#oh i’m inconsolable right now

[aroace-poly-show]

you don’t understand i’m devastated. id fucking kill a man to go to a glass beach show live. i’m so fucking sad right now dude

#marlo’s stuff #do you have any idea how sick it’d be to experience glass beach live #oh i’m inconsolable right now #devastated.

[daylite-writes]

Fragile Things - Yandere!Childe x Reader

At least he’s regretful when a punishment goes too far…

cws: kidnapping, isolation related punishments, yandere, self harm, softer yandere, heavier content.

1k words

~~~

“Baby, hey, look—look at me.” He was speaking firmly, his hands on your wrists, restraining you. Keeping you from clawing your skin any more than you already had.

You were absolutely inconsolable, babbling words even you couldn’t discern, sobbing, shaking. “No—no I-I—Ajax. A-Ajax.”

“That’s right. That’s right. Eyes on me. Oh baby. Too harsh? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so rough—”

You only broke down further, each hiccuping sob dragging you deeper as you tried to curl in on yourself.

Ajax hadn’t just kidnapped you. He’d been extremely thorough in breaking you. So thorough, a more logical you would have realized he underestimated how much you could take.

You’d been isolated, for the most part. Trying to escape the cabin in the snowy wilderness was not a good idea. Partially because, well, snow. And partially because it was easy to track people in the snow.

When he—inevitably—did catch you, he was upset. You knew the risk of punishment when you made the choice, but what he did was different to what you expected.

Your wrists, ankles, and neck all ached badly. For over a week you were locked up and shackled. And not the kind of locked up you were before the attempt. No, there wasn’t a warm cabin, a fireplace, or Tartaglia’s sloppy attempts at keeping you happy. A fucking closet. No light, windows. Ajax didn’t even speak to you when he left you food.

It was so different to everything you’d ever known, growing up in the free rolling hills of Mondstadt. You already struggled in the confines of the cabin, but kept silent and still in such a small space?

A week of that, and now he decided you were good. That you’d probably learnt your lessons. But that morning, when he went to let you out, to welcome you back with a teasing ‘I hope you learnt your lesson’ and a patronizing hug, he found you… in a less than desirable state.

Shivering not from cold, throat raspy and raw, eyes trained on the ground. You didn’t even notice him at first. Not as he spoke, each shackle falling off with a click. Not as his mood shifted as the light from the hallway illuminated your skin.

You’d been clawing at it, to the point of bleeding, stretching your limited dexterity in order to anxiously and unconsciously hurt yourself. Like a caged bird plucking it’s own feathers from stress. You’d only been brought to reality when he picked you up, jerking away from him as tears sprung to your eyes again.

He said something you didn’t process as you tried to stand up, stumbling like a doe on new legs, vision gray around the edges.

You weren’t sure how it all went down. But somehow you two ended up on the couch, settled between his thighs, your back to his chest as you shaked and begged and tried to get away, only partially aware. “No no no no—Ajax please.”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, I got you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He repeated, letting you claw at his forearms instead of your own skin. “Breath, breath little dove. It’s okay, It's all over baby. I’m sorry, it was too much, wasn’t it? You’re too fragile for me to be mean like that.”

You continued your quick, flighty, panicked breaths as he gently tried to get you back to reality. Eventually, you’d slowed down, settling against his chest, eyes still wide and breaths still quick. Like a live rabbit in the hands of a trapper.

“You with me, baby?” He asked gently. As your chest struggled to rise and fall again, you gave a quick nod, not looking up at him. Your eyes were trained on some far off spot, pretending to be anywhere else other than that damn closet. You weren’t sure you even realized—truly realized—you’d left. “There we go. There. That’s better darling. See? Everything’s alright now.”

“E-everything's alright…” you repeated, nodding to yourself.

“Yeah. See? Not too bad. I’m sorry for your punishment, I got all caught up in my emotions. I should have known you wouldn’t do that well alone, without me.” He laid his cheek on the top of your head, voice taking on something fond. A content sigh sounded above you. “You’re so soft. I need to be careful not to break you. But you need to be careful too, baby.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, before squeaking out a soft, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, no more escape attempts. Okay?” He said, and you nodded. He ran his fingers through your hair, having let go of your wrists when you weren’t paying attention. His blunt nails, worn from hard work, scratched gently at your scalp. “That’s right.”

It continued for some amount of time. It was hard to tell, really. You were on the edge of freaking out but somehow also falling asleep. Everything ached, from your ribs to your wrists.

At some point, he grabbed them again. Gentler this time. He lifted one, holding it gently as his thumb rubbed at your self inflicted injuries.

You felt like a caged bird, bars too tight and owner too inexperienced to keep you from plucking your own feathers from stress.

He sighed above you, and you turned your head away so as to not look at him. “Poor thing.” The condescending words felt strangely genuine as he laid his cheek on the top of your head. “It’s okay, I’ll take the week off and we can fix this, okay baby?”

He quieted for a moment, and belatedly you realized he wanted a response. You made a small, hollow noise of acknowledgement, which came out raspy from your throat.

He sighed again, as if this was so hard on him. It was hard to find the energy to be angry though. So you just stayed silent as he dropped your wrist and dragged you closer to him. He was cold to the touch, but even his love was warmer than isolation.

~

Not quite sure how this one managed to be both softer and rougher than my usual works. Sorry it was so short! And yes, the next part of traitor readers will be coming… eventually. I’m having a touch of trouble formatting it which is getting in the way of be writing it. Side note, I’ve expanded my fandoms open for requests! HxH and to a lesser degree HSR!

#yandere tartaglia #yandere childe #yandere ajax #yandere genshin impact #yandere childe x reader

[l0vergirlv0mit]

not a smut request, but abby or ellie comforting an upset reader who's got runny mascara and tears down her face🥲?

A/n: You requested this sooo long ago sorry I’m just now writing it😞 but thank you once again for a BANGER request comfort is favorite to write 🤭🤭🤭

Pairing: abby anderson x reader

warning: reader in emotional distress

You’d held back tears the whole way home from work. Your throat hurt from choking them down for the past 2 hours at least. Now you were finally at the front door of your home, your hand shaking as you try to unlock the door.

It only made you more frustrated unable to steady your hand. The tears finally breaking through as you got the key in the hole. Your vision was blurred as you walked into the house and put your things down. The tears fully streaming down your face in silence.

Abby had worked from home today and called to you from the living room. You didn’t even try to process what she said as you walked to your shared bedroom and then into the attached bathroom.

You closed the bathroom door to take a moment to silently sob. Your boss completely berated you before you left work talking about how your performance was not up to par and threatening to fire you. It was completely uncalled for given you were one of the best workers in the office. It scared you more than anything, it made you feel weak that you were making such a fuss over a threat.

Every worry spun around in your mind as you sat in the edge of the tub. A soft knock sounded from the door bringing you out of your chaos of a mind. Abby was on the other side listening to your struggle breaths and sniffles worried sick. “H-honey? Can I come in?” She said tentatively, when you had ignored her and walked right past her you were wearing a facial expression she’d never seen before and couldn’t read. She didn’t know if she had done something to make you upset and it made her stomach hurt with concern.

You looked up at the ceiling as if trying to connect to a higher power and tried taking a deep breath. You didn’t want Abby to see you like this but she was probably the only person in the world that would make you feel even remotely ok right now.

“Yeah come- come in Abby.” You had to stop halfway through to choke down the tears that came up again. She opened the door carefully peaking at you, you gave her a weak tight lipped smile. “Oh baby” Abby whispered quickly entering the room and closing the door. “Oh my god, oh my god what happened?!” She walked over and kneeled between your legs getting eye level. She was almost frantic looking over your wet face.

She pushed stray hairs behind your ears and held your cheeks tenderly. It became too much and you began to cry again. You felt too vulnerable and grab Abby’s hands taking them and holding them in your lap, then looking down as if trying to hide from her. She feels tears nearly come up at the sight of her inconsolable lover.

She gets up from the floor and pulls you into her. Her strong arms keep you up and in place securely. She presses your head into her chest not caring about how your wet mascara was staining her shirt and the other arm holds your waist keeping you on your feet. She left a kiss on the top of your head and held you until you had calmed down again. Whispering sweet words to you making you feel as safe as possible.

You finally calmed and stilled in her arms and she pulls back looking at you concerned. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to ok honey.” She said practically whispering taking the softest tone she could. You shook your head deciding to speak.

“My b-boss basically told me I suck at my j-job a-a-nd he could fire me soon if he wanted.” You shrugged defeated and to exhausted to get angry about it. Your words shaky trying to push past sniffing and hyperventilation. Abby on the other hand looked like she was going to kill someone. But she’d be lying if it didn’t relieve her that it wasn’t her fault that you were upset. “That doesn’t make any sense you work so fucking hard for that company.” She strains to keep her voice nice and sweet for you as she imagines turning your bosses face into a pulp.

“He was so m-mean Abby.” You hiccup and her heart breaks over and over again. She cups your face making you look at her. “I’m so sorry honey.”Abby just about wanted to ball hearing your voice become so small and depleted. “I’m s’scared Abby.” Abby shook her head at this. “No, no, there’s no reason, just know that if anything happens I’ll take care of you. Ok?” Abby’s eyes watered fully taking on your distress. Anger rumbled around in her chest but she knows that’s not what you needed right now. You need her sweet words she’d plan a hit on your boss later. “What can I do to make you feel better?” Her thumb rubs your cheek removing some of the runny mascara and she looks over your whole face lovingly.

You hiccup again before answering. “I j-just wanna lay down and sleep.” Your so so tired barely having any energy to speak. Your words nothing but soft whispers to keep from crying again. Abby nods letting you go and walking into the bedroom.

She comes back with her large hoodie and your comfy sleep shorts. You already feel better knowing how taken care of you are. Abby sets the clothes down pulling your make up remover out of the cabinet putting it on a cotton pad and gently taking your now smudged makeup off. She works quietly the only sounds in the room being your sniffles and hiccups.

“Your so pretty baby.” Abby whispered getting a small tired smile out of her sweet tired girl making her smile even bigger. She placed a kiss on your forehead once she finished. “All clean.” She said feeling accomplished. She made quick work of helping you into your pjs and putting your hair into braids to get it off your neck.

You both walk into the bedroom Abby pulls up the covers for you to get into the bed and lays down with you. She let you come to her, nuzzling into her contently. Abby tangled together with you, and she scratched your back comfortingly. You let your eyes close and fell asleep quickly so desperate to forget the day. “I’ll wake you up when dinners ready.” Abby whispered before carefully maneuvering to not wake you up and slipping away into the kitchen.

Thank you for reading tehehe

#abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby x reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby x fem!reader

[hihhasotherfixations]

I’m thinking about dragon hybrid Price as a dad to little dragon hybrid you.

This is more headcanon style than my usual and a little bit all over the place but I had to get it out because yes >:3

CW: none

Word Count: 1020

Price had always lived a solitary life. Dragon hybrids were relatively rare, and he didn’t exactly go out of his way to find a partner.

Purely by happenstance, he came across another. And almost out of obligation as well as it being mating season, they started a relationship. She quickly fell pregnant, but despite it all, it wasn’t meant to last.

Due to the more solitary nature of dragons, your mother left after you were born. Price didn’t blame her, the two hadn’t been incredibly close after all, only having gotten together during the mating season but not having an amazing connection beyond that. He was grateful she at least communicated her plan in advance so that he could prepare.

But when you were born, oh my. You were everything.

He took you home from the hospital alone, yet before he’d even gotten out of his car and into the house, he knew that a bond had formed that he could never sever.

Dragons were vain and prideful by nature. And for Price? His pride and vanity all poured into you. You were his. His creation, his child. He’d do anything for you, to keep you safe. And if necessary? He would protect you with the world as a shield.

The baby years are tough. Growing horns, wings and fangs is not pleasant. It can hurt and because of it, there are a lot of nights where you’re inconsolable, just crying in his arms as he tries to soothe you.

His wings folding around you seem to work best, creating a sort of cavern-like bubble where his warmth and heartbeat are the main sensations.

But even with that, the growing pains are sometimes too much and the poor captain had to lose sanity in favour of consoling you, rubbing ointment on your horns and massaging your tail and wings the best he could.

Yet the first time he sees your little tail wag when he walks into the baby room to feed you after waking you, all the sleepless nights are worth it.

You were starting to develop into a true dragon.

You stand in your box, holding onto the railing and bouncing excitedly on your feet. Your little horns poking through your unruly mop of hair while your wings are folded on your back.

“Hello, little lizard.” Price smiles, walking over to you. Immediately, you stick up your arms and he takes the hint, grabbing you under your armpits and lifting you up.

Holding you in his arms, he can feel you wiggle, trying to wag your tail - but you can’t.

