#vday fanfiction

[amywritesthings]

chocolate-covered silver. / a levi ackerman valentine's ficlet.

pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) word count: 1.8k summary: Happy Valentine's Day readers. Why not celebrate with some Levi Ackerman smut? note: set in the universe of silver underground

tags: 18+ MINORS DNI! pre-aot, levi's pov, explicit language, secret relationship, gifts, eating desserts, sexual tension, oral (f!receiving), touch-starved idiots credit: dividers by @saradika-graphics

He could kill Hange for this.

A nice gesture, they said — as if he doesn’t already wait on James hand and foot whenever the other Scouts aren’t looking.

She’ll love it, they promised — but not without adding a probably after the sourpuss scowl started forming on his face.

He’s been her close friend for over a decade. 

He’s been in her bed for a fraction of that.

So why does walking to her quarters with a tiny bouquet of hand-picked flowers and imported chocolate from Wall Sina feel like such a death march?

“I’m only trying to help you out,” Hange quipped last week, interrupting his perfectly-happy afternoon tea. “Is it not a day people celebrate in the Underground City?”

“We don’t celebrate stupid shit in the Underground,” Levi corrects, fingertips locked around the mouth of his cup. “And besides, it’s a married couple’s holiday.”

“Not always,” Hange argues, finger lifting in a contrarian manner. “People who date celebrate.”

“That’s not us.”

He’s not technically wrong.

You’re not dating, but he doesn’t know what the hell this is.

Hange’s smile only widens at that. “Friends celebrate, too.”

“Then where’s my flowers, shithead?” Levi retorts.

That earns a bark of a laugh from the Section Commander. “If you want me to go pick you some flowers to put in your stallion’s hair, Levi, make no mistake — I will run out there right now.”

“That’s a present for my horse, not for me.”

Hange waggles their brows, leaning over the table and ruining his peace. “Gives you ample opportunity to pick some flowers for our hardworking Lieutenant, too.”

He told them to go away.

Now, six days later, he’s here.

He’s showing up like a dumbass at her doorstep trying not to run the other way before you know. 

Are you going to think he’s an idiot for partaking in holidays that mean nothing to them?

The only gift he’d ever given you was that damned necklace you never take off. It was the only thing he could afford back then, down there, while they fought for their lives.

Although they may be still in the fight for their lives here, too, he can afford much, much more for you now.

He will buy you a thousand silver necklaces if you want them.

Clearing his throat, the Captain takes a moment to collect his resolve before tapping a knuckle against the wooden door frame.

You shuffle behind it. You must have been going over presentation plans Erwin sent over.

He debates on putting the flowers behind his back or—

“Levi?”

Shit.

Too late.

He stares at you when you open the door, blinking twice. You mirror the movements, blinking between the box and the bunch of flowers in either hand.

Mistake.

Mistake, mistake, mistake—

“Are those…?” you start, trying to hide your amusement.

Levi scowls and holds out the bouquet. “Yeah, it’s stupid.”

“I was gonna say ‘handpicked’,” you reply with a snort, taking the flowers gently from his hand. Levi can feel his heart beating a mile a minute as he waits with a forced stoicism. “What’s the occasion?”

He stops breathing altogether when you lean down to smell the aroma of the bouquet. The way your face melts from stress to enjoy the moment, the scent, has him weak in the knees.

For someone that’s been labeled humanity’s strongest, you sure have a way of making his knees buckle from nothing.

“It’s… Valentine’s Day up here,” he carefully states, hating every syllable of it.

“Valentine’s Day?” you repeat, holding the flowers close to your chest. You step back, allowing him access to your quarters. Levi doesn’t hesitate to enter.

“Some holiday where people celebrate—”

“—lovers?” you finish for him, and the captain feels like he’s trudged in quicksand. “I know. Hange mentioned it to me the other week.”

Fucking Hange.

“Funny that they did,” Levi grumbles, before turning on a heel. You close your door as he extends his arm with his second gift. “You’re supposed to spend the day with someone special to you. Someone — well, it can be a friend —”

“Oh, we’re friends?” you tease him as you take the box of chocolates.

You’re going to kill him.

“James.”

“What? It’s nice to reaffirm — oh, shit.”

He stops in his tracks, painfully aware that you’ve gasped. His eyes slide to the now-opened box full of exquisite chocolate, throat now tight with uncertainty.

Maybe you hate it.

He really shouldn’t have listened to Hange.

“This is real chocolate,” you whisper, and that uncertainty melts into something so very warm.

“As opposed to fake chocolate?” he asks to keep his wits about him. To see you scowl.

“You know what I mean, Ackerman,” you snip, and he fights every muscle in his face to keep a smile at bay. “Where the hell did you get this stuff?”

“Don’t worry about it. Here.”

He steps confidently across the bedroom floor boards to pluck a piece of chocolate out of the box, holding it up towards your lips.

“Open.”

He knows that shift in your gaze when your eyes meet.

Yeah, Valentine’s Day is known for stuff like that, too.

(He can show you.)

Obediently you part your lips, widening your mouth so he can fit the chocolate right between your teeth. It catches, and you use your tongue to pull it into your mouth.

The pleasure is instantaneous. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, the real-time image burning the back of his mind, and he can’t hold back anymore.

“Is it good?” he asks, placing his hands on your hips.

“Better than good.” You hold out a piece for him. “Open.”

He hesitates when the little ball comes to his lips, but eventually he opens his mouth. You’re not wrong — it’s delicious. They don’t make anything like this underground. 

It’s a luxury, though he had intended only for you to enjoy them.

Of course you’d include him.

“See what I’m talking about?” you ask with an excitement that’s damn adorable.

“It’s fine,” Levi answers, knowing the indignance that’s bound to flutter over your face. He huffs a breathless laugh before swallowing the chocolate down. “Come here.”

Lifting one hand to your chin, he pulls you in with nonexistent resistance. Your lips brush against his, at first slow then sensual.

He wants to tell you.

(Your lips taste like chocolate, but you taste better.)

But he’d rather show you.

He glides forward, using the hand on your hip to steer.

You easily comply with his steps forward, guiding you back to your bed. His plan must be in the back of your mind as he kisses you like it’s his last, but he can feel it — the way your lips curve in that knowing smile.

“What are you doing?” you murmur, voice velvety with want. It drives him insane.

“Celebrating you,” Levi mumbles in return, pushing your body backwards.

You easily fall to the bed and he drops with you, knee to the mattress. Levi crawls down, down, to the edge of the mattress with his hands preoccupied with the zipper of your casual trousers. 

You don’t ask what he’s doing — all you do is giggle when he impatiently tugs the fabric down.

