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wholoveseggs · 2 months

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Hello lovely! I was wondering if you could whip up a little something about the reader because self conscious and comparing herself to Hayley maybe she’s a little chubby and such so when Hayley comes back into their lives she’s a little worried. But Elijah always the gentleman comforts her with some good ol sex 🤪🤪 if not feel free to ignore 💕

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18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Your relationship with Elijah feels like its unravelling with the arrival of Hayley and a cutting nickname from Klaus. Fortunately, Elijah knows just what to do to make you feel loved.

♡♡ Thanks for the request, this one goes out to all my thick thighed brothers & sisters. May you all find an Elijah to suffocate between them. ♡♡

4.5k words - Warnings: smut, face sitting, Klaus being cruel, Elijah being sweet.

When you are a vampire time passes differently, things change around you, and sometimes you feel like the odd man out. When you first met Elijah everything was different. Culture, language, even the food and the music. He was captivated by you instantly, he whisked you away from your difficult life and kept you in his bed. Making sure you knew how much he loved every inch of your body. He was your first and only lover, the man who turned you and showed you a world you never thought was possible.

Centuries had passed with just the two of you, then Klaus returned to your lives and with him came the lovely Hayley Marshall. Pregnant, doe eyed and absolutely beautiful.

You weren't jealous at first, Elijah was devoted to you and only you. His heart was yours, that was all you cared about. But Klaus brought his chaos with him, and your noble lover had to keep Hayley safe. She needed to be protected, so Elijah spent more time with her and less with you.

You were alone, and it left a hollow feeling in your chest. You felt forgotten and unloved. Elijah did his best to spend time with you, but it wasn't enough.

Then your mind started playing cruel tricks on you, making you see Hayley and Elijah together. She was so pretty, her body was tall and thin, while yours was plump and soft. You had nightmares of Elijah touching her, kissing her, making her moan his name.

It made you want to throw up.

The whole thing made you feel irrational and insecure, Elijah loved you, he told you all the time, but still the thoughts lingered.

It wasn't until Klaus gave you a certain nickname, that it truly got under your skin.

Little wolf he would purr, calling Hayley to him, the words fell off his tongue like honey. It was such an affectionate term, one with many layers of meaning. It was beautiful and sweet, and Klaus seemed so proud to call her this.

But then there was his nickname for you, Elijah's little cherub.

It was not meant as an endearment, but as an insult. Klaus was right, you did look a little like a cherub, soft, round cheeks, and a full, thick body. It hurt you, even if you tried not to let it get to you. You told yourself that Klaus wasn't important, his opinion didn't matter. But the words he spoke stuck in your mind.

Everything was going fine, you had mastered keeping your insecurities under wraps, until Klaus and Elijah announced that they were throwing a ball.

It was Elijah's first time hosting one since the two of you moved to New Orleans. He was a natural at hosting parties, he knew just how to make everyone feel welcome. It was a trait you didn't have. You were too quiet and reserved, people would get bored with you and leave. Elijah was the life of the party, everyone wanted to be around him. You were afraid you would ruin it for him.

You never felt good in gowns, you felt big and bulky. The ones you tried on just made you look worse. You hated looking at yourself in the mirror, you looked like an overstuffed pillow. There was no way you could go out in public like this. You even dug out an old corset to try and make yourself look smaller. It just made your breasts spill out over the top. You were mortified and threw the thing in the garbage. You were starting to wonder what Elijah saw in you.

When he entered your bedroom, you were sitting on the bed, resigning yourself to the dress that you knew didn't suit you. He had been busy with the ball, and hadn't noticed your sour mood. He was all smiles, telling you how beautiful you would look in your dress, and how proud he was to have you by his side. He was dressed impeccably as always, and you felt frumpy and out of place. How could you possibly look good next to him?

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Yes," you replied in a small voice, not wanting to burden him with your troubles.

You walked downstairs and the guests began to arrive, all the while Elijah's hand rested on the small of your back. He left you to go greet some guests and you spotted Klaus. He grinned and you saw the flash of his dimples as he made his way over to you. You knew he was going to make a comment, you dreaded hearing what it was going to be.

"Hello, little cherub," he smirked, and your heart sank.

"Please don't call me that," you whispered, fidgeting with the fabric of your dress.

"Why ever not? You do look like one," he said, his eyes roaming your body.

"Klaus, stop it," you warned, not wanting to deal with his teasing.

"My brother certainly does seem fond of you, which is odd, considering his type usually looks more like..." he gestured to Hayley, who was across the room talking with Elijah.

You frowned, trying to swallow the insecurity bubbling up, but Klaus still noticed, "Did I hit a nerve?"

"No, why would you?" you lied, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

"Don't be too upset, cherub, you may not be his usual type, but he seems to enjoy the extra cushion."

His words hit like a punch to the gut. You couldn't believe he would say something like that. It was true that Elijah was quite fit and lean, while you were much softer and thicker. It made you insecure and now that he pointed it out, it felt even worse. You looked over at Elijah, who was talking to Hayley, they looked so good together, she was a perfect match for him.

"You really are an ass," you told him.

He chuckled and said, "I never said it was a bad thing, I think you are rather lovely,"

Elijah glanced up and saw the distress on your face. He immediately excused himself from his conversation and came to you. He could tell that something was bothering you.

"What did you do?" he asked Klaus.

"Me? Nothing," Klaus shrugged. "I was just complimenting your lovely companion," he continued, smirking at you.

Elijah's attention was on you now, he knew something was wrong. His brow furrowed, he could sense your anguish. But before he could say anything Hayley joined the group, her eyes moving from Klaus, to Elijah, and then settling on you.

"Oh, hello," she said, trying to sound friendly.

You nodded politely, not wanting to be impolite, despite the way her presence made you feel. It wasn't her fault, she had no idea you felt this way.

Elijah's hand brushed over the small of your back, trying to comfort you. He didn't realize it, but his touch was having the opposite effect, it was making you even more self conscious. Did he feel obligated to touch you like that? Did he do it for show? Was he just being polite? Your brain was coming up with every reason possible to feel terrible.

You didn't know how much longer you could stay here, watching them, surrounded by a sea of beautiful people, feeling more alone than ever.

You looked over at Elijah, and saw him gazing at you. His eyes were filled with adoration, but it was hard for you to believe it. The voice in your head kept repeating, that Klaus was right, he doesn't really love you, he's just too polite to say anything.

"I was hoping to get a proper tour of the house," Hayley said, interrupting your thoughts, "I've never seen the upstairs rooms, will you show me y/n?"

The question caught you off guard, you had no interest in spending time with her, and it felt like she was just being polite. You wanted to say no, but that would have been rude. So instead you smiled and nodded, following her out of the ballroom and into the hall.

You led her upstairs and she stopped, her eyes scanning the pictures on the wall. Her fingers gently brushed over the frames, and she pointed out an old portrait of the Mikaelson Family.

"God, they are all so beautiful," she sighed, and you knew she was right. Rebekah was stunning, Klaus had a wild, handsome charm, and Elijah was a classic, elegant beauty. They were all perfection, and you had no idea what they were doing with you.

"Is that Freya?" she asked, pointing at another portrait, "she's stunning,"

You nodded, feeling awkward. This was the last place you wanted to be.

Hayley smiled, turning her attention back to the wall, and continued walking. You trailed behind, feeling out of place, and unsure of what to say. Hayley stopped in front of a particular painting, a portrait of you and Elijah. She smiled, and you felt your heart skip, it was your favorite portrait of the two of you.

"You two look so in love," she said, and your stomach twisted.

"Yes, we are," you replied, trying to sound sincere, when really all you wanted to do was cry.

"How did the two of you meet?" she asked.

"He turned me in the 16th century, I was his seamstress," you explained, smiling a little.

Hayley looked at you with surprise, her eyebrows raised, "You fixed up his suits?"

"Well, he wasn't exactly wearing suits back then, but he's always been very fashionable. He liked the way I stitched his shirts," you told her.

"How fast did you two fall in love?"

You bit your lip, and answered, "Well, he persued me for quite a while before I agreed to be with him,"

"Why? Were you scared?" she asked, a smile playing at her lips.

"No, not exactly," you blushed, looking down at the floor.

"Well, what was it?" she asked, genuinely curious.

You gave Hayley a skeptical look, women that looked like her never thought about these kinds of things.

"I mean, he's so gorgeous, and I'm..."

You looked down at your body, your mind conjuring up a list of flaws. Hayley could see the change in your demeanor, she could sense your discomfort. She stepped closer, her hands coming to rest on your arms.

"There's nothing wrong with you, I think you're pretty," she smiled, her hands giving your arm a comforting squeeze.

Your eyes darted to the floor, and you felt the blush creeping up your cheeks.

"Thank you, Hayley," you murmured.

"And Elijah thinks the same thing, I've seen the way he looks at you," she added, her voice taking on a more serious tone.

You glanced up and saw the truth in her eyes, there was a softness, and a hint of jealousy.

"Thank you," you said, a blush rising on your cheeks.

"Of course," she smiled, "I hope I can find a man who looks at me the way Elijah looks at you,"

The words hung in the air, and you couldn't help but ask, "How does he look at me?"

"Like you are the most beautiful thing in the world," she replied, and her voice sounded wistful.

She turned her gaze to the portraits and continued her exploration. You followed, and as you got closer to the end, Hayley paused, her gaze lingering on the portrait of Klaus.

"I hope our child has his dimples," she sighed.

"And not his ego," you teased, and her face split into a grin.

"That's fair," she laughed, her hand falling on the slight bump of her belly.

You continued your tour of the house, showing her the rest of the rooms, and trying to keep the conversation light. Hayley was kind, and didn't seem to notice your discomfort. When you returned to the ballroom, Elijah was standing with his brother, their heads bowed together, discussing something. He looked up when he saw you and his lips curled into a smile.

Hayley's eyes flicked to Elijah and then back to you, "See, there it is, that look,"

You blushed, and turned your head away. Elijah looked at you with love and affection, but your doubts still lingered.

"Did you enjoy the tour with the little cherub?" Klaus asked, his lips curling into a smirk.

Hayley gave him a warning look, her voice laced with an unspoken threat, "Don't call her that,"

Klaus held his hands up in surrender, but the damage was done, you felt so humilated and embarrassed, you had enough of Klaus and his cruel comments. You had enough of him constantly making you feel bad about yourself. He made it impossible for you to feel secure in your relationship. You felt uncomfortable in your dress, in your own skin, surrounded by people who were objectively better than you in every possible way.

"I'm going to bed," you announced, your voice quiet.

Elijah's brow furrowed, and he reached out to grasp your hand but you pulled away.

"I'm tired," you said, turning on your heel and marching out of the ballroom.

Elijah's eyes were locked on your retreating form, a frown on his face.

"Why did you call her that?" Elijah asked his brother.

"It's nothing," Klaus shrugged, a grin spreading across his face, "she's just a little sensitive,"

Elijah's frown deepened, and he glanced over at Hayley.

"She's a sweet girl, just a little insecure," Hayley sighed.

"Insecure about what?" Elijah asked.

Hayley glanced at Klaus, and he shrugged.

"She's just not really comfortable with herself," Hayley finally said, giving Klaus a pointed look.

He had no shame, his grin only grew wider, and he said, "Come on, she is rather plump, isn't she?"

"But she's so sweet and adorable," Hayley added, trying to smooth over the awkwardness.

Elijah's jaw tightened, and his expression darkened, he looked back and forth between both of them.

"You had no right to say those things to her," he told Klaus, his voice laced with anger. "She has a difficult time when it comes to seeing her own worth, you know that, she's been struggling with these issues since the day we met," Elijah continued.

"It's nothing, Elijah," Klaus shrugged, "she'll get over it, she's probably crying into her pillow right now."

The image of you, curled up in bed, sobbing, broke Elijah's heart. He clenched his fists and his eyes narrowed. Klaus really did go too far this time, he really upset you. Elijah would make sure it never happened again.

"Excuse me," he muttered, glaring at his brother before turning around and storming out of the ballroom.

Once you were safely locked away in your bedroom, you sobbed, and the tears wouldn't stop. You had done your best not to show anyone your jealousy and anger, but now everyone knew how pathetic and insecure you really were.

You didn't hear the door open or close, you didn't know Elijah was in the room until his arms were around you, holding you tight against his chest. He didn't speak, and he didn't make you look at him. He simply held you and let you cry until you had no tears left.

Once your sobs had subsided he tilted your head up and kissed your cheeks, catching every stray tear with his lips. He wiped the rest away with his thumb, his dark eyes were filled with worry.

"What happened, love?" he asked. "Tell me what's wrong."

You looked at him, feeling foolish and embarrassed. He had no idea you had been feeling this way. No one did, but now it was too late. You took a deep breath and forced the words out.

"What is it that you see in me?" you blurted out, your face red.

Elijah frowned, looking completely taken aback. "What are you talking about?"

You sighed, frustrated with his cluelessness. "I mean, look at me! I'm not exactly a supermodel."

Elijah chuckled and cupped your cheek, his hand was so warm and soft. "I'm looking," he said, his gaze raked over you and it made you blush.

"I don't understand," he continued, looking into your eyes. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."

You huffed and tried to look away, but he held your chin. "I am serious. Why would you ever doubt my attraction to you?"

You bit your lip, still not sure if you should tell him the truth. "It's just...Hayley is so gorgeous, and tall and thin. Then Klaus just calls me your cherub, like I'm some stupid child."

Elijah's gaze softened and he shook his head. "Darling, Klaus was trying to get a rise out of you, don't let him get in your head."

"But he's right... Look at me, compared to her, and Klaus, and the rest of your family. I'm not even that attractive," you muttered, avoiding his eyes.

Elijah frowned and took your hand, placing it on his chest. "Can you feel that?"

You nodded, your hand could feel the steady, strong beat of his heart.

"It's yours," he said softly.

He kissed you, and your heart fluttered, feeling lighter already. His hands slid down your back and gripped your ass, he pulled you closer and you gasped. His tongue slipped into your mouth and teased yours, tasting you.

His hand moved lower and he pulled your dress up, his fingers trailed over the lace of your panties, feeling the warmth and wetness.

"I will tell you this once," he whispered, his teeth grazing your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "You are perfect."

His hand dipped into your panties and stroked you, making you moan. "So wet, all for me."

You gasped and pressed your face against his shoulder.

"Tell me who this belongs to," he demanded.

"You, Elijah, it's yours," you whimpered, grinding against his fingers.

"Yes, that's right," he purred. "This sweet, little cunt is mine. Only mine."

He pushed you onto the bed and pulled your dress over your head. He groaned when he saw you wearing the matching set of black, lacy bra and panties.

