you feel better.
You nodded, smiling up at him with your hands still pressed firmly against your abdomen.
He set the take-out bag on the night stand as well and sat down on the bed, curving his body to face your own.
He scanned your frame, noting how many chords were stretched across the room to your stomach, and he frowned slightly. He moved his eyes up to your face, and the sticky tears lacing your cheeks were ever present to him.
You gulped, smiling soulfully, and he breathed deeply. Looking at you. Trying to find the right words to say.
He always felt your pain as if it was his own.
“Did you guys get drunk?” you asked teasingly, cutting the tension.
His mouth curved into a small smile. “Not even tipsy.”
You hummed, looking away from him awkwardly.
He inhaled a short breath, and you looked up at him once more. “Can…can I touch you?”
You blinked once. Twice.
“Yeah,” you replied huskily, and he brought his right hand over to your face. His wide thumb brushed the tears from your left cheek, then your right, and your eyes fluttered at the sensation. He then brought his mouth to your forehead, kissing it firmly, before pressing your foreheads together.
Your cramps still stretched up your back, but a thin blanket of bliss coated your body at his tender touch.
He pressed kisses down your nose, landing with one on your mouth, before mumbling.
“Any better?”
You breathed in the smell of his aftershave. “No.”
He swallowed, nodding his head, and pressed his hand atop your own. He pressed down, sinking the heat of the heating pad even deeper into your muscles. You exhaled at this, not even realizing how loud it was, and his fingertips curled around your own.
“Bryce sends her wishes,” he said against your lips. “I believe her exact words were ‘when Mother Nature brings Y/N Y/L/N down, you know it’s fucking bad.’”
You smiled, wishing you could hear those words in her own voice, but you could picture it well enough.
“I missed you tonight,” he mumbled, pecking your lips once more.
“You were gone for an hour baby.”
“I know. Trust me.”
You both laughed at that, and he pulled away from your face to bring his free hand to your face, framing it perfectly.
He brushed your cheek bone with his thumb before bringing it down to your chin.
“I missed you too,” you said. “Anymore Bryce updates?”
Something clouded his eyes at your question. It looked like a mix of anxiety and uncertainty, with a touch of…curiosity?
Your eyebrows came together at this, and you rubbed your thumb against his hand.
“Not really,” he said. “She uh…she just had some advice for me, I guess.”
You tilted your head, urging him to continue.
“Advice?”
“Yeah…period advice.”
You smiled, and snorted a laugh. “I can only imagine what she said.”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. She called it her ‘period advice of the century.’”
“Well then,” you laughed out, “let’s hear it.”
He swallowed harshly, fidgeting with your fingers. Why was he so nervous?
“It’s not something we have tried before, so I don’t want to make you…uncomfortable.”
Uncomfortable? We?
You squeezed his hand. “What is it Ruhn? You can say it.”
He swallowed again, and licked his lips as he shook his head. “She said, and these are her words by the way, not mine, she said that I should give you ‘Earth-shattering orgasms.’”
Your eyes widened. Ruhn kept eye contact with you, desperately trying to gauge how you felt about her advice, but you could barely meet his gaze.
Not when an obscene amount of heat shot down your lower body, and your toes curled at the thought of Ruhn touching you in all the ways you imagined when he walked through the door.
Gods you wanted it. You wanted him. So badly your core began to ache with something other than pain.
His eyes continued to devour yours, unable to read your shock at your own reaction to his words.
“We don’t have to do anything Y/N. That was completely Bryce’s idea, and I didn’t even mention—”
“No, it’s okay,” you said, leaning back on your elbows. “It’s okay.”
He nodded and pressed down on your heating pad, rocking it side to side over your skin to spread the heat.
You nearly moaned.
You’d thought about period sex many times. Even before you met Ruhn. It seemed you could not go a period without remembering the copious amounts of articles you had read, boasting about how orgasms and penetration lessen period cramps dramatically.
You just never thought any male would have an interest.
“You would—you would be open to that?” you asked him quietly. Tentatively.
He let his hand spread across your stomach, and the neutral, cautious expression he was wearing slowly turned into a grin.
“Fuck yeah I would be open to that.”
Holy Hel
“Really?” you asked, your voice raising in disbelief. “It doesn’t… gross you out?”