“As a lover or a friend?” you tease once your legs are freed.

Levi doesn’t answer.

Not verbally, anyway.

He wraps an arm around your hips, keeping you in place as he swats your legs wider. Your breath hitches from surprise — good, you’re too mouthy right now and he intends to remind you.

Friend, lover, it doesn’t matter.

It’s all synonymous to him.

You’re everything.

His past, his present —

And if he can bury his face into your pussy for the rest of his days, then it’s one hell of a future he can get behind.

The squeak of surprise rips from your lungs faster than you can stop the noise, and Levi is wholly satisfied by the sound. His tongue drags along your slit, coating his mouth with the taste of you mixed with the chocolate still lingering on his taste buds, and he groans.

This.

This is the only thing he needs for this dumb fucking holiday.

“Le—”

You can’t even finish his two-syllable name. You squirm, curse, arch, as he laps once, twice, before paying special attention to your clit.

Yeah, you won’t think straight now.

He knows you.

When his eyes flicker up from his work, he sees the way you struggle to watch him with that flushed face; how your chest heaves in that cotton shirt; how you want to encourage him, beg him, but your mind’s blank whenever his tongue swirls that precious clit of yours.

With his eyes, he says everything he needs to:

This is what I want. This is my gift from you.

Then he sucks lightly on your clit, rhythmic and calculated, and you have to slam your hand over your mouth to avoid screaming. 

Good. 

Fight to keep this a secret.

Because if it was his choice, he often thinks about ruining this — the image of a captain and a lieutenant, platonic and brave, like you’re not riding him in the middle of the night after a hard day of exploration and failures.

Like he’s not finger fucking you in the hallways as a reward after dealing with the higher ups in meetings upon meetings upon meetings.

Like you’re still two teenagers sneaking around, an underground flipped upside-down.

He hums and the vibrations make your legs shake. He has to keep from grinning, too focused on getting you to the edge by his mouth and his mouth alone.

You grow quiet when you’re almost there.

It’s been dead silent for several seconds.

He works overtime, arms locked around your hips to keep you in his orbit, as he licks and sucks and flicks his tongue side to side when—

That devastating sob.

The way your body arches like a woman possessed.

Thighs slam into his ears, making him feel dizzy, but he doesn’t stop.

Not until you whimper and tug and push at his hair to go away, and even then—

One last lick, for doing such a good job.

“You’re a menace,” you finally breathe, letting go of your mouth as your palm rests on your sweat-beaded forehead instead.

Levi lazily kisses down your inner thighs as you come back to planet Earth, proud of just how fast it took this time to get you there. He’s getting better at this, every single day.

Soon enough you won’t last a minute.

He’s determined for it.

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’m not sorry about it,” he murmurs, lips shiny and red from his efforts.

You laugh, and his heart swells.

“I think I like this holiday.”

Yeah.

Levi thinks he can get behind this holiday, too.

#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman smut #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan fanfic #levi x you #levi x reader #levi smut #aot fanfic #aot fic #snk fanfic #snk fic #levi ackerman fanfic #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman fic #valentines day fanfic #valentines day fic #vday fanfiction

[xdeepwaterx]

The title says it all.

Hot breath met the sensitive skin on Frank’s neck as he chuckled before the black haired spoke.

“Who got you turned on like that?”

The cocky smirk that sounded in his voice usually would’ve gotten the younger to snap back at him but right then he couldn’t collect his thoughts. All he knew was that Danny Johnson was giving him a lapdance in front of his friends and didn’t even flinch when touching his privates.

#danny johnson x frank morrison #dbd #danny johnson #dead by daylight #frank morrison #ghostfrank #ghostface x frank morrison #the legion dbd #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #valentines day #vday fanfiction #vday #danny jed olsen johnson #ghostface #smut #frankface

[tasty-ribz]

Its valentines day so choose your

weapons of sin

you filthy animals

#vday #papa emeritus primo #papa emeritus fanfiction #papa terzo #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus x reader #papa emeritus lll #cardinal popia #copia fanart #copia #papa copia #cardinal copia #primo #papa primo #papa secondo #the band ghost #ghost fandom #ghost #papa emeritus secondo #secondo #secondo x reader #terzo fanart #terzo emeritus #terzo #the ghost band #the ghost band meme #the nameless ghouls #the nameless ghoul #ghost ghouls #ghouls

[witchwyfe]

Can I request "places to kiss: hip" and rooster please!!

prompt - places to kiss: hip

pairing - bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x female reader

“No, don’t get up yet.”

You roll your eyes in amusement, propping your chin on your boyfriend’s stomach. Somehow, you’ve ended up lower than him on the mattress, and instead of dragging yourself up, you made yourself comfortable on his tummy. His hand threads through your hair, a groan passing through his lips.

“Bradley, I gotta pee.” You chuckle. “Two minutes and I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t leave me!” He whines, exaggeratedly, scrunching his eyes shut.

“Is this what you’re like on days off?” You wonder teasingly, running your hand along his happy trail. “All clingy and whiny?”

He doesn’t even answer, leveling a glare at you before letting his head flop back against his pillow. “Just hurry please.”

You press your lips to the exposed skin of his hipbone for a quick peck, before patting his stomach and pushing yourself off the bed.

True to your word, you’re back in less than two minutes, and the second you’re close enough, Bradley is tugging you back into bed, flush against him.

“To answer your question,” He murmurs, lips at your temple. “I’m not like this on days off. Just whenever I’m around you.”

“Sap,” You tease, giggling when his fingertips sweep over your ribs.

“Yeah baby, because of you.” He whispers. “You think I’m gonna have you in my bed with me, all snuggled up, and not be sappy?”

“Shut up,” You giggle again, a fond heat rising on your cheeks as you press your lips to his.

© witchwyfe 2023. absolutely no reposting, translating, or modifying, even with credit.

#mine #my work #my writing #witchwyfe #witchwyfe writing #witchwyfe vday party #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw oneshot #bradley rooster bradshaw drabble #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw oneshot #bradley bradshaw x you

[undead-supernova]

Masterlist

plot: they say that if it's right...you know...nothing has ever felt so wrong (so maybe you’ll just drunkenly wander the streets until you figure out somewhere to go)

warnings: alcohol consumption, arguments, cigarettes, I frowed up, hurt/comfort

pairings: steve harrington x fem!reader

wc: 2.8k

song inspiration: Hits Different by Taylor Swift (I've listened to this on repeat for like an entire year now)

note: HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY to everyone who actually does NOT have a Valentine and would rather read about fictional characters because you're a real one out there. This is my first Steve one shot and I hope it's alright. Here's to all my sad and messy bitches !!!!