He started kissing and marking his way down your body, starting at your neck and moving lower, biting and sucking as he went. You gasped and moaned as he reached your breasts. He undid the front clasp and licked a stripe up the middle, before taking one of your nipples into his mouth, and teasing the other with his fingers.

"These are so beautiful," he murmured against your skin, sucking until they were hard peaks. "So big and soft," he hummed.

You ran your fingers through his hair, needing something to hold onto. You whimpered and arched up against him, the feeling of his hot mouth was driving you insane.

You squealed and tugged on his hair a little harder when you felt him bite down. He chuckled and sucked hard, letting your breasts go with a loud pop. They were covered in rapidly healing hickeys, and he looked very pleased with himself.

He kissed down your stomach, admiring your soft belly. He cupped it, and squeezed your thighs, making you gasp.

"My perfect girl," he mumbled against your hips.

He hooked his thumbs into your panties and slid them down your legs, you sat up on your elbows to see what he was doing.

He slid them off and leaned down, kissing and sucking on your inner thighs.

"These perfect thighs, squeezing my head when you cum on my tongue," he said, his stubble scratched and tickled you. You let out a breathy giggle as his hands roamed your body, gripping your waist and thighs. He growled with satisfaction, biting the flesh and sucking marks into your soft skin.

"Elijah, stop teasing," you groaned, becoming impatient.

He chuckled and suddenly pulled you into his lap. He held you close and looked into your eyes.

"I love every bit of your body," he hummed, holding you firmly against him. "Every perfect curve, and every soft inch.”

He gave your tummy a small squeeze and kissed your pouting lips. "You are so beautiful," he whispered.

You blushed and avoided his gaze. He cupped your cheek and tilted your head up, his fingers traced your features, his gaze was filled with adoration.

"Those beautiful lips, those gorgeous eyes, these perfect cheeks, your soft, little nose," he cooed, kissing your face between each word.

You giggled and tried to hide your face in your hands, feeling a little overwhelmed.

"And this ass," he said as he kneaded the flesh, he lifted you up and smacked it, making you yelp. "It should be in the Louvre."

He kissed you again and slowly grinded against you, his hands explored your body, caressing and squeezing.

He scooted down the bed and laid back down, looking up at you with a wicked grin. He kept his gaze locked with yours as he pushed your ass forward, signaling he wanted you to sit on his face.

"Elijah, no, I-," you gasped, completely embarrassed. You felt so shy and nervous, not wanting him to look at you up close like that.

Elijah sat up and kissed you. "Do you think you will hurt me?" He asked, his lips brushing against yours.

"No," you breathed.

"Then what's the problem?" He asked, brushing his knuckles over your cheek.

You let out a shaky breath and wrapped your arms around his neck. "I don't know."

Elijah looked into your eyes, a kind smile on his lips. "If it kills me, you have discovered quite a loophole when it comes to killing an original," he said, gesturing to his face and grinning.

You giggled and pecked his lips. You closed your eyes and tried to calm yourself, it was hard to explain your nerves. You'd been intimate with Elijah before, more times than you could count, but you couldn't shake your insecurities.

Elijah sensed your hesitation, he kissed your neck softly and leaned up to whisper in your ear. "Please sit on my face, I want to eat your sweet pussy until you scream."

His filthy words made you shudder and you knew you wouldn't be able to say no, so you bit your lip and took a deep breath.

"Okay," you whispered.

Elijah laid back down and gave your hips a gentle tug, pulling you into position.

Your entire body went hot when he spread your thighs apart. He kissed the insides, making you moan.

"There's a good girl," he hummed as his lips danced across your hot skin. He positioned you over his face and you could feel his breath ghosting over your most sensitive area.

He looked up at you and gave you an encouraging smile. "Sit,"

You bit your lip, but slowly lowered yourself down, inch by inch. He grabbed your ass and pulled you down fast, making you let out a squeak of surprise.

The heat pooled between your thighs as Elijah nosed at your center, teasing the soft skin. You moaned and tangled your fingers in his hair, rocking against him.

You felt a sudden sting as he nipped your thigh. "Stay still, let me do the work."

He licked a stripe up your core, groaning as he tasted you. He spread you open with his fingers, pressing his tongue flat against you, he licked long and slow. He buried his face deeper, lapping and sucking at your clit.

He licked and sucked and kissed, moaning against your soaked cunt. Your eyes rolled back, you tightened your grip on his hair and cried out. The noises he made were obscene, you could hear his mouth sucking at you, and it only made you wetter.

He looked up at you, his dark hair was a mess and his lips were covered in your slick.

"You taste divine, my love," he groaned. "So sweet, just for me."

He sucked hard on your clit, his hand reaching around and grabbing your ass roughly, squeezing and slapping the soft flesh. He growled and began fucking you with his tongue. His hands spreading you open and pressing his face as deep as possible. He buried himself in your pussy, licking, and sucking like it was his last meal. You came hard on his tongue, your thighs squeezing his head tight as you fell apart.

He soothed your flushed skin with his tongue, sucking on your clit once more, making you twitch. You tugged on his hair, gently pulling him away, not able to take the overstimulation.

You moved back and sat on his chest, trying to catch your breath. Elijah caught your wrist and brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. He was covered in your wetness, and his chin was glistening. He grinned at you, completely satisfied with himself.

You snorted and leaned down, kissing him softly. You hummed, tasting yourself on his tongue.

Elijah rolled you onto your back and pinned your wrists above your head. He pressed his forehead against yours, smiling as you stared at him with a blissful, dazed expression.

"You are so perfect," he breathed, nuzzling his nose against yours.

He kissed down the side of your face and nibbled on your ear, his free hand trailing down your body, cupping and squeezing the soft flesh of your breasts, your hips, your thighs.

"Every inch of you," he whispered.

"Elijah," you sighed, blushing from the attention.

Elijah hummed and reached down to his pants, undoing his belt and pushing them down his legs. You reached up and helped him undress, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it on the floor.

You pulled him close and kissed him, wrapping your arms and legs around him. You could feel him pressed against you, his thick cock hot and heavy against your thigh.

"Look at what you do to me," he purred, kissing down your neck.

He reached down and guided himself to your entrance, rubbing the head against you. He slid inside easily, your body opening up for him.

He rocked his hips slowly, grinding his pelvis against yours, making you moan and grip his shoulders tight.

His eyes locked with yours as he fucked you slow and deep. You clung to him, your nails leaving marks on his skin.

"You see how perfectly we fit?" He groaned, taking your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. "Look at us,"

You both looked down, watching as he thrusted in and out of you, his slick cock disappearing into your body.

"My love, my beautiful girl," he moaned, his voice thick with emotion. "I need you to understand, no one else will ever come close to comparing. You are everything to me."

He buried his face in your neck and kissed and nipped the soft skin. "This perfect body, your heart, your soul, I will never find anyone like you."

You whined and clawed at his back, you could feel the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes, you were overwhelmed and so grateful.

"I love you," you choked out, burying your face in his shoulder.

"And I love you," he breathed.

He held you close and fucked you until you were trembling, tears streaming down your cheeks, clinging to him as you climaxed, shaking and crying his name.

He finished not long after, groaning and gasping as he spilled his release inside you, holding you tight.

You both laid there, panting and covered in sweat. You felt light and dizzy, your muscles felt like jelly and it took all your strength to not fall asleep right then and there.

"I want you to know, I mean every word I say to you," Elijah said quietly, kissing your temple.

"I know, Elijah," you hummed, smiling up at him. "Thank you for reminding me."

"Always."

"And Elijah?" You smiled and nuzzled his neck.

"Yes, my love?"

"I think your ass is the one that should be in the Louvre."

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

♡ @gorgeouslydangerous ♡ @starkleila ♡ @lydia1369sworld ♡ @notleylaaa ♡ @vampiresluv ♡ @vamprium ♡ @myanmy ♡ @xflowerbombxo ♡ @maryvibess ♡ @always-and-forever-daydreaming ♡ @criminallminds ♡ @theesexystallion ♡ @rosemarypotion ♡ @spnaquakindgdom ♡ @amournoir ♡ @loving-and-dreaming ♡ @meeom ♡ @damienmorton ♡

#elijah mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #tvdu #vampire diaries #elijah mikaelson smut #hayley marshall #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine

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fleurriee · 1 year

Text

— change in plans ; neteyam sully

pairing ; neteyam sully x fem!reader

synopsis ; you and neteyam had been mates for a short while now. when you start to feel ill, suspicion starts to cleave your mind, and you can’t help but worry about your mates reaction.

word count ; 2.4k

themes ; fluff, slight angst, established relationship (mates)

warnings ; mentions of being sick, worrying thoughts of not being a good enough mate, use of y/n

author’s note ; starting a dad!neteyam series bc this man is all i want in life and he’d be the perfect dad if he was only given the chance :(( screw u, james. lol this was originally going to be a drabble series but when i checked the wc for this & saw over 2k, i just thought fuck it. so, this series is gonna have a different wc every time 🤙🏻

next part

dad!neteyam series masterlist main masterlist request a fic!

Groggily opening your eyes, attempting to blink away the sleep that was still lingering there, you take a deep breath in, grumbling noiselessly to yourself. Fresh air and morning sunlight filtered in through the gaps until they surrounded your sleepy figure. You feel around on the bed next to you for the familiar presence that has been a comfort to you for around several months now. When your hands only come in contact with the bed mat beneath you, you turn your head in the same direction, heart sinking at the emptiness of the space.

You knew Neteyam was important to your clan — he was next in line for Olo’eykyan, after all — but sometimes you wished he wasn’t. Without the title weighing down heavily on his shoulders, you’d be able to spend a lot more time together, planning out your days and getting ready for your future. Instead, you awoke more often than not alone, your homely tent slowly start to turn isolated and desolate.

Of course, you’d never tell your mate of your thoughts — Neteyam was already guilt-ridden enough whenever he eventually made his way back into your arms after such a long and strenuous day, apologising profusely for not having spent enough time with you. In those times, you do nothing but comfort him, reassure him that you’re okay and that you understand.

But, that doesn’t mean it isn’t hard.

Stretching out your limbs to get some life back into them, you slowly start to climb up off the mat, looking around your hut for some breakfast. Your tent that you shared with your loving mate was a place you treasured deeply, one you considered to be your very own safe-haven. Not too long after your official mating with Neteyam, he had secretly been sneaking off whenever he had the spare time — which, admittedly, wasn't that often — to built a home for the two of you. Initially, you hadn't really thought of his disappearances that much, but when he started sending you sneaky glances out the corner of his eye, subtle smiles directed only at you, you began to get your suspicions.

He had taken you away from his family, covering your eyes and carefully walking you in a random direction, before revealing the surprise. Your heart had melted into a pool of warmth, surrounding you completely and utterly. You were a blubbering mess — whilst this was something you knew would be happening soon for the two of you, you were never expecting it to feel such a way for you.

It felt official.

Now, your home was filled to the brim with memories and personal memorabilia. Beads and feathers you had collected all your life that represented a different moment in your relationship; personalised weapons and clothes that you had made for one another during your courting ceremony, and one corner that smelt entirely of the two of you from where you sleep, where you come together as one soul each night and show one another how much your love means.

In another corner of the tent lies two baskets — one filled with fruit, and the other filled with meat. When you’d first mated with Neteyam, he had insisted on collecting all the foods the two of you would need for your home. You had found the offer loving, your heart fluttering in your chest as his desire to provide for you, but declined. You were to be mates, which meant you wanted to provide for him, too. So, after several long discussions, you’d compromised that Neteyam would hunt the meat, and you would forage the fruit.

It was a routine that worked quite well, taking note of the good amount of the ratio as you looked down in the baskets. Giving yourself a moment to contemplate what you wished to eat on that particular morning, moments away from reaching down and grabbing to your heart’s desire, a funny feeling started to tingle in your stomach.

Taking in another deep breath, you told yourself that it was nothing, that it would disappear, but it only seemed to grow worse. With one hand on your stomach, the other covering your mouth, you rushed over to the entrance of your tent, opening the flap and spewing up last night’s meal into the empty bucket outside.

You took a moment to breath afterwards, catching your breath and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You looked around at the clan surrounding you, wondering if anyone had taken notice of you — as far as you were aware, no one had. So, walking back inside your tent, you went over to the fresh water yourself and Neteyam kept stocked and washed your hands.

Looking back over at the basket of fruits and meats, you decided you’d skip that morning’s breakfast.

“And then what happened?”

You were out in the lush forests of Pandora, taking a walk with Kiri as she used even her spare to time to prepare for her healing work with her grandmother. The two of you walked side by side, the day’s sun basking down its warmth on your retreating figures.

When you’d originally met up with Kiri earlier that morning, you had expected her to be her usual self — bright and excited to explore more of what Ewya offered her children. Instead, you had been met with a much angrier version of your sister-in-law.

Before you’d even started walking together, she was reciting her own morning back to you. Apparently, Lo’ak had believed it to be funny to scare Kiri whilst her back was turned away from him, causing the paste she was making to jump out of her hands and become ruined.

You couldn’t help but stifle a giggle out her crazy morning antics.

“And, then,” Kiri started, grumbling at her situation as she bent down to pluck a small part of a plant away, placing it delicately into her pouch, “father grounded me.”

You turn your head towards her, furrowed eyes on display, showing off your confusion. “What? Why?”

As Kiri stood back up, her anger dissipated and a smirk played on her lips. “Because I punched him in the face.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that completely tumbled from your mouth, loud and clear as any other creature within the forests. Grabbing at your stomach in an attempt to cease the laughing, your sister beside you only making your enthusiasm worse by joining in and exclaiming that he had it coming!, you felt elated, until your happiness turned into queasiness.

There was a split second where you knew what was going to happen before it actually did, but you weren’t given enough time to react. Your only option was to bend low, throwing up once again, although this time you had no idea where the contents had come from, considering you hadn’t eaten since last night and had already thrown up earlier that morning.

Coughing and clutching at your stomach, you felt Kiri’s gentle hand against your back, smoothly rubbing your skin to calm you down. Once you felt that was everything, you stood back up straighter, head groggy and eyes glazed over — you had never felt more worse in your life.

“Oh, y/n, you look terrible!” she chastised you, her eyes moving fervently over your figure, shaking her head in disbelief that you had gone from one emotion to another so drastically. “Is this the first time it’s happened?”

Breathing deeply, you shake your head. “No,” you swallow, pulling a disgusted face at the taste lingering in your mouth, before running a hand over your face from the exhaustion of it all. “It happened this morning, too.”

“And, you haven’t been to see grandmother?” Kiri’s voice was slowly beginning to raise, her obvious annoyance at your stubbornness beginning to effect her clearly. “Come, I will take you to her now.”

