#look!!! its another low effort gif from me!!!!!!

[valeskafics]

"Cherish" - Feyd Rautha x Wife!Reader

a/n: combined a request for pregnant!reader with feyd not wanting reader to leave the bed + feyd fluff 🩷

Summary: Feyd wishes to spend a while longer in bed with you, cherishing your time alone.

TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, pregnancy, pregnancy kink, breeding kink, oral f receiving, face sitting, lactation kink, creampie, p in v sex

Word Count: 1,250

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Dune characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

Mornings with Feyd are a struggle for one reason and one reason alone. Your husband despises it when you leave your shared bed. And it’s gotten even worse since Dr. Suk confirmed your delicate condition. Your and Feyd’s tireless efforts at conceiving a child have finally borne fruit. You’re pregnant, only two months from delivery now, in fact. You feel his arm wrapped around you, his hand caressing your growing belly. You smile at how protective he is of you and the little one, even in his sleep. And when you try to move out from under his arm, he lets out a low, annoyed hiss, almost like a cat that’s had its ball of yarn taken away from it.

“Stay.”

His words are a low rasp, one that has you smiling to yourself as you struggle to sit up, “It’s time for breakfast, my love.”

You bite back the moan building in your throat as he moves his hand lower, to the apex between your thighs, his breath hot against your ear as he murmurs, “But I have such a sweet little treat right here…”

You turn to face him, giving him a light swat against his bare chest. Not for the first time, you’re blown away by just how handsome your husband is, your heartbeat quickening at the sight of his angular face, those intense eyes peering at you, half-lidded with sleep. You lean in to press a kiss against his temple, moving your lips to brush against his jaw next.

“Good morning, my husband,” you breathe against his lips, feeling him smile against you.

You watch as Feyd sits up, his hand moving to your stomach, caressing it as he smiles gently, an expression that he reserves only for you, “How do you feel this morning?”

“Sleepy,” you admit, “My back was sore last night. It took me a while to fall asleep.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Feyd frowns, his hand moving to rest against your lower back, the gesture making your heart warm, “I could’ve stayed awake with you.”

“You were sleeping so peacefully…”

Feyd presses a finger to your lips, silencing you with a stern look, “Next time you experience even the slightest discomfort, I want you to wake me, little one.”

You roll your eyes, taking his hand in your own and pressing a kiss to his fingertip, smiling mischievously, “As you wish, my Lord Feyd.”

The serious expression on his face melts into something far more tender, a soft smile gracing his features as he leans in to press a kiss to your lips. Feyd lifts the fabric of your nightgown, pressing a kiss to your stomach next, whispering to the life growing inside of you.

“Good morning, little Leto.”

You beam at Feyd, pleased that he’s agreed to name your son after your beloved father. He chuckles as you pull him into another kiss, your lips moving desperately against his as he pulls you into his lap. It hasn’t escaped Feyd’s notice how much you seem to long for him in this vulnerable state, whether it be his protection, his affection, or the pleasure he’s content to give to you any morning, noon, or night. At this moment, it seems you’re interested in the latter, judging by how eagerly you’re palming at him over the fabric of his sleeping pants. Feyd shakes his head, grinning at you.

“Eager, wanton little baroness.”

“Cruel, selfish baron,” you pout, “Your wife requires your touch. Your care. She carries your son inside her womb and even now you seek to deny her?”

Feyd shakes his head, laying back and gazing up at you as you straddle his waist. You pull your nightgown over your head, baring your body to him. Your breasts are fuller than they were a few months ago, the sight of which has Feyd’s mouth watering. The sight of your swollen belly and the realization that it’s his child that grows inside of you has his cock growing painfully hard as you rub yourself against him. He moves his hands to caress your hips, moving down to your ass, giving you a playful slap as you ease yourself onto his cock. He lets out a low groan, rolling his hips against yours as you bounce up and down on him.

“You look so beautiful,” Feyd mumbles, his voice hazy with lust as he stares up at you, “Like a goddess. You ought to let me have a shrine built to you.”

“Only if you have one built for yourself beside me,” you murmur, brushing your lips against his with a smile, your hands resting on his chest, feeling each breath, the way each muscle moves, “My sweet, handsome husband. My lord.”

Feyd sits up on his elbows, taking one of your breasts in his mouth, suckling eagerly, letting your milk flow onto his tongue, the sweet taste making him eager for more. His lips are greedy, teeth nipping at your sensitive flesh as you continue bouncing up and down on his cock, feeling him hit the spot inside you that your fingers can never quite reach. When the flow from your right breast stops, he moves to your left, his palm moving up to squeeze and soothe you.

You reach your peak as he mouths at your breast, his hand holding your hips in place as he continues to take his fill, rutting up against you over and over and over until he spills himself inside you, watching his spend leak from your swollen cunt. But, he doesn’t seem to want this lazy morning together to be over.

“Sit on my face, little one,” Feyd rasps, pulling you in gently by the hips, “Let me taste you.”

You move up to do as he asks, rubbing your pearl against his nose as he laps at you eagerly, hands grasping at your thighs as you ride his face, the mixture of your arousal and his tasting tart yet not unpleasant on his tongue. Feyd thinks he could die a happy man like this, feasting on your sweet cunt, but he knows you would slap his chest and scold him if he ever said such a thing. That you’d threaten him if he ever even thought of dying before you. Perhaps the two of you will die together, he muses as you squeal his name, your thighs tremble as your fingers move against your swollen bud. Your bodies buried together on Giedi Prime, laid to rest in each other’s arms for all eternity. It’s macabre, but Feyd can’t think of anything more romantic.

After you reach your peak, Feyd is surprised when you move off of him, cuddling up against his side, pressing featherlight kisses along his jaw. You trace the tip of his nose, his cheekbones, down his chin to his neck, just smiling at him serenely. His breath catches in his throat at the tenderness in your touch, the genuine love in your eyes as you continue pressing kisses to his neck. His hand moves to your cheek, cupping it gently, his voice barely above a whisper as he speaks.

“I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”

You beam at him, radiant as ever, glowing as a woman in love does, “Oh, Feyd… It’s me who doesn’t deserve you. Let’s stay in bed a little longer, like you wanted.”

His heart soars as he wraps you in his arms, cherishing this moment where it’s only the two of you.

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen x you #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune x reader #dune x you #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd oneshot #my writing

[lessbienlesbian]

mizu x fem!reader

NSFW headcanons/drabble

this is my first time writing anything like this so uhh i hope y’all enjoy this filth. also, lmk if you want more writing about mizu. if you are not looking to see this type of content, please keep scrolling <3

it would take a significant amount of time and effort to form a close enough relationship with her for her to even consider having sex with you, as sex is representative of vulnerability, intimacy, and trust to her.

she would not be into having a one night stand or any other low commitment sexual encounters. her own libido and other worldly pleasures are not at all a priority to her, so it wouldn’t be worth jeopardizing the successful completion of her goal.

ok i don’t know if this is a controversial opinion but i think mizu is the biggest switch that ever switched.

when she is on top she loves to pin your arms above your head or to your sides as she trails kisses down your entire body.

she is such a tease, even when she doesn’t intend to be.

her persona completely shifts during intimate moments: her hardened exterior melts away, she becomes more communicative and playful, and when you’re pleasuring her she is just a complete mess for you.

she is very sensitive and it does not take much for her to come undone.

she is a bit possessive and protective over you but less in a toxic jealousy way and more in a “i can’t have another person betray me” way. she would try not to let that become super evident to you, but you kinda caught on just based on the amount of times she would whisper “mine” into your ear before absolutely ravishing you.

her boobs are super tender after she unbinds them so you have to be very gentle when touching them. this is definitely the only reason that you have to be gentle with them and its not also because one time you accidentally made her cum just from playing with her sensitive nipples ;)

ok i feel like i see everyone saying this but like i have to agree bc pussydrunk mizu? yeah. it just feels right.

she is a very loving partner

she loves to eat you out and not so secretly also loves for you to hold onto her hair while she does so

her face gets very flushed during sex and if you point that out to her she will 100% get even redder.

her first time topping:

even though she doesn’t know what she’s doing the first time she fucks you, she somehow goes straight for the clit, but she doesn’t collect any wetness from your soaking entrance. this increases the friction on your already throbbing nub so you cum super fast, but she just keeps going because she’s enjoying watching you so much. you get hella overstimulated and are a whimpering mess in her arms by the time she’s finished with you. if you ask her to stop she does immediately, but if you don’t, she just keeps going. delighted to have reduced you to a quivering mess on her first try, she looks at you with a shit-eating grin and adoration in her eyes before capturing your lips in another kiss. when she’s finished, she definitely asks “was that ok?” very earnestly and you’re like wtf mizu i just died and came back to life like yes that was definitely more than ok.

she is very vocal during sex, there’s lots of whimpers, groans, praises, and then also just straight up moaning. i also think that she would become more loose lipped during and after sex so she’d probably tell you that she loved you more frequently than usual.

“shit, please don’t stop”

“look at you, dripping for me already”

“your pussy is making such sloppy noises, is that all for me?”

she would absolutely be into praising you, especially in that low almost growly tone that she adopts at times.

“that’s it, just like that.”

“you’re doing so well for me.”

“fuck, you’re so pretty like this.”

“god, you make me feel so good”

she’s very cautious about location bc she doesn’t want to be found out

fingering because look at her hands hands hands hands she has very skilled hands very strong very careful fingers

i don’t think she would be into extremely rough/punishing sex. that’s not to say that she wouldn’t bring a certain intensity and exuberance to the table, but if she’s fucking you she actually likes you, and if she actually likes you then the worst she will do is give you the cold shoulder, playfully spar with you but not hard enough to intentionally injure you, make the occasional clueless insensitive comment, or tease you relentlessly. the rest of her life is made up almost entirely of violence so i think she wouldn’t want to bring that into her sex life as well. i do think that she would take her frustration out on you in other ways though.

oh hey speaking of taking her frustration out on you…overstimulation! after a particularly aggravating day she would turn her focus entirely onto you to get her mind off of things, just making you feel so good over and over almost until it’s too much. the two of you are very communicative during sex though so she is constantly checking in and asking if you’re ok.

sometimes she is so frustrated by her quest (or some bullshit that taigen or akemi just pulled) that she will take you to the nearest private place to fuck with a desperation and eagerness that doesn’t allow for either of you to get fully undressed.

she’d definitely be the type to push you against a wall and eat you out until you can barely stand

she’s a very quick learner and makes up for her inexperience with her energy and enthusiasm

#mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #bes mizu #mizu #mizu x you #blue eye samurai #mizu smut #bes mizu x reader #mizu x y/n #mizu x fem!reader #smut #bes smut

[eloquentreverie]

Hiiiii, can I request fem reader losing her virginity to protective, Nomad or End Game Steve please??? tysm!

𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: steve rogers x girlfriend! reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After a few months of dating, Steve's return home and newfound stability have created the perfect opportunity for you to consider taking your relationship with him to the next level.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, loss of virginity, little use of y/n, p in v sex, unprotected sex, established relationship. vaginal fingering (fem rec), oral sex (fem rec)

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫❜𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: I couldn't really make mind. So technically this is nomad!steve without the beard. I hope you like this anon. Haven't written this trope in awhile!

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐈𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐀𝐎𝟑

“I miss your beard,” she whispered against his lips, straddling his lap as she played with his longer hair, letting her hands run through the soft strands. “I know you had to grow it out when you were on the run but, I don’t know. I think you should grow it back, for me.” She pulled away slightly, pouting as she looked up at him.

Steve’s hands rested at her sides, rubbing soft little circles on her hips as he listened to her talk, a small smirk curling at the corners of his mouth.

“You like the beard, huh?” His smirk grew into a mischievous grin. “Why? Think it would feel good between your thighs?”

He caught her in another kiss before she had the chance to reply. His question made her stomach churn with butterflies as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She whimpered against his mouth as one hand traveled upward from her hip and stopped right on top of her left breast.

Steve grinned as he gently massaged her breast through the thin fabric of her t-shirt and the cotton of her bra. With his other hand, he gripped her hip again and firmly brought her closer to his lap, pressing himself flush against her warmth.

He ran his tongue over her bottom lip and moaned low when she parted her lips so that their tongues could swirl together. They didn’t get many nights like this alone, being the only two in her apartment since James had been called away by Natasha on some super-secret mission, but when they did finally have each other all to themselves, it was always mind-blowing.

Steve slowly began rocking his hips forward as they continued to kiss, making them both moan into each other’s mouths as friction built up between them.

He kissed across her jaw until he reached the base of her neck and sucked gently. She moaned softly before pulling away to look down at him. “Steve, I think I’m ready.”

When Steve looked up, the glazed lust had been replaced by sudden apprehension in her boyfriend’s baby blues. “Ready?”

A slow smile spread across her face. “Mmmhmm. All the way this time.” She leaned down to nip at his lips before kissing him deeply.

Steve returned the kiss slowly, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her body even closer to his. His other hand left her breast and slid underneath the hem of her t-shirt. It traced soft patterns on her back before working its way higher, fingers skimming along the strap of her bra.

Steve pulled away again, his hand cupping the side of her cheek. “Are you sure you’re ready for this? I don’t want to pressure you.”

She nodded with a small smile, leaning forward to kiss him briefly. “I’m ready,” she reassured him, her hand gripping at the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

Steve hummed into the next kiss, and then he stood suddenly, picking her up with him. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, feeling dizzy from the change of position and from his kisses. He kept a strong hold of her and carried her through her bedroom door.

As soon as they entered, Steve sat on the bed with her in his lap, not parting their kiss for a single moment. She grinned against his mouth, loving when he displayed his super soldier strength and just picked her up without effort.

She rocked her hips, rubbing her heat over the front of his pants, causing them both to groan loudly. He smiled against her lips before pulling away. “I love how eager you are. But before we go any further, tell me what you like?”

Y/N stared at him blankly. Steve pressed a sweet kiss to her lips.

“What do you like? What do you want me to do to you?” He kissed her nose as her expression softened. “What kind of touch do you like? Do you like soft or rough? Gentle or hard?” A soft chuckle escaped his throat. “Tell me how you want it, sweetheart. I’ll give it to you however you like.”

Her cheeks burned, knowing there was no option but to be honest with Steve. Her boyfriend wasn’t known for backing down until he had gotten the most information possible on a subject; she had always appreciated his dedication to preparation and research when they were in situations where it could cost them their lives.

But having sex with Steve Rogers was on another level of anxiety-inducing. “I, um... I like it hard,” she mumbled bashfully, looking away.

Steve kissed the side of her head tenderly before reaching up to tangle his fingers into her hair and bring her gaze back to meet his. “Hard?” he asked, an amused grin lighting up his face. “That can mean lots of things. Tell me more.”

Her cheeks heated even more, creeping down onto her neck and chest, and Steve kissed her sweetly once again, nibbling on her lower lip before pulling away. “Well, I’m not sure since this is my first time...” she replied awkwardly, letting the sentence hang in the air.

“So, I’ll show you,” he murmured in her ear, sending shivers down her spine as she clung tighter to him, her hands gripping his shirt. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal, you know. We’ll figure out what you like. Alright?”

She nodded, relaxing slightly as she looked at him.

Steve’s gaze seemed darker than usual as he leaned forward to brush his lips against hers. “If you’re nervous, we can start slow. I’ll keep going, okay?” His voice was soft and reassuring. She felt butterflies stir once more as she thought about him continuing whatever he had in store.

She wanted so badly to let herself just let go and enjoy his attention, to give all of her to him without any barriers between them. Her entire body was quivering in anticipation and the desire for release, and she didn’t want to waste any more time. She trusted him so much that she felt like she was on cloud nine. “Okay,” she finally said.

His lips grazed against her jawline again. “Then relax,” he breathed against the sensitive skin there before nibbling lightly on the flesh, drawing out an involuntary gasp.

“You’ve already loosened up so nicely. Just feel.”

And then Steve began his ministrations, his mouth traveling slowly down her neck before leaving open-mouthed kisses along her collarbones and chest, alternating between light sucks and gentle bites as he worked his way from one shoulder to the other. He leaned back slightly, taking off her shirt as his eyes met hers.

When he did, she swore she saw sparks dancing in his gaze as they scanned her body. She tried to stay calm while watching his movements closely, though she couldn’t help shivering under the intensity of his stare.

He gradually slipped out of the rest of his clothes until the two of them were just in their underwear. “Let’s begin.” His voice sounded smooth and controlled, but he was smiling devilishly up at her. She whimpered at the loss of contact and buried her face into his chest.

“Trust me.”

He gently pushed her back on the bed as he hovered above her, his lips trailing kisses down her neck once more. As if he was trying to memorize every dip, curve, or mark on her skin. His hands stroked up and down her sides and over her hips as his kisses continued down her chest, past her breasts and towards her navel.

He paused when he reached the line of her panties before dipping lower to pepper kisses at the tops of her thighs, using his teeth to scrape over her soft skin lightly, which made her legs twitch slightly. He smirked against her skin and repeated the action a few times until her leg trembled involuntarily again. “Steve,” she breathed.

Steve chuckled softly as his hand brushed across her clit. “I like the way you say my name, sweetheart,” he mumbled, before continuing to leave burning kisses on her skin. “Say it again.” His hand slid beneath the material of her panties, and his fingers spread to cup her completely, holding her heat right there.

She couldn’t stop a soft gasp from escaping as his middle finger slipped between the folds, rubbing slow circles around the sensitive bud.

“Stevie!” she moaned softly, arching her back up slightly against the touch of his hand, and his breath fanned over her hot, slick center. He dipped his tongue between her folds, licking broadly at her clit.

Her hands gripped tightly at the blankets underneath her as she gasped. The pleasure was intense, overwhelming, and completely unlike anything she had ever felt. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with herself, so she stayed perfectly still.

The sensation continued to build as he licked and sucked her sensitive flesh into his mouth, sucking her clit between his lips, applying the slightest amount of pressure against the bundle of nerves.

He curled his finger inside of her, stroking over her g-spot before adding a second finger. She bucked her hips upwards against his face.

“Oh god... oh god, Stevie! I’m... oh god I think I’m gonna c—” Her words cut off in a loud cry as a wave of ecstasy swept through her body, sending goosebumps along her limbs.

He smiled against her soaked heat as he licked up and down her slit, tasting her wetness before pressing a kiss to her swollen clit. “That’s it, baby. Give me all of it,” he encouraged with a sly smirk before lowering his face between her thighs again and lapping eagerly at her soaked entrance.

After she came down from her high and her body relaxed, his lips pressed another kiss to her sex before pulling away. “Do you want to continue?” He crawled up the bed until he hovered over her.

She nodded, wrapping her arms around her neck. “Yes. I want you inside me,” she whispered, biting her bottom lip. Steve gazed at her for a long moment, his eyes dark and predatory as he looked her up and down, seeming to decide whether he should deny her wish or give her everything she wanted. She hoped he would give in because she definitely needed him at this point. “Please,” she begged. “I need you.”

Steve gave her a soft smile, reaching out to trace his finger down her nose gently. “Okay.”

She sighed contently and grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers together, letting her thumb stroke the side of his palm. “I promise to go slow. Let me know if I’m hurting you, alright?”

She nodded again as she stared up at him, taking note of how beautiful he was in this lighting as the soft yellow light of the sunset washed over his skin and shone in his bright blue eyes. The shadows danced along his face, accentuating his jaw and cheekbones. She reached her free hand up, cupping his cheek. “Thank you for this.”

He turned his head to press a kiss to her palm, his eyes locked on hers as he smiled. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

Her heart thudded excitedly, and she tugged on his hand, pulling him closer to her until their bodies lined up together and her bare breasts brushed against his chest.

Their mouths met again, kissing slowly, exploring every inch of the other person’s mouth. When they finally broke apart, they were panting heavily as their eyes met, gazing hungrily at each other.

“I want you, Stevie. Please.”

Steve nodded once, leaning down to brush his nose against hers. “My pleasure,” he murmured softly.

Y/N shifted slightly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he aligned his length against her dripping core and sank his cock inside of her slowly, inch by delicious inch. She squeezed around him, desperate for friction, as he buried his face into her neck and groaned.

His thrusts started off shallow, keeping the pace slow and steady. She clung tight to his body, nails digging into his skin, wanting so badly to make him move faster. “Fuck. Oh fuck. Faster please, I wanna feel you.”

Steve grunted as he lifted his head up from her shoulder. “Patience, baby. I got you.” He kissed her again and quickened the pace of his thrusts. His tongue stroked lazily over hers and she couldn’t help but whimper against his mouth at the sensation of his cock sliding in and out of her wet heat.