If It's Right...You Know

“Can someone call her a cab?”

“No!’’ you exclaim, wiping the tears under your eyes. You’re staring up at the bartender, trying to silently plead him to take pity on you despite how embarrassed you feel. 

“I’m sorry, I’ll just go.”

He eyes you, shoving his plaid shirtsleeve up to his elbow as he walks over to the small computer. His eyes flicker towards you every few seconds, the buttons on the screen seemingly nothing compared to the state of you. It’s like you’re a car wreck, isn’t it? Just too hard to look away from despite the carnage.

“Are you sure?” he asks as he slaps your receipt down. You’re starting to scribble a tip with the shitty pen he’s provided when he decides to add, “This is the third time you’ve done this.”

You look back up, mortified. “Really?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Oh, god,” you groan, desperately wanting to curl up into a ball and die. “That’s mortifying. I’ll do better next time.”

“Maybe lay off the booze until you feel better,” he suggests. “Or, you know, you talk to whoever that Steve guy is. Maybe try that.”

Before you can say anything in return, he’s grabbing your receipt, saluting you, and moving on to the next person in line.

And that’s it.

Tab closed.

Moment gone.

Sighing, you stand and grab your purse and jacket. Dip back whatever’s left of your shitty glass of a Screwdriver, the watered-down vodka tasting like absolutely nothing on your tongue. Suppressing your groan, you push through the growing crowd as you try to escape.

As soon as you emerge from the shitty little dive bar, you’re nearly blinded by the fresh midnight air. It nips at your skin, the September of it all begging for a chance to release its worst. And you’re wearing a short dress with high heels that aren’t covering your feet. It’s your own damn fault for not checking the weather before you came. Now look where you are.

Now it’s time to wander the streets, to try and find somewhere reasonable to go. 

Because why go back home? Why risk sitting by yourself in the dark, nursing a bottle of wine that certainly won’t mix well with orange juice and vodka before spending the whole night by the toilet?

Why leave when the streets are perfect for a heartbroken woman like you, crowded with the hordes of others experiencing some form, no matter how miniscule, of melancholia? 

A part of you finds it funny, fucking hilarious, that no one around you knows what you’re feeling. What you’re thinking. 

If only they knew about the self-loathing, the devouring loneliness. How this is eating at the lining of your stomach, a kind of hunger that feels so different than any that has come to pass. 

It always happens after a vacation, doesn’t it?

See, just a month ago, Steve had taken you on vacation to some beach in California. Said it was to get away from work. To get away from the stress. The late nights. The fuckery that lied in office buildings and smushed cubicles. 

The beach felt like a perfect fit, thick with the scent of sunscreen and a couple of beers in a melting cooler. The sun itself felt like a form of freedom, cascading through the tie-dye umbrella desperately trying to stay put in the sand. 

But it just kept slipping, kept trying to escape whenever the breeze rolled in. You sat closest to it, trying to hold it down whenever it popped up. 

After maybe the fifth, sixth time, Steve had had enough.

“I got it, I got it,” he said with a sigh, trying to push the umbrella further into the sand. But every time he tested its stability, the pole seemed to shoot out of the damn hole.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed.

“Maybe we should just call it and put it down,” you suggested.

Steve raised an eyebrow at you. “What, and risk getting sunburnt?”

“So?”

He waved his hand around. “So, it’ll hurt. Like, a lot. And then neither of us will have any fun.”

“I think you’re just overreacting.”

But that was before you got burned.

And then you were the one losing it.

“This fucking hurts!” you nearly screeched, the sheets of the hotel bed scratching up against your inflamed skin.

“I told you that it was a bad idea.”

“Yeah, I know, Steve,” you grumbled. “I got that the first ten times you said it.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“Easy for you to say.”

Steve, the one who had been worried about getting burned, hadn’t. In fact, his skin was glowing. Practically radiating with the most perfect tan you’d ever seen. Just a fucking daydream of golden skin and honey hair.

Despite your scowl, Steve seemed to let go, the crease between his eyebrows smoothing out. 

“Come here,” he whispered, squeezing the green aloe vera gel into his palm. “You can be grumpy, but you’ll have to let me play doctor.”

“Don’t you dare,” you nearly seethed.

But you weren’t scary enough for Steve. He took a small glob and rubbed it along your shoulder. You yelped at the cold sting, but that was before it settled in and left you at a comfortable ease.

“Oh, fuck,” you sighed, letting your head finally rest against the pillow.

“Oh, look at that. I’ve already got my license.”

That pulled a giggle out of you, finally, the irritation seeming to dissipate the longer you let it out. Steve joined in with you, probably just happy that you weren’t acting like a complete asshole.

The rest of your trip was spent smearing aloe vera over your body and lounging on the balcony. Eating seafood at little restaurants along the coast. Walked the piers at night, taking flashlights to look for little crabs. You even brought home a whole bag of seashells. 

Despite the pain, you had the best time of your life with Steve.

But that was the heart of summer.

And now it’s coming to a close.

A few more blocks over, your mind starts to stray away from the present, the liquor reaching the corners of your mind that you’d rather leave darkened. The parts that have always been an issue, even when you were secure enough in your relationship.

Where’s Steve tonight? you wonder. Who is he with?

Because there are so many women out there, so so many, who would lose their minds if they met someone like Steve. He’s something more than just a man, more than just a pretty face or a quick fuck. No, he’s got something about him that transcends what you have always comprehended about the male species. Something that feels almost…magical. 

He’s something of a dreamboat, an absolute firework show with that hair and those eyes and that smile and— 

Well.

He’s not yours right now, is he?

He doesn’t have a girlfriend waiting for him anymore. In fact, he could be with some other girl. Some girl with a better smile and a better laugh and a better body and better lips, holding onto his arm as they walk down the cobblestones of a street you used to stroll down. Steve helping her walk in her heels through the cracks, guiding her like a fucking gentleman.

And maybe he’s kissing her right now, whispering to her that she’s much, much better than his ex, some crazy fucked up mess who doesn’t know what she’s missing. How you’re just too hard to handle, too soft and sensitive for him. How you never gave him any chance at peace. How it was so much better now that you’re gone. 

What if he’s kissing some other girl right now?

Leaning up against a streetlamp, you can’t help it when your stomach makes the decision for you. You can’t think properly, can barely see through your tears as you lean over and throw up on the street.

“You good?” a female voice asks, putting a hand on your shoulder.

You turn to her, registering her hesitance at your appearance most likely, and nod. “Yeah, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

She looks relatively around your age, with a perfect manicure and a cigarette in her fingers, mauve lipstick wrapped around the filter. Her dark chestnut strands waves around her face, eyelids sparkling with pink glitter.