Immediately, you tried to refuse. “No, Kiri, I’m fine—“

But, your sister was relentless, adamant. “I’m not taking no for an answer, not when you could be ill.”

As she starts to pull you arm back in the direction of home, you look back over your shoulder at where you had reluctantly left the mark of your presence. “But, what about—“

“I will clean it up later. Come.”

From the moment you had arrived in the Tsahik’s tent, skin becoming clammy, sweat beading along your forehead and dry heaving into your hand, you were sure she knew what was wrong with you.

The woman who was like your own grandmother had gestured you closer to her awaiting figure, moving forwards and leaving Kiri hovering worriedly by the entrance to the tent. Mo’at gently grabbed your chin, looking so intently at you, all you wanted was to cower away, but you stood your ground, knowing the woman would only get annoyed.

When she was satisfied with what she saw, she gently grasped at your arms, guiding you down onto the floor in front of her. You started to feel just slightly better when you were no longer standing, swaying and feeling like you were going to fall any second. Mo’at moved back over to her shelves that held an assortment of healing herbs and ailments for those in need, coming back to you. She moved behind you, prodded at your back gently and pressing her ears against your spine, before moving back around and doing the same to your stomach.

You looked over at Kiri worriedly, hoping to find some sort of semblance hidden within her gaze, but her expression only mirrored your own. She, too, had no idea what was wrong with you — she was only training to be like her grandmother, and she clearly hadn’t gotten to this part of her lessons just yet.

“You are pregnant, my child.”

Your head snapped in her direction, not fast enough, those particular words reverberating within your mind, bouncing from one corner of the walls to another until you were sure you hadn’t imagined what the woman in front of you had said. You could feel your ears subconsciously fall against your head, your tail solemnly wrapping around your figure protectively, although, you were unsure what you were protecting yourself from.

You were pregnant.

Tears started to form within your eyes, pleading desperately within yourself to not let them fall. Your breathing started to pick up in pace a little, too, but you will it to calm. Looking down at your stomach, you placed a gentle hand against it, like you were caressing your unborn child.

Your unborn child.

You and Neteyam had had conversations about having a family — any pair of mates would — but your plans were to wait a little longer, to live your lives as you were supposed to before delving deeper into that chapter. It was all too much — you were unsure what to think. Should you be happy that you were having your firstborn child, or should you be worried of your mates reaction, scared he’d resent you for not waiting longer like you’d originally planned?

No words left your lips, throat too parched and nerves too calculated to form a barely coherent response, but you found that you didn’t have the time to. In that moment, Neteyam burst through his grandmother’s tent, eyes wide, ears alert and tail pointed tensely in the air. Someone had clearly seen you enter the Tsahik’s tent with Kiri, looking pale and unwell.

Looking up at him, you could only feel more tears consume your eyes until your vision started to become blurry. He rushed over to you, crouching down next to you, cupping your face in his hands and inspecting every inch of your body. When he couldn’t find anything external, he began to panic, confused. “What is it, ma muntxa (my mate)?”

Your eyes trailed both of his own, looking deeply into them and seeing nothing but pure love and adoration. From next to you, you could see Mo’at and Kiri silently leave the two of you alone in the quiet of the tent, giving you the space you needed.

Hands still stroking softly against your stomach, you looked down, then back up at him, hoping he would understand what you were trying to say without you having to utter the words. His eyes followed to where your hands lay, widening in surprise, his tail beginning to flick back and forth rhythmically.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, almost inaudible. A tear falls down your cheek, cascading to the bottom of your chin.

Neteyam continues to hold your face in his hands, eyes never once leaving your own as his thumb wipes your emotions away. A breathless laugh tumbles from his lips, smile wide and unable to disappear once it’s made its presence known. “What could you possibly be sorry for?”

Despite the loving features Neteyam was bearing only to you, you couldn’t help the guilt still continuing to eat away at you. “We didn’t plan for this,” you pause licking your lips in contemplation, “we were going to wait a little longer...”

“Listen to me,” Neteyam starts, voice firm. He shuffles closer to your figure, practically pulling you on top of him, leaving your face in the palms of his hands. “Sometimes plans change, and there’s nothing wrong with that.” One of his hands leaves your face to place it lovingly against your stomach. “Especially when the change involves something like this.”

You can’t look away from, too scared that if you do, he might suddenly change his mind. So, you don’t, and he doesn’t.

Your tears are now winning over, falling onto your face tumultuously, but this time, they’re happy tears, joyful tears. You laugh along with Neteyam, disbelieving to have been so lucky with this blessing from Ewya — both being Neteyam, and your unborn child.

He brings your faces together now, foreheads touching as he rubs your noses together. “I cannot wait to start this new life together with you, ma muntxa (my mate).” You nudge against his nose out of love, causing him to chuckle at your affections. “I will protect you both with my life — and I will care for you both, always.”

Placing a gentle kiss upon your lips, you feel his hands return to the flat of your stomach — this time, his thumbs are running smoothly against the skin there. When he pulls away from your face, you lean closer, desperate for more of him, but you feel your heart ache fondly when you watch him lower himself down, pressing such a feather-like kiss to your stomach that you barely feel it.

“I love you, ma’eveng (my child).”

#𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐔𝐑𝐑’s work ── ✎#neteyam #neteyam sully #avatar #avatar 2 #neteyam fluff #neteyam smut #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam sully x you #neteyam x female reader #neteyam x fem reader #dad neteyam series <3

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auras-moonstone · 23 days

Note

hiii i rlly love ur writing so if u cld write this i’d actually pass out ‼️

u can pick urself if it’ll be jack, Ethan, hockey player Ethan or even smth else! But what im thinking abt is like where he breaks up with reader because hes convinced he lost his feelings towards her but later on realized he didnt?? Hope u have a good day 🙁

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ all you had to do was stay

ᡣ𐭩 word count: 1.4K

ᡣ𐭩 pairing: hockey player!ethan landry x fem!reader

ᡣ𐭩 summary: convinced his feelings are gone, ethan breaks up with y/n. when he wins the championship, he realizes he made a mistake.

ᡣ𐭩 contents/warnings: heartbreak. angst. make-up. fluff.

ethan truly thought his feelings for y/n had washed away. but it’s wasn’t until now, looking around the arena for her, having just won the hockey championship, that he realized that maybe he had rushed into conclusions and fucked everything up.

the team went to a bar to celebrate, and while his teammates drank and danced, ethan moped by the bar with a drink in his hand, replaying in his head, like a sad movie scene, the moment he ended things with y/n.

why had he been so stupid? he had set in his mind the idea that hockey should be above everything and anyone else, that it was the only thing that mattered. and not only he had managed to slowly tear the most important bond in his life, but he had also fooled himself into thinking the feelings weren’t there anymore.

“hey, man. i’m going home, tara’s waiting for me. talk to you later?” chad asked.

ethan forced a smile and nodded. “yeah, go. i’m leaving in a few, too.”

chad walked out of the bar, and ethan’s heart reached another level of heaviness. his best friend was going home to celebrate with his girlfriend, he had managed to maintain his relationship while having the exact same responsibilities than ethan. the difference? chad had never failed to find balance and see how important life outside hockey was. ethan hadn’t, and now that hockey was over for a while, he realized he had nothing left.

with an emptiness no amount of drinks could ever fill, he walked back to the dorms, where some people were still on cloud nine from the win. he was congratulated, patted in the back, yet he could not enjoy his win completely. not when the guiltiness and regret lingered heavily over him. was it too late to try get back on track the relationship he had drove off the road?

the celebration was certainly overwhelming for y/n because everything reminded her of ethan and the way he had locked her out when she was letting him in. hell, she was ready to say the l-word when he pushed her aside. the way he had broken her heart was one she remembered all too well, every word, every expression, every little movement.

ethan hovered over her, standing as she sat on the couch. frown on his face, pained expression, as if the act of letting out the words physically hurt him. “i don’t think i- i’m not sure if i… still have feelings for you. i don’t know, i just, it’s not the same as it was a months ago. it’s as if something is missing.”

“did it cross your mind that maybe the problem is that you put hockey first?”

“y/n that’s my future. of course i’m going to put hockey first.”

“sorry, let me rephrase that. did it cross your mind that maybe the problem is that hockey is all you care about? because it’s always about that. you have stopped having time for me since you became captain. do you even remember the last time you stayed over? that we went on a date? that we spend time together without you worrying over the championship or some other fucking match?”

“y/n…” he sighed.

“well, i can remember. three months, that was the last time you acted like a boyfriend. something was indeed missing in this relationship. you.”

“hockey is everything to me, y/n/n.”

“yes, and that’s the fucking problem, ethan. your whole life can’t revolve sorely on a sport. but you clearly can’t see that, so this is useless.”

that was the last time she spoke to him, but not the last she had seen him. it was impossible not to do that, he was blackmore’s hockey star, he was fucking everywhere. she, on the other hand, managed to hide in the shadows, so she made sure she stayed hidden and not bump into him. until now.

she was leaving tara’s dorm when her eyes caught his wide frame. her feet became one with the floor, not allowing her to move. like magnet, his attention quickly fell on her.

“y/n” her name fell out of his mouth absentmindedly.

at the sound of his rough voice, she snapped out of her daze. her lips parted, but she didn’t know what to say. and then his feet kept going until he was standing right before her. was it too much to ask to disappear?

“hi.” he said after a couple of seconds of silence.

“hi.” her soft voice warmed his heart, and he had to put his hands in his pockets to stop himself from bringing her into his arms. “um… congratulations. on the win.”

“thanks.” for the first time in the night, he truly felt like smiling.

“shouldn’t you be celebrating?” why was she still talking to him? her brain screamed ‘get out of here’ while her heart told her to stay.

“i wasn’t feeling it.” ethan shrugged.

y/n frowned. “you… weren’t feeling it? ethan, what are you talking about? you’ve worked so hard for this win.”

ethan let out a humourless laugh. “the funny thing is… it wasn’t until i lifted the cup that i realize that i wasn’t happy with the win.”

the girl blinked, trying to make sense of what he was saying. ethan landry, the boy who lived for hockey, was saying he wasn’t happy with winning a championship. what was wrong with the world? “i don’t understand.”

“what is succeeding if you don’t have anyone to celebrate it with? that trophy was a reminder of what i pushed away in order to get it. it made me feel miserable.”

“ethan…”

his sad gaze found hers. “what i’m trying to say is that i miss you, and that the win means nothing if you’re not with me. i looked around the stands, you weren’t there and it felt like a punch to the gut.”

she was certainly not ready to hear that. “let me remind you it was what you wanted, you ended it, ethan. you put hockey first, and it got us here.” maybe she was being a bit harsh, especially after he was pouring his heart out.

“i know. fuck. don’t i know it.” he was not going to cry. if y/n somehow managed to find it in her to forgive him, it was not going to be out of pity. but he wanted to sob so badly. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry. i was so fucking blind, and i hurt you.”

hurt was an understatement. ethan had absolutely broke her, and she had been trying to pick up the pieces of the mess he had made.

“i want to punch myself for everything i’ve done. for taking this long to realize i made a huge mistake. i don’t want for my life to revolve around hockey.”

y/n nodded. “that’s a good realization.”

“i don’t know what to say. there’s no justification for what i did, i was stupid and that’s the only truth. i… i want us back.” the anguish was written on his face. “i don’t know what to do to fix it.”

“all you had to do was stay… you had me in the palm of your hand. i would’ve done anything for you.”

“i know, you were too good for me. and i promise you i’ll work everyday to be the person you deserve, if you let me.” he put a strand of hair behind her ear. “i’m never making the same mistake again. i love you. you don’t have to decide now, take as long as you need. i’d wait forever.”

“you know it can’t be like before, right? you can’t keep this relationship in the lowest rank of your priorities.”

“i know, and i won’t. i love hockey, going professional is still my goal but now i know that my dream isn’t only hockey, is having you by my side while i play it.”

y/n slowly broke into a smile. “i would hate to see you succeed without me.” she grimaced as soon as the words clicked. “shit, that sounded so awful. i didn’t mean that i don’t want you to succeed unless you’re with me. that would be so bitchy, and i know you hurt me but i would neve-“

ethan couldn’t help himself, he cut her rambling with a soft kiss. “you’re the absolute cutest. i love it when you ramble.”

“it’s rude to interrupt someone, landry. you need to learn some manners.” she gave him a quick peck. “i guess i’m taking you back, or whatever.”

the hockey player smiled like a little kid and lifted her up on his arms. “i love you. did you know that?”

“i know it now. and i love you, too.” she wrapped her legs around his waist. “now, let’s go celebrate, captain.”

“fuck, yes. i have so many ideas.” the mischievous glint in his deep brown eyes made her stomach swirl.

“i’m down for anything if it’s with you.”

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry oneshot #ethan landry fic #ethan landry angst #ethan landry scream #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry smut #jack champion #jack champion x reader #jack champion x y/n #jack champion oneshot #jack champion fluff

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loveyourlovelysoul · 3 months

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If you've been highly criticized/yelled at in your past after any sudden decision you've made or if you have been played around or been unappreciated while you were just trying to do something good/nice, the shameful/guilty feeling born at those times may still be lingering inside of you. Anytime you make a sudden decision/choice without asking for confirmation about its nature or give away something from yourself (even something material like eg. a very little amount of money) it makes you wonder if you've done the right thing or if you've been deceived somehow. This happens cause you have unconsciously learnt from similar past experiences that you're "not good enough" or a bit "too stupid/naive" to make good decisions by yourself.

This feeling may have been hindering you also in other situations, like when given an important choice or something similar you may try to avoid taking a final decision without asking for guidance or suggestions to others (generally those who criticized you, like eg. your caregivers), leaving them in charge of your life so that you won't be making mistakes or feel like a failure. But this way, you may end up never really experiencing life as you deserve to. You may end up chosing things you don't want or blocking yourself when given important occasions out of fear to fail and be seen as the usual "stupid" person you were and still are (only in your mind: you're not that for real, ever). You're not stupid nor naive nor any other adjective you have been called/calling yourself: you meant your best and just didn't know what to do exactly or how to act maybe, or you were a bit too impulsive; but you had to try and learn your lesson like that. You were so criticized because you were triggering a trauma in the other person but you had to make that mistake in order to experience life and understand something (and tbh you were very likely made believe that the mistake you made was bigger and much more important than it actually was). Please forgive yourself and remind yourself you have grown and learned all you need to try and protect yourself if that's the case. There's nothing wrong in giving away when done with pure intentions, don't ever feel guilty about it. Even more for giving to yourself.