Because now that your wings have finally started developing in earnest, he has needed to put preventative measures.

Where before your wings were papery and flexible, your tail stumpy and short, now both were getting some volume, the bones in them growing and lengthening - solidifying. And because of it, sleeping becomes dangerous.

In the past, many dragonlings have broken wings or tails by rolling around in their sleep, getting the limbs stuck under themselves and twisting too far.

Because of it, the wing-tail guard was invented. Used to pin said appendages against your body and cushioning them - allowing you to roll to your heart’s content while sleeping.

And now here you sat on his arm, the soft, black coloured cushioning moulded perfectly to fit your wings strapped to your back, your tail stuck between your legs, unable to wiggle or wag it.

“Come on, darling.” Price grinned, setting you down on the changing table and untying the straps, freeing your wings and tail back up.

And when your wings shift and move a little after he takes it off, oh how his heart jumps in excitement.

He’s been so eager, waiting for the day you finally open your wings for the first time.

For most dragonlings it happens around 1,5-2 years old. So you were right around that age.

He tries to encourage you by showing off his own wings. Anytime he has you on his lap, he spreads them wide, and you never fail to be completely mesmerised by it.

Seeing it, he tries to let you know you have your own, to encourage you to use them. He runs his hand down the muscles and bones of your wings, petting them down, getting you used to it by massaging the flesh and muscles, loosening them up.

It takes a lot of coaxing and weeks since you first tried, but finally, you manage to open up your wings and spread them.

And Price couldn’t be more proud.

Your wings are a carbon copy of his, except just a slight shade darker. And he knows that with a lot of training and upkeep, you’ll be just as strong a flier as he is.

Speaking of. Now that you’ve opened your wings for the first time? He can finally take you on your first flight.

Strapped to his chest with a harness, he gently stretches your wings out. It looks a little awkward, to have you dangling from his chest with your wings pancaked between your back and his front, but it’s important to get you used to flying, to using your wings.

The glee and pure joy that radiates off of you when you’re soaring in the clouds is unprecedented. You’re not scared, nervous or hesitant as he feared you might be, no. Instead, you’re kicking your feet, and screeching in delight. You keep tilting your head back to look at your dad and Price grins down at you, uncaring that your horns are stabbing into his sternum as his powerful wings flap, carrying the both of you through the sky.

The 141 know everything about you. Price can’t help himself. As stated before, dragons are proud creatures, and you are his pride.

He cannot help but share with the other most important people in his life.

And oh how they adore you too.

All in all, you are Price’s greatest treasure, and he can’t wait to see you grow up into your own, powerful dragon.

-

I would love to write more for this. If you want something elaborated or have your own idea and wanna see it written, please drop it in my ask box to give me an excuse to do so! ^^

#this is one of three dad Price fics I’m writing now #john price x reader #captain john price #captain john price x reader #dragon price #john price #price x reader #cod x reader

[freedomfireflies]

for mine what if they were picking out a christmas tree or something and got a little frisky…. we know they love their exhibitionism👀

You are so right, it wouldn't be Mine Harry without some exhibitionism hehe I love it

“Harry…Harry, please—”

“Shh,” he coos, nosing under your jaw to place a gentle kiss. Ignoring your needy pleas. “Thought you were gonna be patient, mama.”

And despite his soothing tone, you only pout, fingers curling into his red and black flannel as you plead with him for more. “Can’t. Hurts.”

“Hurts, hm?” Another kiss. Soft and not nearly enough to satiate you. “Oh I bet. If only you had done what I asked, yeah? Then I could have taken care of you.”

Your frown deepens as you recall his earlier instruction. You hadn’t meant to cum after he specifically asked you not to. Really.

But he’d been so determined. So eager to please and make you feel good. And really…you just couldn’t help yourself. 

“I’m sorry,” you nearly whine, clinging to him almost frantically. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I promise—”

He shushes you again and cups the cold skin of your cheek. But he’s smiling, rather smug about your desperation. “I know, sugar. But actions have consequences, yeah?”

You know he’s right, but you’d rather die than admit it. Especially now. “Daddy,” you sniffle, attempting to push up onto your toes in order to kiss him. “Daddy, please—"

“Uh-uh,” he warns, pulling away just before you can reach. “You made me a promise that you were gonna be good today, yeah? That we were gonna pick out this tree and you were gonna be on your best behavior. So you will be. Understood?”

With a huff, you glance around the glistening woods, the idea of Christmas exceedingly less appealing to you now.

You’d been so excited to pick out a gorgeous pine and take it home to decorate. Had been excited to give in to the holiday spirit and spend your first Christmas with him. Just the two of you.

Now, however, the idea of staying out in these godforsaken woods any longer just about kills you.

He’d been so cruel after you’d cum. Met your disobedience with a strange quiet before he was taking his cock from you in order to lick up the remnants of your orgasm. And bring you to a second, as well.

But Harry wouldn’t be Harry if he let you get away unpunished. No, instead, he dangled you there on the precipice of pleasure before abandoning you with no way down. Had given you just a taste of that euphoria before ripping it away.

Leaving you edged and desperate for the foreseeable future.

Which is exactly where you’ve been ever since. And you’ve been edged before. You know what to expect, how to navigate the neediness.

But the moment you got to this Christmas tree farm, you knew you were doomed. Because having to watch him – clad in his soft flannel and dark beanie – as he swung the ax at the tree over and over? As his muscles strained beneath his sleeves and his cheeks flushed from the cold?

Well…he can’t exactly blame you for your reaction.

You feel inconsolable. Clawing at him like a child. Fighting a kind of lust that you rarely succumb to. Because he’s so beautiful, and so strong, and so good. And you love him. More than anything in the world.

And you need him. Need his hands, his mouth, his fingers. Need anything he’s willing to give you. And you don’t even care that you’re in public. You don’t care that you’re out in the frosty air attempting to cut down a tall pine. You don’t even care if the few people traipsing between the trees see you.

You just…you need…you need—

“Daddy,” you try again, bracing yourself against the bark he has you pressed against. “Daddy, please, I’ll…I’ll be so good. Be so good. Do anything you want, I promise. Promise, promise, promise.”

He chuckles to himself, and you almost hate how nonchalant he remains. As though he doesn’t care about the pain you’re in. As though he doesn’t mind if you wither away from the lack of release.   

And you don’t expect him to do much. Just…just fix it.

“Is that right?” he hums, and you nearly wilt from the dark, low sound that reverberates from his throat. Sensual and slow. “You’ll be good for me?”

You nod so quickly, your head spins. “Yes. Yes, Daddy, I will.”

And you think he understands now. Think he can see you beginning to slip away – into the kind of headspace you occasionally find yourself in. 

And even if he loves to punish you – push you, test you – he loves to care for you more. Make things better, make you feel everything.

You imagine he’s anxious to do that now. You don’t think he enjoys your punishments as much as he claims, not when the alternative is making you feel as pleasured as he can.

The tips of his fingers begin to trace the waistband of your jeans, just below your sweater. Tempting you with a taste of more.

“Do you think you deserve to be touched, mama?” he murmurs now, stepping closer as though to shield you from anyone that might pass. “Think you deserve to cum after making me so sad?”

Somehow, just the thought of upsetting him puts a deep pit in the center of your stomach. “M’sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

He smirks again before leaning in to kiss you. Quickly and with just enough understanding to ease the anxious flutter in your chest. “I know, sweetheart. Sometimes you just can’t help it, yeah?”

Another fervent nod that amuses him, and with that, his hand slips down.

The cool brush of his palm against your warm skin makes you shiver, pussy throbbing from the switch in temperature. 

But it’s perfect. He’s so…safe. So delicious and kind and practiced. Feeling you out with a determined precision that nearly has you cumming right then and there.

“Oh, sugar,” he coos, glancing down to watch as his touch disappears between the material around your hips. “S’all wet, isn’t it?”

You can only pant. After all…he knows.

“Bet it’s all achy and empty, huh?” His fingers smooth through your soaked folds, and you suck in a sharp breath. “Bet if I just play with your little clit, you’ll cum all over my hand, won’t you?”

Your head drops back against the tree, and you almost start to cry. He’s so close and yet still too far.

“Is that you want?” he whispers. “Want me to make you cum in front of all these people? Like you’re in fucking heat? Just begging me to touch you?”

You can hardly hear him. Certainly can’t respond. Because he’s right, you’re already close. And if he just…if he keeps…if he’ll only—

“Look at you,” he breathes, pressing his forehead to yours before slipping the tip of his finger inside. “So goddamn impatient. Can never wait for Daddy. Can never obey. Just so fucking greedy—”

“Har…I—”

“S’that why you were squirming in the car, sweetheart? That why you kept trying to put my hand on your thigh?” He begins to pump the long, middle digit slowly, and your toes curl. “Cause it hurt so bad? Cause you just needed something to fill you?

“Yes…yes—”

“But you didn’t ask, did you? No, you tried to be sneaky.” His thumb presses into your clit and you whimper so lewdly, you’re surprised the whole forest doesn’t hear you. “Clinging to my shirt, grabbing my arm, grinding against my leg—”

“Please—”

“And I’m good to you, yeah? Daddy’s good to you? Takes care of you even when you misbehave?”

“Mhm—” You suck in a sharp breath and drag your nails through the curls against his neck. “So…so good, Daddy, please—”

“Maybe I should just fuck you right here. Show everyone how sweet you really are for me, hm?” He adds a second finger, and you can feel your stolen orgasm bubbling to the surface. “Bet you miss an audience, don’t you? Miss having someone watch as I stretch this sweet little pussy with my cock.”

Your lashes fall shut, stomach twisting.

“Cause you like it, yeah? Like the looks they give you. The way they watch you fall apart for me—”

“Harry—”

“Is that what you really want? Want me to spread these pretty thighs and take you? Right here?” He’s pumping harder – pinching tighter. Determined to make you cum before you can stop it. “Want me to make you call out my name so they know? So they fucking know who you really cum for?”

“Daddy, please—”

It’s right there. You can fucking taste it. Can feel it already unraveling, and you know it’ll be strong. Be enough to knock the wind from your lungs and leave you slouched in his embrace.

Then…it stops. All of it. Disappears just as quickly as it approached, and you feel the water rush to your eyes.

He rips his hand out and away before you can fight him, placing the soaked fingers in his mouth with a satisfied hum.

“Uh-uh,” he warns the moment your lips part to speak. “You disobeyed me, mama, and I told you. Actions have consequences.”

Your expression drops, and your insides turn to jelly. “Da…Harry, please—”

“No.” It’s firm. Resolute. “We’re gonna pick out this tree, and then we’re gonna go home. And you will only cum when and if I decide you should. Is that understood?”

“Harry—”

“I said, is that fucking understood?” he repeats strictly, grasping onto your chin to force your eyes on his.

You swallow thickly, the first tear falling free and into his waiting thumb. “Yes, Daddy.”

He swipes it away with a soft smile. “Good girl.” Suddenly, his focus moves to the tall pine just behind you. “What about this one, hm? Think it might look nice by the window. All lit up and sparkling.”

And despite the ache in your cunt and the desperation still clawing at your chest…you laugh. Squeezing onto his wrist with everything you have left.

“I think…it’s absolutely perfect.”

LISTEN, I JUST THINK THEY'RE CUTE AND HE'S SO SWEET WHEN SHE'S ALL CLINGY BUT ALSO HE'S KIND OF MEAN BUT WE LOVE IT (also I swear he made up for it later hehe)

THANK YOU FOR READING!! I will see you tomorrow for One for the Money!! 😭💞💞

~ Full Mine Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrll @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @acesofspadess @stylesfever @caynonmoondreams  @virginvirgo @pagesfalling @creativelyeva @char112244 @snwells @armystay89 @oh-my-hecky-padalecki @blackbookwhore @nellylayhoohoo @22fallenangel22 @watercolorskyy @ilovedilfs32 @nicodoesntexist @lelenikki @happypoptart 

#harry #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles request #harry edward styles #harry styles fan #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles series #mafia!harry #mafiarry #harry styles smut #smut #harry styles one shot #harry and asher #softdom!harry #blurb #concept #harry styles concept #domrry #holiday blurb #harry and sugar #harry styles mafia

[trendywaifus]

I’m inconsolably thirsty for our dear hydro archon 😭

This may be controversial but brat tamer furina?? I’m on my knees for her I want her to punish me so bad

Also may I be 🦊 anon if you accept emoji anons?