He softened his smile and shook his head before saying, “Nothing about you would ever gross me out.”
If you didn’t want him to fuck you before, you definitely did now.
Maybe he could smell your change in demeanor already, or maybe he was starting to feel the exact same sensations you were, but he squeezed onto your heating pad that much tighter, flexing his arms all the way up to his shoulders.
“You need to communicate with me Y/N,” he mumbled. His voice was rich with arousal, deepening his already low octave. A rope of tension was beginning to stretch between the both of you. “You owe me nothing. If you want me to stop, tell me to stop. Please.”
You nodded, sitting up higher on your elbows.
“I will. I want you to do the same.”
He nodded, flashed you a quick smile, and started leaning in. He had just kissed all down your face, pecking your lips as he did, but this felt different.
You both knew the desired destination, making your breaths hot and your blood boil. The tension was now at risk of suffocating you.
He stopped inches from your mouth to frame your face with his hands once more, and brought his lips to yours.
He kissed you so gently that you felt yourself already beginning to deflate. He tasted like mint with a touch of whiskey, which made you smile inwardly. He either expected you to say yes, or really fucking hoped you would.
He began with small pecks, but allowed them to linger more and more as he continued. Your lips molded perfectly to each other, just as they always had.
He brought his right hand to your lower back and pressed lightly, causing the entirety of your spine to be laid flat on the bed. You exhaled, enjoying the way your muscles relaxed as he guided you down. He started breathing heavier as he framed your hips with his knees and the entirely of his body hovered over yours.
Your heart began beating louder and louder in your head, and the already steady blood flow toward your abdomen was heating up your body from your brain to your toes.
You realized, for the first time in hours, that you didn’t feel any pain. None at all.
You were on your period, and Ruhn was fucking on top of you. You would have to personally thank whatever gods dropped him in your lap.
He began licking between your lips as he kissed you, teasing you with his tongue, and you kissed him harder and harder. You wanted the taste of him to coat every inch your mouth.
You brought your hands up towards his hair and skated them down the expanse of his body when his tongue finally entered your mouth, and you groaned against him, digging your nails down into his t-shirt.
It was like that prick of pain snapped him back into reality, causing him to pull completely off of you.
“Towel,” he whispered through his red, swollen lips. His chest still heaving. “We need a towel.”
He climbed off the bed and sprinted to your shared laundry room, leaving you with your arms frozen in midair. You laughed at his eagerness, and you heard many types of fabric begin to smack against the tile floor. You could picture it, him pulling out every towel you owned in search for a stained or dark-colored one, and tossing the expensive ones over his shoulder.
Crown Prince of the Valbaran Fae, bested by a towel.
His steps finally echoed back up to your room, and he held what had to be a decade-old maroon-colored towel with the Crescent City University logo blasted across the entirety of it.
“It’ll do,” you said, still laughing. He laughed with you, his face still flushed, as he moved over to your night stand in search for a condom. He pulled one from the package and brought it to his mouth before delicately raising your lower body off the comforter. He laid the towel over the fabric, and laid your legs back down, condom still between his teeth.
You watched him the entire time, picturing the many ways he planned on taking you. The sweat coating your body soon became the desired kind.
He climbed over you once more, but sat on his knees. You brought your hands forward to fumble with the zipper on his jeans, but he shook his head.
“Uh uh,” he said, his voice muffled by the wrapping in his mouth. “Keep your hands here.”
He took your wrists in his hands and pressed them onto the heating pad still placed on your bare stomach. He pressed down firmly before taking his hands off of yours slowly, making sure you did as he asked. The heat continued to spread over your sore muscles, and you exhaled out of your nose. You felt the best you had in hours.
“Just in case this doesn’t work,” he said, winking at you, and unzipped his own jeans. He slid them off of his ankles, placing both of his forearms next to your head for balance, and you took the opportunity to bite the end of the condom with your own teeth, successfully stealing it from him. You smiled as best you could, and raised your eyebrows in victory.
His mouth opened in shock—genuine shock—and he shook his head side to side.
“Gods Y/N. Fuck.”
You laughed through your teeth, and he kissed your cheek slowly. His breath skated over your face as he spoke.
“Should’ve suggested this sooner.”
You continued smiling at him, your stomach bubbling in anticipation, and he pushed off of you to remove his shirt and underwear.