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bblovetarot · 3 months

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{❀} What good things is the new year bringing you?

ʚ ═══･୨ꕤ୧･═══ ɞ Pick a Pile ʚ ═══･୨ꕤ୧･═══ ɞ

. ༄ . paid readings . ༄.

。°⚠︎°。follow your intuition when choosing a pile. if you're drawn to more than one pile, that's okay! you may have messages in more than one.

。°⚠︎°。tarot readings are not 100% accurate, and do not dictate your future. please keep in mind that you have free will. these readings are also general and aren't specific to one person, so please take what resonates and leave what doesn't!

Pile 1

Many of you might be used to keeping to yourselves and often feeling down. But in the upcoming year, you'll have a chance to step out of your comfort zone. Although it may not be something you're thrilled about since you're accustomed to staying away from others, your heart will encourage you to break out of this habit. In the new year, this decision to come out of isolation is expected to bring about various opportunities for you. It's important to note that someone who used to bring you joy but is currently causing stress in your life is likely to leave. This person seems impulsive and tends to follow others rather than making their own choices. Their departure could lead to a more peaceful and happy time for you. If the described person sounds like yourself, it may mean that your own habits of holding yourself back are finally leaving your life. This change could make you feel happier and lighter, freeing you from negative energies. Some of you might engage in daydreaming as a way to cope with past difficulties. In the new year, you may become more aware of how this habit can be more harmful than helpful. The good things for 2024 is moving away from negativity and behaviors that hold you back, creating an environment where your true happiness can thrive.

Pile 2

For this year, Pile 2, positive changes are on the horizon as you break free from a cycle of self-doubt, consistently prioritizing others over yourself, and lacking belief in your own abilities. It seems like you're stepping into your power more confidently. Many of you may have grappled with insecurity issues for a long time, possibly spanning a decade, but in this year, you're overcoming significant hurdles. While some insecurities might still linger, you're handling them better and adopting a kinder attitude toward yourself, Pile 2. There's a desire for success in a particular area of your life, perhaps related to projects or a business venture. However, there's a noticeable shift in your approach as you become more patient, understanding that success takes time. Despite any impatience you may feel, thinking that others aren't recognizing your talents, you're navigating this challenge more effectively because of the newfound sense of security within yourself. You've developed a strong self-awareness, and external opinions no longer have the same impact on you – a commendable transformation, Pile 2. For some of you, there might have been experiences with failed projects, but you're now discerning when to let go and recognizing what is not aligned with your path. This newfound sense of self-assurance allows you to trust in your ambitions and their natural course. While blocked creativity may present a challenge, your enhanced patience will serve as a valuable asset to guide you through this year.

Pile 3

For Pile 3, the positive developments coming your way this year involve a journey of self-discovery. It appears that many of you may have grappled with emotional immaturity, but in the current year, you're addressing any ego-driven fears that have hindered your confidence and authenticity. There's a noticeable enhancement in your emotional intelligence, leading to increased kindness towards both yourself and those around you. This year, you're taking a measured and deliberate approach, crafting a plan and sticking to it. Some of you may possess psychic abilities, and it seems that you have a strong connection to nature, receiving profound insights when surrounded by its beauty. Throughout the year, there's a palpable growth in various aspects of your being. This includes boosting your confidence, refining your emotional intelligence, and nurturing your psychic abilities. You're focused on maintaining balance and grounding, ensuring that neither extreme dominates your life. For many in this group, the challenging period of the dark night of the soul may have been experienced in 2023, and the current year serves as a time to reflect on the progress made during that transformative period. If you haven't yet undergone the dark night of the soul, 2024 is likely the year for you to navigate through it. While not an easy journey, you're taking the necessary steps, no matter how small, that align with your personal growth. There's a noticeable effort in learning to control the ego, recognizing and addressing your deepest fears. In the past, you might have been reserved and hesitant to speak up, but in the current year, it appears that you're stepping into your power and finding your voice. Many of you maintain a close connection to the spiritual realm, and it serves as a guiding force through this transformative cycle. Communication might take a back seat, indicating a year of self-focus and solitude for personal growth.

#pick a card #tarot reading #pick a card reading #pick a pile #tarot pac #intuitive reading #intuitive readings #tarot #pac reading #pac

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b33zlebubz · 2 months

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RECKLESS ABANDON--------

CHAPTER SIX - run, hide, fight

TASK FORCE 141 X READER (PLATONIC)

PREV CHAPTER || MASTERLIST || AO3 LINK || NEXT CHAPTER

TAGS: gender neutral reader, angst, fluff, slow burn found family, PTSD, trauma bonding, kidnapping, reader is a foster kid in high school, family drama, blood, violence, guns

"After your life falls apart at the seams very early on, you work hard to keep the small amount of peace you still have. Foster care is rough, work is draining, school is a drag...but you eventually find yourself in a good place. All of that quickly goes to waste, however, when your family's unfinished business finally finds its way back to you."

Arriving at this new base brings many changes. Some good, others frustrating. The best of which being a new phone, wiped clean of anything that could track you, and a new room.

It's a bit bigger, this time. The bed is less of a cot and more like something you would be given at the residencies you used to find yourself in and out of; and it's quite the relief for your sore back. There’s enough space to wander and even a desk with a window, overlooking more concrete buildings and bleak snow. This time, though, you don't let yourself rot between your sheets. After you get about ten hours of sleep, you get up, get dressed, and become acquainted with the new base.

It's different. Much, much bigger. Soldiers of all kinds dart around from several different countries you can't quite pinpoint, and you feel very out of place in hoodies and jeans while everyone else seems to be in some important uniform. You see Soap in the hallway and briefly come across Laswell just as she arrives to meet Price, but other than that you don't see any of the others often. They seem content to leave you to your own devices—let you linger with them in the dining hall, squished between Price and Gaz as the others talk. Occasionally they’d leave the base, leaving you continuously more restless and bored as the days pass and nothing new happens.

This leads you to where you stand now, aimlessly wandering down the barren hallways of the base, late at night. You had intended to go find something to snack on if the D-fac was still open, but instead you find your curiosity leading you down a dark, liminal hallway you haven’t yet familiarized yourself with. A few people eye you as you pass, others turning to get a second glance—but you barely pay them any mind.

Eventually, you find yourself in some kind of training room.

It's empty; save for mirrors across the walls and a cushioned floor that sinks below your shoes. There's a worn punching bag pressed off in the corner and someone's gym bag laying abandoned next to it. The lights are off, though, and you find yourself staring back at your reflection in the mirror. The bruises on your eye are beginning to yellow.

Fists clench and unclench; a buzzing, restless energy in your veins.

You glance around and listen back down the hallway, waiting to be seen and reprimanded for being somewhere without clearance. Footsteps don’t echo down the hall, or talking, or anything of the sort…so, you approach the bag tentatively.

You push it, first, and your brow furrows as you realize it's heavier than you thought. The recoil nearly sends you flat on your ass and you stumble back a few steps, surprised. Your hands ball into fists and you land an experimental punch to the object, and you feel the impact down your arm and into your elbow. A curse leaves your mouth as you shake the ache out of your fist, and the sound echoes slightly in the silent room.

How did they do it? How did that kid punch you hard enough to leave a bruise, but walk away uninjured? Was it muscle? The element of surprise? What did he have over you that you didn’t?

“Fix your thumb.”

You jump and whip around to face the door. Ghost is there.

He’s leaning against the side of the doorway, tattooed arms crossed over his chest. There is a towel over his shoulder and in the light you can see the dark marks of sweat staining the black t-shirt he wears. You think it's safe to assume he's at least a little bit psychotic, because he's exercising this late at night and still wearing the balaclava. This time, however, it's hiked up over his nose—revealing where faint scars jut through the blond stubble on his chin. His expression is neutral, if maybe a little bit annoyed that you’re in the room he was previously using.

His eyes narrow at you and your shoulders straighten. Your fists lower slightly with surprise and initial panic, but it fades a little as you process the command he gives you.

"What?” You breathe, trying to keep your voice level.

“Fix your thumb,” he says again, cocking his head slightly and gesturing towards you with a gloved hand. You notice, with slight amusement, that his gloves have a skeletal pattern on them. “You punch like that, you’ll break it. Keep it over your other fingers and try again.”

You give him a strange look, confused. You had expected him to shoo you out, maybe snap at you a little—not give you advice on how to fix yourself. Nevertheless, you do as he says. You situate your thumbs over your other fingers and punch the bag again. This time, it doesn’t ache as bad. You throw a few more punches, and still the punching bag barely moves.

“You’re barely bloody hitting it, kid.”

“Trying,” you huff between hits, frustrated. “Not exactly buff like you guys.”

“You don’t need to be strong; you just need to be smart.”

You launch your fist again with a grunt, but suddenly he’s got a hand on your arm, stopping you. Your face whips around to snap at him and he stares back at you with a look of calm resolve. His eyes are dark behind the smudge of sweat and eye black, and you can almost picture how his face looks, this close. His hold on your arm tightens and you grimace, flashes of a facial scar and a southern accent cutting through your mind.

“I’m not meant for this,” you argue.

“Maybe not,” he hums in response. “But you’re not helpless. Where’s the kid who put up a fight last week? Who took a chunk out of Soap’s arm?”

“That kid was panicking.”

“That kid was angry,” he presses, nearly interrupting. “And tired of being pushed around, yeah?”

You’re biting your cheek so hard it hurts, but his words strike a chord within you. You tilt your head in a nod of agreement, and your fists clench again. You swallow thickly.

“So tell me how you did it the first time.”

You close your eyes tight, digging deep into your memory of last week. You barely remember doing it—biting Soap’s arm and kicking free, distracting him long enough to stumble down the steps. You remember the coppery taste of blood in your mouth, the split second where you nearly gagged from it, how you still taste it in your nightmares and wake up retching from the memory.

“I bit him,” you strain. “Then I kicked him.”

“Where?”

“In the dick.”

“Always a good option,” Ghost shifts his stance behind you. “What else could you have done?”

You wrack your thoughts, and it's then you notice his head is above yours, his neck exposed. You jut your elbow into it and he shifts to stop it. You gasp, surprised by the sudden movement, and the dog tags around your neck swing in front of your face.

“Good,” he grunts. “If it were anyone else that hit would’ve landed.”

You let out a breath. Your heart slows its incessant thumping as you roll your shoulders and right yourself again, rubbing the sore spot on your collar where he had you restrained. "Even on Soap?"

"On an off day, maybe." He responds with a nod, before turning to saunter over to his gym bag. "Soap's strong---but he's smarter. To win a fight against him you'd have to catch him off guard."

You scoff, "You're making it sound like he actually plans to fight me."

"Just…hypothetically. Doesn't have to be Soap. Him and Graves are a lot alike."

"So I've heard," you mumble, rubbing your sore neck as Ghost throws the gym bag over his shoulder. He turns to face you one last time with one last word of advice.

"Keep your head on and you'll be fine if anything comes up," he says. "Run first, hide second, fight as a last resort."

You run a thumb across your red knuckles in thought, your brow furrowed as Ghost gathers his things and leaves without another word.

Run first, hide second, fight third.

His words repeat in your head as you leave the gym to go back to bed, and they continue to echo in your brain throughout the rest of the week.

The strange routine continues. You find yourself walking to the training room often, finding him there, and letting off some steam for a few hours before returning to bed. He doesn't ask why you keep coming, and you don't ask why he keeps agreeing to spar with you; you just appear and jump into it. Sometimes you talk, sometimes you don't, but it isn't really anything substance other than his clipped version of small talk and fighting advice.

You're up in time to meet the others for breakfast in the mornings, so other than a raised eyebrow from Price at the bruises on your knuckles, he doesn't question it.

"Maybe I punch the walls in my sleep," you say with a shrug whenever Soap is the first one to point it out, earning a chuckle from Gaz who sits to your right. You glance up at Ghost to see his eyes crinkle a little, but he doesn't usually regard you much at the table on a good day, anyway.

"Definitely wouldn't be the weirdest thing," Gaz juts a fork in Soap's direction. "Pretty sure this bloke's a sleep-wanker."

Soap smacks Gaz's arm and the British soldier chuckles.

“Nah,” Ghost pipes in. “But I did catch 'em sleeping with an AR-15 underneath his pillow like he was gonna kill the fuckin' tooth fairy.”

Soap begins to defend himself, his mouth full of cold military food. "I was piss drunk. And it was right after Macarov. Gimme a break."

"You're piss drunk now, Sergeant." Price comments.

"M’not drunk. Hungover."

Gaz leans over slightly to explain, holding a hand to his face as if it was a secret; "he tried out-drinking Ghost last night."

"Really?" You smile a little over a glass of orange juice. "And how'd that go over?"

"Bloody hilarious," Ghost interjects, earning a smack to the shoulder from Soap.

You were seeing more and more of what they were like outside the battlefield, now—slowly grasping a hold on their personalities. They were quite the group whenever they weren’t actively terrifying and you figure, despite how they didn’t seem to agree with your presence at the start, they were starting to warm up to you.

Maybe that was Price's intention, inviting you to meals with the others when you started leaving your room more.

"'Should take the kid, next time," Gaz suggests suddenly, causing your head to perk up again at the same time Soap's does. "Get 'em off base for a bit."

Price sighs, shaking his head. "I don't know, Gaz…"

"I'm seventeen," you argue. "That's technically almost an adult, here."

"Still not old enough to drink."

"Alright, then I won't drink." You shrug. "Or start any wars. Promise."

You think, maybe, they all can read each other's thoughts from the amount of time they spend together—because Price's eyes sweep from Soap, to Ghost, then back to you and Gaz as he takes account of everyone's opinions on the matter.

Then, he lets out a breath, shaking his head.

"Fuckin' hell," he chuckles. "Alright. Don't see why not…next time we're out, we'll take you with."

You crack a grateful smile, happy to have something to look forward to after all this chaos is over. It's short-lived, though, because Soap scoffs—lifting himself from his crossed arms to lean back in the seat.

"Price," he speculates. "Aren’t they supposed t'be hidin'?”

Something thuds under the table, and by the heated look Soap and Ghost immediately shoot each other, you think it's safe to say Ghost kicked him. Before you can open your mouth to retort, however, Price beats you to it.

"They've done a damn good enough job of hiding so far, Sergeant."

"They're a kid. What could they possibly know about anything?"

Your brow furrows. This time, though, you find your voice.

"The hell did I ever do to you?" You ask, fists tightening under the table. "I didn't ask to be here."

"Yeah, well, I didn't exactly go to bootcamp so that I could babysit some orphan, either."

"MacTavish," Price's tone is thick with the closest thing to anger you've heard from him so far. "Come off it."