Her toes curled. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside of her as she met each thrust with her own hips. His breaths were heavy and hot on her neck and cheek, making her shiver at the feeling.

His rhythmic movement and the constant stimulation had her walls pulsing around his hardness, clenching down on him like a vice. The feeling was almost overwhelming, almost painful, but unbelievably incredible all at once.

She moaned, throwing her head back as she dug her heels into his lower back, pressing him forward, urging him to go even harder. He obliged with ease, slamming into her repeatedly, his hips moving with a fluid motion. She felt another orgasm building fast within her as he kept pounding against her G-spot. She cried out, gasping as she clung desperately to his shoulders.

They both moaned as they climaxed together, bodies writhing and shuddering together while waves of bliss crashed over them. Steve rested his forehead against hers as he panted, peppering sweet kisses across her face.

Once they caught their breath, Steve pulled out of her and rolled off of her, lying next to her on his side. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer so she could now feel his body heat against her skin. “How do you feel, honey?” he whispered, pressing a chaste kiss on her temple.

“Happy,” she replied immediately, snuggling into his embrace. Her chest felt like it was full of helium and about to float away. It was such a satisfying feeling; this contentment, this relief at finally having done something she’d been wanting to do for months. Finally, being intimate with her boyfriend after all this time. A satisfied smile spread across her lips. “I love you.”

Steve placed a hand under her chin, lifting her head up to meet his gaze. They locked eyes, their breathing heavy and ragged as they stared deep into each other’s souls. “You’re amazing,” he sighed. “Beautiful. Perfect in every way.” He captured her bottom lip between his teeth, gently sucking on the swollen flesh. “And I love you too.”

As their eyes closed, his arms wrapped around her, cradling her body tightly against his, holding her protectively and securely as he whispered sweet praises to her. “Perfect, sweetheart, perfect... absolutely magnificent.”

He ran his hands down her sides, gripping her hips tightly before bringing one of them to cup her ass possessively. Her eyes shot open as she gasped in surprise at the sudden gesture, his words only further exciting her.

“What are you doing?” She asked, laughing softly.

Steve didn’t reply. Instead, he simply stared deeply into her eyes, his pupils blown wide with lust. His gaze flicked between her face and her chest, seemingly torn between which part of her he wanted to look at more intensely.

His nostrils flared slightly, a small hint of pink coloring his cheeks as he watched her intently. His eyebrows furrowed slightly, furiously blinking away whatever thoughts crossed his mind, struggling to regain control.

As he watched her carefully, his jaw clenched as if fighting a primal urge to take her once again. She squirmed in place, feeling self-conscious under his intense gaze, wishing he would stop staring so fiercely at her.

Slowly, he inched closer to her until his forehead touched against hers. His eyes fell closed, his breathing steady as he inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of her perfume, her sweat, her musk. Her fingers found themselves threading through his golden locks, tracing delicate patterns through them as his warm breath tickled her nose and cheeks.

“I’m glad you’re my first,” she mumbled, voice husky with sleep, breaking their silence. Steve chuckled lowly, raising a hand to caress the side of her face.

He pressed a tender kiss to her lips before laying his head back down on his pillow. “Me too, sweetheart. Go to sleep. We can talk in the morning about what just happened here.”

She giggled tiredly before burying herself into the crook of his neck. “Just promise me one thing, okay? Promise you’ll consider growing back the beard? I miss it.” He laughed.

Steve held her close, running his fingers through her hair soothingly. As the minutes ticked by, Y/N found her eyes growing heavier and heavier until they eventually fluttered closed.

And as she drifted off to dreamland, she swore she heard Steve whisper something softly in her ear before slipping into unconsciousness. “Anything for my darling.”

#steve rogers #chris evans #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers smut #smut and fluff #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #captain america #mywriting #requests.

[theres-a-body-here]

Would love a male reader being face fucked by the oni from dbd and then after he cums he pisses down the readers throat. You said nasty lol

The Oni x Male!reader

In the beginning, your relationship with The Oni was strained – to put it mildly.

To be blunt, you two were worse than Laurie and Michael.

Kazan would tunnel you during trials, making sure you were certainly dead before he could even fathom focusing on anything else.

And in return, you did everything in your power to deny him hooks. Flashlight saves, pallets, and plenty of For The People with Buckle Up.

However, as time went on, the dynamic shifted. What had once been hatred began to morph into something resembling rivalry, albeit still laced with animosity. Maybe it was because the both of you are stubborn, prideful, and anger-filled men who refused to give up easily.

Eventually, though neither of you could pinpoint exactly when or why, that simmering antagonism blossomed into an alluring attraction that neither party could ignore nor resist.

It wasn't uncommon for you to be seen sneaking off from the campfire to visit Kazan in his realm. At first it was just to tease him, but that evolved to sitting close to one another in silence.

Again, maybe it was because you two were so alike in temperament that the next jump was so large, because it rapidly switched from taking in each other's presence to full on casual sex. This is pretty impressive considering you can't speak Japanese and he can't speak English.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kazan stood above you, his towering figure casting a shadow upon you as you knelt on the old futon in his home. His erect blue member was right in your face as it twitched in anticipation.

Gently cupping your face in his hand, Kazan pressed the tip of his hardened member against your lips and traced them with it. You took a sniff smelling how hot and musky with sweat his cock was.

"さあ、小さな獲物よ...大きく開いてください。," he said, his voice thick with desire.

You felt your pants tighten at the sound of his voice, even though you didn't understand what he said. "I don't know what you said, but it's making me horny," you confessed, unable to resist pressing a tender kiss onto the slimy crown of his erection.

A low growl escaped from beneath Kazan's mask as he pushed the head of his penis between your eager lips, seeking entrance. You parted your lips to allow him to slip inside, taking the first few inches into your warm mouth.

"いい子..." he cooed softly as he reached down to pat your head affectionately.

Slowly yet surely, Kazan began to slide deeper into your welcoming mouth, the girth of his shaft stretching your throat until you found yourself gagging and choking on its sheer size.

Still, you continued to take him in, determined to not look like an inexperienced virgin

"そうか、お気に入りのものですね。," he murmured approvingly, seemingly pleased by your efforts. He continued to stroke your head lovingly, encouraging you to take even more of his length.

Eventually, Kazan extracted his pulsing cock from your bruised throat, leaving you breathless and craving more.

As he gazed down at you with an intensity that bordered on ferocity, he spoke once again in a low, tender voice, "あなたの顔をファックしてもいいですか？"

Despite not knowing Japanese, there was no mistaking the questioning inflection in his voice.

You decide to take a leap of faith and nod your head. "Yeah....sure," you coughed out as you tried to guess what you agreed to.

Your bold response brought a hint of amusement to Kazan's eyes, hidden behind his Oni mask. Ruffling your hair fondly, he readied himself once more, aligning his rigid cock with your swollen lips.

In one smooth motion, Kazan plunged his monstrous cock deep into your open mouth, feeling it glide effortlessly down your now looser throat.

Before you had time to think about the nature of Kazan's request, he seized hold of either side of your head, effectively pinning you in place. Then, with an animalistic growl, he commenced to roughly thrust his hips forward, driving his cock deep into your helpless throat.

Each brutal thrust left you gasping for air, tears streaming down your cheeks as you struggled to keep pace with his unforgiving rhythm.

You wrapped your trembling fingers around Kazan's thick thighs, digging your nails into his skin.

The impact of his heavy balls against your chin grew increasingly violent. With each passing second, he sped up, turning your mouth into nothing more than a fleshlight.

Abruptly ceasing his relentless assault, Kazan held still, burying his cock deep inside your gasping throat. Silver pubes tickled your nostrils as you fought desperately for air. Through strained breaths, he whispered in a low tone ,"とても可愛い男の子 ."

Once more, Kazan resumed his violent pounding, forcing your head back so he could look directly into your glassy eyes. You felt his cock throb against your sore throat walls as it slid in and out of your mouth.

Rivulets of drool and precum trickled down your chin. Amused by your vacant expression, he let out a low chuckle.

Kazan tightened his grip on your skull, his fingers practically sinking into your flesh. Growling deep in his throat, he exclaimed, "すごく激しく射精するよ."

With a few final, powerful thrusts, Kazan drove himself deep inside your eager mouth, holding himself there as he began to release his load. Wave after wave of hot cum flooded your throat as his cock throbbed and twitched with every spurt

Determined to take every last drop, you swallowed as much cum as possible, but it proved too much for your struggling throat. Unable to contain it all, some of the excess semen leaked out of your nose, causing you to splutter and gag.

You manage to swallow most of it as Kazan pulls his cock out, becoming softer. You open your mouth, showing him. Kazan lets out an approving rumble from his chest as he holds your tongue between his pointer finger and thumb to inspect your mouth.

"良い子だよ。これはあなたのご褒美です," he says in a soft low voice.

Cupping your chin gently, he guided the tip of his now flaccid penis back into your mouth, then began to urinate.

Clamping your lips tightly around his member, you drank greedily as he continued to empty his bladder into your mouth. Every swallow sent warmth coursing down your esophagus.

As you drank, Kazan reached down to pat your head affectionately, taking pleasure in watching you consume every last drop of his urine.

Finally, he pulled out of your mouth before tucking his cock away. Sitting down behind you on the futon, he released a contented groan, his body relaxing from the recent exertion.

Pulling you closer, Kazan pressed his masked face against your exposed neck, inhaling deeply as he took in your scent. His calloused hands roamed across your distended stomach, feeling the contents of his seed and urine slosh beneath the surface.

#dbd x reader #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight #omorashi #piss kink #pee kink #pee drinking #facefucked #cumswallow #dbd #kazan yamaoka x reader #kazan yamaoka #kazan x reader #the oni x reader #the oni dbd #male!reader #male reader #rough kink #omo

[garoujo]

・✶ ｡ﾟnagi thinks you look so pretty when you’re crying on the end of his cock.

♱ warnings: f!reader, a little dacryphilia, multiple orgazms, overstimulation, nagi is a needy baby, all characters aged up to 22+ / note: i’ve not written in so long so this probably sucks, but i hav loads coming so bare w me <3 ive missed him !

the first time nagi sees you cry on the end of his cock he feels like he might pass out, the starry-eyed wet look you send him, the way you’re hiccuping through pants of his name as your nails leave raised scratches along the ivory planes of his shoulders.

his skin feels sticky, sweaty as his huge body curls over yours — pressing you deeper into the pillows as his hips rock into you, pushing his heavy cock against the swollen, sweet spots inside of you that make your nerves sing with every grind.

nagi feels like he can barely breathe, think when he looks down at you beneath him — so lost in a haze of pleasure and him as pretty crystalline tears gather along your lashes. it was rare for him to find something that wants him to put in this much effort, to push his body to its limit — to push yours along with it.

“angel..” he mumbles, long and low before hes leaning into kiss you, drinking in the hiccuped little whimpers that pour from your pouty lips as he grinds his cock even deeper. he can taste the salt from your tears as they fall across your cheeks and he can’t help the way he groans, whimpers as he savours it on his tongue before dragging it along your own.

“f-fuck— quit looking so cute, pretty thing.. ‘ts no fair, g’nna make me cum again.” nagi’s words are breathless as he buries them into the kiss, feeling your walls tremble and quiver around him at the praise, like you’re begging him for another release that he’s more than willing to give you.

every slow draw back of his hips is deliberate, making his hips stutter when he feels you squeeze around him even tighter in response — desperate to lure him back into your walls, to dig another load out of him despite the way the sinful hug of your body already has him drowsy, breathing deep and fucked out when the kiss breaks wet and he whimpers.

“can—ah, can gimme more sei. please~” fuck, you know nagi can never say no to you, not when your voice breaks underneath the weight of your arousal, when it takes a pitch higher with your next wet look — he’d even let you overwrite his save data on every game ever if you asked right now, anything to have you squeezing around his cock again.

the pace he sets isn’t fast, but every thrust is driven by the weight of his heavy physique and you feel his hands tremble where they squeeze at your waist, palming at your body as he struggles to keep a grip on his own sanity. he buries his face in the crook of your neck as he fucks into you, every back and forth stutter of his hips making him shudder with the sensitivity he still feels.

“eh, jus’ be patient w’ me, pretty thing — ‘m tired. g’nna give you more jus’ feels too good right now, s-such a pain.” nagi slurs with his words as he smears wet, drooled kisses along the dip of your shoulder. his tone wavers with how drunk he feels on your body, the head of his cock hot and sensitive with how much cum you’ve already milked from him — his body trembling with every wet connection of his hips with yours.

he pulls back when he hears you moan, the sound breaking into a hiccup with a particularly deep kiss of his cock as you send him a pretty, pliant look. tears smear down your already wet cheeks until he’s almost crumbling on top of you, lips tracing the trails the crystalline drops have followed.

“ah—w-what a pain. lemme give you one more first.” nagi’s body claps against yours as he loses himself in the needy push and pull of your cunt, desperate to dig another orgasm out of you as your glassy-eyes close with the sudden bliss.

it’s eager, messy and needy the way he sinks into your plush walls, taking a slow, ragged breath when a new set of tears follow the trail of the last across your skin. your clenching tighter as you try to meet his thrusts, making his pace stutter before the overstimulation has him pressing you deep into the mattress beneath you as his groans take a breathier, whinier pitch.

“please, wanna feel you w’ me, come on.” nagi’s voice wavers with his own plea, feeling your fingers tremble with his words as they drag along his shoulders and you’re already so sensitive that it doesn’t take much. his pelvis grinds against your clit suddenly, making you melt underneath him before your lips part to sob with how good it feels, how good he feels like a sweet little reply as you cum, squeezing unbearably tight around his sensitive cock until he’s following you off the edge.

his body crumbles as his chest falls against yours, his orgasm hitting him so hard and good he can barely hold himself up as his drowsy gaze rolls back, whimpering as you grab and scratch at his skin while he spills into you for the nth time.

nagi’s hips press flush against the own as his body almost quakes, every grind of the blunt head of his cock making you whimper as his head falls back into its place in the crook of your neck. but every still milking compression only makes him press even deeper as he thrusts shallowly, heavy cock twitching and softening as you both breathe deep.

“how many more, pretty thing? changed my mind, not tired yet.”

© 2022 garoujo. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

#݁ . ࿓ : sealed #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #blue lock x you #bllk x reader #bllk smut #bllk x you #nagi x reader #nagi smut #nagi x you #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro smut #nagi seishiro x you

[endless-ineffabilities]

the aftermath

Aemond Targaryen x f!Reader

part four of the prūmia va perzys (heart on fire) series

part one: don't you love me? - part two: and what of your love? - part three: the flames that divide -- part five: never tear us apart

themes: injury, violence (choking/assault), language, dragonrider!reader (her house is not stated)

word count: 3.7k ▪︎ masterlist

The reader is left comatose after the curse inflicted by Alys Rivers. Daemon and the rest of the Blacks are determined to set things right. Aemond finally learns of what happened, and makes sure that the guilty pays the price.

The gillyflower lies on the round desk in the middle of your chambers.

It has been three days since its arrival, and devoid of the solace of its earth, it has inevitably began to wilt.

Rhaenyra had been the one to pull it from the box in which it arrived, for its intended recipient lies unconscious on the bed. She comes back to check on you each day, opening the windows to let the morning air in. The ladies-in-waiting tend to you, running warm cloth over your face and body, cleaning and replacing the healing ointment on your injuries.

It has been nearly a week since the tragic incident, which still remains unexplained by everyone. You had sustained treatable injuries, including a broken leg and wrist, but you were also left comatose, after hitting your head in the fall. Thankfully, in a desperate effort by your dragon Fyraxes, the blow was softened as she did her best to minimize the impact in her final moments. She is afflicted with a similar condition, yet to wake again, just like you.

The door to your chambers flies open, and in enters Daemon followed by the maester. He has also been a steady visitor, making sure that all measures are taken toward your recovery. He had been the one to take you back to Dragonstone on Caraxes. Jace stayed behind with Vermax in Horn Hill to watch over Fyraxes, awaiting Baela on Moondancer to help carry her back on makeshift mesh netting.

Daemon’s rough hands carry an ebony box, and he need not open it to determine its contents. It’s the usual one, sent by your lover. He sets it down on the desk. It is left adjacent to the one previously sent, the contents of which have already grown much fainter in vibrance.

Gillyflower. Yet again. In its usual shades of red and violet. A secret call, another attempt to coax you back into his arms.

He knew nothing of what happened. If he did, it would only be reasonable to assume that Alys Rivers would take the brunt of his wrath.

If Aemond only knew, then there is nothing in this world that he wouldn’t burn to reach you.

Daemon’s low spirits intensify as he observes you, lying supine and unmoving in the room. He hates not understanding your affliction. This never should have happened; something clearly isn’t right. Both you and Fyraxes showed no sign of any ailment prior to the incident, and nothing could have overtaken you that quickly. You were laughing one second, and gone to the world the next.

He is determined to see this right. Daemon needed you to be well, as he’s grown to see you as a kind of younger sister, someone he would protect at all costs. And he couldn’t. He couldn’t even fucking fly his dragon fast enough to save you from the fall.

“Well?” Daemon irately questions the maester who looks over you, yet again, “you wanted to say something? Speak it plainly, then. If you have any idea at all as to how we can help her, hold nothing back or I will make sure you regret it.”

“My prince, it is hard to say-”

“Say it.”

“It is only a matter of possibility. A mere assumption. I, myself, do not claim to have any determinate method to confirm this, but the lady y/n may have been targeted with dark magic.”

Daemon pauses, not expecting those words from the maester. Dark magic? “Do make it clear how exactly you arrived at this assumption.”

“Well, if I may show you,” the master lifts your hand, palm upwards, beckoning to Daemon, “if one has been targeted by a spell or an incantation of sorts, it tends to leave a mark.” He traces the lines on your palm, “As you can see, the creases on her palm have been tinged with a shade of maroon. It is almost hard to distinguish, unless studied closely.”

Daemon lowers his head to detect the traces of this on your palm, as the maester continues, “There are records of similar traces from victims of such witchcraft in our histories. One being a lord who was seemingly branded with a murky red contusion on his back, and another lady whose iris morphed into a similar colour. A telltale sign of the work of someone who practices the religion of R’hllor. A disgrace to the one, true religion of the Seven, if I do say so mys-”

Daemon straightens, a fit of rage starting to resurface, "This must be the work of someone from the fucking Greens. It has to be. We must question any known priest or priestess from this Red religion. Anyone who might have any idea about the doings of these bloody witches," his lips curl in distaste, "Immediately."

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

Aemond sits at the edge of the bed. The very same one that you shared nearly a fortnight ago. In this familiar cabin, in your secret field, he waits. He has been waiting for several hours, as he had waited several days ago.

And yet, you are nowhere to be seen.

The gillyflower must have reached you. He made sure that it would not be intercepted on its way to Dragonstone. It must have arrived in your chambers, for your immediate notice.

So where are you? When you did not arrive several days prior, Aemond tried to let it pass. You must have been preoccupied with other pressing matters. You are a trusted ally in the Black Council, after all, with your own duties to fulfill.

But again, you have yet to make your presence known. You have yet to come home to Aemond’s arms, where you belong. He tries not to worry, not to let it get to his head. Perhaps, it’s the same case. You must be occupied, or sent on an envoy to one of your allies. There must be a reason that would justify your absence. Surely, you would not choose to simply ignore him, ignore the constant arrival of gillyflower to your chambers.

He lets his fingers drift across the sheets, going over the memory of the both of you entangled in them. It’s been too long, and he’s just gotten you back. There is no way in seven hells that he would let another separation linger between you and him.

Perhaps it’s time to leave. His entire being pulls him toward staying in the cabin, perhaps just a little while longer. Just another minute, or another hour even. Maybe then, maybe you…

Out in the hills, Vhagar huffs impatiently. She feels distraught, struggling to maintain a sense of calm, mirroring her rider’s exact sentiments. Vhagar and Aemond have always been attuned to each other in this way, which has also led to the largest dragon’s affinity for you. She watches Aemond walking back to her, stone-faced and looking downcast. He certainly did not get what he came for. Silently, he clambers up onto Vhagar, and sits back, assessing the field and the skies. Trying to catch a glimpse of your arrival. Anything at all. Even a raven that holds a letter to explain your absence.

He's not certain how much more time passes, as he sits atop Vhagar. The dragon shuffles slightly, pulling him out of his thoughts. In a huff, he makes a split decision, voice sounding agitated, “Ivestragī's jikagon. Sōvegon.” Let’s go. Fly.