You were met with a body you knew better than your own, but could never seem to get enough of.
Every mole, every scar, every tattoo, every ab, you had kissed it. Loved it. Adored it. You had every inch memorized, and yet you looked at him like he fashioned the stars in the sky. Every time.
The darkening lust in both of your eyes lightened with love, and you felt the familiar sense of safety Ruhn Danaan always brought you.
He leaned down and pecked your nose, allowing you to feel the softness of his skin against your palms. He then stole the condom back with his teeth and laughed through his nose.
You rolled your eyes, and he pulled on the bottom of your shirt. You nodded, and moved your arms up so he could remove it entirely.
He looked at your bare upper-body with as much love as you did to his, and set the condom down next to your face to kiss along your collarbone.
Something about the mix of his gentleness and eagerness made every inch of your skin hypersensitive to every kiss. Chills erupted down your body, and shaky breaths began to escape from your mouth. He kissed from your collarbone down through the center of your breasts before finally landing on your stomach.
He placed a delicate hand on your heating pad before asking, “Can I take this off?”
You nodded, already prepared for the rush of pain and agony that would worm its way up your body when he did. He knew it too, so he brushed the heating pad off the bed and removed your underwear in one swipe.
The pain returned, so harshly your spine spasmed and your hands gripped the sheets. You hissed through your teeth and released a quiet whine.
“It’s okay baby. It’s okay. I’ll fix it,” Ruhn said quickly, looking more unsure than ever. “What should I…do you want my fingers—”
“No,” you responded. Harsher than you intended. “I need you inside me. All of you.”
He nodded quickly, and ripped the condom open with his teeth, sliding it over his swollen shaft. Despite the wolf once again attacking your reproductive organs, you felt your mouth water at the sight, causing a foreign feeling of pain and pleasure to curl in your lower stomach.
You continued to grip the sheets as he lined himself up against your entrance, and he brushed a hand across your forehead.
“It’s okay. It’s okay,” he said, pressing his lips to your hairline. “Tell me if this hurts Y/N. Please.”
You shook your head, and managed to mumble over your heavy breathing. “Always.”
He nodded, taking a deep breath, and pushed into you slower than he ever had before.
You were so slick he entered you fully in seconds, and his tip was nearly hitting your walls until finally—
“Holy fuck.”
There it was—sweet relief.
Any inkling of pain you had evaporated off of you. Your body melted and your eyes rolled so far back you were seeing stars.
It was pure euphoria. Every inch of him.
Ruhn was shaking—shaking—above you. “You’re so—fuck you’re so warm.”
He could barely get a full breath in. “Gods you feel like heaven.”
You exhaled erotically into his shoulder. “Ruhn, please move.”
He groaned into your neck, and slowly began rocking back and forth. You brought your hands from the sheets to his back, feeling every muscle twitch and ripple against the pads of your fingers, and another moan left your mouth.
You were getting tighter and tighter, and that all too familiar ball in the pit of your stomach was beginning to unravel.
“Y/N I—I can’t. I can’t last, I’m not gonna—”
He hissed in pleasure, and you kissed across his jawline.
“Keep moving. Please keep moving.”
He did. He rocked and rocked and rocked, harder and harder and harder, until you were both moaning messes. You could feel yourself dripping onto the towel and down your legs, but not one part of you cared. Neither did Ruhn.
“You’re so fucking perfect. You feel so perfect,” he whined—whined— in your ear, rocking as hard as he possibly could. “I can feel you. Fuck I can feel you starting to come.”
You were. You were so close.
“I’m there. I’m right there,” you whispered, and ran your hands down his stomach. His muscles clenched at your touch, and you smiled at the effect you were having on him.
His whines were turning into groans; his tell-tale sign that he was right there with you.
“Ruhn, I—"
But with one touch of his fingertip to your clit, you were gone. Completely fucking gone.
You had never come so hard in your life, and neither had he.
You had to have blacked out, at least for a second, because you opened your eyes to Ruhn kissing down your neck and around your breasts, whispering sweet nothings.
“You did it. You did it Y/N. You’re okay.”
Your head was buzzing with pure ecstasy, and tears coated your cheeks once again. You felt as if you were floating, free of the prison your cramps had kept you in all day.
“Thank you,” you whispered to Ruhn, bringing your hands up to his scalp. “Thank you Ruhn.”