The table is silent. Ghost sits up straighter in his seat and Gaz clears his throat awkwardly. You narrow your eyes at Soap, your heart rate beginning to pick up in your chest.

"Do you have a problem with my dad or something?" You press. "Because I'm not him."

"Aye, you’re not him, and that’s exactly the fuckin’ problem,” he retorts quickly, jutting his finger into the wood of the table. “You’re just his deadbeat, spoiled kid who he left behind after he brough a whole fuckin’ mission.”

Your chair launches backwards when you stand forcefully to your seat, rage running hot in your veins. Soap seems a little surprised at your sudden outburst—eyebrows raised as he watches you stand.

“You don’t fucking talk about him,” you all but snarl, hands on the table. “This isn’t about him. You didn’t know him, and you don’t know me.”

"Tell 'em, kid," Ghost murmurs, unfazed by your temper.

"Ghost, you're not helping."

"Good."

"You’re right. We don’t know you. Which is why we shouldn’t give you special treatment just because you’re some bigwig’s kid," Soap stands as well, looming over you. You hold his gaze as he talks. "You were bound to get roped into this shit sooner or later, and y'knew that. S'not the time for you to play the scared-little-kid card.”

“I am not fucking scared.”

“Then why did you run? Bite me? Why won’t you hand over the fucking codes?”

Your heart beats wildly in your chest. Your mouth opens, but you don’t have an answer. You never had the answers—and you don't have a response. Instead, you scowl and avert your gaze.

“That’s right. You’re just some fucking charity case,” He points a finger into your chest. "Just the fucking delinquent mutt the C.I.A. dragged in that’s better off back in the system that made you this way.”

Something boils over, then. Two weeks of fear and uncertainty melting into something like molten lava. It's wicked and hot and sharp as it floods your chest and moves your muscles before you even have a chance to think clearly. Before you realize it—your knuckles collide with the side of Soap's cheek with a pain that burns so good it's invigorating.

The table erupts in shouts and curses, and Price grabs your arm. You try to wretch free, but it's no use, and you're dragged around the corner and out of earshot. When you finally pull your arm away, he grabs it again, pulling you close so he can whisper.

“The fuck has gotten into you?”

“Did you not hear any of that?” You retort. “You aren’t gonna fucking back me up?!”

“You make it a little hard to when you’re knocking my sergeant’s teeth out, mate.”

You grit your teeth. “It was long fucking overdue, and you know that.”

Price sighs. Aggravated, he squeezes the bridge of his nose between his fingers, shaking his head. “This was a bad idea…”

“Then let me help!” You grab his sleeve as he pulls away, desperate. Now that the words have started, you found it hard to stop them. “He’s right. I’m a fucking burden. I don’t know shit about anything. Not the fucking codes, not how to fight, how to make bombs or shoot a gun—I’m terrified and I’m useless and I’m fucking tired of it!”

“No.” Price breathes, meeting your gaze again. “I made a promise I’d keep you safe. Keep you out of this.”

“To who? My dead dad you never met?” You laugh bitterly through the tears that prick your eyes. “I have nothing, Price. I haven’t for years. And now you guys show up and give me an opportunity to make something of myself and you think I’m just going to be okay with hiding?”

He scowls. Seeming conflicted, or just trying not to lose his patience and yell at you, he turns away. You turn to hold his gaze, preventing it.

"Look, you've done a lot for me and I appreciate it. I do. But this is the only thing I'm gonna ask of you."

You squeeze the sleeve of his fatigues.

“Let me avenge my dad, Price,” you’re begging now, looking up at him. “Please.”

You hold his stare for a while. Blue eyes soften, just slightly, as he considers your words. Considers you. You think, maybe, he might actually look unsure of himself and his next words as he stares at you, and his mouth opens as if he’s about to say something.

Then, the room is engulfed in a red light.

You yelp at the alarms that sound—latching onto his arm. John’s head whips around, confused, to the light above the door that flashes red across the room. You hear footsteps and yelling before Gaz appears in the doorway, eyes wide and out of breath.

“Captain,” he pants. “We gotta move. Graves found us.”

@brokenpieces-72 @warenai @karurururu @pertinentpostmortem @kaoyamamegami @hayleybarnesx @nostalgialeech @scuftryo @0alk0msan @synthe4u @stunkbiggu @bebobeboben

#kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #call of duty #call of duty fanfiction #call of duty x reader #call of duty reader insert #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john price x reader #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader

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diejager · 3 months

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I MISSED YOU ASK BOX. [BURIES YOU IN PLUSHIES AND MUAH MUAH MUAH-] THANK YOU FOR YOUR DEDICATION!!!!

i read your match made in hell! makarov x reader scenario and !!!! it's so good!!! honestly im having a hard time finding evil 'couples' and whatnot!!

can i request more? i dont have a specific prompt really- please and thank you!!!! [MUAH MUAH MUAH]

Can I keep the plushies????

Schemes Cw: canon-typical violence, mention of violence, canon divergence?, tell me if I missed any.

“Мой милый котёнок,” he whispered lowly, a seductive smile playing on his lips as he kissed down your arm. His lips trailed down your inner forearm, peppering your scarred skin with featherlight kisses and lingering on the pulse of your wrist, a display of loyalty —or as loyal as he could be. “You are vicious; lethal.”

He often complimented you, telling you how you were made for one another, your lethal planning and his vile games. He showered you in this - needed - devotion to show you how much you played your part in his plan, in the betterment of his country where he could easily give you whatever you wanted at the drop of the finger. If he played his card well enough, you’d stick to his side a while longer, dedicating your time to him as much as he spent on you, running after you and bartending with you.

“My precious котёнок.”

His lips lingered on your palm, hesitant to part with your rough fingers, scarred from all the hard work you put in your syndicate, the time and deaths it took for you to build your power and reputation. He had both power and time, having all he could wish for with Konni and his little piggy bank, the financer that grew attached to his cause and devoted her time and money to him. He had all, but he hungered for more, starving for the excitement you could provide that others couldn’t. That trickiness and effort he had to put to stay in your good light, keeping you by his side as the leader of another strong faction.

“What exactly is your plan, Makarov?” You had this cold gleam in your eyes, conniving and scheming, always ready to fight him tooth and nail in case he wanted to overthrow you or play you. He admired that about you, prepared to be ten feet ahead of both allies and enemies. “I need to know what you want to help you.”

He hummed, rising to take your hands within his, cradling them as if he was praying to you, posturing before a higher figure in his life —perhaps you were at this point of his life, something he needed to have and something he wanted to cling onto for a future he saw, one that he imagined. He, after all, had obsessions that he planned on keeping close and those he would chain down to him, and you were the latter.

“Price will want revenge,” he started slowly, his dark eyes gazing into your own, watching you construct and build a scenario and add every little aspect to it, strategising a way to victory, “He will come with more force. I hear that Shadow Company is helping them.”

You contemplated his words, your pretty face splitting in a cruel grin. You leaned into him, arms easing out of his hold to grip his waist and pulled him against you, his broad chest flushed against yours. He could feel the warmth of your hands through his clothes, a grating feeling if you weren’t such an important figure in his kingdom.

“Then we prepare and strike when they’re in their weakest,” your smile portrayed one of innocence, bright eyes and small grin, as if you hadn’t seen your fair share of dogfights. “Is that not what we usually do, Makarov?”

Taglist:@sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @kaelysia @notspiders @velvetsoulweaver @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake

#x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #mw3 makarov #makarov #cod makarov #vladimir makarov #call of duty makarov #makarov call of duty #vladimir makarov x reader #makarov x reader #call of duty modern warfare 3

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unqrowned · 3 months

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BOYFRIEND! CHOSO. — GENERAL HEADCANONS

❛ ⠀♡ . ˑ⠀featuring : choso with a gender-neutral reader

❛ ⠀♡ . ˑ⠀synopsis : how choso is like as your boyfriend !

❛ ⠀♡ . ˑ⠀notes : no gendered terms used . fluff . "love" as a nickname .

He always has a hand on you somewhere, especially when you’re out in public together. There’s this need to constantly be touching you in some manner, so you can expect for his hand to be resting on the middle of your back or shoulder whenever he’s lingering by your side. A silent reminder that he’s right there, a promise that he won’t leave your side.

Because of his height and demeanor, he ends up being your scary dog privilege. He comes off as intimidating as he lingers right by you with his typical expression while you simply don’t see what others see and look at him with such adoration in your eyes.

Immediately after your first kiss, he was leaning in for another one. The touch of your lips pressed against his is a feeling that he quickly grew addicted to and wanted more of.

Ever since then, you can expect for him to press short, quick kisses right after you two finish a kiss. He can’t help it, and you have no complaints in giving him more affection.

“One more,” Choso murmurs against your lips, barely allowing for there to be space between your lips. You barely have the time to let out a tiny laugh and repeat his words when his lips are already locked onto yours. Anytime you two part from a kiss and you begin to lean back, his lips follow after immediately. “What happened to just one more?” You ask him, grinning at the way he seems to be holding back a whine over this pause in kisses. “I’m sorry, love,” His hands cup your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks gently, as he presses kiss after kiss against your lips, “I just really enjoy kissing you.”

To him, it doesn’t matter what you two end up doing as long as he’s by your side. If you want to watch or play something that he isn’t familiar with then he will be there to keep you company. Maybe he’s watching you a bit more than what it is you’re watching/playing, but that’s only because he adores seeing how happy you get from what you’re doing.

If you want to share any facts or infodump about your interests then he’ll listen attentively to you. Not only that, but he'll go out of his way to do additional research on your interests with the help of Itadori depending on if it’s a particular franchise or series that you’ve told him about.

Speaking of Itadori, he ends up coming around to hang out with you two. Especially on movie nights. You both don’t mind considering you enjoy his presence and Choso loves spending time with his younger brother. It’s these moments where you’re getting along with Itadori or it gets late that both you and Itadori are becoming drowsy that squeezes his heart. The thought of being surrounded by two of the most important people in his life makes him incredibly happy.

If you asked to style his hair then he’ll gladly let you do so. It doesn’t matter if you make them uneven because he will keep it like that for the rest of the day. Good luck in trying to convince him to let you redo them.

“Let me fix it.” Before your hand can touch the uneven pigtails, his hand reaches out to intertwine your fingers and gently push them away from his hair. “No, it’s fine. I like the way you did it.” Choso tells you, squeezing your hand as if to reassure you of his opinion. “But they’re uneven! I can do better—” Your defense is cut short by a quick press of his lips onto yours. When he pulls back, his free hand holds the side of your face to guide your gaze up to his. “I told you it’s fine, love.”

On top of that, he’ll let you simply play around with his hair. If you want to try styling his hair some other way, use red hairties to make him resemble a cartoon ninja that you claim looks just like him, or if you simply want to run your fingers through his hair, he’s fine with either one. He just loves the feeling of you messing with his hair.

Leave it to him to learn how to cook your favorite dishes. At first, he’ll protest against you coming to help him since he wants to pamper and spoil you. But you still manage to weasel your way to help him out with cooking. He attempts to give you less of the work though as he doesn’t want to burden you with it. Your most important job is to taste the food, in which he’ll hold up a spoon of whatever it is you’re both cooking and wait for your thoughts. It takes a lot of convincing for him to let you take more part of the cooking, but he will relent eventually.

You both start to incorporate cooking as a nice thing to do together. If you saw a dish or dessert online that you felt the urge to make it yourself, the moment you tell him about it, he’s already making a list of what ingredients you both will need. It doesn’t matter what time of day this happens, he’ll do anything to help you recreate it even if it’s late at night after seeing you look so excited and determined.

If there’s any extras of anything you two happen to make, you always suggest packing it up to give to Itadori for him to share with his friends and it makes Choso so happy to see you think about his little brother.

Forgive him for being a bit clingy. After 150 years and barely experiencing these feelings of romance for the first time in his life, he’s not sure how to handle them properly. He vows to be the best boyfriend you’ve ever had and can’t imagine anyone else being his partner. Out of nowhere, he tends to wrap his arms around you from behind and simply remain like that. It’s as if there’s a gravitational pull that leads him to you and he can’t ever seem to want to part ways from you for too long.

#. ˚◞ ⠀★⠀—⠀CONSTELLATIONS #choso x reader #jjk choso x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #choso x gn reader #jjk x gn reader

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admiringlove · 9 months

Text

[4:02]

you could hear your heart, thumping loudly in your ears as you lay bare-bodied in his arms. the covers are cozy and the air is cold, whilst his embrace brings you warmth. his breath fans over your forehead as you, in a sleepy haze look aimlessly at the wall.

gosh, you wish you could turn the time back.

to when, exactly? when did any of this start? a few hours ago, when the two of you were just best friends watching a movie together? not quite, you think. because in truth, you have never been just best friends with suna rintarō. you have always been something more. the line between friends and something has always been blurry, too.

so when could you go back to? that day last month, when he started seriously flirting with you after his relationship with that pretty girl majoring in english ended? you knew he was messing around. as his best friend, you were privy to these things. suna was the type of boy to take his life lightly when it mattered the most. perhaps he regretted it later, but you'd never know. you never knew what thoughts juxtaposed in his mind. the most you could do was predict his actions. which of course, almost always have shitty fucking consequences.

maybe you'd go back to the really rainy day last year, when it was pouring so harshly that the two of you got stuck at the bus stop downtown. sitting together, thighs touching and hands clasped against one another, shivering against the cold while being inches apart from the other's lips. what a day that was. you finally understood that day that you could never really move on from him even if you tried your hardest. he would simply always be there. rin had that effect on people where he would linger like the scent of a cigarette—not leaving someone's mind for days on end.

or really, should you be going back to that time in high school when you first developed a crush on him? walking home together while talking about volleyball, or watching the videos he took of the twins fighting, sharing chuupets and being excited about indirectly kissing. gosh, those were really the days, weren't they? when you'd get giddy when he simply called your name.

yet here you were. in his bed, staring at the off-white wall, wondering if you could ever go back to being those two hopeful kids. maybe you should have pushed him away when he cuddled close. or maybe you shouldn't have come here at all. but you did. you gave and you gave because that's in your nature. and suna? he's a taker, of course. he never took you for granted though. it's what made you trust him with your life.

your heart still thumped loudly, almost banging in your ears. regret is what you felt—because after all these years, all you were good for was some cheap sex around a month and a half after his break-up. it felt filthy to you. maybe not to him, because he laid next to you, sleeping soundly. your mind, however, would not stop running. it's like suna never got tired of being the most important person in your life. your life almost revolved around him, but at the same time, it didn't.

you slowly turned, not wanting to disturb his sleep. in hindsight, you should have just taken his arm off. but you didn't. you choose the hard way out. because his touch would feel like pity that he takes upon you—perhaps that's why you felt so cheated. never in a million years had he looked upon you in this way, even if his words meant something utterly different. you knew he couldn't see you in this light because you were innocently present throughout his life. he probably saw you more as family than the unholy sins you've committed tonight.

you're finally not facing him, your body barely being covered because suna hoards the covers. you sigh, sitting up. the digital clock on the nightstand reads that it is four-twenty-six in the morning. it pains you to stand and get dressed in such a way. you watch him as you swiftly pull on your jeans, and walk out of the room. one glance is all you allow yourself. because you know it's better not to look. it's better not to give into your deepest desires, since you know that none of them will come true anyway. you grab your things and muster up the courage to leave him like that—alone, and bare.