The field is enveloped in a massive gust of wind, grass and gillyflower whipped about in a flourish. Gravel and dirt are spread out from where Vhagar took off. Back in the cabin, candles are left lit around the room, casting a warm glow in the emptiness. The entire place - the field, the cabin, the skies above – seems to have lost its wonder, its defining spark, without the star-crossed lovers who have made it their home.

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

Rhaenyra Targaryen’s sworn knights escort a woman into the great, looming hall in Dragonstone. The elderly woman walks with dignity, her head held high, her modest red dress billowing slightly as she strides. The queen and Prince Daemon finally take notice of her, as the maester walks forward to announce her arrival.

“My Queen, my Prince, might I present the Lady Cerrah. She hails from Essos, but she currently resides in the Riverlands, in the employ of our ally, House Tully.”

“They have a fucking witch in their employ?” Daemon doesn’t mince his words, as always, eager to get on with the interrogation.

“My queen,” she bows her head in obeisance, before adding in response, “I am a respected healer in House Tully, Prince Daemon, and I do not appreciate your tone.”

Rhaenyra gives her consort a sideward look, advising him to take caution, “We welcome you to Dragonstone, Lady Cerrah. I suppose you have been informed of why you have been summoned?”

“Summoned?” The lady’s voice is shrill, disbelieving, “I was plucked out of my chambers in the middle of the night and dragged out here in a pathetic carriage-”

“You should consider yourself fortunate that you weren’t put in chains, witch.” Daemon snaps, “This is a matter of urgency, so the sooner you answer our questions, the sooner we can be rid of each other’s presence.”

Lady Cerrah doesn’t recoil at Daemon’s tone, already accustomed to men approaching her in a brutish manner, without any effort made to hide their prejudice. “The maester has already informed me of the Lady Y/n’s condition, and I’m afraid he is not mistaken. This is the work of a priestess, and quite the powerful one, might I add.”

Rhaenyra proceeds in a practiced, diplomatic manner, “We have reason to suspect that this might be the work of someone from the Greens. Perhaps they too, have a priestess such as you, my lady, in their company.”

The priestess does not appreciate having to be a mere tool, her religion clearly viewed as lesser by these nobles, “And? What do you require of me? The name of everyone who might potentially be a priestess who sided with the Greens?”

“Just one name would suffice. The name of the cunt who put a curse of Lady Y/n and her dragon,” Daemon fiercely says, matching Lady Cerrah’s derision, “Whoever they are, they’re likely to be under the command of the Hightowers, or any of the traitors in King’s Landing.”

Rhaenyra interjects, “Daemon, we can’t be certain-” but her husband does not cease his tirade.

“It must be. Do you know of any priest or priestess who may currently be in King’s Landing?”

“We followers of the Lord of Light know better than to be under the direct control of any of you Targaryens,” Lady Cerrah sneers, “You only seek to bring about the downfall of the Seven Kingdoms, simply because you wage war amongst yourselves.”

Just before Daemon angrily speaks up, Rhaenyra is quick to implore, in a comparably calmer tone, “I do not wish to antagonize you, my lady, and if you felt as if you were not properly treated as you were brought here, then I offer my apology.  But the Lady Y/n is quite dear to me, and to all of us. She is more than just an ally; she is my family.” At that, Daemon can’t help but sullenly nod in agreement. Rhaenyra continues, “If you know of anyone who might be rightfully suspected of harming her, then speak their name.”

Despite Lady Cerrah’s resistance, the queen’s genuine sincerity was something she could not ignore. She speaks again, her voice softer, “In King’s Landing, you say? Well, I suppose there is someone who is close enough to the royals, that it is likely her faith is being utilized to their advantage,” she pauses, making up her mind, “You must have heard of Alys Rivers. The consort…well, former consort of Prince Aemond Targaryen. She is the daughter of a devout follower of the Lord of Light, a true priestess who devoted her life to the faith. I came across her mother several times in our youth, before she was impregnated by the late Lord Strong.”

Daemon’s blood runs cold. He mouths slowly, “Alys Rivers is a fucking witch.” If she had anything to do with this, then it must only be at the behest of his nephew, and Daemon knowingly let you go to him. I let her go to him, to that fucking traitor, and now she lies unconscious, her fate uncertain.

Rhaenyra and Daemon share a knowing look, both aware of your history with Prince Aemond.

“Thank you, my lady,” Rhaenyra says, “That will be all for now. You will be given your own chambers during your stay here. Clear the room,” she hurriedly commands her loyal knights.

Before she is ushered away, the priestess adds, moved by the queen’s grace, “My queen, I wish to express my regret for what happened to the Lady Y/n. I shall look over my texts, and see if there is anything I can do.”

The room has just been emptied, before Daemon angrily speaks, "That one-eyed cunt shall pay for what he's done to her. He clearly has not learned his lesson after-"

Rhaenyra stops him with a single look, and Daemon knows better than to bring up the subject of her second son.

"If this is all Prince Aemond's doing, then why does he persist in sending gillyflower to her, in hopes that she might meet him? It does not seem like he's aware of her condition."

"It must be a trap," Daemon asserts, "or a diversion. To make it look like he's innocent in all this-"

"Daemon, you said so yourself that you believe them to truly care for one another. This is why you let her go to him. If that is true, then Aemond would not have done this."

"Well, perhaps I thought wrong," Daemon hissed, "If Alys Rivers is a priestess, then her connection with Aemond would deem her most likely guilty of the fucking curse our Y/n was put under."

Rhaenyra reaches for Daemon's hand, attempting to ease his agitation, "She will make it through this, Daemon. She's a fighter, always has been."

"I know she will," Daemon mutters, "but Alys Rivers must be dealt with, and I know just the way to see this done."

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

Aemond absentmindedly plays with the sapphire-blue stone ball in the symbolic round dish set before him. His mind is elsewhere, fixated on you. The other members of the Green Council drawl on, and his mother Alicent’s expression grows dimmer as she sits at the head of the table. The proclaimed King himself is once again absent from the council meeting, no longer a surprise to anyone, for it was always clear that the Hightowers have been the ones to maneuver the plans of war. Figureheads in the shadows who are actually running the Seven Kingdoms.

Ser Tyland Lannister drawls on about the need for more resources in some battle, which of course, Casterly Rock would be more than happy to provide. Not unusual of their House which constantly leeches off of the power of the Iron Throne, through favours and self-serving flattery. Tyland poorly hides his annoyance when  Jasper Wylde interrupts, who claims to have good news from the Greens’ network of spies.

“Word has reached us that a very important player in this game for the Blacks has suffered a grave injury. As luck would have it, her dragon is in the same condition. The Lady Y/n is rumoured to be lying unconscious, and it is uncertain whether she will ever wake.”

Aemond freezes completely. His stomach twists and a sense of nausea threatens him, his eyes widening in shock. Rage quickly follows, when he replays what Jasper has just reported, his increasingly grating voice a mere echo in the background.

… suffered a grave injury… rumoured to be lying unconscious… It is uncertain whether she will ever wake.

“Wonderful news, dare I say!” the bumbling Lannister exclaims, unaware of the inner turmoil about to be unleashed from the Targaryen prince across the table, “And she rides one of their largest dragons, doesn’t she? A true loss for the Blacks, so this should…”

Alicent grows aware of her son’s distress, of his fist turning bone-white, tightening around the blue stone ball, “Aemond,” she implores, “Aemond, don’t-”

Tyland Lannister drones on, “…be a cause for celebration. But we should also make haste in considering our next-”

Gasps erupt around the table. Silence falls. Tyland Lannister’s speech was effectively halted by the same symbolic sphere, that shining blue implement, hurled from Aemond’s fist to his mouth.

The council members look from their prince to the Lannister, who stands in shock. His quivering hand covers his mouth, but blood has already begun to seep through his fingers. He makes a gurgling noise, and keels over, spitting a heavy clod of blood and several of his teeth on the stone floor.

“Fuck!” Tyland yells, muffled by the damage done, “You…you utter cunt…”

“Careful how you address your prince, Ser,” Ser Criston threatens from the side of the room.

Aemond stands tall, dominating the room with his silent, burning wrath. Lips tightened, jaw tense, fists curled at his sides. The very image of a dragon prepared to bring about destruction with his fire. He makes no move to excuse his action, and does not offer any semblance of an apology, both in word and in his expression.

Alicent is quick to act, fearing further escalation into violence, especially due to her son. “My lords, I must declare this council meeting over. We shall discuss any proceedings on the morrow.”

“What of… of what’s been done to me?” Tyland wheezes, blood still spilling from his lips, “I demand justice!”

Aemond’s head whips to him in a fury, “Justice would warrant that I have your head mounted on a spike, for levying insults against my-” He pauses. My love? My consort? My... my life.

The air is thick with anticipation and intrigue. The intrusive thought of Prince Aemond and Lady Y/n settle uncomfortably within their minds.

“Ser Criston, see everyone out,” Alicent instructs, “and have the maester see to Ser Tyland straight away.” Everyone shuffles out of the room, apart from Alicent and her son. She takes one of his fists, squeezing it gently between her palms, beseeching him to meet her gaze.

“Speak to me, Aemond,” Alicent pleads, “Why have you acted in such a way? You swore to me that you would never let your anger take over you again. Do you still care for the Lady Y/n?”

“Mother, I-” Aemond whispers, words failing him, “I…” He sits back down, leaning forward on one arm to steady himself. His hand is still curled tight, fingernails digging into his palm. Alicent sits beside him, pulling his fist close. Prying it open, she is saddened to see familiar, bloody crescent marks on his palm, from where his nails dug too deep. A memory flashes across her eyes, a sensation from her long lost girlhood, her hands defaced in a similar way. Of her own doing. And now her son has to suffer the same, and whatever pains have led him to this, she only wishes to take it away.

“Was this our doing?” Aemond says lowly, “Was this an attack orchestrated by our allies? I must know who dared harm Y/n.”

“I am not certain of this at present, Aemond. However, I will have Ser Criston report every detail he can collect about this incident. Rest assured, you will have your answers.”

Aemond envisions you, hurt, and he feels powerless to do anything to remedy it. His chest tightens with a pain he is sure he has not felt in a long time, not since he lost you the first time. Now, he could lose you for good. He refuses to entertain that possibility; he fears the monster he will become if that ever came to be.

He forces himself to nod to his mother in acknowledgement, before striding out of the council room, every step he takes bearing heavy. He was never a devout man, only playing the part of the dutiful son who upholds his mother’s beliefs. But a prayer repeatedly races through his mind. By the old gods and the new, let her be well. Let her recover completely. Let her return to me.

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

Aemond walks the halls determinedly in apparent calm. His face does not betray what simmers within. After Ser Criston Cole left his chambers, having reported everything he had gathered about your condition, Aemond sat transfixed by the flames. The amber flickers drew him back to one dark-haired bastard girl. The one who worships these flames. That witch.

It had been her. She was the one whom the Blacks have apparently determined as the likely cause. Aemond can’t help but concur. You had been allegedly been afflicted with a curse, the doing of someone who practices the religion of R’hllor. And who else would have reason to target you? Who better to suspect that his scorned former consort.

The door to Alys Rivers’ meagre chambers flies open. She had been sitting in front her mirror, running a comb over her long tresses, when she felt a cold gust of air from behind. She turns, finding the object of her fixation. The one-eyed prince, the love that had been promised to her by the Lord of Light. She was sure, he was meant to be hers.

She stands, excitedly at first, until she manages to observe him entirely. His entire demeanour is dark and menacing, his regal, austere face taking on a cruel edge.

“My Aemond,” she tentatively whispers, her hands reaching out to touch him. She lightly grips the sleeves of his tunic, but he remains unmoving. A long, torturous moment passes.

Then Aemond snaps, springing into movement, too quick for Alys to comprehend. His fingers tighten around her neck, cutting off any air in her windpipe. His fingernails dig into her skin, and her eyes widen alarmingly, begging him to cease his assault.

His seemingly dead eyes look right through her, numb to her pain. For once, the witch’s heart is stricken with fear caused by her true love. She can barely recognize the man in front of her.  

“Ae..mond,” a desperate croak, her slender hands scrambling and failing to urge him to release her neck.

Aemond finally speaks, voice dripping with menace, “What the fuck have you done?”

-----------

Sorry that you did not make an appearance in this chapter, dear reader. 🙃 I wanted to emphasize the gravity of the situation, and we simply can't have you just gallivanting around right away, if you're meant to have suffered a great blow from your nemesis, now can we?

I hoped yous understand the reference to the symbolic stone balls used during council meetings. No, Aemond does not have a blue ball he just brings around and plays with. (Lol)

And that's right, no smut in this one. This is kind of a filler chapter + you're in a bloody coma so simmer down for a while 😂

What to expect in the next chapter: you'll finally wake, Aemond will attempt to come see you (risking his head because Daemon will surely be out for blood the moment his nephew sets foot on Dragonstone), you might see Aemond in a new light (you'll be more distrusting, because it was his fooling around with that witch that led to your affliction after all) ...

the taglist continues in the comments, I sincerely apologize if I missed anyone. There must be nearly 200 of you that asked to be tagged so it's been insane! (in the best way) thank you all for reading!!! 🖤

taglist: @schniiipsel @thelastcitysposts @angel6776 @huntycola @sanguinalia @just-a-harmless-potato-05 @outundertheocean @dazecrea @ladystardvsts @afro-hispwriter @dudfahsn @poohkie90 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @lilostif16 @deeeeexx @nephitis @minicikasworld @livimulati @the-orions-belt @stillinracooncity @lawlerek @missusnora @wickedbutlovely @umavvitch @claudie-080102 @abcdefghi-lmnopqrstuvwxyz @puredicks @crazylokonugget @lj127 @icarusignite @mandyki @darylandbethfanforever9 @highexpectationsgurl @whitejuliana1204 @caught-in-the-afterglow @witchmoon @meilikki @carlottalhn @xcinnamonmalfoyx @writer-lee5 @solacestyles @noneedtosearch @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @vensidia @xinyourdreamsx @mikariell95 @cryztalline @fairaardirascenarios @aemondswh0re

#aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen fanfiction #ewan mitchell

[sprout-fics]

I'll Be Better in the Morning

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F! Reader

(Read Here on AO3)

Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 2.3k Tags: Comfort fic, Hurt/Comfort, Body Dysmorphia, Fluff, Established Relationship, Soft Soap, Oneshot Warnings: TW for body image issues A/N: This is horrifically self indulgent don't look at me

Summary:

Johnny kisses you in the same way a mourning dove sings the dawn. Slow, poignant, tender and somehow remorseful. The feather light sensation of it spills across your tongue in hazy, dusky colors, wraps you within a warm, intimate embrace. You want to drown in it, fall asleep in its comfort, imbue the gentle touch of it into the worn, weary cracks of your soul.

"You are the most beautiful thing I have ever lain eyes on in my entire life, you know that?" He asks, and there's emotion in his voice now, threatening to crack his words.

You feel your lip tremble, eyes stinging with tears as you try to blink them away. Johnny raises a hand, links it over yours placed on his chest, fingers intertwining as he raises it up, places a kiss across your knuckles. Somehow, you know he loves that part of you too.

There's a weight settled across your shoulders.

Aching, groaning, gnawing at your thoughts. It settles across you like a shroud, blanketing your senses in hazy, muted colors and dimming the world around you. Heavy, it threatens to buckle your nerves, chafes at your restrained composure. The mere reminder of the day's events clogs the back of your throat, draws your arms a little tighter into your sides, stiffens your stance.

You're tired.

It's a hurt that's hard to quell, one that lingers even as you try vainly to ignore it. Summoned by a flash of memory, a glance into the reflection of a storefront, the bags under your eyes as you wash your face, try to regain yourself in front of your coworkers. Most days the weight is lessened, you can carry it in a pocket. Today, however, it lays low across your spine, slouches you forward as you drag it behind you, feel its gravity threaten to immerse you into sorrow.

It harmonizes with the creak of your front door as you at last arrive at home, head drooping, eyes lowered to the floor. You kick off your shoes just inside the door, frowning when they don't automatically tuck themselves neatly away. Just another thing to manage when you don't have the energy to bother.

You want to just curl in bed, forego dinner and curl under the sheets, wish away the worries of the world and hope that, come morning, all will be well again.

"Babe?"

You blink, and it's Johnny's voice that manages to penetrate the dark, chalky grey fog of your mind.

"Babe, that you?"

He's calling from the living room, and you follow the trail of his sing-song voice like finding a lantern in the smog.

"Yeah, it's me." You reply, voice heavy, not bothering to hide the weight there. "I'm home. "

You peek into the living room, taking note of the flashing advertisements on the muted TV. Yet then you arch an eyebrow when you see Johnny...on the floor? Yet then he raises himself up and you realize he's doing pushups as the commercials roll. It's a habit that tugs at your tender heart strings, summons a weary, affectionate smile to your lips as you lean on the door frame.

Johnny manages a single "Hoof-!" as he at least straightens himself, rising to a stand and rolling his shoulders. You trace them as he does, watching appreciatively as the coil of muscles rolls under his shirt before he turns to you.

Your Johnny, bright and beautiful like the sun. He grins at the mere sight of you, eyes melting with adoration. Yet he pauses when he takes stock of your form, slouched against the door frame, eyes tired.

"Bonnie?" He asks then, voice softer, more hesitant. He speaks like a child witnessing something unknown for the first time. Curious, perhaps almost afraid. "What's wrong?"

That does it. Despite your valiant effort you're helpless against that look, his brow furrowing, eyes softening in concern, lips parting with his query. Hot wet tears pool across your gaze, and the hiccup you thought you swallowed comes rising back up again in a choked sob.

You hate this.

You straighten enough to bury your face in your hands, shoulders shuddering and face warming in embarrassment. Johnny's footsteps pace towards you, his voice a soothing balm against your cracked composure.

"Hey, hey, hey." He murmurs, and his calloused hands come and settle across your shoulders. You're tipped forward, into him, cradled against his chest like you're something fragile to the touch, held with such care it only threatens to crack you further. "Shh, it's alright, gorgeous. Just breathe. I got you."

Gorgeous.

You truly sob then, and the way his tongue rolls the endearment without any effort at all, so sincere and genuine you can't help but believe him. He echoes it with no hesitation, absolute adoration of you tucked into him, his arms wrapping around you and keeping you there, safe from everything but the chaos of your own mind.

Shoulders shuddering, you let your arms fall and then wrap around his back, fingers gripping at his shirt as if that alone can ground you.

"I'm sorry." You croak. "I-I don't mean to be such a mess."

"You've nothing to apologize for." He murmurs, and you're taken even further into him, your face raised up by a hand on your nape, guiding you into the crook of his shoulder as he bends over you, forces you up on your toes to meet him.

You cry there too. It's everything about him. Safe, warm, Johnny's touch around you is pure comfort, an indulgence that leeches the sorrow away from you, clears the muddy waters of your heart. Like sunlight spilling through rain clouds, Johnny's voice hushes away the weariness, the grief and the hurt of your tired soul. Here, in his embrace, Johnny feels like home.

There's a hand in your hair as Johnny shifts on his feet. He's backpedaling, bringing you with him, and it isn't long until you're both sitting on the couch. Still pressed into his shoulder, you lean into him, one hand gripping at his shirt and the other curled around his waist.

He pulls you away from him then, hands cupping your face and uplifting him to his beloved, tender gaze.

"Can you tell me what's wrong?" He asks, and you sigh into the inside of his palm, feeling like you've just dipped your bare toes into a cool, babbling brook.

"It's nothing." You murmur there, but Johnny only clucks at you.

"No, no. None of that, hen." He tells you, turning your face again to look at him. His eyes are serious for a moment, a frown tugging at the corner of his lips. Yet then his beautiful eyes soften with affectionate worry, and you feel them pluck at the strings of your heart as he speaks once more.

"Don't shut me out. I'm here for you, so tell me what's gotten you in such a state, aye?"

You nod at him, a slow gentle gesture that summons a pleased smile to the tight draw of his face.

"C'mere." He mumbles, and again you're pressed into him, close enough so your cheek rests on his broad chest and you're left hearing the strong, reassuring drum of his heart there.

"I just...had a bad day." You start, sniffling and swallowing a sob. "I was just getting dressed this morning, after you'd already left for the base, decided to try and wear a dress to work."

"The red one?" He asks softly, and you nod.

"I tried it on, it felt comfortable and all, b-but..." You trail off, force down the lump in your throat at the memory of you standing in front of the mirror, watching your face fall. "I just...I hated it Johnny. Couldn't stand the sight."

"Of the dress?" He asks, and there's a note of perplexity in his voice as he tries to understand.

"No." You reply, voice quieter now. Weary, broken. "Of...of me."