sorry it took a while! and ofc u can be the 🦊 anon. emoji anons are always accepted around here. and who cares if it’s controversial?? we love girlfailure and girl boss furina! cw: fem! reader, pussy smacking, improper use of hydro, restraints, teasing

“ f-furina, l-let me go, ” you moaned, wrists bound together by a hydro crafted rope as furina straddles your hips, sloppily rubbing her clit against yours. she ignores you, her fingers grips your jaw, holding your head in place as she delves down to hastily kiss your swollen lips, swallowing your grunts and moans. “ why would i ever do that when you look so pretty under me like this? “ furina nibbles at your bottom lip and swipes her tongue across it.

“ wh-what do you mean i look so pretty like this?” you groaned with a mix of annoyance and pleasure, “ you’ve bounded me with hydro robe so that you can test your new vision on me. “

furina smirks, lifting her pussy off of yours to enjoy the tasteful sight of her slick leaving a trail connecting with yours. “ well, i do desperately require a training partner and since you’re my wonderful lover, i thought you’d be the perfect volunteer—“

“ your hydro application is weak and i can get out of it at anytime. this is all you can do right now? bound me with—nngh! “

she slaps your cunt and tuts, “ why haven’t you?perhaps you secretly enjoy being tied down and getting utterly dominated by me. and like i said, you’re the perfect volunteer for me to test out this~“ furina conjures up a decent sized hydro–made dildo in her hand. eyes widened in surprise, your cheeks turned hotter as you spat,

“ you wouldn’t dare. “

furina casts you a mischievous smile and positions the hydro dildo to your entrance. the cool, wet sensation of the cockhead teasing your slit made your toes curl.

“ oh, but I would, ma chérie~”

#trendy #furina x reader #furina smut #genshin women x reader

[scoutswritingcorner]

Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap

Alastor x GN!Reader

TW: Talks of murder, Alastor being Alastor. Alastor realized a lot of things.

A/N: I want to be buddies with this man. Was I listening to AC/DC….maybe, This started as a headcanon thing but it turned into something else. Enjoy!

Your friendship with Alastor. 

You met Alastor when you both were alive! You somehow got his attention and then a year or two of you both annoying one another you’re good friends! Best friends even! He wouldn’t say that but you know it. 

Both of you are such  fucking menaces, while he is much more of a gentleman and very put together. You are somewhat the opposite. You are put together but it’s like you hate fancy dress clothes and you’d rather be running around with a gun in hand stealing from poor fools who didn’t look twice at you. He will forever chew you out for your thieving and how underdressed you are! Where are your manners and why are you laughing at him? He didn’t say anything funny! But he can’t help to think how your smile and laugh suits you.

You walked in on him while he was killing a poor fool one night and instead of running away and freaking out, you looked around and smirked “Can I steal his shit?” He rolled his eyes and waved his bloody hand towards you, “You can’t find anything else to do?” He snarled out easily killing the man below him, he could easily kill you but why would he need to now? You obviously didn’t care, “You know the saying, old friend. Another man’s trash is another man’s treasure~” You cooed out looking through the stuff on the fireplace mantle.

“Don’t make it so obvious.” He hissed out, looking around. “Were you followed?” He asked, making you stop and turn to him, hand on your chest. “Alastor! Are you doubting me? Here I thought you loved me.” You teased making him send you a half hearted glare, “Love is a strong word.” You rolled your eyes, “Right… No one dared to follow me.”

Another thing is when he had to hide bodies, you happily helped him and stood guard to make sure no one followed. He was grateful but he’d be caught redhanded before he said that to your face.

Once he died, you were inconsolable for weeks on end until you crossed paths with some unfortunate souls who sadly got you good before their death. You bled out in some alley way near his favorite speakeasy, you wouldn’t be found until the morning.

BUT IN HELL-

You were an uncontrollable force to be reckoned with, you still kept your spirits high especially when you got a little tipsy or the money was good enough. It took decades for your ass to find Alastor, you were so caught up in your own adventures you just forgot about finding your best friend. Until it got boring and you saw a flier for the ‘Hazbin Hotel’...it couldn’t hurt to look for him there, besides he was fucked up and he could be there to see everything fall to pieces.

So when you arrived and you saw the tall deer man, his smile stretching wider into the grin you could tell from a mile away. “Oh it’s you,” He hummed, making you roll your eyes. “Oh please, Alastor. Don’t act like you weren’t excited to see me. Who else would be able to deal with your insane ass,” You replied looking around, “You missed me, don’t you dare deny that fact.” He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I’m not denying anything, Old friend. I just simply thought you wouldn’t look for me.” He walked over, circling you to see if anything changed or was he trying to find a weak point? “See you keep thinking that and I keep reminding you that you are stuck with me forever, there is no escaping that.” 

He’s happy you found him but he’s got to keep up appearances, later that night you're sitting with him in the parlor sipping on some whiskey he grabbed from the bar as you tell him all of your stories. It goes silent for a while and it’s comfortable for some part. “How did you die?” He asked one moment and it truthfully caught you off guard. “...Like you said, I’ll get too confident and end up dying on the streets.” You whispered the alcohol on your tongue tastes gross now. He didn’t gloat, or if he was he was doing it silently, “Tried to go after a rich fella. He had a gun and got me good in the stomach that was before I killed him, ran off before I could take anything. Died in an alley near your favorite speakeasy. Guess I was looking for you even after all this time.” You looked down at the glass and sighed, he was too silent for your liking but he was always like that. Why did it affect you now?

He didn’t say much the rest of the night or the next morning. Only gave you a nod when you’d left.

Alastor couldn’t control you much like he could with Husk and Nifty, he couldn’t drag you along with his shenanigans. He could try but it would fail. You were a creature of habit and a stubborn one at that. You left by a certain time to get your fill of thieving, killing and messing with people before coming back to him. 

Yet, you still wore that smile on your face and laughed as loudly as you could when something was funny enough for you. He wasn’t used to that, people should be miserable down in this cesspool. But you weren’t why weren’t you miserable? It was something that plagued him all night long.

He adored your smile and laughter.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #gn reader #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x you #hazbin hotel alastor x reader

[randombush3]

Kinda miss Fleur and Alexia bickering 🫣 can I get a request a one short of them getting into a fight

sorry I took ages to do it - I've been trying to think of a scenario. I imagine that the dutch players have had a very miserable international window lol

[...]

I slam the door behind me. 

There are few things in life that cause me absolute devastation, but this week has been one of them. I’m tired, I’m angry, and, what’s worse, I’m resenting the fact that Alexia’s apartment is bright and happy. 

She smiles as she emerges from the bathroom, perhaps not hearing how I entered as I used my own key. 

I take it as smugness. (I want it to be smug.) 

“Hola, mi amor,” she says with caution, heading over to greet me after not seeing much of each other for the best part of a week. She must sense the tension because her smile dampens, victorious glow from winning fucking everything fading away. 

“Hey,” I mutter, tone clipped and curt and dripping with resentment. Alexia approaches, concern beginning to make her frown, reaching out gently to touch my arm. 

I jerk it away from her. 

For the briefest of moments, I feel a long-dead emotion: hatred. I loathe Spain’s success, am jealous of it, and it is not fair that it comes at my expense. Not when we are together, not when we are no longer enemies. 

It was easy to play against Alexia when I was her rival. I could tackle her freely and let my teammates foul her when she was too good to beat, able to watch on without remorse. Seeing her hit the grass brought about a vindictive, satisfied feeling, and I relished in it. 

Being her girlfriend is a lot harder, and it has been a while since I have had to play on a different team to her. It has been a while since we lost to Spain, but, just like they did in August, they have crushed our dreams once more. 

My dreams. 

The Olympics are more special to me than any other tournament, and will continue to be until the games are no longer valued in women’s football. They are my family’s history, the gateway into my relationship with my mum, and they are now out of my reach. 

I huff out a breath, struggling to contain my emotions. “We lost twice so we won’t be going.” I tell her what she already knows but she does not rub it in. “Jaimie is going to qualify.”

Alexia looks at me, piercing eyes seeing through the floodgates I have shut. She must realise that I have cried on the plane – maybe even that I hadn’t stopped crying since we played Germany, only reining it all in as I made my way up the stairs to her place.

“What do you want, Alexia?” I snap as she attempts to touch me again, blinking myself back into reality and hoping I don’t start to cry. 

Clearly, my wounds have not been nursed enough. 

Alexia recoils, hurt flashing across her features before she schools them into something harder. Her jaw clenches. Maybe she thinks I am being immature. “What’s wrong with you, Fleur?” she asks, her voice tinged with frustration. “I know you're upset….”

“Oh, like you care,” I retort, bristling at her words. “You seemed happy to run around with Jenni, celebrating your socks off!” 

Her eyes narrow, patience wearing thin. “Excuse me?” She doesn’t sound convinced that I am the real Fleur de Voss, looking me up and down to check I haven’t been replaced with someone else. 

“You clearly have let it get to you. Have you forgotten what it’s like to lose?” 

“Oh, of course,” she scoffs, “because that has never happened to me before. I was inconsolable after we lost the Champions League final; I didn’t come out of my room for–”

“Please, spare me the sob story.” I roll my eyes. “You’re on top of the world right now, Ale. Spain wins everything and you keep adding to your list of victories, crushing anyone who dares to get in your way. And the worst part is, you don’t even play! You don’t even play, and you act like you have done it single-handedly, with the biggest grin on your face–” 

“Do you think I enjoy seeing you in pain?” She trembles with anger. She shouts, and she hasn’t meant to be the first to do that because she instantly steps back in regret. I may have flinched at the shock of her volume, but now I square my shoulders, daring her to fix my heartbreak. “Do you think it didn’t take all my willpower to not go over to you, to not comfort you, or hug you, or try to make you feel better? Do you think I wasn’t trying to get to you as soon as I could? Or that, in Sevilla, I didn’t look at flights to Germany so that you wouldn’t have to spend the night alone?” She steps towards me. “I know how much going to Paris meant to you, to your family. Believe me, I heard what your mother said to you – even if my English isn’t that good.” 

“Your English is fine,” I mutter, instinctively destroying her stupid insecurity. 

“Fleur, how could you think I take pleasure in your losses? You know me better than that.” 

I shake my head, unable to quell the storm of emotions raging inside of me. “I feel like I don’t know anything right now,” I admit, hardly audible. 

I was going to the Olympics. I was sure of it. 

Jaimie and I were going together, and, although Mum competed for a different flag, we were going to follow in her footsteps; continuing her legacy because she promised me I would be good enough to do that. She promised us both, time and time again. 

She may have left us, but she was the one who wrangled me a spot in the Australian youth teams. She started my international career for me, and I was going to repay her by showing her it was worth it. 

What is it worth now?

“All I know is that I’m tired of feeling like my best isn’t good enough, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending everything’s okay.” 

Suddenly, this is about more than just losing the Nations League and not qualifying for the Olympics. This is the fallout of the Ballon d’Or, and we both know it. Alexia seems to have seen this coming. 

“I’m sorry for not being there when you needed me,” she begins, though guilt courses through me because I know it would have been asking the impossible of her, “but I’m here now.”

#woso #randombush3 #woso fanfics #woso imagines #barca femeni #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader

[strangersmunsons]

Eddie, My Love! eddie munson x reader // valentine's day special series Day 8 Prompt: Rom-Coms 🎟️ ~ 2,400 words Watching a romantic comedy on TV brings back some memories for Eddie. (angst, w/ a hopeful ending)

Eddie taps the lit end of his cigarette into an ashtray, staring at the television screen with tired eyes. The bluish light casts an eerie glow about the room; it feels cold, sterile. 

This has been his ritual for far too long now: go to work, come home, and watch some mind-numbing program alone until he falls asleep. Wash, rinse, repeat. 

He yawns, and rubs his stubbly face with one hand. He should get in bed before he passes out on the couch — save his back the trouble — but instead he picks up the remote again, flicking through channels, waiting in vain for something stimulating.

Coca-Cola ad. Late night talk show interview. Some black and white picture from MGM. Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal. Sitcom rerun. 

He pauses, thumb hovering over the button.

Eddie switches back to When Harry Met Sally. He rented it from Family Video once upon a time, but he hasn’t watched it in years. It feels like an eternity has passed since then and yet, he remembers it like it was yesterday.

That’s what every memory with you feels like to him; it’s both an old scar and a fresh wound. He doesn’t know what feels worse — the hot, gut-wrenching ache of longing that pains him now, or the knowledge that those memories, no matter how agonizing they may be, might start to fade one day.

But it seems an impossibility; he can recall every detail. He wets his lips, remembering how you had pleaded with him in line to rent this particular film, even though he’d been hoping to see the new Indiana Jones movie.

“Rob Reiner doesn’t make bad movies, Eddie. He did The Princess Bride, remember? Besides, it’s Valentine’s Day!”

He relented, as he always did. Who was he to deny you anything?

But oh, how things change.