“Do you have anyone with you?” she asks, looking around.

“Yeah,” you lie immediately, pointing at the crowded bar across the street. “I’ve got some girls waiting for me inside. Just went a little heavy on the liquor tonight.”

“Is this about some guy?” she presses. You can’t help but nod. “Take my advice. Lay off the alcohol for a little bit and get yourself some sleep. You’ll wake up and think to yourself, ‘Wow, that random stranger was right. Thank you, random stranger.’” That makes you chuckle. “I’m sure your friends will understand.”

“Yeah,” you say before you slip in a lie. “I’ll try to do that.”

“Godspeed, my new friend,” she responds with a smile. She salutes you, pats your shoulder, and walks away. 

You watch her as she goes, stunned that a mere stranger could see right through you.

Maybe people do know that you’re experiencing heartbreak. Maybe it’s written all over your face, some typical sad woman with smudged mascara and lipstick. A desperate girl stumbling down the street, destined for catastrophic failure. Or maybe you’re just shit at keeping yourself together in public. 

But you’ve come too far now to turn back. It’s time to keep moving.

You knew you fucked up the moment it was all said and done. 

See, when you broke up with Steve, you really, really didn’t want to. You thought you needed space, that there was shit the two of you needed to figure out. Separately. If your jealousy and his indifference were to collide, well, maybe you shouldn’t be together. 

And maybe it was better if you sabotaged yourself instead of trying to actually work on yourself. What’s the point of trying to fix the problem instead of running away and convincing yourself that you weren’t supposed to be this happy? That you weren’t supposed to be this at ease. That you didn’t deserve to be with Steve.

It didn’t even really matter the reasoning if you even had one at all. The details were insignificant, the excuses piss poor. All you can hear now is Steve’s voice, all crackly and strained as he asked you question after question.

“I don’t understand.”

“So, what, now you’re just gonna leave? Leave us behind?”

“Do you still love me?”

To that, you had an answer. 

“Yes.”

“So why are you doing this?”

To that, you had none.

Steve left his spare key that night when your inevitable fight led to an outburst and a slamming of the door. You didn’t notice for days, hoping that you’d hear the key turn in the door, and he’d stumble down the hallway with a hug and a promise that you’d fix this.

But he didn’t.

And you said nothing.

So, you spent your nights going out to bars for some kind of companionship with the other strangers haunting the sticky, stingy rooms. You became a blubbery fool, desperate for a conversation that you refused to initiate. Desperate to get over Steve. Desperate to let him be like all the rest, insignificant and easy to forget. 

But Steve is different. 

And you are really starting to fucking hate these heels.

How did you end up here?

You pause, staring up at the sign above the door.

Penguin & The Whale.

It was, you guessed it, a neon image of a penguin standing in the mouth of a whale. 

This…is the bar you and Steve go the most. The one you met in years ago, just two stupid college students without any clue as to what the future held. Him working on some finance presentation and you finding any chance not to read the book you were supposed to. 

That night started with a “You go to college around here?” and ended with his number on a scrap of paper that you still keep in your wallet.

And somehow…you’re here after weeks of avoidance.

Staring at that damn penguin.

That damn whale.

Despite your confusion, your aching feet and chilled legs pull you in, using some of the last of your physical energy to push open the door. You’re hit with the thick smell of tobacco, the whole room seemingly drenched in smoke.

For nearly one in the morning, the place is still relatively crowded. There’s college students (mainly frat bros) and two separate bachelorette parties, all congregated along the length of the bar itself. You do your usual shimmy through moving figures, desperate to get to your spot.

God, it’s stuffy and you’re tired and your fucking feet are killing you and— 

There at your favorite table, next to your favorite seat, is Steve.

He’s running his hand through his hair, scribbling something on a napkin. Mouthing along to whatever he’s writing, like he’s still figuring out what he’s trying to say. He strikes through something rapidly before letting out a sigh.

Steve isn’t his usual self, you realize. His hair doesn’t hold the same volume or shine. There’s a bit more acne than usual, all picked at and scabbed. His outfit is more casual than usual, a Hall & Oats t-shirt and…were those a pair of sweatpants? 

He never goes outside with sweats on…

“Steve?”

He looks up, nearly startled. Like he’s shocked to see you here.

“Hey,” he says, standing. Runs a hand through his hair and adjusts his shirt. “What, uh, what’re you doing here?”

You don’t miss it when he turns over the napkin.

“Just kinda wound up here,” you say. “What are you doing here?”

Steve shrugs. “Yeah, well, you know.” He takes a deep breath. “Just kinda wanted to get a quick drink, you know, ‘cause…” He stops himself, tapping himself on the head before waving his hand in the air. Puts his hand on his hips. “Yeah, uh, forget it. I’m lying. I was waiting for you. I’ve been waiting here for you for the past week.”

“For me?”

“Yeah,” he responds, nodding. “Not like living here, obviously, ‘cause that would be insane. But I’ve been trying to figure out what to say to you if you ever came. Oh, and I think the bartender might be sick of me.” You open your mouth to say something, but Steve rattles on. “And it’s actually crazy because I started thinking fifteen minutes ago, ‘You know, the probability of her showing up is actually quite dismal’, but here you are, proving myself wrong—"  

Without hesitation, you pull him into a hug. It’s maybe the most tender hug you’ve ever had, with his arms wrapping around you immediately. Giving a soft squeeze, running his fingers through your hair. His face is nuzzling into your neck, his breath sending shivers down your back. He’s melting you, wearing down the shell you’d forced yourself into. For too long you’ve been coasting by, letting your pride and jealousy get the best of you. Convincing yourself that he’d walk away and leave you shattered on the floor before running off into the arms of some other girl that only exists in your head. 

But here Steve is, waiting for you. Choosing you. 

There never was any competition, was there?

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re okay. Just needed some time, I get it.”

You pull him tighter against you. “I don’t want to keep pretending that this isn’t the absolute worst thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

“That’s okay,” he says, pulling back. Wipes some of your smudged lipstick and mascara out of the way. Leaves a peck on the tip of your nose. “How about we fix that mistake together?”

“Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

“Me, too.” His lips meet your forehead before he dips down to meet your eyes. “Want me to get you a drink?”

“Water.” He raises an eyebrow at you. “I think I’m going to lay off the booze for a while.”

This gets a laugh out of him, the first you’ve heard in weeks. 

It’s bliss.

“Okay, hun. Sit down here,” he says as he pulls out your favorite chair, helps to push it in once you sit. “You look good but, Jesus, your feet must be killing you.”