Like a dam broken, you shudder long and hard, tears welling once more across your gaze before you hiccup, feel your sobs run over. The weight of it all presses down onto your shoulders, slouching you forward and dragging you down, downwards into the murky waters of sadness.

"Oh hen." Johnny murmurs, and he sounds heartbroken, upset and raw at your confession. That only makes you cry harder, voice cracking in your throat as you cling to him like a mast amidst a gale. "Sweetheart."

"I can't- can't do it, Johnny." You cry, voice trembling. "I try so hard not to let it bother me but I can't stand it, I hate the way I look. I can barely look at myself in the mirror without it hurting."

Johnny holds you as you ramble between your hiccups, his hand stroking steady, smooth circles into your back. He's silent, and with your cheek pressed into his chest you can't see his expression. You try to imagine it's woeful, sad, somehow not as disappointed as your thoughts tell you.

He draws you back then, hands lifting you, and you blink as suddenly you're shifted onto his lap, his hands coming to land on your waist. You pause, swallowing your next sob as you lift your eyes, look into his face.

There's an anguish there you don't recognize, one that threatens to fracture at your already wounded heart. Face pinched, Johnny's green eyes look at you with a sadness you feel reflected back into yourself, an endless prism of grief into each other.

He leans up, and you allow the motion automatically, able to discern his movements like the tides of the ocean against your bare legs. His lips graze over yours just once, and you feel his sigh there before he descends again, a hand cupping your nape, guiding you to him.

Johnny kisses you in the same way a mourning dove sings the dawn. Slow, poignant, tender and somehow remorseful. The feather light sensation of it spills across your tongue in hazy, dusky colors, wraps you within a warm, intimate embrace. You want to drown in it, fall asleep in its comfort, imbue the gentle touch of it into the worn, weary cracks of your soul.

"Gorgeous." He murmurs against the corner of your mouth, and it takes strength to not let your cries echo onto his lips.

"Johnny..." You try, voice heavy. "I-"

"Darling." He speaks then, pulling back so you can see his face, the way seriousness overrides the sadness and concern there. "Listen to me."

You do, pausing for a moment to let your eyes flicker down to your lap and then back up again.

"You are beautiful." He tells you, and his voice is sincere as his thumb strokes against your hip. "I wake up every day next to you and thank heaven I get to be the first one to see your smiling face."

He pauses, and you watch his throat bob as he tries to find the words.

"You are the most beautiful thing I have ever lain eyes on in my entire life, you know that?" He asks, and there's emotion in his voice now, threatening to crack his words.

"Your hair..." He begins, fingers skimming the edges of your scalp above your nape.

"Your shoulders." The hand drifts downwards, tracing across the rise of them.

"Your back." Downwards further still, you shivers as his fingers ghost across the small of your spine.

"Your hips." His palms settle on either side of you, squeezing gently for a moment before unclenching.

"Your thighs, your legs, your stomach, your chest..." He rambles on, taking a moment with each to let his hands feel over the feature, grounding you with his touch, admiring every inch of you. Then he raises himself up, lets his lips skim across yours.

"Those beautiful lips." He murmurs, and when he pulls back he's smiling.

"And there, those gorgeous, gorgeous eyes."

You feel your lip tremble, eyes stinging with tears as you try to blink them away. Johnny raises a hand, links it over yours placed on his chest, fingers intertwining as he raises it up, places a kiss across your knuckles. Somehow, you know he loves that part of you too.

"I love all of them." He tells you, and there's a radiance in his smile that bleeds into you, washes away the dirt and grime and leaves you refreshed, clean and gentle in his touch.

"I love them because you're beautiful, and because I love you." He finishes at last, and when he blinks you see his own eyes are glassy with an affection that threatens to brim them with wet warmth. "I wish I could spend every day just looking at you, hen. I'm so fucking crazy about you I can hardly stand it."

You don't know what to say, lips parted and eyes wide. So, you do the only thing you think of. You lean into him, wraps your arms around his neck and press your shuddering sigh to his lips, feel him drink it down and kiss you the way you need him to. The way you deserve.

"I love you too, Johnny." You whisper, voice fragile and devoted. "I think I love you more than I can ever love myself."

He makes a sound against you, and it hums against the roof of your mouth as he draws back, braces his forehead against yours.

"That will change." He tells you softly, earnestly. "Someday you'll be able to see what I see. I promise, gorgeous."

Then he pulls back, smiles wide up at you, and that shroud of yours lifts away from your shoulders with a sigh, escapes as no more than a dissipating mist in the dawn of him.

"Let's have ourselves an evening, yeah?" He asks, tone returning to his usual affectionate playfulness. "Takeout, your choice. Settle down and watch a movie."

His hand raises to your cheek, and you can't help but smile at him, at your Johnny, the most beautiful and precious gift you've ever received.

"Will you take me to bed after, soldier?" You ask trying to sound cheeky, and when Johnny laughs it sounds like church bells on a sky blue Sunday morning.

"Hen, if I had it my way, you'd never leave my bed." He tells you, voice dipping lower, husky and dragging in his chest. You shiver a little, and it only serves to make him grin wider, bigger up at you.

His face shifts again, and the smile lowers a bit into something more concerned, but containing all the wealth of love he has to offer to you.

"We're going to figure this out, aye?" He murmurs expectantly at you, and when you give him a shy, hesitant nod the grin returns.

"That's my girl." He rumbles, dragging you down once more into his lips.

"My beautiful, beautiful, gorgeous girl."

#johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny 'soap' mactavish #john soap mactavish #cod mw22 #oneshot #my writing #my fic #reader insert

[notiddygxthgf]

10. don't look back

★ pairings: plug!wakasa imaushi x f!reader

★ synopsis: the one where you have the hots for your dealer, and Wakasa is always eager to please a customer. (don't let your bf stop you from finding ur hubby)

★ content warning: smut, angst, lotta porn w a lotta plot, car sex, dealer wakasa, cheating, oral sex, sneaky link, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, sex while high, consensual drug use, mentions of abuse, unprotected sex, so much more...

★ a/n: so so so sorry for leaving yall on a cliffhanger like that ughhh!! momma loves u all. anyway not much to say about this one, so enjoy! hope yall brought tissues <3

★ w.c.; 7.1k

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CONFUSION DISTORTED YOUR FACE. Your heart skipped another beat, and then another. The warmth of the room seemed to dissipate, leaving a chilling silence in its wake.  The symphony of anticipation within your chest faltered, eyes widening as they scanned the messages on the screen – your phone.  

Shit, you thought. Shit, Shit, Shit… you had been foolish enough to leave your phone behind in a drunken haze. 

“What? What the hell are you talking about?” You murmured softly, your voice betraying your confusion. 

“You’re full of shit,” he chuckled humorlessly. His eyes met yours and they were dark, emotionless. “Waka? Of all fucking people, too?”

His voice sent shivers up your spine. It didn’t make any sense; you had done everything right… so, why now? Your eyes fell to the cigar in his hand, white at the tip from the ash. You swallowed the lump in your throat and said, “Babe, I don’t even know–”

“Don’t call me that,” He retorted rather bluntly. “Don’t play dumb with me, girl.”

“I’m not playing dumb,” You answered. 

“We both saw those fucking messages,” He spat, taking another hit of his cigar before he tapped it into the ashtray. “Least you could do is tell the truth.”

“It’s out of context,” you hissed, in some feeble attempt at getting him to believe you. “It’s not what it looks like, I–”

“WHAT IS IT, THEN?” Takeomi slammed his fist on the table. You jumped at the sound, face burning a bit with the heat of your embarrassment. You wanted to say something, but it appeared as if all coherent thought had successfully left your body. Your mouth was glued shut.

Takeomi shook his head with a sigh, rising from the loveseat in a manner that had you backing away from him. You knew what he was capable of doing to you. Given that the two of you were alone right now, you prepared for the worst. Takeomi had you cornered.

“Cat got your tongue? Shame,” he tutted. Towering over your trembling body, he pulled a hit from his cigar, blowing the bitter smoke out against your face. His eyes were dull, glazed with liquor and anger. Still, you knew it meant nothing good. “Bet you were real loud for him, weren’t ‘ya?”

You froze, paralyzed, like prey being hunted by a predator. Your heart hammered against your ribcage like it wanted to break free. “Takeomi, I…” you swallowed, reaching toward him with a trembling hand. “I know this seems cliche, but I promise, I can explain–”

In the blink of an eye, Takeomi had braced a hand on your chest, shoving you backward into the coffee table. The force of the push sent you flying into it, glass tabletop shattering as ceramic vases tumbled onto the floor. You gasped, clutching your back.

Takeomi flicked his cigar onto the carpet, stomping it out with his shoe. “Listen,” he began, “I’m only g’nna ask you one time, babe. You’ll answer honestly if you know what’s good for you.” 

The leather of his shoes crackled as he squatted down to your level. The world was beginning to spin, but the image of his stoic expression glaring down at you was one you would remember forever. He reeked of booze and nicotine, brows drawn low over his stormy grey eyes, black hair falling into his red-tinted face. “Did you cheat on me with my fucking coworker?”

You raised your head in an effort to look at him. Eyes rolling back, you stared up at the ceiling instead. Your mouth felt very dry all of a sudden.

“Say it,” He spat, voice cracking slightly beneath the pressure of his emotions. He was closer to you now than before, face hovering only a foot or two above yours. His eyes were a boiling cesspool of anger and hate. “He’s already on his way here. One of you’s gonna ‘fess up.”

Wakasa was coming. The thought of him being there brought a sense of relief over you, one that was quickly replaced by the realization that he would be walking right into a trap.

He’s already on his way here.

“Take…” you muttered weakly. A groan left your lips the moment you attempted to look him in the eyes. “Please.”

“Tch,” he sucked his teeth. Rather than helping you up or apologizing for shoving you, he dusted his hands off onto his briefs, standing up and then turning away from you. The light caught the arch of his nose as he turned toward the knock that sounded at the front door. 

“Just in time,” he remarked. You tried to crawl to your feet, keep him away from that door, but you felt too weak to move. Takeomi stepped right over you, anyway. It didn’t take him long to open it.

“ Sorry I’m late.” 

If you had ears like a dog, they would have perked up at the sound of his voice, his song. That low, casual croon that made your heart warm even though you knew it wasn’t right. Your gaze remained on the ceiling, world blurring a bit around the corners. I must have hit my head pretty hard,you thought, rubbing your temples in vain as if that would help ease the slow throb.

“Come in, please,” Your boyfriend replied, allowing Waka to enter his space with such faux generosity that you felt yourself turn toward the sound of his voice in an effort to watch the interaction.

Wakasa was upside down from where you were laying, clad in a black leather jacket and some blue jeans. He scanned the interior of his coworker’s apartment, lavender hues flitting over the living room. He paled visibly when he saw you laying there.

Takeomi shut the door behind the two of them, allowing Waka to process everything that had unfolded before his eyes in such a short period of time. When a minute or so had passed, he clapped a hand over Waka’s shoulder. 

“Waka, you’ve met my girlfriend, right?” Takeomi mused. 

Wakasa’s mask seemed to slip – if only for a brief moment. Still, as always, he managed to play it cool. “Yeah,” he muttered, licking his lips. “Am I interrupting somethin’?”

You gazed back at him, hoping your eyes relayed the message. Run. Run before it’s too late.

“I got a call from her neighbor, says she had a bike parked in front of her house this morning,” Takeomi continued anyway. He stepped around Waka, folding his arms behind his back. “I don’t have a bike.”

Wakasa furrowed his brows, tilting his head. He amazed you, still, with his innate ability to keep that poker face in even the most perilous of situations. “Okay…” he trailed off. The confusion seemed genuine. He had you fooled for a moment. “Where are you going with this?”

The grin on your boyfriend’s face was anything but welcoming. He shook his head and then looked at Waka like he had every intention to kill him. “You fucking my bitch, man?”

You felt your heart plummet. This was it, you thought. Waka was going to fess up to it. This little illusion the two of you had was about to come crashing down. The glass beneath your wounded arm shifted as you tried to get to your feet.

To your surprise, Wakasa didn’t even flinch at his words, instead drawing up a brow and sparing a brief glance your way. He looked at Takeomi as if to say, Really?

You had to admit, the act was convincing.

Poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue, Takeomi nodded. “Figured you’d try ‘n lie your way out of this,” he muttered. His words were a bit slurred together, stumbling drunkenly for a moment as he reached into the interior pocket of his coat. The object he produced was shiny and silver, glinting beneath the lamplight as he turned it toward his coworker.

With wide eyes, you gasped, clawing at the floor. 

“You bet’ta fess up, Imaushi, ‘M not fuckin’ playing,” He slurred. The veins in his hand popped, fingers tensed around the grip of his gun.

“Take,” Wakasa sighed, still remarkably calm considering he had a gun aimed at his head. You knew it was all an act, of course, but you had to give credit where it was due. Even if the timing wasn’t necessarily appropriate. “You’re drunk. Put the gun down.”

“How long has this been goin’ on behind – hic – my back?” Takeomi pressed further.

“I’m not fuckin ‘yer girl, man,” Wakasa shook his head. “The hell are you on about?”

Takeomi held a finger up to the shorter man, shoving his hand back into his pocket and rummaging around until he found your phone. He fiddled around with it for a bit and then turned the screen over.

The room went quiet in an instant, tension pending in the air as Wakasa squinted at the tiny screen. You found yourself doing the same. Bracing your hands on the glass-speckled floor, you stumbled to your feet.

“Say hi to the camera, baby.”

With a gasp, you covered your mouth. The tips of your ears turned red. Shit. He found the video.

“Taking it so well…”

“Waka–!”

“We– hic– well?” Takeomi grumbled. If he didn’t have a gun pointed at Wakasa, you probably would have laughed at the way he stumbled forward. “That’s not you?”

Wakasa quirked a brow, leaning in to get a closer look. The corner of his lip twitched as he licked it. His eyes darted between the phone in Takeomi’s hand – the screen where you knew your vulva was spread open on display for a live studio audience – and the gun. 

The sound of your own voice nearly brought you to hysterics. You were mortified.

Finally, he sighed. “I mean, shit, man,” he offered after a lengthy pause. “That’s some pretty solid evidence there, I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Takeomi’s eyes locked with yours in a dance of torment and love mingled with betrayal, hatred clashing with the shattered fragments of trust. The tears that had begun pooling in your eyes earlier streamed down your tender cheeks as you pleaded with him silently. 

He turned the barrel of the gun towards you, and for a moment – a brief, fleeting moment – you saw Wakasa’s mask break, eyes widening as he watched it happen. 

“Six years,” Takeomi reiterated, stepping away from Wakasa and inching closer to you. 

Your efforts to back away from him were ultimately in vain, you realized the moment you felt your back collide with the wall. Takeomi had you cornered – again – as he waved the gun in your direction. 

“Take, please…” You pleaded with him, face stained with tear marks. Your voice trembled beneath the weight of his unspoken threat. “I–”

“SIX FUCKING YEARS,” He shouted, the force of his voice causing you to jump. The anger seemed to be gnawing at him on the inside, anguish and hatred waging war within him, a tempest of conflicting emotions threatening to put an end to this once and for all. He appeared to stand before you on the precipice of a decision, torn between the love that had once bound the two of you and the searing pain of betrayal. His voice broke, “Was it not enough for you?”

You hadn’t realized he had backed you up against the wall until you felt the chill from the metal barrel press against your neck. His other arm kept you pinned in place. 

His eyes were wild, watering a bit as he looked at you for a moment. He cocked his gun, though the quiet click seemed to be amplified tenfold. His hair fell into his face. “I want answers,” he whispered.

“Take, put the fucking gun down!” Wakasa shouted somewhere behind him. He seemed closer than he was before, like he had inched closer to your manic boyfriend, although you weren’t about to crane your neck around to find out.

Takeomi’s bloodshot eyes flickered with a mix of confusion and rage, a fire surging with him that was fueled by the alcohol coursing through his veins.

Then his finger tightened around the trigger.

Wakasa lunged forward, tatted arm appearing in your field of vision as he reached to grab Takeomi’s wrist. 

Your breath caught in your throat as the scene unfolded before you. You held your breath. The seconds seemed to tick away, each one passing slowly as Waka bravely reached for the gun. You held your breath.

With a sudden surge of determination, like your tears had spurred him on, Waka managed to pry the gun from Takeomi’s trembling hand. The weapon clattered as it hit the ground. 

In the deafening silence that followed, Wakasa tucked a blond stray behind his ear, sending the gun sliding away from the scene with a small kick. 

Before the relief had even settled in, Takeomi turned on his heel and lunged at Wakasa with a wild swing. His alcohol-addled coordination betrayed him, however, as he tripped over his own feet – missing by an inch or two as he fell over the backside of the couch.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you watched him tumble over the edge.

Wakasa’s head turned quickly as he called out to you. “I’m parked outside,” he hissed. “Go, now.”

He pulled a wireless key fob out of his pocket – you could see the silver detailing of the BMW logo glint beneath the dim living room lighting as he tossed it to you. 

“Wait, Waka–” You breathed, voice a hushed whisper. Still, you caught it.

“Get in the fucking car, NOW,” He commanded you. One look into his wide eyes reminded you that he wasn’t asking.

At that moment, your heart seemed to stop beating altogether. The room seemed to shrink around you. Without a second thought, you pushed yourself off of the wall and made a beeline for the door. The adrenaline surged through your veins, pushing you past your limit, pushing you towards freedom while your legs threatened to give.

You could still hear Wakasa’s voice echoing in the back of your mind, urging you to run while you had a chance. The urgency in his tone fueled you further and further, drowning out the chaos behind you. It wasn’t until you reached the door that you paused to glance back over your shoulder.

“You leave now and we’re fucking done,” Takeomi warned you. He had braced himself on his elbows.

Wakasa was stepping over the sideways couch, hair down over his back and covering his face with a hair tie stretched open on his fingers. He scooped a few handfuls of hair up behind his head. His wrists twisted with expert precision as he tied it back. His neck cracked with a quick crane of his head to the right.

Sensing what was about to go down, you turned away, throwing the door open and making your escape. You let the door shut behind you, stepping out into the cool night air. Your chest heaved for a moment.

You pressed your ear against the door, tears streaming down your cheeks as your emotions enveloped you. You felt horrible leaving Waka to fend for himself, but you would have felt worse if you went against his word.

So, pulling your clothes tight against your trembling body, you ducked and entered the street. The midnight sky blanketed Waka’s black Mercedes. It looked like it had recently been polished. 

You unlocked the door and plopped into the passenger seat. The moment you shut the door, the tears came pouring out. Your hand continued to grip the handle of the door with white-knuckled intensity. The air inside of the car felt all but suffocating, as if the weight of your actions hung from each and every molecule around you. Panic gripped you, tightening its hold with each rapid beat of your frightened heart.

Teary eyes blurred your vision. Your lover’s words echoed – again, for the millionth time – in your mind. 

“Get in the fucking car, NOW.”

He’d sounded so angered, so tired of you. How had everything unraveled so quickly?

The sound of your own uneven breathing was the only thing keeping you company in the car, ragged breaths fogging up the window to your right. Tossing the key fob into the cupholder, you turned towards that foggy window, pressing your hot cheek against its cold surface. The chill was refreshing, even if a part of you felt bad for leaving prints on Waka’s freshly cleaned windows.

You didn’t care. Your mind was alight with possibilities – with fear and uncertainty. Where would you go? What would happen to you now that the cat was out of the bag? 

Clutching at your throat, you ached for air, desperate for a moment of clarity. But the walls of Waka’s Benz seemed to close in on you. Images of the fight flashed through your mind. The reality of your actions crashed upon the desolate shores of your rotten mind like a tidal wave, overwhelming your senses and drowning you in a sea of guilt. You couldn’t escape the consequences of your betrayal, the pain that had been etched on Takeomi’s face forever imprinted in your mind.

You felt terrible.

A sob wrenched itself from the depths of your soul. Then another. 

The world was hazy, disorienting, as if reality had been warped by the weight of your guilt. For a few minutes, you sat there, mind spinning a mile a minute. You wrapped your arms around yourself, seeking temporary solace in the touch of your own skin. 

When the driver’s side door suddenly popped open, you jumped in your seat. You made quick work of your salty tears, wiping them away from your face while you tried to make yourself look somewhat presentable.

Waka dropped into the driver's seat with an exasperated sigh. Though your eyes trained themselves on the dashboard, you could see him reach for the steering wheel out of the corner of your eye. He looked a little messy. His clothes were disheveled, his hair was in a similar state. His knuckles were dusted with a faint red hue.

After a brief pause that seemed to span for an eternity, he offered, “Buckle in.”

You did exactly that.