Pipe dreams turned to reality. Demo tapes turned to albums. Dive bar gigs turned to international tours. You, bravely avowing that he had to grab hold of every opportunity he could — you told him that no matter where in the world he went, you would always be here, loving him. All the while, secretly, the small pit of fear planted in your stomach was sprouting and unfurling as the distance between you two grew further, and the silences louder. 

He should have tried harder. Came home more. Picked up the Goddamn phone. He’d always had to call you; it was too difficult to get a hold of him yourself, to keep track of where he might be, when he was traveling constantly.

And then that awful night, when he’d lost everything. Everything that mattered, anyway. 

It was the last time he ever saw or spoke to you. Hours of arguing, pleading, crying; it was the death rattle of the most important relationship of his life. You finally told him what you were afraid of, what you had been afraid of, and that it had come true.

“I’m just a girl from back home, Eddie.”

Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. You were never just a girl to Eddie. Not then, not now. Not ever. But what difference had it made? When the time had come for him to make a choice, he had still walked out the door. 

The world was being presented to Eddie Munson on a silver platter. He was young, up-and-coming, successful. A talented musician — gifted, even. He had the right look and the attitude.

Being his partner wasn’t easy. Your support was unwavering, but your lives were going in different directions, it seemed. You both loved each other enough to want the other person to have what they wanted, which were…no longer the same things. 

But it was still horrible. 

He spent the next few weeks in a near-fugue state, numb and inconsolable. His bandmates whispered to each other in the studio, casting furtive glances over at their supposedly-invincible leader, while the rest of their team offered him pseudo-smiles tinged with impatience, and suggested that he focus on channeling the pain towards his music.

After that, when he had the time, he’d leave LA and come back to the city he’d initially dragged you out to after graduation. He had no idea if you still lived there, but it didn’t matter. It was the last place he knew you to be and so he wandered those familiar streets, looking for you in every person he passed, as though it were likely that he might bump into you at a bus stop, outside the grocery, sitting on a park bench.

It was a luxury he could afford until Corroded Coffin started to fall apart. Disputes between band members, both personal and professional. Declining album sales. Bad management. Once sold-out venues were a struggle to fill. The once-steady flow of cash turned into a trickle, and then the boys were unceremoniously dropped from label, the execs deciding that keeping them around wasn’t worth the expense.

He supposes he could have stayed in the industry if he really wanted to. Formed a new band or begged to join another that was in need of a guitarist, but Corroded Coffin was his baby. The idea of starting all over again or leeching off of another group’s success left a bad taste in his mouth. And the producing gigs and session work somehow felt even worse; he dreaded having to watch others succeed at what he had ended up failing.

Fame had chewed him up, decided it didn’t like the flavor, and promptly spit him back out. His music career felt like a fever dream now. His life before that, with you, was the realest thing he’d ever had. 

As he watches Harry and Sally dine together at Katz’s Deli, his mind wanders to the slip of paper stowed carefully away like a sacred jewel, all alone in a drawer of his bedside table. 

No, he won’t.

Harry and Sally fall apart.

He won’t dare.

Harry runs through Manhattan to find his girl. 

Not after everything he’s done, after all this time.

Harry tells her all the reasons that he loves her…

Eddie abruptly switches the TV off, unable to hear anymore. He sits in the darkness for a moment, aching with bone-weary sadness. What had Dustin told him, as he passed the paper to him across the table over lunch one day?

“It couldn’t hurt to try.”

But Dustin was wrong about that. It could hurt him very, very much.

Eddie stands, and pads through the apartment to his bedroom. He sits on the side of the bed, and pulls open the drawer that holds his very last tie to you — a scrap of old receipt bearing your name and phone number. He picks it up with trembling fingers, then lowers it again, terrified that his clammy hands with smudge the ink. The phone seems to taunt him from where it sits atop the nightstand. As though he’s having an out of body experience, Eddie’s arm reaches out beyond his control and picks it up, the dial tone emitting a low buzz in his ear. He stares down at the number in the drawer, as though he didn’t memorize it the second he got it. He doesn’t even know how Dustin found you; but the geeky little shit has his ways. 

He punches in the number, heart racing faster with each digit he puts in.

It rings…and rings…and rings…

“Hello?”

Eddie’s mouth falls open in a low gasp. Your sweet voice is the same, only slightly marred by the bewilderment you must feel at receiving a call this late in the evening. Embarrassingly, his eyes sting with tears; he can’t speak.

“Hello? Anyone there?”

Eddie slams the phone back into the receiver, white as a sheet. He gets up, paces a lap around the room, chugs a glass of water, and finally takes his seat again, trying not to hyperventilate. 

Taking a deep, steadying breath, he picks up the phone again, and re-dials.

His heart is in his throat now, swollen and beating so violently it threatens to choke him. 

Your voice again, slightly more annoyed, though you still sound like an angel. “Hello?”

“H-Hi,” Eddie says hoarsely, and tries to swallow his fear. 

There’s a brief silence on the other end. “...who is this?” 

“It’s me. It’s…it’s Eddie. Munson,” he tacks his surname on at the end, as though he needs to specify.

Muffled noise through the speaker. The seconds tick by, and Eddie waits with dread for you to hang up. 

Finally, you whisper, “Eddie?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

“H-How did you get this number?”

He has the phone in a vice grip. “Dustin gave it to me.” 

“Why…why are you calling?” He wishes he could see your expression. You sound terrified, like he’s going to bite you through the phone.

How can he answer that? What is there to say, after so much time, after so much pain? I miss you. I love you. None of it was worth it, even when I was on top. Losing you was like being cut in half.

“I wanted to see how you were. How you are, I mean.”

“I’m okay.” The response is quick, automatic. But you don’t elaborate any further than that, and awkward silence prevails again.

Eddie deserves that, he supposes. Sweat trickles down his back, under his arms, breaks out on his forehead. He pushes his damp bangs back out of his eyes. “That’s good. I’m glad to hear it, sweetheart,” the term of endearment slipping out as though a day hasn’t gone by where you haven’t been his sweetheart.

“Don’t call me that,” you tell him tersely, sounding pained.

“I’m sorry,” he replies, ashamed. He had no right to do this to you. Drudge up old memories that you probably wanted to forget, or had so already.

“What is this about?” you ask him again, voice shaking.

“I told you,” he mumbles, “I want to know how you are. And I guess…I want to apologize.”

“You want to apologize,” you repeat skeptically, with an incredulous huff. “Now? Really?”

“Yes, really. I’m sorry,” he repeats, eyes glazed and wet. A dry sob rattles his chest. “I don’t what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have called, I shouldn’t be…I’m sure you hate me and I don’t blame you, because I do too.” He wets his lips and presses on. “But if I can take this time to say one thing to you it’s that I’m sorry. For everything. I am so fucking sorry. For leaving, for hurting you, for every stupid little thing I did. That’s why I really called. To tell you that.”

“Oh God,” you say, almost to yourself, voice suddenly small. “I — I’m not ready for this.”

“You don’t have to say anything back,” he whispers, voice breaking, closing his eyes, letting the tears slip over his lashes.

“Are you crying?”

He wipes furiously at his nose. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.”

Eddie can’t lie to you, certainly not now. “Yes. I’m sorry, I can’t help it. Your voice…”

“That — that came out sharper than I meant it to —”

“No, I mean it’s beautiful. I missed it.”

“Eddie…”

“Yeah?”

You start to speak and then falter, struggling to articulate what it is that you’re feeling. “I’m sorry, I have no idea what to say.”

Eddie laughs brokenly. “Funny, because there’s a million things I want to say to you. I just don’t know if I should or not.”

You swallow with an audible click. “I don’t know if you should, either.”

Another silence. Eddie thinks he could pick out the sound of your breathing from a mile away, he’s still so in tune with it. After hundreds of nights spent laying next to you in bed, no other sound could send him to dreaming so quickly or peacefully.

“But why call now? After all this time?” 

“I miss you.” The words escape before he has a chance to stop them; he bites his tongue against the rest of them. He considers his next words carefully before continuing.

“I never reached out before, because I made my bed and now I have to lie in it. I didn’t deserve to ask you for another chance, and I don’t think I do now, either, but…I was thinking of you tonight. Even more so than usual.”

Your voice shakes. “Does…does that happen often?”

He sucks in a sharp breath. “All the time.” The floodgates open; all his woe and regret from the past spills forward. “I am always, always thinking of you. Even when you thought I wasn’t. I know I was a shitty partner, but that didn’t mean — that I didn’t love you more than anything.”

“Eddie —”

But he can’t stop now. “I’ve missed you like hell since that very last night. I loved you so much, a-and I threw it away! How could I bring myself to speak to you after that? Especially after I lost it all? I would — God — I would hate for you to think that I was only coming back to you because I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I couldn’t do that. I didn’t wanna hurt you again, baby, and I know it would’ve.”

There’s a quiet sniffle on the other line. “It broke me when you left. And now this hurts, too.”

“I’m so sorry,” he breathes. “I wish I could make it better. I would do anything to make you not hurt anymore. I won’t ask you for a second chance, but just know,” Eddie takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and seals his fate. “I’ve loved you for more than half my life,” he whispers. “I’ll love you until I die.”

And with that, the line goes dead.

Eddie stares at nothing, doesn’t move. He doesn’t know how long he sits there for; eventually, his body moving on autopilot, he hangs up the phone and crawls under the covers. He’s done sobbing, but tears drip down his temples as he lays back in bed, dampening his hair.

Time doesn’t exist anymore, but he hopes he’ll fall asleep soon anyway.

Breathing, quiet and even. Eyelids slightly heavier. He thinks maybe it’s finally within reach.

He’s almost there.

The phone rings.

Eddie blindly feels with one arm, and picks it up from the receiver for the third time tonight.

“Hello?” he asks hoarsely, not daring to believe it.

An angel answers.

“E-Eddie? It’s me again…”

thank you for reading!! xoxo Valentine's Day Special Masterlist

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader

[f10werfae]

Smokin’ Hot Husband

pairing: Dad!Husband!Ransom Drysdale x Pregnant!Wife!Reader

summary: Y/n catches her eldest son smoking, and with her being very emotional, it’s up to Ransom to save the day (Protective Ransom‼️) (requested by anon)

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated♥️

Chris Masterlist, Full Masterlist, Taglist Form

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“How ya feelin today treasure?” Ransom cooed hugging onto his wife from behind, watching as she skilfully gathered all her ingredients for her famous stir fry, one that she was desperately craving. His large hands travelled down to her 6 month bump, his hands smoothing over it gently as she leant back into his chest.

“I’m feeling fine babe, jus a bit hungry but that’s all baby boo’s fault” Y/n laughed, using their newfound nickname for their next baby, their third one and hopefully a girl. Their eldest was Mark who was 15, then there was Reign who was 8, brothers who definitely got their father’s wit and sly personality whilst also having the loving nature of their mother. The perfect combo to Y/n and Ransom Drysdale

“Where are the other two little shits?” Ransom joked kissing her neck softly, swaying both of their bodies side to side as she finished up her cooking, a proud wide smile on her face. “Ransom! If you must know Reign is upstairs writing for his new fantasy book, and Mark I think is out the backyard? Here i’ll get Mark while you get Reign okay?” Y/n beamed turning around and kissing Ransom fully on the lips, a loud smack echoing through the kitchen, her pregnancy glow making her absolutely radiant in Ransom’s eyes. God how lucky was he?

“Yes ma’am” He smirked watching her walk away, not without his hand slapping harshly onto her ass, even after all these years he still found her irresistible. After getting married quite young, even when he was cut from his grandfather’s inheritance, he built a name for himself with Y/n by his side. His rock.

Ransom walked back down the stairs with assurance that Reign would be down in ten minutes, his brows furrowing when he suddenly saw his wife rush in through the backdoor, her face flushed with tears streaming down them uncontrollably. “Baby? Treasure what’s wrong? Tell me now” Ransom rushed out skipping the last few steps, storming to his wife’s side, she was absolutely inconsolable. Partly due to the hormones but clearly something bad had happened,

“I-it’s Mark, Ran” She hiccuped the palm of her hand on her forehead, the other holding onto her waist to ease the back pain. “What’s happened with Mark? Breathe with me baby, follow me” Within seconds Y/n had started to follow the pattern of her husband’s breaths, letting her calm down just that tiny bit more.

“Ran, he’s smoking! Actual cigarettes too, doesn’t he know how dangerous they are? Did I do something wrong? That’s my baby boy” Y/n cried out, her chin wobbling as sobs threatened every time she spoke. Remembering how just seconds prior, she walked out to see her first born puffing away on a cigarette, one thing she had always asked them not to do.