You smile. And this is your first smile today. The first time you’re feeling a release of every nasty, negative feeling you’ve had for the last two weeks. 

Steve walks towards the bar, fiddling with his hair again and you even see him check his breath. 

Looking over, you see the napkin resting on the edge of the table.

You glance back over, making sure Steve’s back is still turned before you turn it over. 

There’s just something about you

I just can’t stop thinking about you

I don’t know.

I fucking miss you!!!!

I love you. I’m sorry.

I’m an idiot. This is stupid.

Can we please talk through this?

I can’t move on because of you.

Because I love you.

Because it’s you.

#Steve Harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington angst #Steve Harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfiction #just a little something before I upload next week #happy vday bitches

[theold-ultraviolence]

Hello my beloved Irma. For the Valentine’s Day fic fest, could we get 4 and 9 (“first time” and “lingerie”) with Eddie? ❤️

Slow And Easy • Eddie Munson x reader • 18+

summary: Always restless, Eddie’s energy burns bright, right to the bone. Until now that he’s got you on his lap... NSFW Warning: first time/loss of virginity, PIV sex. // Song prompt: Slow An' Easy by Whitesnake // Vday prompts: #4 first time, #9 lingerie • 2023 Vday ficlet fest masterlist

He’s always been fidgety. Never been known to slow down, never once seen with his mouth shut or his fingers still. 

Always restless, Eddie’s energy burns bright, right to the bone. 

Until now that he’s got you on his lap. 

His mouth is wide open, but silent.

His fingers are itching, but they remain still on your hips.

The only things moving frantically are his doe eyes, not knowing where to fix his gaze: your head thrown back in pleasure, or the intricate set of lingerie you're wearing.

A black lace bustier that pushes up your tits so beautifully while hugging your ribcage, along with matching high-waisted panties, and a garter belt holding up sheer stockings with a lace trim around your thighs. 

He never imagined this is what you’d look like on your first time. He'd pictured you demure and nervous, and ended up with the exact opposite, not that he's complaining. You're looking like a vixen right out of a Whitesnake music video – right out of his dirtiest fantasies.

Your figure is all wrapped up in dark yet elegant forms, like a present for his eyes only. Fuck all of those teddy bears and shitty candy people get on Valentine's day.

Nah, man – he thinks, you're it. He couldn’t even bring himself to take your lingerie off when it feels this good beneath his fingers, and the sight is enough to have him cumming on sight if it wasn’t for his self-restraint, paired with the fact that he’s determined to make this last for you. 

He slides your panties to the side, one hand holding yours while the other supports your hips, helping you come down on his cock, inch by inch, slowly. 

“Keep on pushing, babe…” He grits through his teeth as he feels your warmth welcoming him in, little by little. “Know you want it crazy, baby…”  

His words make you tremble and whimper – so soaked from his words alone that it becomes easier to take all of his length despite the resistance you initially feel. 

After you’re fully sat on him, after that sudden threshold of pain has finally been surpassed and you’re bouncing up and down on his cock, Eddie’s words rush from his lips once more, to the beat of his thrusts.

He's restless and all too excited now, grinding his hips up to meet you everytime you impale yourself on him, hands itching to grab and fondle every inch of your skin that he can.

“My heart is beating faster, babe…” he rambles, just as he sits up to mouth at your neck, to grasp at your ass every time your skin slaps against his. “It's beating like a big bass drum…” 

He gets close way too soon, so he reigns back, shaking his head and chuckling right into your chest, “Take me down slow and easy, baby…slow and easy…” 

The way he talks to himself makes you giggle – he really has no filter whatsoever, but it fills you up with a loving sensation you’ve never felt for anyone else. You comb his messy, sweaty curls back to reach his ear and whisper, “Make love to me slow and easy, Eddie…” 

And he does, he does, he does, all night long, to the languid rhythm of the guitar riff from the song he’s got playing in the background.

He fucks into you slow and easy until the melody of the solo fuels his hips to piston into you faster and faster once more – rocks you ‘till you’re burned to the bone – grasping at your stockings until they rip, and pulling at the straps of your bustier until your tits spill out for him to nibble and suck.

Soon, all sound fades out except for echoing of the guitar solo, and the staccato beat of your breath when you fall into his arms with a cheshire grin despite your lingerie being all ruined.

A/N: Lita and Bri, my beloveds!! I can't thank you enough for your support to my writing for so long!! Thank you so much for participating in my vday ficlet fest, I loved writing this one and I hope you enjoy it too!! Happy valentine's day! 🥰

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #reader insert #fanfiction #stranger things #joseph quinn #my writing #vday ficlet fest

[leclercstarrs]

𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍 - ( 𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥, 𝐧𝐞𝐲𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐢 ! )

synopsis -> in which ronal finds herself wanting to join you and neytiri !

warnings -> dom!reader, threesome, oral, nipple play !

Ronal gets out of her marui, annoyed at her lack of sleep. She walks down the long path, eventually pausing when she hears low moaning coming from your marui. She feels guilty, but the sound gets her wet, a damp spot now on her loincloth. Ronal saunters towards your marui, peeking into it. “Mmm‘a, need you.” Neytiri gasps as she grinds on your thigh. Ronal’s eyes widen and she shuffles even closer to the thin walls. She can’t help it, she knows it’s wrong, she just really wants to join the two of you. “Oh, it looks like we have a guest.” The sound of your voice snaps the metkayina member out of her trance, causing her to look right into your eyes. “Come, join us.” You smirk, Neytiri nodding, unable to speak as she reaches her climax. Ronal hesitantly walks into your marui, sitting in front of you and your mate. “Did you enjoy the show?” You whisper, Neytiri getting off of your leg. Ronal doesn’t respond, looking at the ground in shame. “Don’t be shy.” As you look down, noticing her, now soaked, cloth. “Oh.” You smile. “I can help with this, uh, problem.” You nod, Ronal biting her lip as you start to remove her loincloth, tossing it to the side. “Pretty.” Neytiri compliments her, moving closer to the two of you. “Please, touch me.” Ronal instinctively spreads her legs open, slick already leaking from her cunt. “So desperate.” You laugh, “Don’t worry, I got you.” You add. Neytiri kisses her neck while you kiss her clit, Ronal immediately jerking her hips closer to your mouth. You smile, then thrusting your tongue into her wet folds, starting to coax out all her juices. Her thighs shake, hands gripping your hair. Neytiri plays with her nipples, which only adds to her intense pleasure. Ronal gasps as you flick your tongue around, her back arching. “Gonna..” Her mouth opens wide and with one last whine, she cums all over your mouth and her inner thighs. You back away from her and so does Neytiri. “Come here.” You demand, Neytiri following your orders and crawling closer to you. You pull her in for a kiss, exchanging Ronal’s rich juices with her.