The car revved to life. The buttons on the dash lit up in unison. Waka gripped the steering wheel, throwing his other arm over the back of your seat and glancing behind him before turning back to the road. He pulled out of the parking spot without another word.

And then he took off.

★

The ride to your house was as silent as it was tense. It wasn’t very long, seeing as you only lived ten minutes away. That ten was more like five today, though you weren’t sure if it was because a part of you wanted to stay in this car with Waka just a little while longer or because Waka had been doing double the speed limit the whole way over.

The car rolled to a stop in front of your place, and that dreadful, gnawing feeling in your gut had returned, bringing the tension in the car back with it. You folded your hands neatly in your lap, awaiting Waka’s next words.

You were expecting him to shout at you, to lash out at you like an angry father. Like your father, like your boyfriend (ex boyfriend?).

You hadn’t been expecting him to turn the car off, and you most certainly hadn’t expected him to cast a sorrowful glance your way, brows drawn low over his pretty eyes. 

“Sorry I yelled at ‘ya,” he sighed.  What surprised you even more was the way he reached out to graze a gentle hand over your cheek, tucking your hair behind your ear. He added, “Take’s fuckin’ crazy. I didn’t want him hurtin’ you.”

It was becoming a bit of a chore to continue breathing normally when he was so close to you. You needed to leave now before you dug yourself a deeper hole, you decided, reaching for the door.

Waka beat you to it. In the blink of an eye, he’d reached over your lap and pulled the door shut. He kept you pinned to the seat with his arm. 

“Fuck you,” you seethed. You were frustrated, you were confused – before you knew it, you began to cry. 

“I just wanna talk,” He reaffirmed. His words did nothing to calm your nerves.

Your hands trembled as you struggled to find the words to convey how you felt. The car seemed a lot smaller than it had been only moments prior. You took a deep breath, voice quivering beneath the weight of her accusation.

“You ruined everything,” You sobbed, voice barely a notch above a whisper, eyes now locked with Waka’s in a heated standoff. The pain etched on your features made your jaw tighten.

None of this would have happened if you'd never met him. 

Waka’s expression was unreadable, a tick in his jaw was the only indicator that your words had hit the mark. “Yeah, it’s all my fault, ‘course it is,” he retorted, voice tinged with an uncharacteristically bitter tone. “Not like you willingly invited me into your room or anythin’.”

Your eyes narrowed, gaze challenging his stance even though you knew he was right. “You gave me your number first… you knew I had a boyfriend, you dick.”

Waka’s expression changed slightly, allowing you a glimpse into what you imagined was a pretty deep pool of anger. “You texted me, doll.”

He was right. Again. The realization made you break a bit inside.

Your voice quivered with unspoken emotion as you let the tears fall freely. “You’re such an ass, you know that? Why’d you have to come around and fuck me over?”

“Oh, don’t even,” he snapped back. “I risked it all for you. I did everything I could, and ‘yer gonna sit here and blame me?”

The silence that followed was heavy, settling between the both of you like a brick wall as the both of you exchanged angry gazes. The tension in the car built up.

“I never wanted it to come to this,” You spoke louder this time, heartbroken and vulnerable. “You took everything from me.”

“Don’t pretend this wasn’t a mutual decision,” He shook his head at you, chuckling humorlessly. “You are every bit as guilty ‘s I am and you know it.”

You froze. He continued.

“Deep down you know you wanted me to keep coming ‘round,” he added rather cockily. He cocked his head to the right, beckoning you to try and prove him wrong. “You loved it, didn’t ‘ya?”

Another brief pause had passed, and your anger had reached its boiling point. Without thinking, you raised your hand, bringing it towards the side of his face like you wanted to hit him. But Waka – quick on his feet, as always – reflexively caught your hand mid-swing, preventing the slap from landing.

Time seemed to freeze altogether.

Your eyes widened, hand suspended in the air a mere inch or two away from Waka’s face. His grip on your hand was firm, strong, a harsh reminder of a fact you had apparently forgotten; You didn’t stand a chance against him.

The two of you fell into an uneasy silence as you locked eyes, the intensity of the moment palpable.

Waka’s voice was steady, his grip unyielding. He looked – for a moment – as if he wanted to say something to you, remind you of who you were talking to. Before long, however, his anger softened, as did his gaze.

“I’m not sorry for what I did,” he mused. His eyes never flitted away from yours, even for a moment, even as he pulled you closer to him. “Even if I could go back ‘n change the past, I would still pick you. Every time.”

His breath was soft, mint-scented, and fresh. You felt your resolve crack. You wanted to scream at him, to throw your arms around his neck and kiss him until your lungs gave out. You hated the way he made you feel.

The car was filled with a heavy silence as your tears streamed down your reddened cheeks. Your heart squeezing painfully, you reached out, hand weakly forming a fist, and feebly punched Wakasa’s chest.

“I hate you,” You whispered, knowing you didn’t mean a word of it.

Waka’s eyes filled with sorrow as he caught your fist, gently holding it against his chest. You could feel his heart beating in synchrony with yours. A moment passed, agonizingly slow, and he pulled you into a tight embrace, a bittersweet collision of love and resentment.

Then, to your surprise, he did the unthinkable.

“Let’s stop seeing each other,” his honey-sweet croon pierced through the silence, his tone resolute.

Your eyes widened in disbelief. Shoving yourself away from him, you shot him an incredulous look. The road ahead seemed to blur as you tried to wrap your head around his proposition. 

“What…?” You had asked in vain. 

The confined space of the car seemed to amplify the tension. The world outside seemed to stop spinning for a moment. This was the same car where he’d first swept you off your feet so many nights ago. Now, like some sort of cruel joke, the image before you paralleled the memory. His unexpected words hung heavy in the air.

He wasn’t looking at you anymore. In fact, he looked a little down about it, like he was having doubts of his own about the decision. 

“I never should’da gotten you involved in all of this mess… I can fend for myself with him but… I know you can’t,” He said remorsefully. He seemed… genuine. When his eyes met yours, it was as if you had fallen for him a second time. “It’s too dangerous. We need to stop seein’ each other.”

In the span of a minute, Wakasa had managed to tear your heart right out of your chest.

“No…” You did a complete 180. You were so weak for him that you hated it. But, shit, how you loved the feeling. “I can’t lose you too, Waka, I…”

“I’m not asking,” He deadpanned. You felt your heart plummet.

“You’ve gone cold on me,” You whimpered. You didn’t care if you sounded desperate. You knew your blood burned for him. “Waka, that’s not fair… please.”

“I need to protect you,” Waka’s eyes were filled with bittersweet longing – like this was breaking him, like he wanted to reach out and caress you but he knew he couldn’t… just as much as you did. “I have to do this. ‘S for your own good.”

Your mind raced to make sense of the cryptic words that had spilled from his pretty lips. “‘Kasa,” you breathed.

When he spoke again, his mask cracked a little more. “You know as much ‘s I do that he’s gonna go on a manhunt. I dun’no what I’d do if somethin’ happened to you ‘cause of me, doll, I…” His voice trembled a bit. He took a moment to regain his composure. “Me leaving would be the best thing for you. For both of us.”

Tears welled up in your eyes. God, this hurt. You knew it would come eventually, but, shit, you hadn’t expected it to hurt so bad. Your voice cracked, “You’re ending things to protect me? Without giving me a choice? What happened to “if Takeomi weren’t in the picture” ?”

Wakasa squeezed his eyes shut. His hands tightened into fists. “We’re done. We can’t do this again.”

“I’m telling you we can’t see each other again. Okay?”

For a moment, Wakasa looked like he wanted to say something, like he wanted to make you stay. Worst of all, you kind of wanted him to.

Eventually, he answered, “You can pretend it never happened, but I’ll know. You’ll know.”

Your heart squeezed painfully at the memory. It’s funny how history repeats itself.

“I can’t lose what we have,” You shook your head. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me, I… I don’t know what I’d do without you. We can make this work, I know we can.”

You continued after a lengthy inhale. “I can’t let this go over fear… no, not unless I know you’re doing it because you don’t want this.”

Deep down, you knew you were fighting a losing battle. Your heart ached for him. You couldn’t let this go. Not after you had given up so much just to be with him, no, not yet. Just a moment longer.

You reached out for him, hand hesitantly searching for his, seeking solace in the midst of the turmoil even though you knew you had already lost. 

You needed him. You realized that the moment the thought of a life without him had even crossed your mind. You knew it from the moment the two of you had sworn off intimacy in that shower together. No, you knew it from the first moment your eyes had met his. Wakasa had wedged his way deep into the tissue of your rotten heart.

You were in love with him.

“We can leave it behind. Start fresh,” You pleaded with him, gripping his cold hand. “Don’t you want that?”

He stayed quiet. He wanted it as much as you did, you knew that. He ached for you too. But when you squeezed his hand and it remained limp in your palm – without so much as a squeeze back – you knew it was too late. Like the life drained from the veins of a corpse, Waka had gone cold. 

Lowering your head toward his hand, you sobbed. You had never stopped crying, not since he had proposed that the two of you stop seeing each other. Yet, now, it seemed that the tears were streaming down your face rapidly. Like the torrent waters of a river cutting through earth and soil, they poured down.

“I love you, Wakasa, I can’t… I…” You trailed off, at a loss for words at the absence of his own. Who knew this would hurt so badly? “You love me too, don’t you? Tell me that you love me too.”

The car fell silent, once again bringing back the memory of you sitting here in this same spot calling things off with him only a while ago. The weight of your desires hung in the air. 

Wakasa’s eyes were full of regret. He shook his head, taking his hand out of your grasp, “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

You felt your heart shatter.  You recoiled as if you had been struck by some invisible, unforeseen force. Then, you let Waka’s hand slip from your touch. 

Slowly, to your surprise, he pulled you into another hug, wrapping his arms around your trembling form. Your heart thumped wildly against your chest, torn between the comfort of his touch and the impending heartbreak that lingered in the air. He was confusing you.

He muttered. With a gentle squeeze, he held you closer, “‘M sorry. This life ain’t for you, doll.”

Your body stiffened against his, still struggling to process everything that had been dumped on you in the span of two hours. You clung to him like it would be the last embrace the two of you ever shared – no,  because it would be the last embrace the two of you ever shared. 

“No, please, don’t do this to me,” You pleaded brokenly. “I need you, ‘Kasa.”

“You know I have to do this,” He held you like he shared the sentiment, like he, too, wanted to make the most of what could very well be the last time the two of you saw each other like this. “No happy endings, remember?”

After this, he would be nothing but a stranger. The thought made you want to hurl.

You had never felt so alone before.

Was this love?

Your whole body shook with the force of your sobs. Waka gently brushed your tears away. His voice, dripping with tenderness and sorrow, seeped into your soul. “This is goodbye, okay?”

No, you thought. I won’t accept this.

You pulled away from him. “You’re a fucking coward,” you whispered between sobs. “I hate you.”

Waka's eyes met yours, his gaze soft and understanding, yet it only fueled the flames of your anger. How could he claim to comprehend the depths of your pain, the intricacies of your shattered heart? His tenderness felt like a cruel mockery at that moment, intensifying your resentment towards him.

“I know,” He nodded, as if accepting your accusation, though his expression revealed a profound sadness. It was as if he had heard those words before, and carried the weight of similar accusations. But his quiet acceptance only stoked the fire of your fury, fueling the bitterness that threatened to consume you.

Yet, despite your anger, there was a part of you that couldn't help but notice the sincerity in his gaze, the flicker of pain that danced in his eyes. It was a contradiction that confused and infuriated you even further. How could he evoke such conflicting emotions within you? How could he still have the power to touch your heart, even in the midst of your rage?

Feeling a surge of defiance amidst the sea of anguish, you pulled away from him, the anger within you bubbling to the surface. With a sudden burst of energy, fueled by your fractured heart, you swung open the car door and stumbled out onto the pavement. 

"I wish I never fucking met you," you seethed, the words torn from the depths of your wounded soul. You wish you meant it.

Then you slammed the door shut.

The words hung in the air, charged with the intensity of your pain. Each syllable reverberated through the silence, cutting through the stillness of the night. And as the echoes faded into the darkness, you turned on your heel and stormed off, leaving Waka behind

With each step you took, the anger within you burned brighter, fueling your determination to distance yourself from the source of your heartache. 

A call of your name shook you out of your angered reverie. You knew you shouldn’t stop, that you should have kept marching right on. Yet, you couldn’t help but turn to look back at him one more time.

He made you feel so weak.

He had rolled the window down. In his hand, he had your pink slipper. It was then that you realized you were missing a shoe. 

“You left this,” He noted, waving it toward you.

You refused to give him that satisfaction. Shaking your head at him through teary eyes, you spat, “Keep it, asshole.”

You turned your back on him again – for the last time – and stormed off. Every stride carried you further away from the wreckage of a love that had once blossomed but now lay in ruins. The words you had spoken, filled with bitterness and regret, echoed in your mind, a desperate attempt to sever the ties that still bound you to Wakasa

Yet, deep down, beneath the layers of anger and pain, a part of you yearned for the impossible—to undo the meeting that had led to this heartache. It was a futile wish, born out of the shattered remnants of a love that had once promised happiness.

Don’t look back, you thought.

And you didn’t. Not even as you fumbled for the keys in your pocket and unlocked the door to your house. Not even when you slammed the door shut behind you. Not even when you collapsed against the door, letting a gut-wrenching sob out the moment you found yourself in the safety of your own home.

And even when you sank to the floor in tears, fighting the urge to throw that door open again and run into his arms, you found yourself repeating the phrase like a mantra.

Don’t look back.

heyyyyy 😓😓 how yall doin.... no but fr how are we feeling after this one? could this be the end of waka??? (it isn't.) im not too confident abt this chapter even tho I put my whole pussy into it... I promise the next one will be infinitely better TRUUUSSSSST!!! to make up for the way I chewed your hearts up and spat them out this chapter (sorry lol) I will say!! stay tuned for the next episode of party monster featuring cameos from sano shinichiro, daddy benkei, and another character who I can't tell u abt yet!! (also who knows we may or may not get a chapter from wakas pov.... who knows.... u aint hear it from me) yk the drill tho, drop ur thoughts predictions and requests in the comments, I love listening to yall ;)) see u next chapter!! <33

I obviously do not own tokyo revengers or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

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#party monster ⋆ ★ #notiddygxthgf ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ #wakasa imaushi #wakasa imaushi x reader #wakasa x reader #wakasa x you #wakasa imaushi smut #wakasa smut #wakasa imaushi fluff #wakasa fluff #wakasa angst #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x reader #hi if ur reading this far ily #benkei #sanoshinichiro #takeomi akashi #sanomanjiro #tenjiku #three deities arc #bonten #plz forgive me lol

[latelyanobsession]

Gossip Swap

summary rumors can be nasty. especially when straight out of your boyfriend’s mouth. kind words however, can make a world of difference when offered up by a kind soul.

warnings cursing, rumors/gossiping, emotional hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, smut, TW: use of fat-shaming slurs

word count 2,737

note based on a request by @harringtonfan4: "eddie x steve x plus size female reader…reader has been dating Steve he told reader he was sick he goes to party instead someone gets him on video all over Nancy and telling her and the others how unhappy he has been with reader because of how she looks and what he’s used too whole school sees it …eddie steps in to pick up the pieces (smut preferred) maybe eddie has a squirting kink or breeding kink (regular smut is fine if you don’t do those) and Steve decides he made a mistake..reader chooses eddie ….sorry my asks are long winded I have specific ideas I’m just not good at writing them lol. If it’s too much let me know I’ll tone down my explanations"

i've changed your request a bit by having the reader and steve's break up be based on the spread of a rumor through the school rather than a video. using a video would've taken a lot of effort back then, (ie. filming and then copying multiple VHS tapes or having to pass a single tape around to multiple people would've taken a lot of time). so using word of mouth to spread a nasty rumor would make better sense to spread something like that from a weekend party faster in the 80s.

also a couple lil tweaks to the smut and setting just to make it flow. a full disclosure as well that i've never read any existing smut for eddie so this is just my interpretation of how i think he would align in sexual interactions based on my interpretation of his character.

As always any feedback is much appreciated. Thanks for reading!

You pursed your lips, eyes zeroed in on the dial as you twirled the tumbler on your locker.

35 - 11 - 27

Hooking your finger in the latch, you opened the door. It's hinges squeaking.

"That her?" a voice asked, walking past.

"Yeah, I feel so bad for her..." another answered.

You peered past your locker door, eyebrows creased in curiosity.

The pair of upperclassmen quickly turning their heads away as they wandered further down the hallway.

You shrugged it off. They must've been talking about somebody else. There was nothing going on with you.

Sinking into your seat in first period, the low rumble of whispers slithered its way through the room, snaking its way up your spine and settling beneath your skin.

"I can't believe he said that...!"

"Well... I would want someone more... y'know..."

"Can you blame him?"

Clenching your fists, you tried to ignore their words as they coiled around you. Constricting you with each breath. Your chest pulling tight.

"What the hell are you talking about?!" you burst out loud, throwing your pen gruffly against your notebook, bouncing it to the floor.

Your classmates paused, quieting. Their faces mixed with looks of pity and guilt.

But none of them answered you.

The remainder of the period passed in relative silence, with you leaving the room in frustration.

It felt like the whole school's eyes were on you.

And you didn't know why.

The next period was no better. Nor the one after that.

The day was unraveling into an uncontrolled nightmare. And you wanted to get away from it as soon as possible.

Taking a deep breath, you latched the sliding bolt on the bathroom stall and sat down.

You didn't even need to pee. You just wanted a quiet moment alone.

You took another deep breath, closing your eyes.

The door to the bathroom swung open, the back slamming loudly against the tile wall as girls entered.

"I still can't believe Steve said that!" one girl hummed excitedly.

"Well you should, I was there. I heard the whole thing!" replied the other.

"He was seriously with Nancy?" asked a third.

"Of course!" answered the second, as if this were obvious. "They were all over each other... Steve was practically sobbing about wanting her back."

They giggled amongst themselves.

"But... what about the part... about... Y/N?" asked the first.

"Oh..." the second clucked, "Yeah, he wouldn't stop whining about how sick he is being stuck with a cow like her..."

They shrieked with laughter, the shrill sound clattering off the walls.

"He really called her a cow?" the third snorted ungraciously.

"...Like a pillow that's already too stuffed to stuff... if you get it..." the second mused.

They laughed again.

You swallowed thickly, trying to remain as collected as possible. You didn't want them to know you were there.

Your eyes were brimming over with tears as you clapped a hand over your mouth to stifle a shaky exhale.

"I mean why'd he ever trade Nancy for that whale anyhow?" the second complained.

"It's a complete downgrade..." agreed the third.

"There's no way a fatso like her could ever satisfy him... she's too busy stuffing her face." the first stated.

They all made varying sounds of agreement, washing their hands. The door slamming back open, and coming to with a soft thud.

You threw the stall door open, letting out a long-held sob. How could any of this be true?

But it had to be... "I was there. I heard the whole thing!"

Steve had bailed on you over the weekend. He called, coughing and whining pathetically through the phoneline of how ill he felt. And you bought it like an absolute sucker.

How stupid you truly were. Planning on bringing him homemade soup after school this afternoon, when he was already wrapping himself up soundly ... in Nancy Wheeler's lap.

Fleeing the bathroom, you quit the school building entirely. Not wanting to deal with another single pair of eyes on you.

You cut out across the football field and into the woods, just looking for a quiet place to walk. To seeth. To hide.

A few yards in you found a clearing with a weathered picnic table, empty beer cans scattered across its top.

This place didn't seem familiar to you, but it was close yet far enough away from school grounds that it seemed like a good place to settle.

Dropping onto the bench, tears began trickling out in steady rivulets down your heated cheeks. Your shoulders shaking with heavy sobs as the conversation you overheard began to replay in your mind.

Steve wouldn't have gone back to Nancy if I wasn't fat.

The voice in your head began...

Steve wouldn't have lied to me and gone to that party on his own if he wasn't embarrassed to be seen with me.

The voice pressed.

Steve doesn't love me. I'm too fat to be with Steve.

Too fat...

You crumbled.

Your hands coming up and hiding your face. Tears quickly turning bitter as your chest felt fit to shatter.

Every sweet thing he had ever told you must have been a lie. Why else would he be able to pivot so quickly? Turn back to Nancy so smoothly?

So thoroughly enveloped in your sorrow, you didn't notice someone enter the glade.

"Uhhhh?" the voice hemmed, cutting through a bout of your sobs, startling you.

"You doin' ok? I mean you're obviously not... but... Are you?"

You peered up through your fingers, snuffling horribly, your nose stuffed with snot.

A lanky boy with ratty hair and torn jeans was standing at the edge of the clearing.