"what're you doing?" you flinch when you hear it. the croaky, yet deep enough voice that sounds almost hazy like a midsummer fever dream. you turn, eyes glassy and lips parted. he looks at you with squinted eyes and a yawn, as he scratches his head. his hair is inevitably a mess, and he adorns nothing but a pair of sweatpants that hang loosely at the lower part of his hip.

"nothing," you mumble, "i just remembered that i have a busy day so i should probably go."

god, stop talking. you wanted to choke yourself. he looked at you as if you'd said something stupid. and suddenly, you felt like a child in front of him.

"you told me you have nothing to do today before we," he clears his throat, "y'know."

"yeah, and now i have things to do," you say, firmly. you want to stand your ground. you refuse to be a puppet in his games. and you refuse to be pitied. suna was always a puzzle to you, finding ways to keep you coming back for more as if he were some sort of sick addiction.

"oh," he says. he's leaning against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches you grab your things. you look back at him as you sling the bag over your shoulder, car keys jingling in your left hand. he sighs, "well, i won't stop you if you're busy."

that's the thing. you want him to stop you. you want him to grab your wrist just as you're about to leave, and whisper something to you that'll make you stay. you yearn for him to say something. anything. even if it's blatantly platonic and hurtful, you want him to part his stupidly soft lips and stop you. but he does not.

he stays there, watching you walk out of his apartment. the bitterness in your throat spreads across your body, filtering its way deep into your heart. it hurts so much that the pain becomes physically invasive as you sit in the driver's seat of your car and go through the lonely roads. he still lingers like a tattoo kiss in your mind, and you feel idiotic for thinking he could ever love you. the bitter realization that his heart beats for another would underscore your every interaction, like a discordant note in your sweet, imaginative and one-sided symphony. an out-of-tune symphony, perhaps.

and you think, maybe that was all suna was meant to be. someone who uses you so much that you have nothing left to give anymore. you'll always be the peasant that's on their knees, and he'll be the aristocrat that stands up tall with a smirk on his face—ready to take what he wants at all costs.

to yearn, and yet not be yearned for in return, to love, and yet not be loved in return; this was the dreadful burden born in secret tonight, a cruel punishment for your heart that dared to dream of more than just a mere friendship with him. an almost silent agony, etched in the bitter sweetness of love unreturned, in the silence of a night shared with suna rintarō who was simply, devastatingly, just a friend.

based off this request. part two to this fic is now available.

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sunkissed-zegras · 5 months

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✮ 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, jump then fall au!

au masterlist! masterlist!

♡ ─ word count | 2.6k

♡ ─ summary | the story of how our little paloma came to be, and why adam has full custody of her.

♡ ─ warnings | mention of pregnancy (obvs), mention of abusive/manipulative relationship, some birth stuff but nothing graphic like at all, think that is all??

♡ ─ taglist | @literatureluster @valluvsu @lvrzegras @iminlovewithtz11 (fill in form in my navigation in you are interested!)

♡ ─ ev's notes | im finally back lol, the last nonnie inspired me to continue my series but i also saw the adam/luca content on instagram and i was like... yes i love these men with my entire soul. anyway, this is more background/filler chapter on the whole story behind adam/his ex. also idk if i did a good job making emma kind of unlikable but i couldn't make her too much bc at the end of day she is dovey's mom yk LMAOOO. but yeah, i was gonna include a little court segment but i didn't think it was necessary. this is kinda a summary of the timeline so yeah BUT YETH WE ARE BACK AT ITT!!!!! will be writing a more christmas-y one soon though i pinky promise :) LASTLY, my inbox is always open for au thoughts. please send them in, they literally make my entire day!

September ushered in a peculiar kind of unease, a restlessness that only settled within the corridors of high school, unbeknownst to Adam. The weight of impending change hung in the air, a feeling that clung to him as he navigated the familiar chaos that came with being a teenager.

It began with a murmur, a whisper weaving its way through the complicated tapestry of gossip. The news was illicit, news that would shatter the simplicity of his teenage years. Adam's ex, Emma, a figure exiled to his past, was harboring a secret that would bridge their worlds in a way he never anticipated.

The autumn breeze carried an unusual tension as Adam found himself standing before the door of Emma's house, a place he thought he had left behind in the remains of the failed relationship. She had called him about two hours ago, telling him that she had needed to talk to him immediately about something very important. He hesitated for a moment, hand poised to knock, before the door swung open, revealing Emma's worn expression.

"Adam," she greeted, her eyes avoiding direct contact, as if unable to meet the weight of his gaze. They hadn't talked in a couple weeks, since they had broken up.

"What's going on, Emma?" Adam asked, sensing the gravity of the situation even before she spoke.

A heavy sigh escaped her lips, laden with the weight of the secret she carried. "We need to talk," Emma murmured, gesturing for him to enter.

"Yeah, figured." He sighed. He didn't know if he was able to trust her after all the lies she had told him over the span of their relationship. This may be one of her ploys to somehow get him back.

He went into the familiar home as she guided him up to her room anxiously and his mind was racing. What could possibly be so important that she couldn't text him, or tell him over the phone?

They reached her room and he sat on her bed as Emma paced anxiously, the rhythm of her steps echoing the gravity of her secret. Finally, she turned to face him, her eyes brimming with vulnerability that he hadn't seen in a while.

"I'm pregnant," she confessed, the words hanging in the air like a storm about to break.

Pregnant? Her words hung in the air for a few moments as he looked for any sign of deception in her expression. But no, she looked like she was about to break down in front of him. The room seemed to close in on him, and he could feel the weight of the past and the uncertainty of the future colliding.

He couldn't even process it. "What?" Was all he could mutter.

Emma's gaze wavered as Adam's single-word response lingered in the room. The weight of the secret settled between them, an unspoken acknowledgment of the life-altering reality they were now forced to confront.

"I didn't plan for any of this," Emma continued, her voice shaky. "I never wanted it to happen."

Adam's brow furrowed as he tried to process the mix of emotions swirling within him. Anger, confusion, and a distant sense of responsibility danced on the edges of his thoughts. His head was spinning with questions.

"Why now?" he questioned, the frustration evident in his tone. "Why didn't you say something sooner?"

Emma's eyes welled with tears, and she seemed on the verge of unraveling. "I didn't know how. I was scared, Adam. Scared of your reaction, scared of what it would mean for both of us. I mean I have school and-and I can't have a kid right now."

The room felt suffocating, the air heavy with unspoken accusations and the weight of their shared history. Adam's mind raced, torn between the desire to understand and the lingering mistrust that had defined their past.

Adam's jaw tightened as he absorbed her words, a tumult of conflicting emotions churning within him. "Scared?" he repeated, a sharp edge to his voice. "You think dropping this bombshell now will magically make things less complicated?"

He didn't want to sound like an asshole but he couldn't help it. All she was thinking about was her future, her life and nothing to do with what his dreams, the ones he's had since he was younger. How could he go into the NHL with a kid and unstable ex?

Emma's tears flowed freely now. "I never meant for it to be like this. I just... I needed to tell you. I can't do this alone, Adam."

He rubbed his temples, trying to alleviate the growing tension. "You should've thought about that before. Now, what? What do you expect me to do?"

She reached out tentatively, as if seeking reassurance in the midst of the storm. "I want you to be a part of this, Adam. Our child deserves that, at least."

He takes her hand and his gaze softens as he heard her voice. Our child sounded so sweet, but he didn't want to go through what she put him through again.

He sighed heavily, a mixture of frustration and concern etched on his face. "Emma, you can't drop something like this on me and expect everything to be okay. We're not together anymore, and I can't just rearrange my life because of this."

Her eyes pleaded with him, desperation evident. "I know, but I can't do it alone. I need your support, Adam. We created this life together."

He pulled his hand away gently, creating a bit of distance. "Support? Emma, you've never supported my dreams. You made me doubt everything I did. I can't risk my future for this, not when I don't even know if you're going to stick around."

As the room descended into silence, the air seemed to crackle with the tension of unspoken truths. Adam's mind, however, echoed with the memories of a relationship colored by manipulation and emotional turmoil.

He couldn't shake the vivid memories of countless arguments, where Emma would twist his words, making him question his own sanity. Her subtle undermining of his dreams and aspirations left a trail of self-doubt that lingered long after their fights and maybe relationship had ended.

Emma's manipulation often took the form of subtle remarks disguised as concern. Every success he achieved was met with a backhanded compliment or a comment that subtly belittled his accomplishments. Her words had a way of eroding his confidence, making him second-guess his abilities. Was he even that good of a hockey player? Was he as smart as everyone would tell him?

She played on his insecurities, subtly exploiting vulnerabilities he hadn't even acknowledged. Emma's behavior manifested in controlling behaviors, whether it was telling him who he could spend time with or subtly isolating him from his support system. The gradual corrosion of his social connections left Adam feeling increasingly dependent on her for validation.

Emma's manipulation extended beyond words or fights; it was their daily interactions. The constant emotional rollercoaster left him drained and disoriented. Adam had become used to walking on eggshells, terrified of setting off another emotional outburst.

Adam found himself grappling with a mix of anger and resentment. The secret of her pregnancy now added a new layer to their complicated history, one that threatened to entangle their lives again.

The heaviness of the past hung in the air, a palpable reminder of the emotional scars that had yet to fully heal. The silence in Emma's room mirrored the unresolved scars of their relationship, leaving Adam to confront the challenging path that lay ahead.

He thought he had ended this relationship for good but now, he truly couldn't leave. Knowing that if he wouldn't stay, she would raise the baby alone and he would live forever with the knowledge of his kid somewhere with her. If they were to be together again, even just to raise the baby, he would promise that he would try to shield the baby from his mother as much as he could.

Emma's eyes brimmed with tears as she pleaded, "Adam, I'll change. I promise. I never realized how much I hurt you until now. I want to be a better person, for you and for our child."

Adam hesitated, his gaze flickering between her tearful eyes and the haunting memories of their past. The room seemed to close in around him as he grappled with conflicting emotions.

"Okay, Emma." He sighed. She let out a sob of joy, bringing him in for a tight hug.

──

JUNE 11, 2021

──

Summer arrived quicker than either had expected and soon enough Emma was in third trimester. In the sterile confines of the white hospital room, Adam stood witness to the arrival of their daughter. It was a moment of transformation, where the happiness of newfound fatherhood collided with the stark reality of uncertainty. Emotions played on his face, he had no idea how he was going to deal with any of it.

But as soon as tiny newborn baby laid in his arms, all the worries and uncertainty had faded into background noise as he held her with all the care in the world.

In that moment, everything else seemed to fade away. The worries, the uncertainties, the complexities—they all became distant as Adam cradled his daughter. Her tiny features, scrunched face, and the weight of her presence overwhelmed him, he couldn't help but tear up. She was perfect in every way. In that moment, he promised he would never let anyone hurt her in anyway possible.

He felt a surge of love, a protective instinct that whispered promises of care and unconditional devotion. The uncertainty that had clouded his thoughts seemed inconsequential in the face of the profound connection forged with this tiny being.

"She's perfect," he whispered, his voice barely audible in the quiet room. The fragility of the newborn, the embodiment of a shared history and a future full of unknowns, stirred something deep within him. All he knew was that he loved her more than anything even if he'd only held her for a few moments.

Emma, watching Adam with a mix of exhaustion and affection, couldn't help but smile. "She's got your eyes," she remarked, a tender note in her voice. His pretty, big blue eyes. The first thing anyone ever notices about him.

Adam nodded, his gaze fixed on the tiny features of his daughter. "Yeah? Well, she's got your everything else," he added, a gentle chuckle escaping him. The weight of fatherhood settled on his shoulders, but in that moment, it felt like a privilege.

The room seemed to shrink, focusing solely on this new family unit. The soft whimpers of the newborn, the beeping of the monitoring equipment, and the distant sounds of the hospital—all merged into the backdrop of a moment that felt suspended in time.

Emma looked at Adam with tired yet contented eyes, a silent understanding passing between them. The room, once filled with the tension of labor, was now a cocoon of familial warmth.

Emma whispered, her voice hoarse from the exertion of childbirth, "She's beautiful, isn't she?"

As Adam and Emma marveled at the beauty of their newborn daughter, the hospital room's door creaked open, and Adam's parents entered with a blend of excitement and nervousness. His mother, a mix of emotions painted on her face, rushed forward to embrace Adam.

"Oh, Adam, sweetheart, you're a father!" she exclaimed, her eyes gleaming with unshed tears of joy.

Adam smiled warmly, hugging his mother. "Yeah, Mom. Meet..." His words died on tongue when he realized they hadn't picked out a name for her yet.

"We haven't decided on a name yet," Emma adds quietly as she yawns.

"What about Paloma? Like your grandmother. It's perfect, just look at her."

Adam's eyes met Emma's, and for a moment, a silent agreement passed between them. Paloma—the perfect name, a homage to his grandmother, a symbol of heritage and a new beginning. They exchanged a nod, and Adam turned back to his parents.

"Paloma," he said, a smile breaking across his face. "Her name is Paloma."

The decision settled like a warm blanket, wrapping around the newborn with a sense of identity. Paloma, their little dove, had found her name in the embrace of a moment filled with love and the promise of a shared journey ahead.

──

Adam's frustration simmered beneath the surface as he and Emma found themselves ensnared in yet another argument. The air in the room crackled with tension, a silent precursor to the storm that was about to erupt. Paloma, blissfully unaware in her crib, slept soundly, while her parents grappled with the unresolved issues.

"I can't keep doing this, Emma," Adam muttered, his jaw clenched. The weight of unresolved issues hung heavily between them, each word an echo of past disagreements. "We need to talk."

Emma, her expression defensive, crossed her arms, a subtle defiance in her stance. "What's there to talk about, Adam? Everything's fine."

A bitter laugh escaped him with the weight of their shared history. "Everything's far from fine, and you know it. Paloma needs stability, and you can't keep pretending that everything's okay when it's not."