#idk how to feel abt this #but heres a slightly late vday treat for u all #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #avatar x reader #avatar x you #avatar fanfiction #neytiri x reader #ronal x reader #ronal x you #neytiri x y/n #avatar smut

[ugh-yoongi]

the dogs of war | ksj

pairing: seokjin x reader

genre: politician au, lite enemies to lovers; crack, fluff

warnings: use of US political positions & terms, swearing, bickering, alcohol, a lot of bad jokes, unedited because i think i've kept these requests waiting long enough. if there's anything glaringly bad, though, lmk.

wordcount: 2.3k

had a few seokjin requests in my inbox from the valentine's day drabbles, so i decided to combine them into one fic:

bare — as they get undressed, the sender gently places a soft, tender kiss against the receiver’s bare shoulder.

"i really don't know if this is a yes."

"you need to stop doing that." / "do what?" / "that little eye thing you do when i walk into the room."

You’re not even sure what this gala is for.

The hospital? No, the last one (two?) had been for the hospital. Needed pretty, important people to dress up in pretty, expensive clothes to raise money for their new wing (board members’ salaries). You know it’s not for the police union, because you wouldn’t be caught dead at one of those, and you’re almost certain the gala for the animal shelter was the one you’d shown up late to last week.

So, yeah—you’re stumped.

Not that it really matters. You’ve fulfilled the requirements and paid the ticket price. Poured yourself into a dress that is, admittedly, a size too small; a dress you will probably have to cut yourself out of later on. Got your hair and makeup and nails done real nice. Rented jewelry three times your annual salary. There isn’t a person in this place that has taken dress pretty, look prettier more seriously than you.

Well, until.

“You need to stop doing that.”

You roll your eyes. Pluck a flute of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray and down it in one go. “Stop doing what?”

“That little eye thing you do when I walk into the room,” Seokjin answers, crooked fingers moving to work at his stupid bowtie. “You can’t possibly expect to be the best-looking person in every room, especially when we’re forced to attend the same events.”

You huff. Privately, because you’d be better off dying than letting Seokjin know he’s successful at getting under your skin. “I can and I do.”

“Well, we all have a tragic flaw.”

“What’s yours, then?”

“Let me rephrase: most of us have a tragic flaw. Not me, though.”

There’s still forty minutes until dinner. Forty minutes until you will once again be forced to sit next to Seokjin and watch as he effortlessly charms the entire table. Watch as people foolishly trip over themselves to get on his good side, laughing at his stupid jokes, complimenting his perfectly-styled hair and his flawless skin and his suits that cost far too much money for a person who claims to be a socialist.

“I’m voting no on your most recent proposal, by the way. Figured I’d get that out of the way early.”

Seokjin sputters, chokes on a hors d'oeuvre someone had probably bent over backwards to hand-deliver to him on a little plate. “What? Why? I specifically wrote in all those stupid provisions you requested.”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

“Fuck you,” he whispers, “I spent months—”

“That’s politics, baby.”

“You’re gonna be the only one,” he accuses, borderline seething, as if you don’t already know this. “Min Yoongi and Jung Hoseok are finally on board, so you’re gonna be the lone dissenter. Might be really embarrassing for you.”

“It won’t be,” you assure him. You might be petty and spiteful (you are in politics, after all) but you’re not an idiot (you are in politics, after all, so maybe that’s not true). “Section nine, subsection twelve. That’s my get out of jail free card.”

“That’s the proposed redistricting map. The one you wanted.”

You offer up a smile, pinch at Seokjin’s cheek. “Exactly, and you spelled one of my town’s names wrong. Therefore, I cannot, in good conscience, vote for it. What would my constituents say?”

“You’re tanking this entire thing over a typo? I’ll call Namjoon right now and have him fix it.”

“The Namjoon that’s currently at the open bar going shot-for-shot with Jimin? Looks a little green? Good luck. At least I hired a Chief of Staff who can hold their liquor.”

Steam practically pours out of his ears. He certainly looks to be on the verge of a mental break, what with the angry flush that’s taken over his entire upper body. “Have you forgotten we’re on the same side here? What happened to party loyalty?”

“Oh, Seokjinnie,” you intone, “there’s no loyalty in gerrymandering.”

He scoffs. Grabs so forcefully at his own flute of champagne that he knocks the poor waiter completely off-center. Now he has no flutes of champagne and the floor has ten.

If looks could kill, this would be your funeral instead of whatever this gala is for.

As luck would have it, you do get seated next to Seokjin.

He’s usually the life of the party. Is usually cracking jokes left and right, wrapping every laterally-important person around his finger. He’s always the first person everyone looks to for a reaction—if he laughs, it’s all good; if his jaw clenches, everyone treads lightly. Either his phone or his checkbook is always out, but tonight there’s nothing more than the proverbial storm cloud over his head.

“I worked on that for months,” he tells you for the fifth time in the span of an hour. “I cannot believe you.”

You take a delicate bite of your dinner. Smile for the camera that leaves stars behind your eyes when the flash goes off. “Uh-huh.”

“This is just so typical,” he continues, seemingly uncaring who can hear him. “I bend over backwards to give you whatever you want, and you stab me in the back the first chance you get. You’re no better than the Roman senate.”

“You want me to start calling you Seok-julius? I’ll be honest, it sounds pretty bad, but if that’s what you’re into...”

“Fuck you,” he says again. “You’re a traitor of the highest degree.”

Jimin shoots you a concerned look. You respond with a roll of your eyes and mime throwing back a drink. Jimin responds with an eye-roll of his own, jerking his head in Namjoon’s direction, then he nods. Him, too, he mouths, then promptly turns his attention back to the older woman beside him whose husband is the head of some important committee. Thank god Jimin’s here to do all your schmoozing for you (and that he can hold his liquor).

“You’re the worst.”

“Okay, Seokjin.”

“I’m getting another drink. Do you want anything?” You stare at him in disbelief, blinking slowly. “I don’t know if that’s a yes.”

“It definitely isn’t. Haven’t you drank enough?”

“No,” comes his immediate response. “My current level of inebriation is disproportionate to the amount of suffering you have bestowed upon me this evening.”

“I don’t know if that’s true. Your eyes are all glassy and your face is really red. I’ve certainly retaken the lead in the best-looking contest—”

“You are insufferable.” Then, because the alcohol has loosened his lips and he can’t seem to help himself, he says, “You are always the best-looking person in any room. Fuck, I need another drink. Namjoonie, get me another drink, please. I regret to inform you I am, in fact, too drunk to leave this table.”