He pressed a firm kiss to your left breast, smirking. “Don’t fucking thank me Y/N. I should be thanking you every godsdamn day of my life.”
His eyes locked with yours as he said this, and the pure love in his eyes was nothing short of a gift.
He pressed more kisses down your stomach, lingering on the moles and markings you had, and smiled again.
“Was it Earth-shattering?”
You laughed deeply at his question, and you nodded your head up and down. “Definitely.”
“Good,” he responded. “I did my job.”
As your high began to slowly fade, the feeling in your legs returned, and a layer of stickiness coated the entirety of your inner thighs.
Ruhn reached an arm down to his lower body, effectively pulling off the condom. You felt him set it in between your legs.
He brought his face up to yours, and kissed you firmly. Firmer than you expected. “I’ll be right back.”
You nodded, and watched his naked frame leave the room. The night outside was still cut by your golden lamps, which followed him as he walked, coating him with golden yellow beams.
You wished you had a lifetime to stare.
Once he was gone, you exhaled, basking in a body free of pain and discomfort. You rubbed your palms over your eyes and yawned, unable to keep a smile of contentment off of your face for longer than a few seconds.
You had never felt so elated. So free.
Ruhn’s steps started towards your room, and he entered with another cloth in his hands.
“Couldn’t forget this,” he said, grinning at you.
You grinned back, opening up your legs for him. He brought the cloth to your legs, and you hummed when the heat of it hit your skin.
No matter the time of day, location, or longevity, Ruhn always cleaned you after sex. Demanded was more like it. You had told him countless times you could do it for yourself every once in a while, you even asked if you could return the favor, but a shake of his head was always his response. Nothing more.
He leaned on the bed, holding the cloth inches from your tender skin, but you stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
“I love you Ruhn. I love you.”
He looked up at you, his blue eyes still piercing through your very being, and kissed the top of your knee. “I love you Y/N. More than anything.”
He then dragged the warm material down your legs, cleaning you thoroughly, and continued to press kisses to your knees as he worked.
“All done,” he said, looking up at you. His grip on your leg was enough for a lick of heat to return to your stomach.
He stood up next to the bed and slid his hands underneath your back. He helped you sit up straight, and you smiled at him sleepily.
“Thank you.”
He kissed your cheek and mumbled into your still flushed skin. “I just said to not thank me.”
You smiled, scooting yourself to the edge of the bed. “Thank you anyway.”
You stood on shaky legs and walked to the bathroom, keeping your hands on your hips to steady yourself. You felt his gaze glide down your body like a physical touch, and you couldn’t help your smirk. It was nice to know you had the same effect on him as he did to you.
You grabbed a fresh pair of underwear before relieving yourself in the bathroom. You added a sanitary pad to your garment as you pulled it up and stretched your back. You rolled your neck as well, feeling at one with your own body again.
You’d have to call Bryce personally tomorrow. Next week’s drinks would be on you.
You walked back into the room, ready to help Ruhn clean up your mess, only to find the towel and condom wiped away from your sheets, with Ruhn tucked inside them. The white bag on your night stand had disappeared, and he was holding the containers of take-out in his hand.
“It’s still warm,” he said, smiling enough to show his perfect teeth.
In that very moment, you decided that if you didn’t end up marrying him, no one else would.
You would make sure of it.
Tag list:
@leahkenobi @baebeepeach @dfendyre @seraphimluxe
#ruhn danaan angst#prince ruhn#ruhn danaan smut#ruhn danaan x reader#ruhn danaan#crescent city fanfic#crescent city#fanfiction#sarah j maas#bryce quinlan#hunt athalar x reader#hunt athalar#ithan holstrom#feyre archeron#acotar#tog imagine#tog
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GINGERBREAD COOKIES — HAWKS
❅ *:･ﾟkeigo is an awful baker, but luckily for him he makes up for it with his enthusiasm and pretty face.
*:･ﾟ❅ pairing: hawks x gn!reader
*:･ﾟ❅ content: fluff, established relationship, soso much domestic fluff, keigo's bad at baking but he's handsome so you put up with it, mentions of food/eating.
hehe this turned out cuter than i thought it would :3 alsoalso ik it makes sense for him to be able to cook !! but baking's a whole different skill so !! yeah !!