He stood there awkwardly scratching his cheek, a black lunchbox in his other hand.

"I- I'm sorry... -'ll leave..." you sniveled getting up, not realizing you were intruding on someone's coveted lunch spot.

He tossed up his hands lightly, "don't worry about it... it's cool. Y/N right?"

You nodded slowly, he seemed familiar but you couldn't really place him.

"Do I know you?" you sniffed, wiping a sleeve at your eyes.

He shrugged, lips puckered thoughtfully as he clasped his hands behind his back.

"Well, you should... You and your boytoy bought weed from me a few times..." he stated dryly.

"He's not my -!" you clipped spitefully, snapping your jaw shut in realization.

"Oh?" he said, sitting down next to you. "My mistake... thought you were a thing."

"Not anymore..." you whispered.

You looked over at him, "I'm sorry..." you apologized again, "you don't need to hear about my shit."

Kicking his feet to and fro childishly, his heels tossed up leaves all around you. His eyes focused on the trees.

"Well sounds like someone should hear it... It's Eddie by the way..." he smiled at you gently, nudging your shoulder with his own to go on.

You smiled coyly, eyes dodging to your toes.

"It's just..." you sputtered, fingers wrapping around the bench tensely, "he said I'm too fat for him."

Tears were threatening to fall yet again.

He let off an obnoxious laugh, you wanted to punch him.

"I'm sorry..." his brows knitting together, as if in deep thought before they shot high, "Is he mental!?" Eddie shouted, hopping to his feet.

You blinked at him, dumbfounded, "What?"

"Boytoy. Is he completely certifiable?" Eddie pointed at his head, index finger swirling counterclockwise.

Your eyebrows furrowed, "I don't... think... no?"

He tossed his hands dramatically skyward, "Y/N!"

You jumped.

"He has to be!" he reasoned, arms still thrust high.

"You're just so .... kind. And so genuine. And smart. And beautiful and so –" he spoke rapidly, listing your qualities off each finger. Pacing himself into a small tight circle.

"You think I'm beautiful?" you interrupted him.

He stopped, looking up from his fingers, bringing his hand bashfully to his lips.

His eyes darting around the grove, before answering.

"Yeah. But you're so much more than that," he added.

Coming back to the table he straddled the bench, a leg on each side, looking you square in the eyes.

"He's a dumbass for cheating on you." Eddie declared. "I mean he couldn't be more of an idiot! Total dick move!" He waved his arms in an axing motion.

You laughed, "Thanks."

"Yeah, no problem! If you were my -" his words fell short as your lips collided with his.

"Eddie?" you hummed, pulling away, your foreheads resting together.

"Yah?" he breathed.

"Please shut up." you giggled.

"Yes ma'am," he replied enthusiastically.

Yoking a hand around his shoulders, you pulled him back in. Lips ghosting over his, your tongue playfully laving at his bottom lip.

He groaned loudly, lips parting in invitation. His hands swiftly seizing you and pulling you in.

His grasp was greedy. Desperate. Wanton. Tugging your sweater out of place, his chilled fingers pricking up goosebumps in their wake along every inch of newly discovered skin.

Small gasps tumbling from your tongue to his as those long fingers crawled lower, twiddling with the button of your jeans.

"You sure you want this?" he asked breaking from you, his eyes shimmering with sincerity.

"Wouldn't want Boytoy to miss you or anything..." he chuffed with a somber smile.

You placed your palm on his cheek. "Eddie, he's already missed me..." you leaned in kissing him chastely, "by a long shot."

A brilliant smile lit up his features, warm brown eyes shining.

"Really?" he was shocked.

"Yes," you replied, crawling into his lap. "I want you. I need... this." You emphasized with a searing kiss, grinding your weight against him.

His hands gripped your sides, digging in and holding you close as he whimpered at the feeling. Even through layers of denim, you could feel a thick bulge burgeoning against your inner thigh.

Sitting up momentarily you wrapped your hand around his belt, yanking him forward, manhandling him. Pressing him back gruffly against the picnic table, he planted both feet back in front of the bench, letting off a slight wince of surprise.

"What you got planned sweety?" he asked cutely.

Propping a knee on the bench you towered over him, hands undoing his belt buckle. Fingers nimbly unfastening his fly.

"You'll see." you teased, a finger tracing up the length of his clothed erection, his neck straining.

"Oh .... ooooh, that's not fair," he whined, a foot kicking in protest. Your hand slyly enveloping his length and pulling him out into the open.

You kissed him, lingering to pull at his tongue. "You're gonna get yours don't worry about it." you hummed, hand pumping smoothly up his length as you admired his pained expression.

Backing off, you unclasped your jeans shimmying them down just below the swell of your ass. A sharp inhale reaching your ear, "fuck."

Peering over your shoulder, you regarded him with heavily lidded eyes. "Like?"

He swallowed thickly, nodding as his gaze washed over you. "Y-yah."

You smirked your cheeks heating.

"You'll like this better..." you challenged as you reversed, placing yourself between his legs.

You lowered yourself onto his lap, grinding your bare cunt against his cock. The evidence of your arousal coating him from base to tip.

"Shit babe," he whined hands clamped onto your hips more so for his own sanity than for yours.

Reaching back you gave him a couple short strokes before lining him against your entrance, the bulging head already pressed between your pussy lips in anticipation.

Sinking down onto his length, you cried out. The stretch making your knees weak, your hands gripping his thighs to ground yourself.

"God Eddie!" you exhaled, eyes blinking widely.

"Babe you gotta move..." Eddie complained, voice straining. "I'm not gonna make it!" His grip was becoming harsh, almost biting. His hips trying to thrust, heels pressing against the ground for purchase.

"Eddie please..." you warned pathetically, "don't do that." He was already so deep. Your walls wrapped snuggly around him. Each small movement lighting up nerve endings you didn't even know you had.

Roping his arms around your middle, he hauled you back, knocking you off balance. Gaining leverage and driving himself deeper.

"Eddie!" you whimpered, pressed flush against him. "Eddie I can't...I'll –"

His pace was gaining, thrusting deeper. The sounds of your pussy beginning to fill the air. The sopping wet clap between your bodies with each stroke.

"Eddie please!" you begged nearly sobbing. You could feel it. That tingle. It was growing with every thrust of his hips.

"Babe I promise. I'm so close." he warbled, his pace growing erratic and hurried.

You were trying so hard to hold back, trying to focus. Trying to clamp down on your muscles. Pulling your legs together snugly. But everything you were doing made the feeling more intense and made him respond more aggressively.

"Fuuuuuuck babe. That's amazing. Just like that!" he encouraged with your last attempt, curling himself up and pistoning his cock into you even harder.

Tears were at the corners of your eyes, you couldn't hold it back. The pleasure was unbearable. Your walls starting to spasm, shaking the pitiful attempt at self-control that you had.

"Eddie... I'm gonna cum!" you wailed brokenly.

"Cum babe...!" he panted, slamming against your cunt. "Cum on my cock!"

"No Eddie ... I'll –" you cut off keening as he connected. Your head tilted back and your legs shook as it struck, warm fluid gushing out.

You thought for certain he'd come to a screeching halt. Toss you off for that. But he kept going, hips stuttering as his lips found your ear.

"Babe can I... can I cum insi –..." his breath faltering, as you dropped your hips back, grinding into him.

"Yes..." you exhaled shakily, continuing to ride him through his high.

The forest became quiet again as you both panted. Eddie beneath you.

You pulled off, trying to gather yourself up. The embarrassment was already suffocating you.

"Eddie I'm so so sorry." you looked at him miserably.

Sitting up, he looked at you casually, "Sorry? Sweets that was so fucking hot!" Tucking himself in, he stood up coming over to you.

Pulling a black bandana from his back pocket he offered it to you.

"Y'know..." he started, as you gratefully took the cloth, cleaning yourself off as best you could. "I'd love to do that with you again sometime..."

You blushed, handing him the bandana.

Looking up at him you nodded. "Yeah... but maybe not outside..."

He smiled coyly, laughing. "Yeah."

You looked at his pants, your face falling into a frown. "God... I'm–."

He laughed tossing up his hands, "Don't worry about it. Was gonna skip after this anyhow."

"You sure?" you looked at him guiltily.

"–'m sure." he soothed.

The warning bell echoed through the trees. How many periods had you missed?

You checked your watch.

"Shit," you cursed, "I gotta motor, but find me tomorrow?"

You grabbed your things and scooted from the grove.

Sliding in late to your last period of the day, the eyes and murmurings from your classmates was no longer as bothersome.

When the day ended you actually had a smile on your face as you headed toward the parking lot. That was until you saw your boyfriend.

"Hey Y/N!" Steve waved you over from his beamer.

You walked wide, heading off to the opposite sidewalk.

"Y/N?" Confusion was settling into Steve's features as he jogged after you. "Hey what gives I'm here to take you home. Y'know..." He reached for your hand flirtatiously.

You jerked yourself away.

"What gives?!" your eyebrows shot high. "Why don't you go ask Nancy!"

You turned on your heels to walk away, as he wrapped a hand around your wrist.

"Guess you found out huh?" he said sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck with his other hand.

"Yeah I guess so..." you spat venomously trying to wriggle free.

Stepping into your space Steve stroked a thumb over your cheek.

"Ya know I didn't mean it right? I was drunk." he gave you a lopsided grin. "You're my girl. Always will be."

You gave him a rough shove sending him shuffling back.

"No, I'm not!" you shouted. "You chose her! And I'm dumping you!"

He was stunned, his arms hanging limply at his side.

"You what?" he spoke each word as if carefully chewed, his mouth running dry.

"I'm...dumping...you" you enunciated each word. "Don't call me."

Readjusting your backpack you walked away, leaving him standing there.

The next day, you were back at your new lunch spot.

#apologies on the long wait! #plus sized reader #stranger things x plus sized reader #eddie munson x plus sized reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things oneshot #stranger things smut #stranger things x female reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfiction

[cloveroctobers]

DECEMBER PROMPTS 🧊 — 3. MICHAEL “MIKEY” BERZATTO

A/N: I want to attempt to make this a bit lighter but with the way the bear is set up? Happiness is a process. 🥂 Also this takes place BEFORE 7 fishes? Maybe a year or two prior, so thats probably six or seven years ago from now? The timeline isn’t overly important with this show so whatever your brain feels is cool with me! Also decided to do this in headcanon/note form this time around because things are definitely about to get hectic for me. Merry Christmas Eve or Happy Holidays to you all! 🫶🏽 hope its filled with nothing but greatness + all things that are lovely and not chaos.

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE + I’m using: SCENARIO — 4.) Decorating the tree + DIALOGUE — 2.) “You know what they say, don’t eat yellow snow.”

<- read my previous December anthology prompt here.

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Michael Berzatto always loved cold weather and sure his birthday happened to always fall on a brutal cold day… he always put more effort into everyone else’s.

It’s something he’s always done and maybe it had to do with his childhood where most birthdays his own parents forgot about it, treating it as any other day because that’s simply how they viewed their own and wouldn’t even get him a card at least.

He grew up fast and pushed those terrible feelings as far down as they could go and focused on caring for everyone else.

Lucky for him, he had his younger siblings that always managed to put a smile on his face, showing him that they wouldn’t ever forget

and a shit eating grin would also appear thanks to his best friend Richie who always showed up with packs of beer and encouragement to head out to a strip joint but somehow Tiffany always figured out that plan!

a gallon of warmth poured into his chest when you would call him at midnight or the break of dawn, wanting to be the first to send him well wishes for another year.

You were always something special to Michael.

Which is why on the morning of November 15th, he showed up to your place, just to tell you later that you were going tree hunting while he went down to Chicagoland to get the rest of his hours in.

He heard how bummed out you were about your boyfriend not being in town (yet again) to go get a tree for the place you moved into back in July.

Michael didn’t particularly hate the guy but he also felt like he didnt care enough as much as he should with someone like you.

He was always elsewhere and Michael was just praying that he didn’t ask you to marry him and call it selfish but he didn’t see a glimmer in your eyes when you looked at the guy.

Michael felt like you two were just dating out of convenience—until you both found better, which YOU would but you didn’t seem to see that.

Which of course sparked arguments and the guy walked in on that argument, demanding to know what was going on and you didn’t want to escalate the situation so you sent a warning glance for Michael not to take it there.

He never listened.

A ban from the house was laughable to Michael because who tf did this guy think he was to tell him to stay away from his best friend’s house? He maybe “the man,” of the house but he wasn’t man enough to love you. You have to show you care in a relationship and put in the work and this guy wasn’t it. You were an after thought and that pissed Michael off.

and he didn’t give a shit if the guy was 6’6 and built like a linebacker, it was fair game in mike’s eyes! Michael would say what he felt and he was super protective over you—which you appreciated but not in that moment.

Before hands could ever go flying and out of the respect he has for you, he said his peace and left the home—since thats what you wanted…with the both of you not speaking for a week—which was painful.

And also painful to Richie’s ears because Mikey wouldn’t shut up about it!

You as a topic? Was never on the low.

“Are you finally gonna admit to the audience that you’re sweet on them, Mikey Boy!?” The amusement was clear in Richie’s piercing blues and Michael was tempted to smack it right off.

“Shut your mouth and get back to work, ya bastard!”

Michael knew the guy talked shit about him behind his back but regardless Michael was in your life WAAAY before this guy was even a factor! He wasn’t going anywhere,, unless you told him to but he hoped that never happened.

Your boyfriend didn’t like how you kept Michael around but he knew how to put on a mask too, being a FBI agent and all that, which means he was hardly around anyway so…that gave Michael more time with you in the end, which definitely made your boyfriend more irritated when he bothered to check in from work!

Michael found it funny that your boyfriend thought he was doing something by flying back to Indiana with you to spend (the controversial holiday) thanksgiving with your dad, step-mother, and half-siblings just to disappear again into his work as soon as the both of you returned to chicago.

While he was off on a case, Michael was there taking on the failed promises, which included: tree shopping.

Having a hybrid schedule, working as a publisher and just starting a meeting with a client, you were caught off guard the morning Michael greeted you on your front steps on HIS birthday.

He was all grins and barely in the appropriate wear for the approaching winter but fr! a hoe never gets cold you know? “You asked what i feel like doing for my birthday, right sweetheart? Spending it with you doll face and gettin’ us a tree, how’s that sound?”

You can can barely get any words out due to being on a call but a sweet smile that actually matched your eyes was enough confirmation—although it was on the tip of your tongue to argue, Michael took that to his advantage that you couldn’t in that moment.

Which didn’t mean you wouldn’t hammer him with texts a little later—but Michael sucked at texting so your attempts would probably go unseen anyway.

It was around six, you just got off thirty minutes ago and went to freshen up, ready to text Michael when he’s already at your door, keys in hand, shining teeth of a smile, your favorite sandwich in hand: a wrapped Porchetta, chicken parm, or a caprese sandwich (if you don’t eat meat) ready for you to eat on the go, since the farm closes at eight-thirty and the drives about thirty to forty-five minutes depending on the traffic…

Michael’s got terrible road rage and hates traffic but you’re not the best driver when the sky falls so you have no choice this evening but…he’s at ease with you on the passenger side.

He’s telling you entertaining stories as you eat and when you’re done, he’s asking for your review—although it’s your favorite sandwich so of course it’s going to be highly rated! but he just likes to hear you talk about the things you enjoy

he’s interested in your day since your work days are completely different and he’s not afraid to give his opinions if the author you’re working with sounds like an asshole.

Shopping with you can sometimes take forever but Michael doesn’t seem to mind. If you’re looking for the perfect tree, even if it’s ugly as hell, you’re gonna get the damn tree.

He’s used to artificial trees because the real one his family had after he just turned fifteen, his ma threw a lit cigarette at once, unbeknownst to the rest of the berzatto family, almost burning it to a crisp as she whipped around to yell at a seven year old Sugar about something, so his dad swore off “spending his hard earned money for Donna to ruin,” leaving Michael to stop looking forward to Christmas trees

Yet he was here on his birthday with you, happy to be here and help you find whatever you needed.

“What about that one?” You pointed at what would probably be the eighth one, if Michael thought to keep count.

He can’t help it—

He glances over his shoulders and scowls, “looks like uncle Lee, fucking balding in the middle.”

“Michael!”

“Wha? Am I wrong?! I’m just sayin, sweetheart…if you love that one, I’ll like it.” Michael raised his hands in surrender while you huffed, rolled your eyes and spun on your flats, diving in between a row of fully stocked trees.

Eventually you find a wide white spruce tree that the both you felt strongly about to bring back home

and the man is willing to throw his back out for you, getting it up your steep front steps, not allowing you to help him one bit, which is frustrating for you ofc.

Once positioned in your living room, just the way you want it, Michael wipes the back of his hand against his forehead dramatically.

“What would you like to drink?”

“I’m fine. Just gonna get some air, then when I get back we’ll discuss when you want to decorate it, yeah?”

You shake your head at Michael while he heads back to the front of the house through the screened in entrance before entering November’s air.

When he’s taking longer than expected, you go hunting for him just to flail around on some black ice after stepping down from the last step but manage to somewhat catch yourself on the railing.

Thankful for a bruise rather than a broken tailbone, you curse to yourself as the throbbing pain shoots down your femur.

And surely, Michael fucking berzatto appears from the shadows to assist you, “hey! whatcha doin’ down there?”

“I slipped on some stupid black ice…where were you?”

“You sure it wasn’t the yellow snow?”

“The what?” You exasperate as Michael guides you to your feet.

Michael points at the spot to the right of your front lawn and you scowl as he says, “you know what they say, don’t eat yellow snow!”

He laughs but stops short as you cut your eyes at him, “did you come out here to piss on my lawn when there’s two bathroom’s inside?”

Michael scoffs, “don’t go pointin’ fingers at me because you busted your ass. That ain’t my fault babe and you know I wouldn’t do that! I told you that was Richie’s drunk ass.”

Sighing you rub at your sore thigh, “I still owe him a kick in the ass for that.”

“Yeah you do,” Michael smirks as the both of you move to head back inside, “despite that, it was good house warming.”

You nod as you’re back inside the warmth of your new home and rest against the couch while Michael’s back to analyzing the tree you picked. “Hey, I’ve got you something.”

Michael shakes his head although a twitch of a grin is there,“I told you that you didn’t need to get me anything.”

“Shush,” you held up your hand at the man who raised his brows at you, “it’s nothing crazy but it’s in the fridge.”

He sighs at you but goes to your bright yellow kitchen nonetheless. Michael always gets caught up standing in your kitchen, just imagining all the meals he could get up to in here since it seems so bright and welcoming yet empty.

You were more of a breakfast person which is why he was always down to go to diners because of you, whereas he was more a lunch person because of his old man, hence why Chicagoland was a deli spot but Michael was okay with shifting his ways for you.

When he opens your fridge, he scans through it, easily picking up on what items belongs to your macho boyfriend and scoffs to himself before spotting a medium sized box tucked in the back of the fridge.

“Did you find it, Mikey?” You call out to your friend who latches onto the box, kneeing the fridge closed before making his way back into the living room.

He plops down on the couch next to you, eyeing you while you smile over at him patiently waiting.

“Here goes nothing,” Michael quietly says before pulling the top back to eye the mold of the zuccotto, “…you fucking didn’t.”

“I did,” you nod before explaining, “I thought about making one but I also didn’t want to disappoint you and then I remembered you’ve been wanting to try that bakery that’s here on my side of town, so I made a call and hope you like it.”

Michael swallows the lump in his throat at the gesture. He can’t remember the last time someone’s got him a cake but this wasn’t just some simple task. This was important because this means you listened.

You listened to how he told you that his nonna used to call him, “pumpkin bear,” because he was chunky and the shade of a Orange left in the sunlight fresh out the womb and that she made the best zuccotto he’s ever had and never tried anyone else’s since she’s passed.

Not even his ma could touch his nonna’s but he would never tell the woman that!

“The bakery’s a combined Italian-French place which they don’t really advertise until you’re actually inside but the little elderly lady who made it was the cutest thing and I thought you’d probably trust her.”

“I wanna kiss you on the mouth, you’re so good to me, you have no idea!” Michael pointed at you, voice thick with emotion.

This may seem small to any other but it really meant a lot and you could sense that as Michael gripped your hand to squeeze and press kisses to. “Happy birthday, Mikey.” You whisper.

Michael groans as he pinched the corners of his wet eyes for a moment, “I love you, you know?”

“I love you back,” you smile, “now can we try!?”

“Hell yeah we can but I get first bite this time.”

“I guess…it is your birthday after all.” You wink.