Emma's eyes flashed with irritation. "I'm her mother, Adam. I know what's best for her."

Adam's jaw clenched, frustration palpable. "You barely spend time with her but refuse my help. Every time I ask you to be a part of her life, you find an excuse. This isn't fair to Paloma, and it's not fair to me especially when you dragged me into this in the first place."

Paloma stirred in her crib, a subtle reminder of the fragile peace that hung in the balance. The argument, a reflection of their complicated past, loomed over them, threatening to unravel the delicate threads that held their connection together.

Emma's gaze hardened, and she retorted, "I didn't force you into anything, Adam. You were a part of this too, remember?"

Adam's frustration escalated, his voice sharper. "I was a part of it because I wanted to be a father to Paloma, not because I wanted to be stuck in this cycle with you. I can't keep watching you push me away, I wanna be apart of her life-"

She scoffed, a bitter edge to her tone. "You act like I'm the bad guy here. I'm doing my best, Adam."

"You dragged me into this," he continued, a sharp edge to his tone. "I fought to be a part of Paloma's life because I wanted to, but you make it impossible. This isn't about us anymore; it's about her. You need to step up and be a mother, like you'd wanted to almost a year ago when you decided to have her."

Emma's eyes narrowed, defensive walls fortified. "I am her mother. But you don't get to dictate how I should do things. I have my own life, Adam-"

"And Paloma is a part of that life, whether you like it or not!" Adam yelled, the frustration in his voice reaching a boiling point. "I can't keep covering for you, Emma. My mom asks where you're at and half the time, I don't even fucking know. You can't just show up when it's convenient for you and disappear when it's not."

Paloma's soft cries began, the room filled with the sound of her distress, a reflection of the anger surrounding her. Adam's frustration transformed into determination. "I won't let you keep hurting her with your inconsistency, especially when she's old enough to remember. If you can't be a constant presence in her life, then maybe it's better if you're not a part of it at all."

The words hung in the air, a heavy proclamation that seemed to mark the unraveling of their already strained connection. Emma, caught between defiance and vulnerability, met Adam's gaze with a steely resolve, setting the stage for a tumultuous chapter in the story of Paloma's fractured family.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

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desiderio-dixon · 1 month

Text

Darkest Before the Dawn

Chapter 6 : But I'm Dreaming of You

Pairing : Daryl Dixon x f!reader (endgame), (unrequited) Glenn Rhee x f!reader

Series summary : When Glenn Rhee comes into your life, you become convinced he's a guardian angel sent by your late best friend. You think he's your soulmate. But then he falls for the farmer's daughter, and you find that your own angel may be a little more blatant than expected; wings and all.

Chapter summary : The CDC proves to be a place of refuge...and wine. You get drunk, talk to Daryl, and have a dream that will linger in your mind for a long while.

Chapter warnings : OKAY!!! LET'S HOPE I GET EVERYTHING HAHA!!! Smut!!!! Reader has a sex dream that includes piv, male masturbation, fantasies including oral (f receiving), daryl is thirsting, language, drinking, pleaseeee let me know if I missed anything!!

Word count : 2k

A/N : so things are heating up now

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

The CDC had proven to be some form of miracle. After being on the road, tired and hungry and hopeless, sitting at a large table filled with food and wine was a dream. You sat next to Glenn, head airy and light as you entwined your arms and sipped your wine glasses. After all the loss, this felt like a win.

Your friends gathered around, joking and laughing, sharing stories, it gave your mind and body a peace you hadn't had in months. Even Daryl, who you'd thus far known to be cold and guarded, is nursing his own glass and tossing jokes. "Keep drinking, little man. I wanna see how red your face can get!" He says to Glenn, who giggles over his glass. You laugh, giving Glenn a gentle shove. Daryl points to you next. "You too, girl." You salute with your glass, tipping it back. Daryl refills it. It's fun and lighthearted and hell, it's exactly what you need.

And then Shane ruins it. While Shane goes through his interrogation, you do your best to block out the sad tale he forces out of Jenner. Instead, you stay silent, tossing back refill after refill of your wine and spoonful after spoonful of pasta.

By the end of the dinner, you're nothing short of wasted. Prior to the apocalypse, you hadn't much experience with alcohol. That, in combination with the lack of drinking for months, had thoroughly set you on the path to slurred words and stumbled steps.

You shamble through Jenner's tour, tripping over your own two feet. He finally says something your drunken mind deems important: hot water. There are limited showers, so everyone argues over who goes first. You're too out of it to argue, but someone must state your case, because you're being ushered off in the first group. "Because you'll pass out if you don't go first." Someone says. You take their word for it. Maybe it'll sober you up some.

When the hot water cascades over your back, it feels like it takes the weight of the world away with it as it flows into the drain. You smile into the open air, careless and drunk and happy for the first time in weeks. Getting to wash the grease out of your hair with running water is a privilege you'd thought long gone. The shower is even stocked with razors, but in your drunken state you know that's not a good idea. Instead, you lather in the scented bodywash laid out, scrubbing your skin with a heavy hand. The steam surrounding you begins to smell like roses and lavender. You breathe it in greedily. There are few good smells these days. This place, the CDC, it feels like life before all the death. When you slip, landing thankfully uninjured on your backside, you acknowledge it to be time to pry yourself out from under the stream.

Leaving the bathroom, you stumble through the halls. You can't remember what room was designated to you, and your eyes grow heavier each second. You decide to peek inside one of them, finding the vast space seemingly empty.

You make your way sloppily into the room, flopping face first onto the bed, wrapped in nothing but a bath towel. "Tha' hell?" Typically, the sudden voice would scare you, but you simply can't be bothered.

Instead, you don't even lift your head, mumbling out a muffled, "What?" Into the sheets.

Daryl stares at the back of your head dumbfoundedly. He sits on the couch at the opposite end of the room, nursing a bottle of liquor. He was enjoying his peace and quiet, but of course, you of all people can't allow that. Still, seeing a woman naked and sprawled out on the bed he claimed as his own was certainly an unexpected end to his night.

He thinks you must've fallen asleep in his lack of response, so he stands, approaching the bed quietly. He reaches his arm out to your shoulder, intending to shake you awake to get the hell off his bed, but before he can make contact, you turn and grab his wrist. "What are you doing?" You slur, eyeing him suspiciously. He scoffs, wrestling his arm out of your weak grip and shuffling back a few steps. Your eyes follow him intensely.

"Tryin' to get you out. Ain't in the mood to babysit!" He defends, wiping his arm of where you'd touched him. Your hand was warm, and wet with lingering moisture from the shower. Droplets still glide across your shoulders over your arms. All of your skin radiates with a dewy, clean glow. He feels a familiar burn in his ears, averting his eyes. He pretends the painting hanging on the wall to his left is beyond interesting--but he honestly couldn't give a damn about it. Despite not looking at you, he can still smell you. In fact, he's sure you've infected the whole room with your post-shower scent. It's floral and sweet and very you. He hates that he feels that way.

"...Well! Sorry, Mr. Dickhead! Couldn't find mine and you're a stupid hunter so I didn't even know you were there!" You dramatically flail, tired and drunk.

Daryl huffs, narrowing his eyes at you. "Why don't ya' go find yer damn boyfriend!" He yells. You flinch at his volume, tucking your arms around yourself. He feels a twinge of guilt in his belly.

"He's not my boyfriend." You mumble, turning to lie on your side in a tucked ball. "Prolly won't ever will be." You draw out sadly. Daryl doesn't feel bad for you. You don't need someone like Glenn. Between the two of you, the world would eat you both alive.

But he knows he shouldn't say that. You're sad, drunk, and probably seeking comfort. He's not sure how to give that, so he sighs, sitting on the very edge of the bed, far away from your body. "Why not?" He asks, glancing at you and then back to the floor, lifting a thumb to his mouth to chew.

"I like him, I think. But I don't think he likes me." Your voice trembles, small and quaint like a child. "He's all I have now." That breaks you, tears now fully streaming.

"Nah." Daryl says simply, letting the word hang in the air for a moment. "All our people-- they love ya." He looks at you when he says it, and the blue of his eyes almost shocks you. You can't remember a time he's made such intense eye contact with you, so you allow your teary eyes to roam freely over his own. Getting lost in the different shades and the flow of them into one another. You almost forget why you're crying.

You break out into a drunken, sappy smile. You lift your upper body off the bed, towel slipping down further. Daryl tries not to look. "Thank you, Daryl." You say through a smile that makes your eyes disappear, so wide that it coats your entire face. He flushes. He can't say that a woman, or a man for that matter, has ever looked at him like this. So happy because of something he said. "Will you help me find my room?" He hates the disappointment that flushes over him, but he nods anyway.

He helps you up, and practically carries you through the halls until you come across an open door with your bag on the bed. You hold your towel up as you stumble into the room, holding the door frame with the other hand. You stop before closing the door, giving Daryl a coy smile. "Goodnight, Daryl." You tell him before shutting the door. For a reason he can't identify, those words ring through his mind all night.

Hearing the click of the door shutting, you shrug off your towel. You throw yourself down onto the bed in all your naked glory, wrapping yourself in the pillowy soft comforter and drifting off almost instantaneously.

In the hazy warmth of your dream, you lay among a bed of pillows on your side. You're naked, bare skin brushing against the sheets lazily. Behind you, you feel the warmth of a lover's presence. When you crane your neck, it's Glenn. He smiles at you in that gentle way, running the back of his hand over your cheek. It's gentle, wholesome. You lean in for a kiss, closing your eyes. He meets you halfway, gripping your cheekbone softly.

But, as the kiss grows longer, his lips get rougher, his hand runs lower to caress your neck with a calloused hand. When you open your eyes, it's no longer Glenn. Instead, it's Daryl, eyes blown with lust. He pulls you back in, and you make no move to resist. He bites your lip and presses his front into your back. Bare skin on skin, you feel everything. You feel him, in all his glory. He's trailing one hand down your stomach, applying pressure to push you into him. He starts a slow grind against your backside. "Daryl," You moan out breathlessly when his hand slips between your legs. Your own hand grabs his bicep, hips starting to move against his fingers and his own hips behind you. Then, his hand moves away from you. You whine, but his hand grips your inner thigh hard. And then he's lifting your leg, placing it over his hip and notching himself on your entrance. You gasp, turning to make eye contact and nod feverishly. Just as he starts to push in--

Your eyes snap open, lungs grasping desperately for the breath you'd been holding. It's still dark, likely only an hour since you'd fallen asleep. You've slightly sobered up, but now your skin is clammy and your heart is racing. You wish you could deny enjoying the dream, but the slick you feel between your legs betrays you. Still, you feel a weight of guilt. And so, you decide to just enter back into a frustrating, restless sleep.

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

When Daryl enters the bathroom, finally ready to take a shower, he's almost angry at the smell that greets him. That same smell you'd infested his room with. He undresses quickly and haphazardly, tossing his clothes throughout the room. Ever since his earlier encounter with you, he's felt strange.

Hot, clammy. With a ball almost akin to anticipation sinking in his gut. He knows what this is. Knows it when his head starts to swim in the steamy room. He hasn't felt this way in so long. The feeling in his stomach grows and tingles into his toes under the stream of water, he's getting hard. He tries to convince himself he's only feeling this way because of the sudden sense of security, and maybe the alcohol. But as he grips himself, taking a shuddering breath, all he can think of is you.

It's wrong. God, it's so wrong. But no matter how much he tries to push the thoughts away, they always come back to you. You, wet and naked sprawled over his bed. In his thoughts, he tugs the towel off your skin, revealing everything. He'd treat you right, he thinks, panting. He'd kiss your skin and taste the fresh shower water lingering, he'd quench his thirst on your skin. He'd breathe you in before kissing you senseless. Though, he doesn't have much experience kissing. Still, what he lacks in experience he'd make up for in enthusiasm with you. For you. He'd kiss up and down your legs, from your ankles to the insides of your thighs, to where he really wants to kiss. You'd be tangy on his tongue, and maybe you'd whimper out his name. Daryl's gut grows tight, so tight that his toes curl against the slippery shower floor. Maybe your eyebrows would furrow, maybe your hands would tangle in his hair, gripping and pulling. He can almost feel it.

Suddenly, he's grunting, hips shooting forward as warmth washes over him. The shower water cascades over his form, washing his acts down the drain. There's a lingering guilt, but the relief he feels from head to toe overpowers everything. He feels more relaxed than he has in weeks.

You just never have to know that he'd ever jacked off to you, and he never has to know that you dreamt of him taking you apart. Simple enough.

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

⤿Taglist (Open)

@celtic-crossbow @scudslut @itwasntaphasema @ryoujoking @i-wear-wet-socks313

#daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon #daryl fanfiction #daryl imagines #daryl x female reader #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl x you #the walking dead daryl #twd fanfiction #twd imagine #twd daryl #twd smut #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl smut

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yikimiki · 1 year

Note

Hi & I hope you’re doing well💗 I was wondering if I could request something smutty with megumi? He’s a borderline yandere for reader and perhaps one night passes her room while she’s touching herself and decides to help her out but is a little mean & degrading lol thank you so much💖

⚠️ warning: stalking/obsessive behavior, smut, and they were roommates, degradation (slut, whore…), toxic/possessiveness, masturbation, fem!reader, creampie and overstim

—

Megumi is two things: obsessive and really, really good at hiding it.

It’s not his fault, he thinks — he’s always been a little too extreme about some things; these rare, important factors that manage to spark his interest. He was a good kid academically, had few friends throughout his life, and mostly stayed out of trouble. Life passed by in a monotonous blur, but, sometimes, his focus would resume and he would find something that really made him feel alive again.

You are one of those things, of course — a perfect speck of life and beauty amongst the grey clouds of his routine. Meeting you was a perfect accident, the only spare bedroom close to your college campus and one naive girl that didn’t mind sharing her apartment with a stranger. You two work flawlessly as a team, the place is always clean, tidy, and none of you bother each other. You’re easy to talk to, and he finds himself immersed in every little thing you tell him.

Megumi knows your schedule — your classes, your dates with friends, the guys you’ve been talking to. He knows what you do in your free time, how much shampoo you use, or what vitamins you forget to take. He reminds you every time, because he cares so much about you that hurts. And he loves the smile you give him, the tender “thank you, gumi” you give him.

And Megumi always, always knows when you’re hiding your pleasure from him.

To be fair, you make it easy. Your door, which is almost always open, suddenly is locked. Your whimpers are heard through the thin wall, even though he’s sure you’re trying to muffle them. And you always come out of your room looking like you had the best orgasm of your life — which, frankly, he doubts he wouldn’t make it better.