“shh treasure, you go upstairs and i’ll call you down for dinner, i’ll talk to Mark” Ransom said through gritted teeth, if there was one thing he hated, it was seeing his woman cry. The fact that it was his own son? Oh that just made it so much worse.

After making sure she got upstairs alright, Ransom stormed out to the back porch, seeing his 15 year old sat on the swinging chair looking guilty and glum; clearly anticipating his father’s arrival. Now Ransom wasn’t a scary parent, but he was protective and strict, step out of line and he’d be sure to put you back.

“C’mere Markie, now please” Ransom grumbled rubbing his creased forehead with his fingers, watching his son slowly shuffle towards him with his head down. “Where the fahk did you get these son? You know what these can do to you right? I can’t believe you’d do this, you’re barely 16!” He said raising his voice by a little, but not shouting, that’s not how he did things.

“T-they’re my friends Dad, I just thought it’d look cool-“

“Cool if what? You end up sick cause of your lungs and your poor mother and I have to come save you? I thought we told you the consequences of smoking, you know what it done to your mother’s family. I’m so disappointed, you’ve upset your ma and you know she gets emotional now that she’s nearly in her last term”

“I know, i’m sorry, didn’t mean to upset Ma. I just wanted to fit in a bit more”

“Not good enough son, not good enough at all. What are you sorry for?” Ransom asked bending down to his height, his lips held tightly into a line. “I’m sorry for disrespecting both you and Ma, and for putting myself in danger”

“and?”

“I promise not to do it again” Mark said holding his hands behind his back, his father’s old cream sweater hugging his body like a blanket. “Like hell you won’t, now go on and apologise to your mother” Ransom grunted pulling the red faced boy into his arms, kissing him gently on the head before pushing him inside. Not without throwing the cigarettes into their outside campfire.

Slowly following behind Mark, Ransom smiled as he saw Y/n pull their first born into her arms, kissing his face repeatedly as she continuously told him off softly “Don’t scare me like that again, ya hear me?” “Please don’t ruin your body like that baby, took me 9 whole months to make it”

“I’m sorry ma, I really am, please forgive me” Mark said now tearing up, fiddling with the bottom of his mom’s sweater, feeling her fingers wipe away his tears. “You’re my baby, I could never be that angry at you, you just scared me honey” Y/n whispered kissing him on the forehead one last time, then whispering that he and his brother could both go down for dinner first.

Ruffling his brown hair as he walked past, Ransom walked into their shared bedroom, his wife’s arms instantly reaching up for him cutely. “You handled that so well hubs, definitely better than I did” She laughed with tears in her eyes, standing up to fully hug him, his chin resting atop her head as his arms engulfed her tightly. Her strong coconut scent filling his nostrils as she lifted her head to look up at him, placing a kiss onto his chin affectionately.

“Well, we raised them well, s’jus our job to make sure they learn from their mistakes. I’m just glad they got your emotional vulnerability, and I hope our little butterfly does too” Ransom spoke softly, his fingers brushing against her growing stomach, feeling the tiny butterfly-like flutters hitting against his hand. His hopefully, baby girl, kicking against his hand.

“Oh she’ll be just like her daddy, I can feel it” Y/n smirked kissing his lips gently, her lips basically ghosting over his to tease him, giggling when she felt his hand push her into the kiss. Their kiss only being interrupted when they heard their two boys call for them downstairs, their little Drysdale troublemakers.

———

Taglist Tags (Form is up there^^): @pandaxnienke @patzammit @thereisa8ella @mrspeacem1nusone @evanstanwhore @itsaylayay1213 @kimhtoo17 @chrisevansdaughter @vrittivsanghavi @dumb-fawkin-bitch @tojisbabymomma @bxdbxtxh15 @madebylilly @tinyelfperson @fdl305 @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @royalwriteroftheuniverse @chrisevansangel @mysticfalls01 @mdpplgtz03 @mirikusashes @marvelgurl @cevansgurl @xoxokiaraaxoxo @caps-shield1918 @uwiuwi @stormcloudss @adoreyouusugar @imboredat2am @meetmeatyourworst @roofwitty779 @feltonswifesworld87 @ravenhood2792 @mansaaay @girl-of-multi-fandoms @misshale21 @hallecarey1 @alexxavicry @bookfrog242 @alina02 @nikkitc0703 @mischiefsemimanaged @oliviah-25 @s-void @bval-1 @aerangi @bluebellsn @lastwandastan @angelmather1 @diyabhanushali1 @stuckysgirl27 @wintasssoldier @daddymack01 @hatsparkle @spencerreidat4am @keiva1000 @acornacre @minaxcarter @thebaileybugle

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #romance #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagine #chris evans one shot #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale x pregnant!reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #dad!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x wife!reader

[phebbsl]

A Part of Your World- Chapter 1

Stardew Sebastian x GN!Reader

Summary:

Sebastian’s resolve to not meet the new farmer lasts all but two weeks. To be fair, it’s not of his own volition. 

You never thought you had to resolve to not get literally sucked into your favorite game, but now here you are. And now you have a farm to manage and a pretty boy to woo. 

Or: My spin on the life in Pelican Town, and Heart Events, featuring a GN!Reader (possibly/probably Isekai???).

Cross posted from my AO3, phebbsl

♡

Sebastian’s resolve to not meet the new farmer lasts all but two weeks. To be fair, it’s not of his own volition. 

He had stumbled out of his bedroom in the afternoon, late afternoon mind you, and promptly walked in on you and his mom discussing options for a new coop.

It was the day after the Egg Festival. Abigail had lost the Egg hunt for the first time in years, and was inconsolable for the whole night yesterday. Not in the ‘holy shit I lost and I’m absolutely devastated’ way with tears, but in ‘holy shit, did you see the Farmer??? they’re so hot’ type of way. 

The trio of friends had stayed up late at Sebastian’s room for the rest of the night, drinking and using his ‘vase’. Abigail continued to gush about the Farmer, only slightly put out that her win streak ended.

“I mean, did you see them in that little straw hat? How cute!” she cooed. 

Sam joined in too, all red-faced, blushing. The Farmer had stopped by his house when they first moved in, introducing themselves sweetly, and had even tossed over a can of Joja Cola to the blonde. Sam had suspected that it had been fished up from the river, judging by scuffs and slightly musty river-y smell, but had downed it anyway (and kept the can). 

Why Sam drinks treasures those little blue cans of diabetes and Yoba-knows-what when he literally works at Joja and knows damn well how unhealthy it is, Sebastian will never know. 

Sebastian spent the rest of the night, totally not sulking on his bed, casting mournful glances at the game table, all set up for a round of Solarian, as he listened to his friends’ gossip about the newest member of the town. 

Abigail and Sam didn’t leave until well past midnight, and while Sebastian was used to long nights hunched over his computer, the day’s festivities had worn him out completely.

Thus, leading to him crawling out of his mom’s basement like a cave-goblin, obvious to all that he had woken up past the accepted hours for any normal person, even later than he typically would’ve. Upon seeing you, he was completely determined to turn around, go back to bed, and hide enjoy his solitude until you were gone. That was, before his mother had stepped in, ever so glad to take any opportunities to socialize him.  

“Have you met my son, Sebastian?” Robin prods, with a sly grin, before slinking away to leave the two of you to socialize. 

Great, now he had to interact with you.

He mumbles out a greeting and his name and takes you in. 

You don’t look like a farmer. At least, not the stereotypical version of he had come up in his head. To be fair, he only really envisioned a grizzled old man, smudged with dirt and hands full of calluses. Basically, your grandfather. He had only caught a brief glance at the festival yesterday, and was uninterested in looking further. Now, he realized that his friends were right. 

‘Oh no, they’re hot!’ echoes in his brain, soundly strangely like Squidward. 

You’re exactly his type, with pretty eyes he could just drown in to boot, your straw hat prize from yesterday perched on your head. You’d even wound a crown of flowers around the base. He’s not a big fan of flowers, but daffodils suddenly look a million times better. Yellow looks good on you, he thinks. 

He urges his brain to reboot and act like a normal person. Suddenly, he wants to make a good impression on you, curse his traitorous hormones. 

“Oh. You just moved in, right? Cool. Out of all the places you could live, you chose Pelican Town?”

Nice. Cool, slightly aloof, and hopefully he didn’t sound too much like a dick. 

You shrug and spin off the truly humongous backpack you have strapped on. 

‘Damn, Pierre found someone to sell that thing to, huh?’ he thinks absently. 

He and Abigail had spent an embarrassingly long time giggling at the giant monstrosity when it had arrived at Pierre's, while the store owner wilted behind the register, his plans to sell backpacks to one-up Joja foiled. 

Sebastian watches with confusion as you proceed to stick your arm in the pack, rummaging, before producing a frozen tear, then dropping it into his hands. He stares at it, flabbergasted. 

“I really love this. How did you know?” He finally manages to say. 

“Just had a feeling,” you shrug again. 

Robin comes back, interrupting the moment. 

“I found the paint swatches for the coop! Let me know which one you’d like.”

You break away to discuss color options, and Sebastain stays, silently rolling the frozen tear in between his fingers. More words of gratitude are stuck in his throat.

Eventually, you and Robin finish, the latter rolling up the blueprints with promises to start working the next day. 

“It was nice to meet you,” you give a little wave with a wiggle of your fingers. 

“Uh yeah, same here.” 

‘Wow, real eloquent,’ Sebastian snarks internally. 

He finally leaves for the kitchen to grab food to start his day. 

“Are you going to Sam’s? You should change before you go,” Robin enters as well, snickering. 

Sebastian looks down.

Fuck, he had just met the most attractive person he’d ever seen and he was in his damn froggie printed pajama pants.

‘I knew I should’ve just stayed in my room,’ he thinks. But, glancing at the frozen tear next to his cup of coffee, he knows he might just wake up early again the next time you visit.

♡

I’m playing with the idea of having the farmer be from our world, like an isekai, I think it opens up more possibilities and has potential to become a bigger story than just a series of one shots, but I’m still not sure yet. 

Let me know what you guys think!

#sdv farmer #farmer x sebastian #gn reader #gn!reader #stardew valley #sebastian x reader #sdv sebastian #stardew sebastian x reader #sdv sebastian x farmer #sdv sebastian x reader #pheebsfics

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Best Intentions - Chapter Three

Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x f!reader Warnings: Angst. Smut. Mentions of shell shock/PTSD. Word count: ~3.9k

Summary: She deals with an unexpected visit and Lois forces her to take action. Final part. Series masterlist.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

She is inconsolable when she gets home, having walked the short distance from the wall back to her house, vision blurred with tears.

Her mum rises from the kitchen table, rushing to her and pulling her into a tight hug the moment she sees the state she’s in.

“Oh, love,” she coos, stroking her hair, “he’s a fool to have upset you like that.”

“He’s not a fool, Mum,” she sobs, snotty nosed and shaking, into the wool of her cardigan, “I couldn’t say yes, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love him.”

She loves Tom. She’s in love with Tom.

Deep down, she knows she’s probably felt that way all along, yet the admission shocks her all the same.

She feels numb for the rest of the evening, though grateful for the soothing reassurance of her mum. If nothing else, her endless cups of tea give her something warm to wrap her hands around, something to focus on besides how hurt Tom had looked when she’d said no to him.

It was the right thing to do, she knows this, they aren’t ready for such an enormous commitment, but she can’t help but wonder if making the right choice was meant to make it feel like her heart was being torn in two.

Puffy eyed and miserable when she awakens the next day, her mum offers to give her the day off from the shop. Wearily, she shakes her head, eager to carry on as normal.

“If I stop at home, I’ll drive myself mad thinking about it all. I just wanna get on.”

Her mum gives her hand a reassuring squeeze and a “whatever you think is best, love”.

Theoretically, the shop should take her mind off things, yet there are reminders of Tom in everything. As she’s restocking the sweet jars, her heart lurches in her chest when she gets to the sherbet straws, thinking about how their fingers would brush against each other when they;d share a bag. They were Tom’s favourites. 

When a man comes in to buy a cigarette, she rolls it around in her fingers after taking it from the shelf. It’s Tom’s brand. She’d always hated the way the smell of the smoke would stick to his hair and clothes. Now, the thought that she may never breathe in the stale scent of tobacco on his jacket when he pulls her in for a hug makes her eyes well up with tears, and she has to sniffle them away before turning back to the till to take payment.

Then there is the more obvious reminder living upstairs; Lois. As if summoned by the thought of her, she appears from the back, Vera nestled against her hip.

“You and Tom left in a hurry on Saturday, thought you’d both stick around after for a drink,” she says, bouncing the toddler gently in her arms.

“Oh,” she says, feeling anxiety gnaw at her insides, as her skin heats up with a mixture of shame and embarrassment, not wanting to reveal to Lois what’s happened between her and Tom. It still feels too raw to talk about. “Yeah, sorry, wasn’t feeling well. You and Connie sounded great though!”