The taste test was so worth it, to the point Michael made it his mission to go meet the elderly woman down at her bakery during one of his breaks from the restaurant.

He shared kind words and got to know Giuseppina or “Josy,” up until the point they actually became friendly with Josy sending her husband Charles over to try what Chicagoland had to offer as well.

He had you to thank for that, reminding him of the good in his life, even what once was.

It isnt until the first week of December when Michael comes around again to decorate your tree.

“What the hell happened?” Michael quizzes you when he spots you with a brace taking up a huge portion of your thigh.

Guess that makes sense why you took so long to get the door.

You sigh, “hello to you too, Mike. Care to come in?”

“Yeah, yeah. Hi.” Michael greets, gripping your hip and pressing a kiss to your cheek before stepping into the too warm house.

You tell him you slipped again and that resulted into a bruised bone, which is less severe than a fracture and something you can heal at home with ice, and meds you wouldn’t be taking—so you’re just taking it easy.

“Why hasn’t inspector gadget put down any salt yet?” Michael commented as he shoved his thin jacket into the small closet tucked in the corner of the living room.

You have your oddly placed fireplace lit and boxes everywhere to dig through.

Sighing you plop back on the couch, “He’s busy but he brought up the decorations from the basement and I can do the salt myself.”

“Oh yeah? Why haven’t you?”

“…it’s cold.”

Michael fans his hands at you, “newsflash babe, we’re in Chicago not Kansas or wherever the hell he’s from and after we’re done tackling this tree, I’m gonna fix it.”

“Mikey—

“Did you hear what I said?”

The look he sent you with his dark eyes made you mold your lips together and cross your arms before you pushed off the couch to head over to a few of the boxes.

Michael does the honors of playing some Motown Christmas music on your tv to fill the tension, but he wouldn’t apologize for looking out for you.

The bare minimum when it comes to your boyfriend doesn’t impress him, not one bit and although you didn’t like and told Michael that you didn’t like him dragging your man, you couldn’t change Michael’s mind about him at all!

He was gonna hurt you and Michael was waiting for the asshole to just rip the band aid off or when you woke up and dumped him yourself.

Michael knew you had it in you and knew you deserved better than to just settle for what looks good on paper.

The smooth deep growl of Marvin Gaye singing, “I want to come home for Christmas,” (I heavily stand on the fact that Marvin Gaye is one of Michael’s favorite singers!) filled your home as the both of you went through the boxes, picking out your decor that brought all sorts of feelings to your frame.

You reminisced about what your life was and if your dad still had any of your old ornaments you made as a child, knowing your mother would have and what your life could be as you took your side of the tree, placing ornaments up as Michael hummed to the music.

The both of you worked in silence which wasn’t the usual although Michael was much louder than you, being quiet wasn’t the norm of your friendship.

And it wasn’t because of what Michael said to you, you weren’t that sensitive—it was you getting in your head about the holidays.

About your dad, step-mom, and siblings deciding not to speed Christmas with you like originally planned because they were going on a cruise and the possibility of your boyfriend traveling to freaking Europe around that time for work made you think about the upcoming loneliness

Yes you had another friend outside of Michael but it was just this odd feeling that you didn’t particularly want to define or gave much thought about until now…

“Hey, stop thinkin’ so hard and just be here with me, huh? Your favorite person on the planet.” Michael calls over the music, after catching you staring up at the length of the tree with one ornament still in your hand.

When your eyes meet his and that famous grin stretched over his features, you roll your eyes once you realized what he said, bringing you back into the spirit and moved around the living room in search of your stool.

Michael holds the stool until your comfortably on it before moving one hand to the small of your back to keep you stable.

When you glance back at him you state, “how do you know?”

“Know what?”

“You’re my favorite person when there’s a billion people in this place?”

“Ah, It’s all over your face! You know how they say heart on your sleeve? Well in your case, it’s on your face.” Michael comments as he holds your stare before you slowly get down to be face to face with him, “and don’t you worry, you’re mine too.” 🥹🥹🥹

You pat his jaw, “damn straight, baby. And don’t you forget it.”

“Never will,” Michael chuckles, “do I get to do the honors of putting up the star?”

You plop down on the couch, digging through what’s left in the box you were working on, “we don’t have a star.”

“…Run that by me again?” Michael turns to you.

You nod, “we wanted to do something…less traditional and it was between either a bow or what he went for…a stag.”

Michael eyes the topper and scowls as he reaches for the cream deer head, “im gonna keep my mouth shut on this one.”

“Thank you.”

“welcome.”

after awhile, Michael finds his way collapsed next to you eyeing the tree as the both of you sip at some cranberry punch you made the other day, eyeing some rosemary you had floating through it.

“It actually turned out pretty, no?” You ask, shoulder to shoulder with the bearded man.

Michael sips from the mason jar and savors the earthy tangy flavor, “best lookin’ tree I’ve ever seen!”

Resting your head against Michael’s shoulder you take in the scenery, feeling a little less alone as Michael’s lips peck your brow, reminding you that it’s best to hold onto what you have, rather than what you don’t. 

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read my final ~5 days of Xmas~ anthology prompt here.

#Spotify #queued #the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear s2 #the bear hulu #the bear fx #michael berzatto #Michael Mikey berzatto #Mikey berzatto #Michael berzatto x reader #Mikey berzatto x reader #december prompts #jon bernthal #donna berzatto #natalie berzatto #carmy berzatto #richie jerimovich #tiffany jerimovich

[certifiedskywalker]

She Keeps Me Warm - Rhaenyra Targaryen

nyrathecruel asked: Could I request Rhaenyra x handmaiden!reader where they’re drawn to each other from the moment they meet and bond over their mutual trust issues regarding losing loved ones while slowly falling in love on Dragonstone? Like Nyra is cold and distant with everyone else, hesitant to let anyone in, but she just clicks with reader and whenever they’re alone, Nyra just melts and goes all soft, all affectionate touches and sweet nicknames and tender looks? (Two of my fav nicknames she’d call reader are: my little one, and Perzītsos (little flame) Maybe even a bit of soft smut, though it doesn’t have to be smut if you’re not comfortable

Anonymous asked: Could you do a Rhaenyra x fem stark reader pls :)

A/N: I had TWO IDEAS for these requests! So stay tuned for another fic publishing soon!

They were not well-kept secrets, Daemon’s unsavory proclivities. So, in turn, Rhaenyra went to neither effort to hide her misery nor how you, a simple handmaiden from the North, seemed to be its only remedy. 

“Enter, perzītsos. He has gone.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the low sound of Rhaenyra’s voice and you pulled your ever-listening ear from the ironwood door. Your hand, fumbling with the wiry giddiness of a lightning bolt, found the cool handle and pushed with a turn. Tongues of yellow and orange greeted you with licks of diminished warmth along with the sight of Rhaenyra, bathed in the same glow. She sat, body spread and extended over the plush armchair before the fireplace.

“Apologies, my Princess, I did not wish to intrude on-”

“What have I told you?” 

Her voice was low still, her eyes still fixed on the dwindling flames, as she addressed you. Heat rushed up to your face and washed down like the tides of the Narrow Sea. Your mouth opened slightly before you closed it, your muscles suddenly all-too-alive. Luckily, the Princess of Dragonstone, Heir to the Iron Throne, clarified. 

“You must call me Rhaenyra,” she turned to you then, light eyes darkened by the colors of fire and smiling softly. “I will not have you hiding behind formality or dutiful, Northern niceties.”

“Apologies,” you echoed, swallowing hard. “I did not wish to intrude on your lawful husband…having you.” 

Rhaenyra’s smile faded, ebbed into a flatline of stone sternness you recognized from meetings with the maester. “He left before dusk on Caraxes, an hour or so before by which I told you to arrive. There was no having of any sort.”

She moved to her feet then, her shoes knocking against the heated stone floor of her chambers as she approached you like the Blood Wyrm in her crimson gown. Her eyes were squinted slightly, focused on you, your face, reading how your eyes slowly widened with her every careful step. It was the same manner in which she approached you the first time: calculated, a predator eyeing prey. The lightning returned again, sending you into a brewing storm that culminated in Rhaenyra’s lips.

When she stood full before you, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the column of your neck. Your breath hitched immediately, and trepidation caught in your throat.

“Princess,” you whispered, though it sounded more like a gasp. Rhaenyra immediately pulled away from your neck, revealing her furrowed brow and playful scowl. “I still do not understand.”

“My perzītsos, what more is there to understand?” Her hands raced up the bodice of your gown to your neck. Her hands were warm dancing along your most sensitive skin. 

“Prince Daemon-” “Is off sowing dragonseed,” Rhaenyra said, though the ease with which she used the term alarmed you. “Just as my court remains adrift gathering council. All men, all cold, making me colder and I will not have that. I will have you.”

Rhaenyra pressed her lips back against your neck, closer to your jaw. You shivered again, your body knocking against hers instinctively, careening into her warmth. The tip of her nose tickled your skin as her lips went lower, nipping at your collarbone. Your hands rose to her waist, the whaleboning of her corset bodice. Beneath the fabric, you could feel her breathing grow more erratic. Your own breathing grew shallow with excitement, so much so that you pushed the Princess gently away. 

She gave you a worried look, her hands caressing your flushed cheek. “Do you not wish to have me?”

White hot, dragon fire panic shot through your veins. “No, no, I-”

But Rhaenyra was recoiling despite your manic clarification, already reigning in herself, her want. She was cooling into her hardened self, the soul sent off to Dragonstone by the eyes of the critical court in King’s Landing. You had seen it too many times before. How practiced Rhaenyra was as holding parts of herself back.

You reached out, just as she had, with your lips finding her neck first and your hands on her gowned hips. She was stiff under your touch but for a moment until she quickly melted into you as your mouth moved up. You pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek before pulling away, eager to see her pleased, unworried; eager to see the Rhaenyra she only seemed to show you.

“I don’t understand what it means,” you breathed out, not entirely knowing what you yourself meant, only that whatever it was made your heart sing.

Rhaenyra seemed to reach and read the most clouded part of your mind, obscured to even you. Her smile returned in glorious full and you felt your heart tickle in your chest. In turn, you felt your own lips quirk upwards, ready to swallow the newness of it all.

“You mean perzītsos?”

You nodded, unsure at first, but, sure in how it made Rhaenyra smile.

“Perzītsos. Little flame. You burn in me. You keep me warm,” Rhaenyra softened, then, her smile ebbing ever-so-slightly. “In the darkest moments, you keep me alive.”

Without wasting another second lost in the storm, you barreled through and crashed your lips into Rhaenyra’s. It felt like you were falling until you actually were as Rhaenyra pulled you down onto the silken sheets of her bed, and the rest was warm.

#game of thrones #got #house of the dragon #hotd #rhaenyra #rhaenyra targaryen #targaryen #hotd imagine #hotd fanfiction #hotd imagines #hotd fanfictions #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon imagine #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen imagine #rhaenyra targaryen fanfiction #rhaenyra targaryen fanfic #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra fanfiction #rhaenyra fanfic

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unsolicited 32

Warnings: bad self-thought/talk, bullying, insults, low self-esteem, money problems, oral/noncon, coercion, cum, some untagged sexual and dark elements.

Wouldn’t mind some feedback! Lloyd was driving me nuts so I had to do it. Thank you in advance 💜

Masterlist

There’s a drumming, loud and painful, right at the top of your forehead. Your body is buried in sand and your stomach is rotten with acid. You move a single finger, the effort enough to make you groan.

Another weight rests across your back, just above the crumpled fabric over your ass. You drag your arm up and turn yourself stiffly. You whimper as the light from the tall windows glares in your eyes. You cover your face as you blink away tears.

Slowly, you roll onto your back. Lloyd’s ass is shamelessly bare to the room, his arm still across your torso. He grumbles and moves his hand over the rise of your chest. You swat him away and sit up, a bit too quickly as you grab your splintering skull.

You turn your legs over the edge as you put your back to him and lean over your lap. God, you feel like hell. You remember only the taste of tequila and the juvenile game.

A sudden clutching knots in your stomach and you hold back a retch. You gulp and hold your middle as you push yourself forward, hitting your knees on the floor as your body wracks painfully. You crawl around the bed as you try not to hurl.

Another sour tide threatens to spill and you keep your fingertips on the floor as you plant your feet under you. You race unsteadily, hitting the doorway before you can clatter through and hug the toilet. You vomit, gagging loudly as you spit up the remnants of the forgotten night.

Shit, what the fuck happened?

Your muscles contract as you spill into the porcelain, reaching weakly to flush as you keep yourself against its comforting coolness. You cross your arm over the seat and rest your head against it. You shake as you fight to catch your breath, another storm brewing hotly.

You close your eyes. Never have I ever…

You furrow your brow. You hear him moving around as you try to remember. More tequila, you recall it flooding down your cheeks, his face between your legs. That’s not entirely a surprise.

Then–

You clutch the tank with one hand as you bring up another splash of puke. You mumble and whimper, folding both arms behind your head as you tremble.

No, you definitely didn’t go that far. It’s been years since you got that bad. You definitely remember anger, but it could easily be his.

“So,” his shadow looms over you, “what exactly went down on Brennan Avenue?”

You groan and refuse to lift your head, “no…”

“I really didn’t expect that side of you,” he snickers.

You brace the seat and push yourself up, flushing as you flip the lid. You move to the sink and shake your head. Regrettably as it makes your temples throb. You turn the faucet on and rinse out your mouth.

“It’s nothing–”

You look over at him and stop dead, hands dripping as the water runs. His neck is bruised, he has a bite mark on his shoulder, and his chest is clawed to shit. Not to mention the purple and blue splotches down his torso and thighs.

“Oh fuck.”

“Yeah, you did quite the number,” he looks down at his body, “but I’ve been through worse.”

You stare at him. Waiting for it. You turn and finish washing up as you try to collect yourself. You nod and face him again.

“Do I apologise or–”

“Baby, I’ll give you a pass on this one,” he smirks, “the way you worked that ass, you deserve it.”

You cross your arm and purse your lips. You have a bad feeling but that could be the hangover. You exhale and it leaves you lightheaded. You back up and sit daintily on the edge of the square tub.

“I think maybe you should chill and I’ll order something to eat. Soak up that half gallon you tossed back.”

“You mean that you forced down my throat.”

“Potato, Po-ta-to,” he shrugs.

You frown and rub your cheeks, “why would you do that?”

“Well, you think I wouldn’t–”

“No, why would you… get food–”

“Babe, I told you, I have a whole weekend planned out and I need you in walking condition,” he says as he comes closer. You wince and shy away as he bends past you and twists on the tap, “a bath will help too.”

You watch him wearily as he squeezes your shoulder and stands. He smirks down at you as he frames his hips, a twitch just below eye level. You could rip that damn thing off him.

“I can be nice,” he intones, “believe it or not.”

💎

The summer dress is unexpectedly modest. Red cherries on white, a dainty frill at the hem. Well, compared to Lloyd's usual taste. Another surprise. Just like his behaviour.

The peace of the morning has you on edge, piqued further by your lingering hangover. A meal that doesn't churn in your stomach and a calm that you know can't last. Not with him.

Lloyd wears a polo, yellow with a tacky green palm fronds pattern, white slacks, and loafers with no socks. Nothing unlike his characteristic aesthetic. Overpriced and douchey. The only thing missing is his signature mustache, still but a sprouting along his upper lip.

Outside the hotel, a car awaits you. You're still uncertain, you don't think you'll ever be anything but with this man. He sits beside you, poking a bruise on his neck as he grins. You try to ignore the sadistic joy in his face.

You watch the bright sky, finally a chance to take in the Caribbean atmosphere. You'd never been anywhere tropical, never close to able to afford it. You scraped by, like always, and enjoyed the little things like a movie or concert. Nothing terribly extravagant.

You stop at a marina, peering out over crystal blue water, glistening beneath the sunlight. Lloyd gets out first and you follow, not sure what else to do. He waits, offering his hand only to be met with a very confounded grimace.

"Come on, honey," he takes your hand, "don't be a brat."

You let him lead you along, looking nervously into the crystalline depths as you come down the pier. You've never been on a boat. You don't say as much, just another thing for him to laugh at.

A plank is set for boarding to a small boat, not quite a yacht, something more personal by your measure. What do you know?

Lloyd puts you ahead of him and follows as you walk carefully up the ramp. You put your arms out as if you might tip and he hovers his hands around your hips. You push him away and stomp the last few steps, dropping ungainly onto the deck.

"So, sweetheart," he hops down after you, "what do you think?"

"Uh, it's a boat," you turn slowly, already a bit off kilter by the slightly swaying floor, "great for hangovers I hear."

"Don't fret, babe, I'll be on top tonight… or in a couple minutes," he winks.

You look away, resisting the urge to sneer at him. No wonder you lost it last night. You've never known anyone so intrinsically unbearable.

He turns and pulls back the board, folding it down and covering it with a hatch door. You cross to the cabin and brace yourself against the wall as he unmoors the boat. A peek at the water sets you on edge. Wait…

"Um, where are we going?"

"Just sailing," he claps his hands and shakes off errant dirt, "you and I and the sea. Romantic, huh?"

Ominous, you think but know better than to give that thought breath.

"Nice boat."

"All mine," he gloats, "just like everything else." He nears and hooks an arm around you, jolting you against him as he gropes your ass, "including you, Mrs. Hansen."

You swallow and your cheek twitches, "mmhm, well if she don't sit down, Mrs. Hansen is gonna hurl."

His brows arch and he taps your ass, "Mrs. Hansen wishes, Mr. Hansen makes it come true."

He keeps his arm around you and turns, guiding you into the cabin, a striped sofa and canvas chairs set across from the steering wheel. He guides you to sit and fluffs a pillow.

"Get some rest, honey, you're gonna need it," he teases, "maybe some hair of the dog will help."

"No, no drinking," you retort as you collapse back against the cushions, "I'm on the wagon."

"No fun," he chides, "but I can think up something for that."

You slump and look out the window as he goes to the wheel. He turns the engine and you play with a fold in the dress. He slowly pulls away from the dock and you watch the horizon. If you die out here, at least you'll have a pretty view.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #unsolicited #series #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #the gray man

[lauriegraham01]

i'll never smile again

pairings: 40s!bucky barnes x reader, nurse!reader

summary: with you and bucky away to fight in the war, you both can't wait to come back home and begin the rest of your lives together. what's left of your plans when a mission goes sideway? could you and bucky have been born so unlucky?

w/c: 1,423

c/w: takes place in CATFA, ANGST, major character death, themes of grief

a/n: this has taken me the longest to edit, not sure if im completely satisfied with the ending but it's enough. hope u enjoy, lmk if you like :)

Time of death: 14:37

You hang your head low in defeat, the death of another soldier baring on your soul. There truly was only so much that you could do. He had come in completely mutilated from barbed wire and eyes blinded form tear gas. With limited options, you and your team of fellow nurses ensured that he could be comfortable for his passing. One of the other nurses raises the white sheet to cover his face, and you gather yourself to move on to the next patient.

You had joined the army nurse corps a little over a year ago. There was news that we were loosing soldiers faster than we could kill enemies and you decided to join the war effort, believing you could do some good for your country. Nothing prepared you for the horrors you faced daily, the chaos and death that surrounded your every breath.

However you weren't alone in your pain. Your two best friends, Steve and Bucky had too joined the war. They along with the rest of the Howling Commandos were going on missions targeting Hydra bases. There was only so much they could tell you, but the little they did still left you uneasy. It just seemed so dangerous and you worried about the both of them- especially Bucky.

Bucky and you had only been dating for two years when news of the U.S. joining the war broke out. Yet after a lifetime of friendship you felt like he knew you better than anyone else in this world. You two had agreed that when the war was over, you would finally get married. These days it was your future plans with Bucky that gave you the strength to survive the war. That, along with the letters that he sent. Writing in detail about what missions he and Steve were on and how things were looking on his side of the war.

The rest of the day had passed by in a haze. By the time you returned to the nurses quarter on base, you feel the full weight of the day in the way that your back aches. Upon looking in the mirror you wince at the amount of blood that's caked into your face and hands. A shower lifts your spirits as you feel the stress from the day drain along with the water. Stepping back into the sleeping barracks, you squeeze past the crowd of nurses until you reached your cot. As you tuck your uniform away you see a letter placed on the pillow. Lifting it up with curiosity, you flip the envelope and a smile tugs at your lips.

Bucky.

You tear open the letter eagerly, it had only been a week since you had last heard from him but it felt like eternity waiting between letters. Unfolding the pages within your hand you read each line carefully, hearing his voice with each word, imagining as though he were reading it to you. As he told you about his latest mission, fear threatened to creep its way into your heart. Yet as you got to the last page, you inhaled a sharp breath- the world around you seeming to go quiet in that moment.