"What are you doing?"
Keigo starts, his feathers poofing and nearly sending your mixing bowl—one he must've haphazardly balanced on the edge of the sink—clattering to the ground. He looks comically caught, gripping your now dirty whisk with both hands and his eyes rounded in surprise.
It takes a moment for your sleep-addled brain to catch up, to notice the batter and poorly greased pans—he's baking. Never a good sign when it comes to Keigo, he’s never been the best in the kitchen.
You couldn’t count on two hands the times you’ve caught him huddled over the stove stirring something which should not be stirred or trying desperately to save the charred remains of dinner. Keigo had a multitude of practical skills, cooking anything but the basics just wasn’t one of them. At least not when you leave him unsupervised.
“S’a little early to be baking cookies, isn’t it birdie?”
He hums, eyes heavy and saccharine again with the weight of his grin, “never too early for something sweet, dovie.”
You don’t bother responding, instead shuffling across the kitchen so you can drape yourself over his shoulders. You tuck your face into the crook of his shoulder, the heavy and warm smell of his cologne overwhelming as you nose along the line of his jaw. Your fingers reach to tangle in his hair, nails scratching lightly over his scalp and drawing a low, appreciative hum.
The bowl of batter sits abandoned in front of him, and you finally get a better look at what he was trying to make. You think it’s supposed to be gingerbread, but it’s thick, full of clumped powder and smells overwhelmingly like cinnamon.
“I don’t know if you’re doing that right, baby,” you tease, eyeing his clumpy batter mixture. “Think you’re supposed to mix it until there isn’t any clumps.” Your arms belt tighter around his waist, hooking your chin over his shoulder to get a better look at the mess.
Keigo blinks then, staring down at the bowl with furrowed brows, “I've been following the recipe. It didn’t say what it was supposed to look like.”
“Supposed to turn into dough, baby—uniform so you can roll it out and cut it into shapes.”
His pout deepens then, returning the whisk to the bowl before detangling himself from you, settling against the counter to look at you. It’s then you notice just how messy he’d gotten, streaks of flour litter his cheeks and chin. The sight makes you laugh, leaning into him to wipe gently at his face with your thumbs. Keigo leans heavily into your touch, fighting to keep the pout on his face. “Mhm maybe you’ll have to stay and help me with them then, dove, you always make the best sweets.”
"Only if you promise not to go anywhere near the oven. I’ll fix the batter and you can help decorate them once they’re baked.” Keigo finally lets the smile grow on his face, leaning to nudge your nose with his own.
“Aww, you don’t think I can manage a few cookies all by myself? I think the dough woulda turned out good if you’d left me to it,” his voice is light and teasing as he turns into you, lips skating across your cheek.
“I think you would’ve come out with some rock-hard cookies if I let you try and put that batter in the oven,” with a quick kiss to his collar, you tug him back away from the counter. “Now scooch—quicker we get these made the quicker I can drag you back to bed, hero.”
He hums, letting you take his space in front of the stove and replacing your spot, draping his broad form over you. Keigo watches as you work, chin hooked over your shoulder and pressing incredibly unhelpful kisses to them.
You’re not entirely sure he knows just how unhelpful he’s being, a heavy weight at your back which forces you to awkwardly shuffle to get ingredients and makes whisking a much harder task than it should be.
You quickly learn he’s not much better at decorating the cookies then he is baking them, icing melted and crudely overlapping the lines of what was supposed to be a Christmas tree.
At least he’s pretty.
tags: @dinodumbass ; @uwuthatshit ; @hirugummies ; @dukina ; @trashy-bowtie ; @boo-kugo ;
#❄; 'tis the season#✶ venus.writes#✶ writes.bnha#✶ writes.hawks#bnha x reader#mha x reader#hawks x reader#keigo takami x reader#takami keigo x reader
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Have some sorta whump fic (I think that's what they're called?) because I have had this idea microwaving for a few months
Warnings: Talk of broken arm, description of broken arm and resetting it,
“Don’t fucking touch me!”
You’re like a wild animal, is all Wild can think.
You back away from them all, making yourself as big as possible- as loud as you can. Your scream echoes through the trees as it catches the wailing wind from the earlier storm that had left them with this mess- and with you an oddly bent arm that was most certainly broken.
“I promise, it will be quick.”