She offers a smile that she hopes looks sincere and Lois looks at her with sympathy in her big, blue eyes.

“You mentioned the other day you were feeling a bit tired, everything okay?”

She swallows, nodding her head, just wanting the conversation to be over.

Her and Tom have the same eyes.

It’s excruciating to look at her. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine now. Run ragged by the shop, you know how it is.”

Lois readjusts Vera against her hip, running a hand over her soft curls, before looking back up. “Well, if you find time to get away tomorrow, I’ve asked Tom to pop round on his dinner break. Been ages since I’ve caught up with him, would be nice to see you too, even if you can only manage time for a cuppa.”

She feels her throat run dry at this. If Lois has invited Tom round then that means he’ll have to come to the shop. She’ll have to see him. She isn’t ready.

She can feel a void opening in the pit of her stomach, dread prickling her skin. “Maybe..” she offers quietly, and is grateful that at that moment Vera starts to fuss, drawing Lois’ attention away from her.

“Better get this one back upstairs anyway,” Lois says, distractedly, “maybe see you tomorrow!”

She breathes a sigh of relief when she disappears into the back and up the stairs again, resting her elbows on the counter and putting her head in her hands.

Tom is going to be at the shop tomorrow. What on earth will I say to him?

Nerves flutter in her belly all morning the next day, her heart racing so fast she is sure that every customer she serves must be able to hear it. More than once her hands fumble when giving someone their change, sending coins spilling across the counter.

If it wouldn’t earn her a stern telling off from her mum, she’d close up for the day and go home, so that she wouldn’t have to see Tom when he inevitably arrives.

She has a hundred different things she wants to say to him; I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m so bloody angry with you. I love you.

None of them seem appropriate.

It’s precisely noon when the bell above the shop door tinkles and she looks up from the stamps she’s sorting, met with the intense stare of Tom.

He’s on time. He’s never on time for anything. She feels her hands tremble, her breathing unsteady as she tries to organise her thoughts into something coherent. She curses herself, she’s wasted all morning deciding what to say and still has nothing.

Her hesitation is more than enough for Tom apparently, as he huffs, mouth twisting into a sneer, before striding into the back and up the stairs to the flat.

Bowing her head she feels her throat tighten, lips pulling downwards with the effort not to burst into tears. In all the years she’d known Tom, seeing him had never made her feel so rotten. She swipes angrily at her nose, inhaling a deep shaky breath before busying herself with organising what’s left of the day’s papers.

An hour later, Tom reappears in the doorway that leads towards the back, as she’s standing counting up the till drawer. Up close she can see the haunted look in his eyes, the dark bags underneath them. The night terrors are clearly as bad as ever, he doesn’t look like he’s sleeping properly. She wants nothing more than to go to him, pull him into a hug and comfort him, but can’t stand the thought of him pushing her away if she tries.

Once more she realises she’s staring at him without saying anything, he’s clearly waiting for her to make the first move, and she hasn’t. 

His eyes narrow in anger, and he breezes past her, muttering an irritated “piss off” as he goes.

The casualness of his insolence towards her turns her sorrow into anger, which she feels boil up inside her, erupting as she shouts “no, you piss off!” after him.

How dare he?! After everything, that’s all he has to say to me.

But it’s too late. The door to the shop is already closed. Tom’s gone.

Her sob catches in her throat, and before she’s able to stop it, a piteous wail leaves her, which she attempts to muffle with the palm of her hand. Hot tears roll down her cheeks, the painful twisting in her chest from Sunday returning in earnest.

“Hey, hey,” comes a gentle voice from behind her. The slender arms of Lois wrap around her, pulling her into a warm hug. “What’s all this?”

There’s no use lying to her now, not when Lois has seen her like this.

“It’s Tom,” she says, pulling away slowly, voice thick from crying, “we’ve been seeing each other.”

Lois chuckles quietly. “Well, I knew that, it’s not exactly a secret. What’s he done?”

She closes her eyes briefly, feeling shame wash over her. Would Lois be angry if she told her she’d said no to Tom’s proposal?

“He proposed to me, I said no,” she blurts, “but it’s not because I don’t love him! I still want to be with him, we’ve just never made it official, and I don’t want to rush.”

Lois goes quiet for a moment, her eyes widening in obvious shock at what she’d revealed. “Wow…Tom proposed?” Her eyebrows raise, and they stand in silence as she takes in the revelation, thinking about what to say next.

Chewing her lip, Lois nods and their eyes meet before she speaks again. “So, what did Tom say exactly?”

“Not much, he finished with me,” she says miserably.

“You told him you love him and he finished with you?!” She asks, her mouth agape.

“Well…no…I’ve never actually told him I love him…” she admits, averting her gaze, feeling her face grow hot.

“Well then maybe you should start with that?” Lois suggests.

“I can’t, Lois!” She cries, “He’s not been the same since he came home, you know he hasn’t. He needs to get help.”

“Yeah, he does,” Lois agrees, “but that’s not your job to do. It’s yours to be there for him, to let him know it’s not him you’re saying no to. He needs you, anyone can see that.”

She knows Lois is right. Tom has likely seen her rejection as a rejection of her wanting to be with him, thinking he’s too broken, when that is the furthest thing from the truth. The state he was in when he came to the shop earlier is proof of the fact that he just needs her to be there for him, but she has been too caught up in her own feelings to realise his. 

“Yeah, you’re right”, she says, wiping her eyes, “I need to speak to him. I’ll go to the garage tomorrow.”

“Or you could go tonight?” Lois suggests, “He doesn’t finish for another half hour after the shop closes, so you can catch him before he goes home.”

“Oh, Lois, I look a mess, he can’t see me like this–” she tries to protest, but is cut off.

“Yes, he can! Let him see you’re as upset by this as he is. He needs to know you care.”

She purses her lips. Lois is right. No use in putting it off. The longer she leaves it, the harder it’ll be.

Checking her face in her compact as she stands outside of the garage, she’s grateful that her tears haven’t done too much damage to her mascara. Only the faintest rim of red around her eyes suggests that she’d ever been upset.

The shutter is halfway down, suggesting that Tom is close to finishing up for the day. His feet are the only pair she sees beneath. Drawing in a steading breath, she ducks through the gap, righting herself as Tom regards her with a furrowed brow and widened eyes; an apparent mixture of surprise and anger.

“What are you doing here?” He asks sullenly.

She holds up her hands in mock surrender, attempting to keep her tone even, despite the way her voice wobbles. “Please, Tom, I’m not here to argue. I just wanna talk to you.”

“Got nothin’ to say,” he sniffs, wiping his hands on a rag and closing the bonnet of the sleek black motorcar he’s been working on.

“But I have,” she pleads, “so please just hear me out.”

She spots his jaw tick in annoyance, but he nods all the same, remaining silent, so she presses on.

“I need you to know that when I said no I wasn’t saying no to you, to us, just the proposal. I don’t think we’re ready.”

Tom rolls his eyes, throwing the rag down, sniffing before he replies. “Yeah, I get it, you wouldn’t wanna be stuck with someone that’s not right in the head.”

“Don’t say that,” she says sadly, a dull ache forming in her chest. “You’ve been through so much, Tommy, but you’ll get through it and I’ll be with you every step of the way, because I love you.”

“You what?” He asks quickly, head snapping up to look at her.

Her breath catches in her throat, her heart pounding in her chest.

Oh god. What if he doesn’t say it back? What if he tells her to go away and never speak to him again?

“I–I love you,” she stammers, feeling as though her vulnerability will swallow her whole.

“Say it again,” Tom says lowly, stepping towards her.

He’s so close she can smell the motor oil that clings to his skin. It makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“I love you,” she repeats with more confidence, gazing up at him.

In one swift movement, he grabs the back of her neck, pulling her to him and crushing his lips against hers. 

It’s not the four little words she’d expected in return, but the action expresses everything he needs to say.

I love you too.

She melts into it, kissing him back with equal fervour. His kiss is hungry, filled with desperation, yet it feels like coming home after a long journey. He tastes of tobacco and spearmint. She hadn’t realised how much she’d missed the pillowy softness of his mouth until it’s moving against her own. Absent-mindedly, her arms wrap around his shoulders, as Tom’s free hand grips her waist.

When they break for air, he presses his forehead against hers, breathing heavily.

“God, I missed you,” he whispers.

She barely has time to tell him she’s missed him too before he’s kissing her again, pulling the shutter all the way closed and maneuvering her backwards towards the car he’s been working on, yanking open the back door.

Bracing her palms against his chest, she pulls back slightly, apprehension at odds with the desire she feels. “We can’t do that here, that’s a customer’s car! What if we get caught?”

Tom shrugs. “Shutter’s down, and I’ve not fucked you for ages. Come on, no one will catch us.”

She giggles, taking in the sight of his lust-widened pupils and kiss-swollen lips. It sends a needy throb straight to her core, and she grabs him by the front of his overalls, pulling him back to her once more.

His tongue sweeps against hers, as he lays her down in the cramped confines of the back seat before climbing on top of her. His tall frame means he has to keep one knee pressed between her leg and the back of the seat, and the other on the floor.

“You sure there’s room?” She purrs playfully, brushing her lips against his neck.

“I’ll fucking make room,” he hisses, awkwardly shrugging out of his overalls, causing her to laugh.

“Something funny?” He mutters darkly, pushing his hand beneath her skirt, his fingers toying with the gusset of her knickers, before slipping inside the material.

She gasps as his digits press through the wetness of her folds, bucking against his hand. It’s been so long since she felt his touch like this that his hands upon her skin feel like a brand. “Tommy…” is all she’s able to whimper.

He smirks. “That’s what I thought,” he says cockily, his words punctuated by the wet sounds of his fingertips moving through the slick of her arousal. “This all for me?”

“Y–yeah,” she breathes out, and he withdraws his hand, making her whine.

“Don’t wanna let it go to waste,” he tells her, pushing his overalls further down, along with his briefs.

She bites her lower lip, watching him stroke the length of his erection, ruddy and shiny with arousal at its tip.

His eyebrows raise, lips parting as a look of realisation flashes across his features. “I haven’t got a sheath..”

“Oh, Tommy!” She cries out in frustration.

He frowns, his tone becoming defensive. “Well, sorry, why would I keep any here? Not like I make a habit of shagging in the garage, is it?”

She feels light headed with the intensity of her need for him. She isn’t sure she can wait for them to get back to his flat. Desire is the only thing fuelling her in this moment, alongside the words that leave her mouth. “Just pull out then.”

Tom’s eyes widen, a grin spreading across his face. “If you say so.”

He leans over her, pulling her underwear to one side, and guiding himself to her entrance. They groan in unison as he pushes forward, stretching her open on his length.

The feeling of being so intimate with him again after being apart is divine all by itself, however, being able to feel him fully without a barrier to separate them has her inner walls fluttering around him as he breaches her to the hilt.

“Jesus christ,” is all he’s able to grit out as he stills, allowing them both to adjust to the sensation.

“Please…please move,” she mewls desperately.

Tom pulls his hips back, before driving forward, the repeated motion causing the car to squeak and rock, yet it barely registers to her. Her only focus is the feeling of him inside of her, the way that every thrust brushes against a spot inside of her that makes her abdomen tighten like a coil.

“I don’t think I’m gonna last,” Tom pants above her, fogging the windows up, “you feel too bloody good.”

“Not yet,” she whispers breathlessly, the coil in her belly almost at its breaking point, “‘m so close…”

Tom groans, snaking a hand between them, fingers reaching beneath her knicker elastic to toy with her pearl in tandem with each deep thrust.

Warmth spreads through her, as she writhes beneath him, the pressure within her building until it finally gives way and she tightens around him with a wanton moan.

“Shitshitfuck–” Tom groans, withdrawing from her and spilling white hot ropes of spend across her thighs with quick, sure strokes.

He hovers over her for a few moments longer, simply looking into her eyes and stroking her hair. She’s certain that at this point right now she’s never felt more in love with him. It feels good to have him back. Her Tommy.

He helps her out of the car, careful not to stain the upholstery and gets her cleaned up. 

Finally, he breaks the silence, turning to her as they straighten up their clothes. “So what should I do with it? The ring, I mean. I can get a diamond put in, I–”

“It’s perfect, as it is,” she reassures him, cupping his face in her hands, “keep it for now. Ask me again when we’re ready.”

“Oh, I definitely will,” he responds, bumping her nose with his.

Over the next six months their relationship blossoms, with her spending more and more time at Tom’s flat. No longer “just mates”, they proudly hold hands as they walk down the street together. Shared lunch breaks are spent on their wall, passing a bag of sherbet straws back and forth.