“Doll, I’ve done enough thinking, and I know what I want. I’ve loved you for a lifetime. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me and I know that there's no one else for me but you, y/n. I wish I could ask this in person but I cannot go another day without you knowing how much you mean to me. When the war is over we’ll get married and I’ll grow flowers like you, and your womb will carry the most beautiful girl in the universe. Make me the happiest man alive - will you marry me?”

You fell backwards onto your bed and closed your eyes, Bucky's words burned into your mind. Tears began to well up at your eyes as your heart soared at Bucky's proposal. Bucky wanted to build a life with you. You began to imagine your wedding day. The familiar faces that would gather to celebrate your love, what it would be like to become the mother to his children, and to be able to grow old with him. As you thought about this, you couldn't contain your excitement anymore. Hastily rising from bed, you make your way to the center of the room before grabbing the attention of your fellow nurses.

"I'm getting married!" You shouted, all the nurses turned to look at you before ensuing in cheerful screams. They all congratulated you and gave you and Bucky well wishes for the future.

As you and the nurses were still caught in the excitement of the news, you were suddenly interrupted when a knock rang on the barracks front door.

As everyone scurried to stand in formation, you felt relieved when you saw that it was Steve and Peggy who had walked through the door.

"Officer y/n, would you please come with us for just a moment?" Peggy speaks up.

Stepping out of formation, you grab your coat as you follow behind the two, stepping out in the cold winter air.

"Steve!"

"Angel." He coos as he brings you in for a hug. It had been about 8 months since you'd last seen him. While you were happy to see him, you were slightly taken aback to see him here.

"What on earth are you two doing here?" You breath out as you go to pull away from his embrace. When Steve's grip on you suddenly tightens, you're slightly confused. Looking up at Peggy and seeing the solemn look on her face you know that something was wrong.

“Steve?”

"I'll give you two a minute." Peggy excuses herself, making her way toward the field to give us some privacy.

“Steve, hey, hey, what's going on?" As he finally lets you go you look up into his eyes to see that they were glossy with tears threatening to spill over.

“Hey,” you hook a finger underneath his chin fixing his gaze from the ground onto you, "talk to me. I'm here, what's wrong?"

“It’s Bucky, he’s… he’s gone.”

A dreadful weight settles deep in the pit of your stomach as Steve looks at you in a way he's never before. So full of regret and heartache. You search his face for any type of deceit, any indication that what he said had been a terrible lie and that Bucky was alright- but to your avail you could find none.

Steve went on about the mission leading up to Bucky's final moments but it fell on deaf ears as your mind was anything but tethered to this reality.

"No, no." You mumble underneath your breath as you stumble backwards a bit.

"Woah-hey," Steve grabs a hold onto you, steadying your grounding. "I'm so sorry y/n."

“He can’t be gone," your voice comes out strained in a high pitch, "he just can’t be.” Your vision blurred as the crushing weight of reality settled within your head and within your heart.

Bucky was gone- for real this time. There was no rescuing him, there was no saving him.

You felt Steve wrap his arms around you as you buried your head into his chest. That seemed to be the tipping edge as before you knew it a sob began to wrack out of your lips. You cried for all the plans you've made. For the memories and time now stolen from you.

"We were supposed to get married." You manage to choke out between ragged breaths.

"I know, angel," he said softly. "I know."

When you returned to the barracks, it was lights out and you wanted nothing more than to go to sleep and wake up from this terrible nightmare. You found it cruel how the last time you were within these walls you were an engaged woman, and now you return a widow. Memories of Bucky plagued your every thought as your own grief made you restless, sleep evading you.

Bucky and you had shared a lifetime of memories. Growing into the versions of yourselves that both of you had come to love. Now they'll forever be a hole left where the rest of the story should have been written. When you return home, you'll return a widow. You'll never be able to hold him, to touch him, to marry him, have a family with him-

"I'll never love again", you thought to yourself. "There's no getting over you."

#40s bucky #bucky barnes #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfiction #bucky angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #sebastian stan #40s bucky x reader

[librariesandcastles]

Stay

“You’re such a good friend, Y/N. So helpful and thoughtful and gentle… and beautiful.” -  Chris rambled as you were putting your best efforts into navigating him towards his bedroom. You went out to celebrate his latest movie and he had one too many drinks. - “You are the most beautiful among all of my girl friends. And boy friends, and dog friends, too. And let me tell ya, I’ve got very beautiful dog friends.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say.” - you laughed. You knew better than taking his drunken compliments seriously, but your heart couldn’t help but skip a few beats. The poor thing didn’t understand that its feelings for Chris just shouldn’t be acted on.

“You smell good.” - he leaned forward and nuzzled his nose down your neck making your cheeks flush the brightest shade of red.

“And you are so drunk.” - you shook your head in another attempt to not read into his words or actions. He wouldn’t remember any of them in a few hours anyway, and you certainly didn’t want to repeat them in your head longer than necessary. You were friends for years, good friends, and yes, there were sparks, a whole damn wildfire in fact, but you weren’t completely sure if Chris was ready for more. His career was demanding and he was always on the go. Relationships rarely worked out for him and you didn’t want to get him or yourself hurt, so when you finally reached his bedroom and you made sure that he is comfortable in his bed and has water and two tablets of ibuprofen on the nightstand, you ran towards the door.

“Y/N.” - he mumbled and stopped you just before you managed to leave. - “I don’t want you to drive this late.” 

“It’s not late, Chris, it's actually early. It’s six in the morning. Plus, I drove you here, remember?” - you argued, your body half out of the room.

“Yes, but you shouldn’t have done that, Y/N.” - he pointed his index finger at you trying to appear serious. - “You are drunk, too.”

“I had two margaritas. Hours ago. I already sobered up.”

“Yeah, but… traffic’s bad in the morning.” 

“I’ll manage.”

“But you don’t have to.” - he said with a voice that made your insides melt. His blue eyes were half closed and heavy with sleep, his face was slightly puffy from exhaustion and he just looked so adorable that the remnants of those two margaritas were tempting you towards the bad decision of cuddling down next to him. - “Just stay.” - Chris pleaded. - “You never stay.”

“You never asked me to stay before.” - you heard yourself saying as if you were both in the state to discuss this right now.

“Cos I like you as a friend. Like very much. I don’t wanna mess up.” - he spoke the last sentence so low you thought you imagined it. - “I… God, I’m not so good with my words right now…”

“Chris…”

“I… I know I haven’t been the best at expressing how I feel about you.” - he swallowed. - “But it’s hard, you… You are too precious to me, I don’t wanna lose you.” - god dammit. Your willpower started evaporating and you knew you were going to throw caution and logic to the wind. You took your heels off and climbed next to him. 

“I don’t want to lose you either.” - you whispered and allowed him to take you in his arms. 

“But not giving this a chance…” - he gazed upon your lips and licked his.

“Will be just as bad.” 

#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fic #chris evans one shot #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans imagine #chris evans drabble #chris evans blurb #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #chris evans fluff #chris evans x best friend!reader #chris evans characters #christopher robert evans #cevans #chris evans x fluff

[niki-phoria]

idc if its been overdone academic rivals with jake >>>>>>

yn (male) getting pissed and angry because jake is higher at him at quizzes and exams but jake is only high cause he wants yn to notice him

yn being dumb at physics gets forced to be tutored by jake and jake accidentally confesses why he wants to "beat" yn in every quiz or activity (spoiler its because yn likes smart guys)

pairing: non idol!jake x male!reader (he/him pronouns) genre: fluff word count: 1.5k

includes: high school au, blushy jake, mentions of the rest of enha, they're not really rivals (?), i'm terrible at physics, i feel like i'm so bad at academic rivals to lovers i'm sorry

a/n: thank you for requesting !! i hope you like it :))

requests open !! read my rules first

“jake!” heeseung waves the boy over as soon as he leaves his classroom. sunghoon, jungwon, and niki are already sitting beside him at a random picnic table in the school’s courtyard. sunoo is the first to join them, followed by jungwon and then him. “we’re gonna go out and play basketball later, you wanna come?” 

jake glances over his shoulder, his eye catching you almost immediately. you’re laughing with one of your friends - mina. he’s seen you with her before: walking to your classes together, sitting side by side at lunch, dropping her off at her home after school. another small pang of jealousy creeps through him as he turns back to his friends. “maybe tomorrow,” he sighs. “i have some studying to catch up on.” 

“more studying?” jay asks. “it seems like all you do is study. you can’t take one night off?” 

“you know how hyung is,” niki says. “he’s pining for y/n’s attention and the only way he knows how to get it is by showing him up in class.”

“i’m trying to ‘show him up,’” jake defends. 

“so you admit that you’re pining for his attention?” sunghoon teases. jake purses his lips in embarrassment while his friends laugh at his reaction. he sighs, looking away. 

“don’t worry, hyung,” jungwon reaches over to pat his shoulder.

jake simply rolls his eyes; his mind already drifting back to you and your newest assignment. 

jake slinks over to his seat near the back of the classroom like he does everyday, though he can’t help the way his eyes continuously drift over to your still-empty desk. mina has already arrived and pulled out her notebook in preparation for the day’s lesson just like she always does. he furrows his eyebrows a little when the teacher walks in, sitting down at her desk at the front of the room. her thin glasses sit low on her nose as she sighs. her eyes scan through the class list - occasionally glancing up to take attendance. “mina,” she calls, squinting down at the page. “is y/n not here today?” 

“he’s sick,” the girl replies. “he said he should be back by tomorrow.” 

“very well,” she sighs as she marks it down on the sheet before standing. “let’s begin.” 

jake flips through his textbook, eyes scanning through the various problems on the page, though despite his best efforts his mind continues to drift back to you. 

the hour passes quickly - being cut off by the shrill sound of a bell going off. he quickly shoves his notebook into his backpack before rushing over to mina. “hey.” 

“oh, hi jake,” she smiles. 

“do you know where y/n is? i took some notes for him just in case you didn’t.” 

“he should be at home. i can give you his number if you want.” 

“yeah, yeah, that would be great. thanks.” mina hums, leaning down to rip off a small piece of paper out of her notebook before scribbling down a string of numbers. “i’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“see you!” 

jake shoves the slip of paper into his pocket, making note to text you later as he wills his flushed face to calm down. 

you

hi! it’s jake, from your physics class

i hope you don’t mind, i asked mina to give me your number

she said you were feeling sick so i took some notes for you

i can just text a few pics of them if you want

y/n <3

hi jake!! thank you for the notes, it means a lot

you can just text them over if you want

thank you again!!

you

of course

jake smiles as he flips through his notebook, quickly taking a few pictures of the example problems and his messily written notes before texting them to you.

“hey, jake,” you tug your backpack over your shoulder as you make your way over to his desk. “i wanted to thank you for the notes again, they’re all really helpful.” 

“yeah, of course! i’m glad to help.” 

you pause, nervously looking down at the ground before continuing. “i was actually also hoping you could help me out sometime? i’m having trouble understanding quantum mechanics.” 

jake can feel his ears burning a light pink as he immediately nods. “i have some time later today if you want to meet up somewhere.” 

“i usually study in the courtyard. we can meet up after school if you want.” 

“that works perfectly.” 

“great!” you smile brightly at him, somehow deepening his blush. “i’ll see you later, then?” 

“i’ll see you later.” 

jake spends the rest of the day in a happy daze as he trudges along to his various different classes. the end of the day can never come fast enough but time feels like it’s moving especially slow. he’s finally given a reprieve when the final bell rings out, announcing the end of the school day. jake is quick to gather his notes and textbooks as he shoves them into his backpack before rushing out into the school’s courtyard. 

you’re sitting at one of the empty picnic tables, scrolling through your phone as you wait for him.  “y/n,” he calls as he jogs over to where you’re sitting. 

“jake!” your face lights up immediately as you smile at him. you pull out your textbook and notebook as jake slides over to sit across from you. “should we start with quantum field theory?” 

“sure.” 

you find yourself falling into a routine with jake. every week you meet up at the same picnic table in the courtyard to study together or review your notes. sometimes you don’t even glance at your textbooks after taking them out. you just sit together and talk. about basketball, the newest lego set he’s completed, your plans for the future - everything. 

“hey,” jake’s voice breaks you out of your slight trance of staring at his lips as he pauses his rambling. “is everything okay? you’ve been staring into space.” 

“yeah, yeah,” you shake your head in a poor attempt to rid yourself of your thoughts about jake. about kissing him, cuddling with him, officially asking him out on a date. “i’m fine. what were you saying?” 

“i was gonna ask if you wanted to go out sometime.” 

you nearly choke on your drink, coughing a few times to clear your airway. jake frantically reaches over to pat your back to try and help calm you down. his face is flushed from a light blush when you calm down enough to reply. “like- like a date?” 

“yeah,” he sighs. “like a date.” 

you smile at him, leaning over to press a quick kiss against his cheek. “i’d love to go out with you.” 

“hey,” jake greets you with a quick peck against your temple as he slides into the seat beside you at your lunch table. you hum in acknowledgement of his presence before turning back to your textbook. you’re still reading through the different blurbs about quantum theory and subatomic particles. “still studying?” 

“the test is today,” you reply. “i need to be prepared.” 

“okay, how about i make you a deal,” he gently pushes your textbook away from you and replaces it with you food. “when we pass the test, because we will, i’ll take you to that new korean barbecue place we saw a few weeks ago.” with one final glance at your notes you finally relent, turning your attention to your boyfriend instead. “deal?” 

“deal.” 

jake’s hand doesn’t leave yours until you enter the classroom. he lifts your intertwined hands to your lips, pressing a small ‘good luck’ kiss against the skin before you finally let go. 

the test feels increasingly less scary as you finally begin flipping through the pages. you answer the questions quickly, spending the remaining amount of time reviewing your work before the bell rings to announce the end of your class. your teacher stands up from across the room, walking around to collect the various papers. “thank you for all of your hard work today,” she calls. “you’ll have your grades by tomorrow.” 

“jake!” the boy stumbles backwards when you run at him to jump into his arms, nearly tackling him to the floor in the process. 

“y/n,” he chuckles as he wraps his arms around your waist to catch you. you pull back just enough to cup his cheek before leaning in to press a gentle kiss against his lips. despite his surprise, jake is quick to kiss back, slightly deepening it. 

“i passed the physics test, so i wanted to say thank you,” you smile. “i love you.” 

he leans back in, pulling you into yet another kiss. “i love you too.” 

#jake x reader #enha fluff #enha soft hours #jake x male reader #enhypen x male reader #enha x male reader #jake fluff #jake x you #jake x y/n #jake imagine #jake one shot #jake drabble #jake scenario #enha x you #enha x y/n #enha one shot #enha imagine #enha drabble #enha scenario #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen x y/n #enhypen drabble #enhypen scenario #male reader

[peterpparkrr]

Pinned (pt. 5)

Series: Pinned

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x f!reader

Summary: A walk home and an intersession.

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: n/a

A/N: sorry for the delay! Covid #shreked me so this one’s a short one.

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“Lord Bridgerton,” A clear voice greets him as he pushes through the door of Mr. Raugland’s tailor shop.

Anthony didn’t think he would ever tire of how you say his name. The bite had disappeared from your words in the last few weeks, but the teasing tone remained, and he loves it.

He still can’t quite put his finger on what it is that draws him to you. Why you are the woman that has completely ensnared his attention. 

But he feels like he can’t get enough of you.

“To what do I owe this poorly timed pleasure?” You ask as you give him a knowing look. You want to admonish him, he can see it in your eyes. But, surprisingly, you hold your tongue, causing Anthony to break out into a wide grin, knowing he’s won.

You loathe to admit it. But you like Anthony Bridgerton. You like the attention he gives you. And the way he looks at you, like he wants to know you. To truly know every part of you, not just to undress you and have his way with you.

Though sometimes you feel his gaze heat as he looks at you and you know that there is that too. 

And even when he bothers you at the worst times, you can’t stay mad at him. Not when he smiles at you the way he does.

“I believe this is actually the perfect time to bother you, because you’re done at five today, which means you can help me find a new cravat,” Anthony explains as if it is obvious. “And then I can escort you home,” He adds as he lowers his voice to a near-whisper.

“You always have ulterior motives, Lord Bridgerton,” You reply as you cross your arms over your chest.

“No, I just need excuses to see you,” He tells you. “And your indifference wounds me, if I were a lesser man…” He trails off.

“A lesser man would have given up by now,” You remind him. 

“Which is exactly why I get to reap the spoils of my hard work,” He tells you. “Your company,” He adds when your eyebrows raise at his response.

“My company? Is that what it is?” You reply as you try not to smirk too broadly at him.

“Of course,” Anthony replies quickly as he clasps his hands behind his back.

“Of course.”

After helping Anthony pick out a cravat that would match his waistcoats he makes his purchase and is off with a heated look. After you help another customer you leave the shop in one of your coworker’s capable hands.

You gathered your belongings from the back and left out the back door. You find Anthony already waiting for you in the alley. 

“Shall we?” He asks.

You roll your eyes but nod as you both make your way, taking the long way, winding through London’s side streets as you two head back to your flat, talking of everything and nothing as you navigate the busy streets.

You’re nearly to your flat when Anthony suddenly reaches out and grabs your wrist, pulling you into an alleyway between buildings.

You gasp at the sudden movement, trying to right yourself as you press your hands into Anthony’s chest in an effort to keep yourself upright.

Anthony grins down at you as one of his hands finds its way to your neck, gently cradling your head.

“You can’t do that here!” You chastise him in a low hiss as your own hand moves to grab at his wrist and stop his movements.

“Who’s going to see?” Anthony challenges.

“All of my neighbors for one,” You argue as you give him a stern look.

He merely raises an eyebrow at you.

“Sorry, for us lowly peasants there is no entertainment except for our neighbors' comings and goings, I’m sure you would not understand, since you are such a high and mighty Lord of the realm-”

“That’s enough of that-” Anthony cuts you off as he grabs onto your forearm and pulls you back towards him.

And you know you shouldn’t. But you let him. 

He kisses you soundly. You’d assumed, perhaps naively, that after your first kiss, Anthony’s urgency would dissipate. But the man kisses like a man dying of thirst. His lips attack your own like he fears you may disappear any moment. 

And you feel like you just might.

He groans lowly as he presses ever harder against you. The space between you is long gone, but you still feel like it’s not enough. You want him inside of you. In a way that you can’t even fully describe. Not in the way that you know he wants, as you can feel the instance of his need low and heavy against your lower stomach, which sets something else alight deep within you. 

But then suddenly you remember you are just steps away from a busy street, fully in view, and fully in public, practically in broad daylight. 

 You gasp as you pull away from him.

“We must stop,” You tell him breathlessly.

“Must we?” Anthony asks lowly as his mouth still rests just beside your cheek. 

You are a very dangerous man, Anthony Bridgerton,”

Anthony growls in your ear as he finally pulls himself away from you and stares deeply into your eyes.

You’re mesmerized by his blown-out irises, the desire evident all across his face.

“Perhaps…” He starts to offer as he stares down at you intently.

“My brother will be home any minute, we...I can’t,” You tell him quickly. 

You see something flash across Anthony’s face that you can’t quite discern. You just silently pray that it isn’t a look of disappointment.

“No, of course, of course, we can’t,” He agrees quickly.

“I…I should go,” You tell him.

Anthony nods. 

You offer him a small smile before you hop up onto your toes to press a brief kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you for escorting me, Lord Bridgerton.”

A few days later, you’re just about ready to fall over when you finally push through the door of your flat. You almost don’t even notice John sitting at the table as you dump your things on the chair by the door.

“Oh, John!” You greet him as you pull off your cloak and hang it on its hook. “How was your day?”

“Someone saw you,” John tells you as he stares at you, his face stern. “With your fancy little Lord.”

“Who?” You ask sharply as your head whips around to stare at him. You feel your stomach drop. “For the last time, Mrs. Haymow doesn’t know what she’s talking about-”

“-You need to stop this. Whatever you have with that man, you need to put an end to it. Before this destroys everything you’ve built for yourself.”

“If this were to get out? Properly, I mean, it would ruin us,” He tells you. “Everything we’ve built for ourselves would be gone.”

Him. It would ruin him. That is what John really means. His political aspirations would go down the drain if something like this were to get out. 

But you know he’s right. He’d been the one who’d pulled the two of you out of destitution. You’d saved yourselves from the workhouse thanks to John’s entrepreneurial spirit. Thanks to his hard work. He’d been the one to save you both when you’d still been a child. 

You know you owe him your life. 

“You’re right,” You say after a long moment, when you finally glance back up at him. “I’ll end it.”

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