Warriors promise holds truth, he wouldn’t lie about something so serious. Or would he? Wild knew that to well, he thought about the poor bystander caught up by the black blooded. A pool of crimson surrounded the poor traveler's body, her tears sullying her paling cheeks as dimming eyes focused on that of the Captain as he tightly held her hand in her last few moments.
“It will be okay, everything will be alright.”
Her last breath was something that weighed heavy on the man’s shoulders, Wild knew that all too well.
“You’re a fucking liar, Wars!” Desperate and scratching, Wild knew that your throat felt raw from all the screaming. Impressive how you held out, your refusal to have anyone be near your broken appendage was almost as admirable as it was frustrating. “Stay the fuck away! I’ll deal with it myself!”
“And how do you plan to do that?” Four asks seriously, trying to be the voice of reason, “(Name), we have to reset it.”
“I’ll just drink a red potion!”
“That won’t work, it will just heal uneven-”
Your free hand comes to slam against your temple in your attempt to block out their reason, a screaming repeat of the words “shut up, shut up, shut up!” sliding off your tongue as you backed further and further into the small landslide you have initially fallen from. It wasn’t your fault, the rain had blinded you, they should have stopped earlier but they had trodden on in hopes of finally stopping at the next stable to properly rest.
“The pain is only temporary.” Time’s tone held sympathy but his words certainly didn’t help. “Once we set it, the potion will completely numb the pain-”
The panicked tears in your eyes hurt Wild to a physical point. Your always told him you were afraid of pain, even as that guiding ball of light within his chest you were honest about your distaste for the sensation. Pain was painful, a little bit sucked but a lot of it sucked more- if you could avoid pain then you would, even if it only brought worse consequences, you would do anything to avoid pain.
In this moment, he could tell you were trying to stall as long as you can, but he also knew that if it kept going, then this wouldn’t go anywhere. This needed to be stopped and it needed to be stopped now.
“It’s okay, let’s just gather ourselves.” Hyrule smiled towards you warmly, but the spark in his eyes held something else; he was conspiring, but more from concern than anything else. “We won’t touch your arm, okay?”
Your looked frantic. “What? Why the switch up? What are you doing?”
“Nothing- nothing, I promise.” He stepped forward, his hands glowing gently with the power of his healing as a warm smile grew on his face. “Here, I’ll take some of the pain away, okay?”
“Four said it’ll heal weird-” Indeed and Four was looking at the traveller in an odd way. “What are you doing, Hyrule? What are you going to do?”
“Nothing.”
“You promise?” He went to speak when you reached out your free hand, pinky finger out. “Pinkie promise, right fucking now, do it, Hyrule.”
Hyrule was a good liar. Surprising, being part fairy, but not as surprising when you knew the kind of horrors that laid out back in his time. To lie, cheat and steal was to be safe in his time. To become a trickster was the closest to survival- Hyrule was a trickster. Hyrule had lied, he had cheated and he had stole all in the name of survival. Wild knew that, Legend knew that, a lot of the men here knew that, one too many bonfires would tumble any secrets from a mans lips.
So, Wild noticed when Hyrule’s other hand came to move behind his back, watched how his fingers crossed over just as he interlaced his pinky into yours. “I promise.”
Wild slipped a little closer, Warriors slipped a little closer and as did Twilight.
Hyrule had moved behind you, your hawk eyes watching every movement of his and not focused as the three other men got closer to you.
Wild hoped you forgave them for this, hoped your forgave him for this betrayal.
“Hyrule, why isn’t it working?” The light hand vanished, his hand still gently hovering but not there- where you needed it. “Link-”
You noticed the others.
And you shrieked.
It wasn’t much of a fight but you certainly did try- some blood dripped carefully down Twilight’s face as he pinned your flailing legs down to the muddy grass below. Wild held your free hand in a tight grip, Hyrule brushing back your hair while Warrior’s held the broken limb carefully, his eyes sad as he watched you with sympathy.
The five kept back and waited, not wanting to crowd your already panicking self as you sobbed and gagged, bile threatening to fight it’s way out of your throat from fear.
“It’ll be quick, I promise.”
“Fuck you, Hyrule! Fuck you!” You wailed, shaking your head desperately, “You promised! You promised!!!”