Tom’s night terrors lessen. Over time he comes to accept that it would be good to talk to someone. It’s still a touchy subject for him, and he refuses to use the term shell shock because of its association with Douglas. Not wanting to explore anything as extreme as electric shock therapy, he opts to see a doctor who has adopted psychotherapy as a means of treatment.

With each session, he looks a little lighter, though still haunted by the memories of what he has endured in combat, the load becomes more bearable to manage, and her heart feels as though it could burst with pride for him.

It’s New Year’s Eve, as they stand on the rain-dampened pavement outside of the Ducie Arms. Tom sways unsteadily on his feet, six pints deep, as they look up at the sky, the colourful crackle of fireworks overhead heralding in a brand new year. 

He pulls her in for a sloppy kiss, and she happily reciprocates, despite the lingering taste of lager upon his lips. His eyes are glassy as he pulls the ring box from his jacket pocket, his words slurred.

“Will you–”

She shakes her head, placing her hand over his, pushing it gently back towards his pocket.

“Ask me when you’re sober.”

It feels terrible to reject him a second time, yet she knows to get engaged when they’re both not in full control of their actions would be a mistake.

Thankfully, in his drunken state he doesn’t seem to mind, simply nodding and pocketing the ring box once more.

When he wakes up the next morning, bleary eyed and complaining he has a headache, he has no memory of most of the previous evening, and she cannot help the pang of disappointment she feels.

Another six months pass, and Tom continues to improve. His night terrors happen irregularly and he has started to fill out again, not quite as bony as he was when he first returned to Longsight. He looks healthy, happy. It fills her with warmth to see him recovering.

Yet there is a constant nagging in the back of her mind. She has knocked Tom back twice now, what if he never asks again?

Vera is now walking and talking, and, needing more space, Lois moves out of the flat above the shop, having found a little terraced house with a garden for her to play in.

Her and Tom decide to take the step of occupying the space. Tom gives up his flat, and the two move in together. They spend most of their time together anyway, so it makes sense.

It’s their moving in day, and she silently curses Tom for being too tight fisted to pay a removal man to do this for them, as they carry his old sofa up the stairs.

She feels clammy with sweat by the time they place it heavily down in their empty living room. Huffing with relief, she sits down, wanting to take a breather before they carry anything else up. She wipes her brow, looking around the space with a slight smile on her face.

A fresh start for both of them. A place to call theirs. A space to create memories.

She is snapped out of her reverie by Tom calling her name.

“I’m not moving anything else until I’ve–”

She freezes, mouth agape as she turns her head and sees Tom on one knee before her, ring box open in his hand.

“Thought now felt like the right time,” he says, “so will you?”

“I’m all sweaty,” she says bashfully.

“You’ve never looked better. My wife, working hard to put all of our old shit in our flat. So how about it?” He asks, cocking his head.

Her heart flutters. He’s right, there will never be a more perfect moment than this.

“Yes,” she breathes, allowing him to slip the simple gold band onto her ring finger.

He leans in pressing his lips to hers and she smiles into it, running her fingers through his hair as he pulls away again, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Still mates though, yeah?” He whispers.

She giggles. “Always.”

#tom bennett #tom bennett x reader #tom bennett x you #tom bennett x y/n #tom bennett smut #tom bennett angst #tom bennett imagine #ewan mitchell #world on fire #tom bennett fan fiction #tom bennett fanfiction #tom bennett fan fic #tom bennett fanfic #world on fire tom bennett #tom bennett world on fire #world on fire fanfiction #world on fire fan fiction #world on fire fanfic #world on fire fan fic

[liketolovexx]

Just finished watching prisoner of Azkaban and just wanna give Sirius and Remus a hug bc they need it and think they’d both give great hugs :(

I’m so sorry for the lack of writing guys, I’ve been kinda depressed as of late! I think I’ll be doing more of little blurbs and drabbles, so please send sweet or smutty requests for Sirius, Remus, James, Marlene and Regulus<33 love u all and I’m so sorry that I couldn’t write a full fic for u my sweetheart :(

Moony & padfoot getting hugged by their love<3

Sirius had been locked up for a DECADE. When he got out, when he came to you, when he shattered in your arms, he felt like your warmth was melting him back into the boy he was in Hogwarts. The one who’d finally found a home, a family. The cheeky, mischievous, long raven-haired boy who’s face lit up with laughter whenever he was with his friends family. The boy who always had a witty, sassy remark, the boy who finally felt love. Once he’d finally got out of Azkaban, he came straight to you, planning to find Remus right after. Standing face to face with you was scarier than he thought it would be. He was preparing himself for rejection, for you to call him an evil murderer and lash out. “Sirius..? My Sirius..?” You’d mumbled, reaching out a hand to touch his cheek. He was trembling. Underneath a layer of shadow, brought on by the trauma he’d endured in prison, his eyes were still the same. The eyes of the boy you loved. “Oh.. oh, sweetheart..” you’d whispered, gathering his body in your arms. Once he was safe in your home, you had him on the sofa, cuddled in your arms like a child. Eventually, once his inconsolable sobs died down, he lifted his lachrymose face from your soft chest. “I… I knew you’d believe me. You know- you know I wouldn’t kill them… right? You…” you shushed him, petting his hair. “Sirius, I know for a fucking fact you’d never. You’re safe now. I won’t let anyone get to you. You’re gonna be okay.” I imagine him nuzzling his head back into the crook of your neck and refusing to move for the rest of the night. He’s still a stubborn fuck, obviously LMAO

Remus, poor boy, has been alone for just as long. With James and Lily and all of his friends dead, Peter a traitor and Sirius in jail, he had literally nobody. (Also, I’m sorry, but for angst purposes I’m gonna have to say he couldn’t see you either for whatever reason.) when you two got reunited, I imagine it was literally heartbreaking. He was sat there with vacant eyes, staring at you like you were a ghost who was trying to torture and trick him. God knows he’d had enough delusions of you and of Sirius coming to him, he thought this was his mind being mean to him again. His rosy lip twitched. “Remus?” You breathed, trying to break him from whatever trance he was stuck in. Unblinking, a tear dripped from his eye. His brows furrowed and he pouted determinedly, though you could see the anguish in his eyes. You were so confused. “Stop it. Please, not again.” He mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to shuffle away from you. “Remus, it’s me” you said, unable to help a disbelieving bark of laughter. “No. No, no, you’re being mean to me. Why is this happening? You’re hurting me.” He growled, hands sliding into his hair and tugging on it. Ever since hogwarts, Remus hadn’t been able to let go of the self hatred, so he thought that you were just a vision his mind was projecting to hurt him more. “Remus, baby.” You lurch forwards, not giving him time to run from your embrace. You lock him tight in your arms. You feel his tense body go slack, as his shoulders start to shake. He whispers out your name, voice laced with so much grief and so much relief. You’re back. “It is you. Oh, I love you. It hurt so badly” “I know, sweetheart. I’m here now.” You coaxed. With one hand in his caramel hair, the other petting his back, you felt him fall asleep against you and the seat you were both now on. <3

#sirius black x reader #marauders x reader #marauders #marauders era #sirius black #remus lupin x reader #sirius black scenario #Sirius black💌*~ #Remus Lupin💌*~

[lemonlover1110]

Baby Steps

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 14] Inconsolable

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Light Angst

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Happy to co-host Gojo NSFW Week 2023! Come join us on Twitter!

Satoru moves out not even two days later, promising to still pay for everything. You’ve had time to process everything, yet you’re still as shocked and confused since the moment he announced everything. You’re so disappointed in yourself to admit that you’ve been crying over him. For some reason you feel as if it’s your fault because you weren’t good enough.

Your relationship was never exclusive so he didn’t owe you anything, you knew that. But you still felt as if something was building up. It was the result of your imagination though, and now you’re inconsolable. Kaya has been checking up on you, making sure that everything is alright. But it’s hard because nothing is alright, and she’s trying to comfort you but it doesn’t work. 

“He’s not even handsome, it’s okay. You’re not missing out. In the end Leiko is the one losing.” Kaya says, wrapping her arms around you while you hug a pillow. You cry your heart out, your head not being able to wrap around anything else other than the fact that Satoru’s gone. You’d make someone else believe that he’s dead by the way you’re reacting.

“Why am I not good enough?” You sob, and Kaya swears her heart breaks when she hears this. This wouldn’t be happening if she kept her mouth shut in the beginning. She can’t help but feel guilty about this. This wouldn’t be a problem. “I didn’t even think he liked her.”

“You’re good enough, Satoru is just a dick.” She tells you. You can’t even believe her words. You’re pregnant with his baby, and lived with him, yet he somehow wasn’t satisfied with you. And what hurts the most is the fact that he acted as if you two were in some sort of relationship while he was here, yet apparently that meant nothing.

“We were supposed to watch a movie tonight.” You share with her, and she pouts.

“Do you still want to watch a movie?” She asks, and you tell her no. You’re not in the mood for anything but to cry. Even the happiest movie will make you burst into tears. “Do you want to do something to hurt him?”

“I can’t do anything to hurt him.” You respond, and she tries to think of something that’ll hurt the father of your baby. Then she thinks of something, and she blurts it out before even thinking, “Go on a date!”

“I don’t want to go on a date.” You cry even more, and Kaya keeps thinking of something else while you try to soothe yourself, “Who’d even want to date a pregnant woman? I look so ugly right now.”

“What? How dare you even say that. You’re so beautiful. You’re glowing when you’re not crying.” Kaya tries to comfort you, and it doesn’t seem to be helping you at all. She isn’t so great at comforting people– At least not pregnant women that cry over everything. Although she just doesn’t know what to say in this situation. It’s something she’s never prepared for.

“I regret ever going to that party with you. I would’ve been just fine staying home.” You begin. “I wouldn’t be pregnant, I wouldn’t have met Satoru, I would be just fine. Working and studying without having to worry about a stupid fucking baby.”

“Oh, you don’t mean that.” She says. She knows that you’re excited about this more than anything. It’s just your hurt feelings getting the best of you and taking over your words.

“I don’t. I’m actually so excited to see my son but–” You keep crying, and Kaya’s eyes widen as she gets the idea.

“Do you want to start decorating the nursery?” Kaya proposes and you bury your face into the pillow before refusing. You say something but it’s muffled by the pillow, leading Kaya to ask, “What did you say, honey?”

“Satoru wanted to do that together.” You inform her, and she laughs. You don’t understand why she’s laughing, especially since you’re so miserable.

“Wouldn’t that be great though? Your sort of payback.” She tells you, and right now even though you’re pissed at him, you can’t wrap your head around doing that to him. It just seems cruel. Your stance would be very different if you weren’t overemotional. 

“It’s okay.” You tell her, and Kaya pouts. She knows this won’t be the last night that you’ll be crying over Satoru and she dreads it because she can’t stand seeing you sad for much longer.

-

The next day you’re better. Kaya makes some breakfast for you, and you quietly eat. She looks at your puffy face and she feels a tug on her heart, but she knows better than to bring up anything. It’ll ruin your day and make you start crying earlier than you’d intend.

She refrains from asking questions because she knows that won’t end well. She has to walk on eggshells. She has to think through what she wants to ask because if she doesn’t, you’ll burst into tears. It’s draining. 

“How about we go out to eat later? I’ll get a bit tipsy while you sip on some mocktails. Maybe we can go to karaoke.” She speaks up and your eyes light up at the idea. Going out to have some fun is what you need. Spending some time with other people is perfect. While Kaya would want to invite some other people, her other friends are Daisuke and his friends and they’re associated with Satoru. 

“I’ll love that.” You respond, and she smiles. She had never really cared to see you smile until now. She had never seen you so sad, even when you found out you weren’t the only girlfriend of your previous boyfriend. And while you’re extremely emotional that anything and everything can make you burst into tears, the emotions that you’ve had the past couple of days are obviously more than just a case of insufficient sweets. “I’ve been thinking about the nursery and while Satoru is an asshole… It’s not his fault that he likes someone else.”

“You’re right.” Kaya nods, realizing how immature she is while next to you. She probably would’ve decorated the nursery a way Satoru would hate, then go out with his best friend. Then again, she’s not in your shoes. Kaya would allow you to be with Daisuke just for you to get petty revenge on Satoru.

There’s a knock on the door that surprises both of you. Neither of you invited someone over. Kaya stands up from the dining table and walks to the front door, suspecting who the unwanted visitor is. And she’s proven right when she opens the door and sees the father of your child, holding a brown paper bag. She puts her hand up, swinging it towards Satoru, but his hand catches her wrist before her skin can strike against his cheek. She swore she’d give Satoru a piece of her mind, including a beating, when she finally saw him. 