Inexplicably, Namjoon looks at you. Looks like a deer in headlights, but turns to you nonetheless, and you feel your jaw drop. “No,” you tell him, “I’m not dealing with him. He’s your chief.”

“But it’s your fault he’s this drunk,” Namjoon argues, because he’s a shithead who majored in pre-law in undergrad. “He won’t make it to the big speech, at this rate.”

“What are you, five? Then take him home,” you hiss. This is rapidly spiraling out of control. Seokjin, at Level Zero Inebriation, would never compliment you, so he must be very far gone to concede the best-looking title to you.

It makes your stomach hurt.

Jimin’s still busy charming the pants off the committee wife. Min Yoongi and Jung Hoseok are deep in conversation and only loyal to one another, so they’ll be no help. You could probably wrestle Seokjin’s phone out of his hands to call one of his lesser staff members, perhaps his driver, but he’d almost certainly cause a scene. Start squawking at you in that tone of his that’s liable to break sound barriers, and that’s the last thing you need.

So, with all the decorum you can muster, you shove the last forkful of risotto in your mouth and fire off a text to your own driver.

Ten minutes, comes the response.

You show the text to Jimin, who merely nods and tells you good luck. You hate that you’re going to need it.

You don’t know how much Seokjin weighs, but you’re certain eighty-percent of it is in his shoulders.

Thankfully Jungkook, your driver, is much more buff and far less considerate than you are, because he’d just thrown Seokjin over his shoulder and deposited him on your couch, uncaring of his protests and warnings of impending vomit.

“Not my house, not my problem,” was his response.

“Wow, rude,” was yours.

Before anything else, you fetch a bucket and a sleeve of crackers. “Eat up,” you tell Seokjin, who unsurprisingly gives you the finger in turn. “Very mature. Don’t forget you’re only here as the result of your own actions.”

Seokjin mimics you under his breath, and you have half a mind to dump a glass of water on him. But he looks so… helpless. Simultaneously green in the face and pale, looking far from the man with the million-dollar skincare routine; suit rumpled, jacket thrown carelessly over the arm of the couch, shoes untied but still on his feet. You don’t have any pets because you’re never home and are woefully inept of taking care of anything, but something about Seokjin in this moment kicks some long-forgotten nurturing gene into high gear.

So you fetch some water and a blanket. Busy yourself making coffee, because it’s not even nine p.m. and you’re usually never home before midnight, let alone tucked into bed. And those stupid gala entrees are small, so you rummage through your kitchen for something to snack on.

“Did you make enough coffee for two?” you hear from the living room.

“Yeah,” you call back. “How do you take it?”

“Preferably not from my sworn enemy’s kitchen, but I suppose I’ll have to make an exception.”

“I’m gonna spit in it,” you tell him. An overexaggerated gag comes from his direction.

“Never mind. Can I take a shower?”

If you thought getting him out of the car and in the front door had been difficult, it’s nothing compared to helping him into the shower.

Which you shouldn’t even be doing, considering he’s insistent on not showering in his briefs but also isn’t capable of undressing himself, so it all feels clandestine. Now the two of you are crammed in the bathroom attached to the guest room—the one with the bog standard shampoo and conditioner and body wash, because you don’t trust Seokjin not to pour all your expensive stuff down the drain out of spite.

“Help me help you,” you beg, righting him for the nth time. It’s those goddamn shoulders of his. He’s too top-heavy; makes him susceptible to tipping over sideways into the wall.

“Can’t,” he responds. Barely manages to pop the button on his suit pants before he tips into the wall again.

A frustrated groan escapes you. You’ll never get him into the shower at this rate, and you really want to eat that snack. Not to mention the coffee’s going to get all bitter and gross if you leave it in the carafe too long. “You’re really inconveniencing me, you know that?”

“Sorry.”

You huff, turn him forcefully so he’s facing you. Start working at the buttons of his dress shirt. Tom Ford. Black silk. Probably cost a fortune, because it’s also been perfectly tailored to accentuate his waist, which is… not great for your mental well-being. Doesn’t help that his heady cologne is still stubbornly clinging onto the fabric.

“Did you mean what you said earlier?”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific,” he answers. “I say a lot of things. Don’t usually mean most of them, no.”

“Definitely a politician, then.”

He sighs. Tips his head back, puts that horrible neck on full display. You cover your whimper with a cough. “I thought it best not to fight the inevitable,” he says. “I’m charming. People want to give me things. Might as well use my powers for good.”

“Yeah, sure,” you reply distractedly. Only three buttons left. Thank god he’s wearing an undershirt. “Makes sense.”

“Well, I try to. Hard to do that when someone votes against the proposals I’ve spent months drafting.”

“Uh-huh. Hey, turn around, I think your shirt’s caught on something in the back.”

Seokjin obliges. Blocks your view of your bathroom with his giant shoulders. You’re so glad he can’t see the look on your face, because it’s already pretty pathetic, but then he says, “I did mean what I said, though. About you.” He clears his throat, the flush creeping up his neck again. “Being pretty.”

Your hands tremble as you get his shirt unstuck. As you untuck it from his pants and push it off his shoulders. As you fold it carefully and place it on the counter. As you see a scar on his shoulder and trace your fingers over it. “What’s this from?”

“Assassination attempt,” Seokjin deadpans.

“Can’t imagine why anyone would want to murder you.”

“Me neither.” Then, quieter: “Got it when I fell out of a tree.”

“How old were you?”

“Nineteen.”

You snort your laughter, feeling a little brave with Seokjin’s back to you. “You really think I’m pretty?” you ask, and when he nods again, you throw caution to the wind entirely.

Press onto the tips of your toes. Press a soft kiss to the scar on Seokjin’s shoulder. Smile again at the soft gasp that escapes him, the way he tips over again and expects to bang into the wall, except you’ve turned him all around so there’s nothing to catch him. He tries grabbing onto the shower curtain but it’s hopeless, so he goes toppling into the tub.

“You’re really falling for me, huh?” you ask, extending your hand to help him up. He’s groaning in pain, but he takes it anyway, pulling you in with him. Can’t say you didn’t expect it. Seokjin’s a shithead before he’s anything else.

His arms snake around your waist immediately. “If I say yes, will you change your vote on my proposal?”

“I guess we’ll see.”