It’s one night, which you forget your door open, that Megumi decides to take matters into his own hands.

Megumi has been thinking about it for weeks now, about sinking himself deep inside that tight pussy of yours until you’re crying, and he’s sure his breaking point would come soon. When he opens your door, it hits. It’s like his entire life, his entire existence, has led him to this moment — the perfect picture of your thighs rubbing together, your fingers playing with your soaked clit as you whimper and whine at the feeling. The way your lashes part and you look at him, not really surprised by his presence, like you planned it, and beg him to help you, because you can’t cum.

“Fuck, it’s so tight,” he curses, feeling as your walls clench around his two fingers. He’s getting dizzy just thinking about how you’ll feel around his cock, squeezing and milking him dry. “Bet you wanted this, didn’t you? Touching yourself, begging for me to come in here and take care of you — tsc.” Megumi curls his fingers and you moan his name, back arching off the bed as you tremble. You’re at your prettiest, most divine form like this. “Didn’t know you were such a filthy whore. Should’ve had my way with you a long time ago.”

The way you shiver at his words make him think that you’re so needy for him that he could’ve actually done this before. “Please, gumi… fuck me,” you whimper, desperate. You don’t seem to be able to cum, even like this. There are tears on the corners of your eyes and your legs are shaking, but your orgasm lingers just beyond your reach. “I need to feel you.”

And that is enough to tip him over the edge. Megumi moves on instinct — he’s not even fully aware of his movements until his thick cock is pressing against your little hole, pushing and pushing its way inside your pussy until it’s stinging, spreading you wide as you fight to accommodate it. You whine at the size, cunt throbbing around his cock as he starts drilling inside you. It’s so much, you don’t think you’ve ever felt this full before. “So big,” you mumble, delirious. “Too much, gumi…”

“You’re gonna fucking take it like a good slut,” he curses. Your cunt is so much better than he had imagined, it turned him into an animal — just thinking about fucking you again and again until he has nothing else to give you. The idea of having you full of his cum makes him fuck you even harder. “Such a needy whore.” He leans closer to you, groaning against your ear. The angle makes you see stars and, finally, you cum — shaking and crying as his cock continues to plunge inside your wet hole, not giving you time to recover. “Yeah? Needed to be full of cock so you could cum? Is that what you wanted?” And you can only nod, eyes half open, as he tears another, smaller orgasm from you. “Fuck, you’re such a whore. Gonna keep cumming around me like this?”

You say something, but none of you really understand it. Megumi is out of his mind by this point, fucking you like he’s a horny virgin, hard and fast, and watching as you come undone again and again on his cock. He’s throbbing by this point, all sweaty and exhausted, and his cock leaks precum inside you at every small movement. “Fuck,” he curses. “Gonna cum.”

If you’re going to tell him to pull out, you don’t have the chance. Megumi cums with a loud groan, shooting his thick load inside you until it’s dripping out of you — but he doesn’t stop. You try to push him away, begging him to give you a moment to recover, but he isn’t listening. “Need more,” he groans. He’s animalistic, focused on the feeling of his overstimulated cock moving inside you. “Need to give you every fucking drop so you know you’re mine.”

#megumi smut #megumi x reader #Megumi x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #megumi fushiguro

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auspicioustidings · 7 months

Text

The Wild Prince

Blue Blood Part 1

Summary: You are the Duchess of a small Kingdom and your father trades you away for military aid.

@chai-isms made the mistake of saying they liked a royalty AU and this... sort of didn't turn out anything like I had actually planned 😂 So sort of royalty AU ish? Maybe? IDK it's basically just shameless smut.

Word Count: 2.6k

CW: Mention of abuse, smut

Part 2

At least they hadn't put you in a dungeon you had thought at first, but after a month this room was driving you mad. The servant that delivered you food would not talk with you, would not answer any of your questions about what was going to happen to you.

The war had been raging for two years, but it had been a far away thing at the start. It was something so totally removed from your life in your father's castle that you weren't even fully aware that your side had been losing. It was only when he had returned six months ago and the way he looked at you had changed that alarm bells sounded in the back of your mind. While you may have not had a mother to tell you of such things, you knew enough from the gossiping of the servants when they thought you were not listening that you were of age to marry and as you were on only child, your father should try and make a match.

It made you bristle a little to think of. You managed the household well, was it so important that it must have a man at the head when he was gone?

And then the war had come to linger in your home, blanketing your days with the unease of something being kept from you. When your father had them pack you up into a carriage you raged at him, only earning a backhand straight across your cheek that left an angry mark, a thin line in the middle of the bruise from his ring having split the flesh. He had growled that this marriage was how you could finally be good for something, informing you then that he had remarried and his new wife was expecting a child. It had put you in a state of numb shock that lasted for the whole week of travel.

You had tried your whole life to be worthy of your family name, to be a good daughter. It had been for nothing. Your father was sending you off as some sort of bargaining chip to give him an edge in this war and there was not one thing that you could do about it.

Now you could only pass your days gazing out of the window and wondering where on earth you were. If only you hadn't been in such a daze, had actually taken some study of your surroundings when you had arrived. You had been taken to the room in this tower immediately on your arrival, hardly able to discern what was happening through your hazy misery. There had been people around you knew, you remembered somewhat foggily a thumb dragged across the fading mark on your cheek. A low growl, a bitten off curse.

As the night fell you sighed at the sound of the bath being drawn for you in the other room. This was the routine, every second night a bath was drawn for you, candle light dancing across the water when you sunk down into that wet heat. The servant would be gone and you would bathe alone. After a lifetime of having maids scrub at you it was strange at first, but peaceful in a way.

Tonight was much the same, your muscles relaxing as you let your head roll back and closed your eyes. The sound of someone entering startled you, opening your eyes slowly to look over. You had been prepared to see the meek servant, not a young man dressed regally who did not seem the least bit concerned that he had walked in on you in such a vulnerable and improper state.

You didn't yelp, the noise caught in your throat. Instead you curled in on yourself, trying to hide any view of the delicacies of your body from his gaze. He walked closer, kneeling by the bath so he was so close that you could smell the orange oil from his fingers.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked with a gallant smile. It was as if he was some potential suitor at a revelry instead of a stranger in your bathing chambers.

You shook your head, feeling like the water had turned to freezing and locked up all of your muscles. He was handsome in a way that bordered on overwhelming, the brown of his skin and eyes catching the light from the candles to make him almost seem holy in the way he glowed.

"My name is Kyle Garrick" he said and you felt the panic you had been holding down burst out of you.

Kyle Garrick, the 3rd Prince of the largest Kingdom on the continent, the one that bordered your tiny Kingdom to the East. People called him the Wild Prince, the one who should never have been legitimised. Prince Garrick was not the Queen's son, his mother was a Princess of a conquered kingdom who the King had grown fond of, his favourite concubine. They said that the war hero and King's right hand, Duke John Price, had trained the Wild Price himself. The Duke had won countless battles that changed the fortunes of the Kingdom with Prince Garrick by his side. They said the Duke's men were all monsters of some sort or other. The Wild Prince. The Ghost. The Blood Druid. The men were practically fairy stories to someone like you, not living and breathing people that you might one day meet.

"Y-your royal highness! Please forgive my rudeness" you cried, head snapping down in supplication. You were a nobody to a Prince, some minor Duchess in a tiny bordering Kingdom. To be naked in front of him was wrong on so many levels.

He laughed and the warmth of it sent shivers down your spine and tears to your eyes. Your eyes were fixed on the water as his fingers started to dip into it, moving back and forth and coming dangerously close to your legs still pinned to your chest.

"Look at me Duchess" he said and you found yourself giving a quick shake of your head. How could you look at him? You were shaking, naked, completely unworthy to be in his presence.

"I said look at me" he ordered, your chin roughly pulled up with the hand not playing with the water near your legs. Gone was the gallant smile, his eyes now dancing with the amusement of a predator playing with their prey, your own eyes widening when you felt the brush of his fingers on your bare shin. The hand on your chin moved your head to the side.

"Good, your cheek has healed up. Couldn't have you getting married with a marked up face now could we?"

You didn't know what he wanted you to say. You were desperate to be anywhere but here, his presence was oppressive, bearing down on you and making your insides feel like they were fizzing. You had never felt so vulnerable. He didn't seem to mind your silence, only smirking and running his fingers up your shin more deliberately, taking delight in the way your pupils dilated and your breathing hitched.

"That little bitch on the throne is blocking me from granting Ghost a proper title, I can imagine her face when she realises he's married the sole noble of the Western territory."

You could barely concentrate and he ran his hand up and down your leg, cresting over your knee occasionally causing the brush of his pinky against the swell of your breasts. That fizzing heightened and you involuntarily shifted, feeling a jolt between your legs from the friction of squeezing them together. You tried to focus, to keep your eyes on him and actually find out what was going on. If the whole situation wasn't already wildly improper you were sure you would have reacted with more horror at him addressing the Queen of this nation as a little bitch.

"I don't... Western territory? I am sorry your Royal Highness, I'm only a Duchess of the Kingdom to the West. I'm not a noble of any of the territories here," you said, not able to keep your voice even and instead hearing the breathlessness of it floating through the steam.

"There is no Kingdom to the West Duchess, not after the Duke dared to mark what wasn't his to touch," the Prince cooed, as if it wasn't something world shattering to have said. Your Kingdom had been fighting a war with another small Kingdom for years only to be conquered in the space of a month. For you. They had conquered a whole Kingdom because of a mark on your cheek.

You were overwhelmed, heart beating violently fast and frozen muscles going pliant. Plaint enough for him to apply pressure and shift your legs a little so they weren't completely pinned against your chest, allowing his exploration to continue past your knee and to your thigh. You heard a desperate whimper on the air, confused when you realised a second after it must have come from you.

The Prince chuckled, shifting his body so that he could guide your head to his shoulder, holding a hand to your hair to keep you there. Your hands came to cling to his shirt, soaking it. You didn't know what was happening to you and it was grounding to be able to bury your face into him, cutting off your sight so you could try and get a handle of your other senses.

"That's it Duchess, just relax yeah? Ghost doesn't want to break you on your wedding night, so we're going to work on getting you nice and ready for him until then" he whispered right behind your ear.

You didn't know what he meant. Nobody had ever prepared you for what happened on the wedding night, until a month ago you hadn't even known you were to be married so soon. When his hand finally dipped between your legs to cup at you there you cried out, tears spilling over at the new sensation.

"Gods you've never-" he growled lightly, only stopping himself when he felt you tense to pause and readjust his voice to be gentler as he carefully ran a finger up your slit. "Bet they told you it was a sin, that you couldn't touch yourself here" he groaned when he felt the change in texture from water to arousal.

They had their work cut out for them getting you ready for the Hunt. MacTavish would oversee the ritual of it obviously, would massage the divine oils into your flesh and dress you properly to be released into the woods after the wedding ceremony. When Ghost hunted you down and took what was rightfully his it would seal the marriage in the eyes of the old Gods, but he would be in a frenzy from the incense, incapable of preparing you properly in his pursuit of sinking into your heat and marking you his from the inside. So they would have to do what they could for you beforehand, spend the next week before the ceremony doing everything to keep you wet and wanting.

Kyle, clear headed and not under the influence of any of Johnny's bloody Druid smokes or potions, already found it hard to keep calm. The noises you were making, it was like a challenge being presented to him to get you to make more. Get you boneless and begging for it. When he started to make firm circles on your clit he got unbearably hard at the broken moan spilling from your lips as your hips started to move.

You felt like you were standing on the top of a tower looking over the edge, your stomach in knots. You had been told it was sinful to touch yourself in this way and in your efforts to be only the best daughter you could be you had taken heed and never tried. But this? Gods it was setting you ablaze. You could feel your insides clenching on nothing, feel your hips lifting to push against his fingers. He was speaking absolute sin into your ear and it made every sensation more intense, sending pulses of pleasure straight down to your core.

"Doing so well Duchess, pretty little clit taking it so well. Doesn't it feel good?"

You whined incoherently. You were desperate for something you couldn't name, feeling incomplete.

"I know Duchess, I know. Beautiful cunt wants something to clench on, greedy little thing" he said, fingers leaving your clit to trace down and circle your entrance, teasing with just the tip of his finger pushing against you before he growled and returned to your clit with renewed vigour. "You're going to cum for me. You're going to cum just like this tonight and tomorrow I'll make sure you get a finger inside to squeeze yeah? Fuck love going to get you to beg for my tongue, get Price to teach you how to ask real nice for it."

You couldn't really focus on the words anymore, too lost in the approaching crest of this wave. Kyle was mostly saying them for himself now anyway, hips rutting away against the side of the tub to try and get some relief.

The orgasm was the most intense thing you recalled ever feeling, body going taught like a bowstring as the Prince brought you through it with his fingers. Your whole body felt like it had been flooded with sensation and then all at once you were boneless, limbs dead weights.

"Good girl Duchess."

You were shivering now, the water having cooled. When his hand left the water you went to move your head, but his other hand kept it there. You could hear the sound of skin on skin, his hot breath at your ear getting heavier and more strained before the sound stopped after a loud groan from him. You weren't sure what was going on, but it made you tingle a little again between your legs.

His hand returned to the water, dipping in and out a few times before he finally let your head out from his shoulder. The dim light hurt your eyes after so long in darkness and before you could try and ask him what had just happened he scooped you out of the tub, not caring that he was getting his clothing completely soaked in the process.

The next 10 minutes were confusing and blurry in your mind, him drying you off and dressing you for bed like he was a servant rather than the Prince of a Kingdom that had just conquered yours. He tucked you in, bade you goodnight and made his way to the door.

You thought that was it until he paused, tensed. Was he going to reveal that this had been a test and you had failed? Were you about to be thrown out? You had never felt so thoroughly ruined and anxious before. What did he want from you?

Kyle knew he shouldn't, but fuck it, what was the use in being a Prince if he couldn't indulge in the small things every once in a while. He whirled around, marched back to you in the bed and pressed a hard kiss to your lips before leaving again, making sure to lock the door behind him. Price was leaning on the wall in the hallway waiting for him, raising an eyebrow when taking in the absolute state Kyle was in.

"Fine" Kyle sighed, "I admit that this was a good idea, you were right and I should never have doubted you and your magnanimity. Happy?"

"Cheeky today Gaz?"

"Nah, just taking the piss. It was a good call Sir, she'll be good for Ghost."

He licked his lips on his way to his chambers and felt a rush of heat at the taste of you lingering there. Not just Ghost he thought.

#cod #cod au #fanfic #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #mhairiwrites #tf 141 x reader #the tf141 x reader is implied more than actually present #one day I will learn how to write decent smut and then it is over for you bitches

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