“Good to see you too, Kaya.” Satoru says, about to push Kaya out of his way to enter the place. The groceries he holds are much heavier than he expected. But it’s as if Kaya is planted into the ground, and she won’t move. She’s pushed to the side but she extends her arm to cover the doorway.

“You’re a fucking piece of shit. You don’t live here anymore so don’t fucking feel entitled to enter the place without permission.” Kaya says, kicking her feet so they hit Satoru’s shin. It doesn’t affect the man though. “You’re really brave showing up around here.”

“Kaya, I pay for this apartment. I have more rights to enter this place than you do.” Satoru responds, and Kaya feels her blood boil.

“If you don’t leave right now, I’m going to start screaming.” She threatens, and it’s fair to say that Satoru is irritated. She begins a countdown, starting at five. Before she even gets to three, Satoru shouts your name. While you were hearing the commotion, you chose to stay away from it, but now your name has been mentioned. 

“What do you need, Satoru?” You ask as you walk to the front door, standing behind Kaya. You cross your arms and stare at the man who immediately smiles when he sees you. You look away, not wanting to stare directly at him because you’ll burst into tears again. You feel more calm today, but you’re still very emotional. You can’t just get over stuff like this so easily. He notices and feels horrible, knowing how bad he hurt you.

“May I come in? I have some groceries.” He informs you, and you sigh.

“Who told you I needed groceries?” You question, grabbing Kaya’s arm and dragging her away which allows Satoru to enter the place. He does so, closing the door behind him and taking off his shoes. He puts the brown paper bag on the kitchen counter while he looks around the rather messy place.

“Take off those stupid shades. You look like a clown.” Kaya is quick to insult, and Satoru sighs. He’s gathered that she’s very protective of you, so he guesses he deserves this treatment. “Why are you even here? Groceries? Really? I can do that.”

“Well, are you the father of the baby?” Satoru questions, and she doesn’t like the cocky tone that’s in his voice.

“I’m going to be if you don’t step up your game, blind mouse.” She says, and he furrows his eyebrows in confusion, same as you until you remember the movie she ended up putting last night. You actually chuckle at this, and Satoru decides not to argue more because you ended up laughing and he doesn’t want to ruin that. 

“Do you two have plans tonight?” Satoru sighs while asking the question. He’s been dreading this the whole way here but Leiko would only accept to date him if he did this. In his brain he’s thinking that killing Suguru would be easier than doing this to you.

“Yes–” Kaya begins, but she’s met with your,

“No.” 

“Leiko and I were wondering if you’d like to join us for dinner.” He slowly and awkwardly asks the question, and you have no idea what to say. Tears well up in your eyes again and you’re trying your best to hold them back, while Kaya’s hands ball up into fists and she tries her best to not start hitting the man. However, she’s at a great disadvantage. He’s bigger, stronger, and taller than she is. So she does the next best thing, grabbing a glass that’s nearby and throwing it straight at his head.

Luckily for Satoru, and unluckily for Kaya, he has great reflexes and manages to dodge the glass, causing it to hit the wall behind him. He has to say, she has a great arm and she should consider putting that energy into a sport like baseball. Although he isn’t thinking that when Kaya grabs yet another glass, this time it’s filled with orange juice, and once again throws it at him.

While you want to scream at Kaya to stop, you decide to walk away so you don’t get caught up in the crossfire. Plus, Satoru isn’t having a hard time dodging anything. In the end, Kaya will clean everything up, while Satoru will replace the dinnerware. You’re not losing or gaining anything by stopping them, so you’ll let them settle their differences.

“You son of a bitch. Your mother must’ve dropped you on your head because there’s no way you’re just so fucking stupid.” She’s saying as she’s looking for more things to throw at him. When she goes into the cabinets to look for plates it’s when you finally speak up,

“That’s enough, Kaya.” You tell her, and she freezes. She takes a moment to calm herself, while you look at Satoru, “We’ll join you for dinner if you can replace the dinnerware that Kaya broke. I’m sure that’s not a big problem for you, right?”

“That’s fine. Yep.” Satoru ends up nodding, a bit out of breath. He hadn’t prepared himself for the very extreme workout of evading plates. Your gaze then falls on Kaya again,

“You know what you’ll be doing in the spare time, right?” You ask, and she knows you’re talking to her. She doesn’t know why she’s terrified, she just knows that you’ll end up being an amazing mother.

“Yes.” She answers. You clear your throat before, once again, looking at Satoru.

“What are you still doing here? You can tell us the details through a text message. Get out.” You order and he’s hesitant before he begins to walk to the front door. He has so many things to say, but he bites his tongue. He doesn’t want to make the situation worse than it already is. 

When the front door shuts, you walk to the couch and take a seat. In a way, you’re happy that Satoru came because now you’re simply frustrated. Although you’re still sad, your frustration is overshadowing any other feeling.

“You know, Kaya… I think you’re right. Let’s start decorating the nursery.”

🏷 @witchofoe @cactustattoo @kageyamaslittleroyal20 @mykyoon @sunjayist @fonkymonkeyfriday @lilith412426 @luvs-wrld @witchymermaid12 @fi106 @distractionforyourthoughts @dearsunaa @tamak00 @watyousayin @leiriswhore @q-the-rockaholic @shuxjodie @syynnaaah @kleeboomed @shrekmwa @bakugobiddies @blueeskies17 @arminsgfloll @obeythemasters @crispmarshmallow @levismainbabe

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #anime #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojou satoru x you #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo fanfic #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo saturo

[mosquito-queen]

shut up shut up shut UP

think about this:

kate is fucking inconsolable, spiraling, so so so miserably sad. because here she is: one parent dead, one parent in jail (that she put there), a burned shell of an apartment, definitely concussed and a few fractured ribs thanks to kingpin. and she’s just gotten back to her mom’s empty penthouse from clint’s hallmark of family.

rottenly sad.

you know the kind of sad that even when your dog tries to cheer you up, it just makes you cry. so when lucky rests his head on kate’s shin after she tucks herself into the couch (that smells too much like her mom), she absolutely loses it.

but she hasn’t been alone. she hasn’t been alone since she went with clint to his home. or on her way back to new york city, or even up the stairs, definitely not when she turned the door handle. her shadow just didn’t know exactly know how to say hello. how to say: hey i’m sorry i tried to kill your mentor and i wasn’t there when kingpin beat the shit out of you and i might of went back to my hotel but i couldn’t stop thinking about you and wishing you were here in this lonely, lonely room with me where i can’t stop hearing that fucking whistle and i know, i just know, that you can fill up a silence and keep those memories away so i came looking for you but you’ve barely said a single word and now i’m worried and i can’t stop following you. when is the right time to say that?

probably not when kate is crying enough to create a new ocean. but when is a better time?

“kate bishop?”

kate is so surprised to the point of surpassing terrified and just going into acceptance. of course there’s an assassin waiting in the shadow of the window. of course she’s looking at kate like all she wants to do is wrap her up and never let her go - oh wait, is she? oh my god. she is actually doing that.

the couch dips under yelena’s weight and she’s pulling kate into her chest, her hands skimming across her back, her arms, softly smoothing out her hair. kate hurts in so many different ways. she’s twenty different shades a car crash. but here is yelena, with her own bruises and blood, pulling them both down to lay on the couch, keeping kate tucked against her chest. kate’s hands bunch into the fabric of yelena’s shirt and she’s crying, god she can’t help but cry.

and somewhere through the tears and the soft touch of yelena’s hand running through her hair, she hears a faint humming. and the crying starts fading into hiccuping as she tries to hear the song. her heartbeat slowing to match yelena’s. it’s low and rumbles through yelena’s chest, lulls kate into a quiet until she falls asleep, “so bye, bye miss american pie…”

#bishova #kate x yelena #bishlova

[bbybaku]

i’m back lol

this one’s long and kind of weird but shiggy smut as always

warnings: enemies to lovers, rough sex, choking, slapping, praise, afab reader, long intro, gamer shig, idk lmao

for your second year of college you and some friends , your girl best friend, her boyfriend and and his best friend got a 4 bedroom house.

well that was the original plan, your best friend and her boyfriend got into a study abroad program last minute with a scholarship so good they couldn’t refuse.

you knew of the boyfriends best friend but had never met him longer than in passing.

by the time this all happened the papers had already been signed and the first few months of rent had been paid.

leaving you living with a stranger.

a stranger you found after the first week that you weren’t fond of.

tomura. but you called him shigaraki because you didn’t care for him enough to call him by his first name.

while the two of you were in college, he opted to take all of his classes online. meaning he never left.

he was also nocturnal.

and addicted to video games.

which he absolutely refused to turn the volume down for. keeping you up all night.

your classes were all in person and you took your education very seriously.

your roommate did not.

he very obviously didn’t care for you or your life.

which he would remind you when the two of you bumped into each other.

at first you two just exchanged snarky comments at each other.

“you’re ugly in the morning”

he would say when you got up for class after he had been up all night.

“you’re ugly all the time” you would snap back.

or another complaint of yours to him would be that he never did his dishes. which you let him use despite everything being yours.

you started off asking nicely but he would always pick a fight about it.

he felt a woman’s place was in the kitchen.

you got him back by doing all the dishes then keeping them in your room.

after about a month and a half the snarky comments turned into screaming matches.

you would stay away from home on purpose to avoid him.

you hated him so much.

but despite all the snarky comments, he wasn’t that ugly.

you always noticed his hands. long slender fingers.

and for being a compsci major and a gamer he always smelled good.

you hated all the long hot showers he took but they did have a result.

your dislike for him lessened one night when you came home from a night out.

drunk. hysterical. inconsolable.

you had seen your ex making out with your ex best friend at the bar.

none of your friends made the situation any better.

but somehow shigaraki did?

he was so nice to you. so gentle about it.

“they’ve showed you who they are. you’re probably better than them anyway. you should just go to bed then you won’t have to think about it anymore because you’ll be asleep”

he walked you to the bathroom seeing as you were so drunk you could barely walk.

he tucked you into bed and then started walking back to his room.

before he closed the door you asked him to stay. you told him you just really didn’t want to be alone right now.

“oh um are you sure?”

you insisted.

he slept on the floor.

but when you woke up he was in your bed spooning you. you instantly fell back asleep in warm bliss.

but when you woke up again he was gone.

you two didn’t talk about this interaction for about a month.

it wasn’t until you two were screaming at eachother about wanting to use the tv that he grabbed your face, looked at you for a few seconds the aggressively made out with you.

the agressive making out, tit squeezing, dick grabbing makeout quickly made it’s way into a bed.

not your bed.

a bed with clean dark blue sheets, an ocean smell, and a dark room with lots of vibey LED lights.

he ripped your clothes off of you while sucking your tits like there was milk coming out of them.

you were grinding aggressively on his hard on when his hand found your throat and applied the perfect amount of pressure.

he looked down at you through his blue hair and whispered

“you drive me fucking insane in every possible way”

he threw one of your legs over his shoulder and inserted himself slowly.

throwing his head back and groaning once all the way in.

“i’m so obsessed with you and i hate it”

he whispered through heavy breaths.

he started slow. going in and out. it barely hurt because of how wet you were between your legs

you could barely function.

maybe it was the lack of airflow or the utter show of what was happening. but you were to stunned to move.

once he had stretched you out just enough he started pounding.

if you could have you would have been moaning.

“can i hit you?”

you nodded slightly against the risk stance of his hand.

mouth open and eyes fuzzy you watched as he took his hand from you throat, drew back, and slapped you.

hard.

after he slapped you he held the bottom of your face, forcing you to look at him.

“make eye contact with me” he was out of breath, smirking and pounding into you.

you obeyed and his free hand started rubbing.

he was searching around for a bit before he found what he was looking for.

you reeled the minute he found it.

“ah ah no no, you’re supposed to be looking at me.”

“pl-ease i-“

he shook you face with the hand that was holding your jaw.

“you know better than this, y/n.”

you squirmed beneath him. over satisfied and growing overstimulated you could tell he was getting close the way his hands were twitching and his pounds inconsistent.

“ you’re so good for me you little slut”

he put his thumb in your mouth.

“can i come inside?”

you had an ied. so you nodded while taking his thumb and his cock.

“ahhh you’re sooooooo good”

he moaned durring the so.

the hand on your clit landed on your boob and he squeezed it as he came.

then he collapsed on top of you.

“i’m still not doing the fucking dishes.”

#shigaraki smut #yandere shigaraki #shigaraki x you #yandere mha #mha shigaraki #mha smut #lov smut #shigaraki x reader #mha fanfiction #mha headcanons #mha x reader #lov headcanons #yandere aizawa #bakugou smut #mha yandere