“I know.” Warriors gave him a nod and Hyrule brushed some more hair back, “I’m sorry, I’m a liar.”
“You are, you fucking-”
SNAP!
…
You inhaled.
And you screamed.
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kinktober day 6 - classroom sex w mina
“y/n” her eyes widen in surprise as she sees you “did we- did we schedule something today?”
“no” you shrug “just wanted to drop by” mina watches as you walk to her desk and prop your ass on it, right beside her
“what are you really here for?” she drops the red pen on the last paper she had been marking and looks up at you. “that skirt is not adequate. i could get you dress coded”
“okay fine. maybe i wanted to see if there’s anything i can do about my midterm? i did horribly” you pout, leaning forward and smirking at the way her eyes get lost in your cleavage. “about the skirt, what ever do you mean? i wore it just for you”
“i’m not changing your grade y/n” the older takes the red pen once again and leans back on her chair, attempting to go back to the task at hand
“why not? you’ve done it before. besides- you haven’t submitted anything yet, so, would it really be changing it?” she looks up at you and squints, trying to notice any bluffing or any indicators that this was you trying to role-play or something, because you never really asked for something like that, you’ve never had to either, because you usually did well on your tests. there’s a toxic (small) part of her brain that’s racking all the possible reasons why you didn’t study as hard for this test. “but, i also came here to scratch an itch. seeing as you’re not interested, i’ll see that nayeon can”.
“wait-“ she grabs your wrist and tugs you to sit back down on the desk. “look at you, using my own tactics on me”
you shrug, still pouting. “you’re not going anywhere near that bitch-“
“excuse me, that bitch, is my best friend!” you chuckle, pretending to be mad, but instead eating up her jealousy act.
“yeah, she clearly wants to get with you.”
“and she has-“ mina stands up at that, squeezing your cheeks in one hand.
“i don’t want to hear it” she lets your face go after a couple of seconds. “you have one chance to convince me of changing your grade before i go finding out who you were fucking the night before that was more important than studying”
“what do i have to do to convince you?” you’ve never known someone who can resist to your puppy eyes, mina was the first, so there was no use in trying it, your best chance was to put on a sultry voice and do exactly as she said.
“didn’t you come here to scratch an itch?” she shrugs, sitting back down, crossing her legs and lacing her hands together “do it. fuck yourself”
“that’s not what i meant by ‘itch’-“
“look at my face” the older glares “i don’t care. make yourself come right now, maybe i’ll think about it”
you know better than to challenge her when something so important as your grade is on the line. you’re now in the middle of the desk, the tiny skirt bunched up at your hips as you take off your school bag and lean it on the leg of her desk. your legs spread as you look down on her, somewhat annoyed that she’s actually making you work for something.
the stack of papers had made its way to her lap and mina tries so hard to look elsewhere when she notices you were never wearing underwear to begin with. the condescending part of her chuckles in her head, at the fact that you can’t even bother decorating to bribe her, the other part is dying to get a taste, because no matter how short it’s been when she last had you, she can’t ever get enough.
the glistening trail of slick that has smeared to your inner thighs catches her attention the most. your fingers spreading it around your folds, the way you throw your head back and whimper at the simplest touch enlightens her on just how long you’ve been deprived.
“miss-“ you only have one finger in you when you begin to plead for her
“keep going” she shrugs, already halfway through the stack of papers to grade, taking glances at you every now and then, but trying not to pay any real attention to you.
“i want you. please”
“i don’t care, i gave you instructions that i expect you to follow” a whine comes out of you and instantly makes her head turn to you “one more whimper and i’ll edge the fuck out of you, and i won’t fix your grade”
it goes pretty smooth after that, you don’t know if you’re doing it for the grade, or because you really want her to fuck you. sadly, there’s no amount of violent rubbing on your clit or quick pumping on your fingers that can make you come. you want her. you’re clearly not enough to climax. you need her.
“okay. that’s quite pathetic” her eyebrows raise as she sighs, placing the stack of papers and red pen on the chair next to her desk. the first thing she does after standing, is pushing you by the chest to lay back on the desk, not caring if there was anything on it that could bother you “gonna have to make you come since you clearly can’t do that”
“if you can’t make yourself come how am i supposed to trust you can make me?” is the last thing she says before plunging her digits deep inside you, helping you find what you were looking for.
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