#seokjin x you #seokjin x reader #seokjin fanfiction #seokjin fluff #seokjin imagine #seokjin drabble #vday drabbles

[zprites]

February TMNT All 4-1

Another month, another All 4-1 😁🐢

The Gracious Hosts: @turtle-babe83, @thelaundrybitch, @leosgirl82, @tmnt-tychou, @nittleboo, and @post-apocalyptic-daydream

I ended up doing two of the prompts, the dialogue prompt I did reword a bit but the general idea is still there. This was a lot of fun to write so please enjoy the ride full of angst and fluff!

Bayverse! Donnie x F! Reader - SFW

As always, all turtles and reader are over 20 years!

I listened to Avocado Toast by Clinton Kane on repeat while writing this... Sorry, not sorry

Avocado Toast

There are days when it feels like the world comes crashin' And I've been numbin' the pain just to keep distracted Of all the things I would fade You're the one that's lasted Avo Toast - Clinton Kane

This was a huge mistake…

It wasn’t the idea of being set up on a blind date that was the problem. In fact, you grew more excited for the evening as the past week progressed thanks to your good friend and loving coworker, April. Over the last month she gushed about how compatible you and one of Casey’s friends would be, hinting that she wanted to set the two of you up. Finally you agreed on the blind date. All you knew about him was that he was ‘handsome with long hair and abs’, (April’s words), and that he shared similar hobbies and interests with you. Despite her optimism, you were still reluctant to go but you convinced yourself to give dating another try. 

To say that dating for you was hard was putting it mildly. The longest relationship you had ever been in lasted almost two years, taking a piece of you that you still struggled to get back. Since then you tried dating but nothing ever worked out. Either they were only looking for sex or were a walking red flag. Whatever the case was, nothing ever went past the first date. You often found yourself staring up at the ceiling late at night wondering if there was something wrong with you, the phrase ‘you are what you attract’ made a home in your mind and bared its fangs at any positive notion you had surrounding dating. 

The only time you felt whole again was when you spent time with your best friend. The two of you became almost inseparable soon after meeting due to April’s insistence that you meet the brothers. That night in the lair you found your way into his lab to find him elbow deep in an engine. You asked what he was working on, following along as he spoke. The conversation soon strayed to computers, which was something you were knowledgeable in. The two of you just clicked, understanding each other’s jokes and references the other made. Honestly, you enjoyed every moment with him. You texted him throughout your day, while your evenings were often spent together either at your place or at the lair. You spent countless hours with him in his lab, working side by side and conversing well into the morning. This caused you to be almost late to work more times than not, but you didn’t mind. 

You didn’t mind it when he accidentally woke you up with a phone call about a recent breakthrough. You didn’t mind taking care of him when he came down with a nasty flu he caught from one of his brothers. You didn’t mind catching said flu, bedridden while he crashed on your couch to make sure he was there to help. You didn’t mind his thigh resting against yours under the shared blanket during movie nights. 

You didn’t mind because you were in love with him. 

Since you met him seven years ago, your small crush evolved into something much more profound. A deep emotion that caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach and a smile to form on your face at the thought of him. He was there for you through thick and thin, taking you out on a nighttime picnic at a park when you got your promotion and being a shoulder to cry on when you broke up with your toxic ex. He even took you to the American Museum of Natural History one night, simply saying the police owed him a favor before the two of you went through each exhibit hand in hand. Even though you realized your feelings for him fairly quickly you didn't want to ruin the friendship the two of you shared. You were certain he only thought of you as a friend so you stayed silent, bottling up those feelings and convincing yourself it was enough. It truly was. As long as you got to be in his life, you were content.

However as your feelings grew for him, you found yourself going on less dates. Maybe subconsciously you knew that no one could hold a candle to him. Yet here you were, thanks to April’s insistence, on your first date in almost a year. 

No, the problem wasn’t that you agreed to a blind date. The problem was that the person sitting across the candlelit table from you was an absolute jackass. 

Before the two of you sat down you could feel the inflated ego that radiated off him, immediately rubbing you the wrong way with a single comment on your appearance. He talked about himself incessantly, not asking anything about you or allowing you to get a word in, leaving the conversation completely one-sided. The waiter delivered your drinks, interrupting your date and giving you enough time to excuse yourself to the restroom. Your irritation turned into genuine anger as you heard your date talk down to the waiter before he ordered for the two of you, insisting that all you needed was a side salad while you were still within earshot. 

Once inside the bathroom you let out a loud sigh. 

What the fuck were you thinking? Of course he’s just like the others… Man, this place has the best steak in the city too… 

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, contemplating your next move. Despite the fact you spent the better part of your afternoon getting ready and were pretty hungry, you didn’t think you could sit through dinner without decking your date in the face. You could text April and ask her to bail you out but you knew she was at a concert with Casey, and to be honest you didn't want her to know how much of a disaster this was. At least not yet. 

That left you with one option. You knew you could count on him to get you out quickly and that he wouldn't ask too many questions. 

You sent him a quick message from your watch.

You: Hey, can you call me in a few minutes?

You thankfully didn't have to wait long for a response.

D: Hey, sure can! Everything okay?

You: Yeah. I’ll explain when I’m on the cab ride home.

D: No need. I see you’re at Maggioli’s. I’ll be in the alley next to the restaurant in five minutes. Talk to you in a moment :)

You took a few deep breaths to collect yourself before leaving the restroom. As you sat back down the man in front of you began talking about his stance on women in the gaming world. You felt your eye twitch in agitation as the words ‘women can game, sure, as long as their shirt is low cut, but they’re better off sticking to the kitchen’. Thankfully he was interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing. You gave him an apologetic smile as you made a show to check who was calling you.

“Sorry, I got to take this.”

“Really? You know it’s rude to answer your phone while on a date.”

You apologized once more and answered the call, seeing your date roll his eyes out of your periphery.

“Hey mom. What’s up?”

“Mom? Are you sure you’re okay? It’s Don- Oh… This is one of those fake calls where I play along. Um, well... let’s see. Your uh… your cat! Yes! Something happened to Tamago and uh…” It took everything in your power to not smile as he made up a fake emergency regarding your beloved pet. 

You frowned instead. “Woah, slow down. Did something happen?”

“She um… I don’t know. Oh gosh, I’m not good at this…”

You had to bite your tongue to keep yourself from giggling. You stole a glance at your date who looked annoyed. Focus! 

“Oh my god!” You blurted with a worried expression. “No no, stay put. I’ll be right there.”

“Phew, thank you. I’ll see you soon dear.”

Your heart skipped the beat at the gentle tone he used in combination with the nickname he gave you only a month ago. 

It doesn’t mean anything. He couldn’t possibly like you back…

You disconnected the call and stood up from your seat.

“I’m so sorry. My father just had a heart attack and in the hospi-”

“I’ll give you a ride.”

Oh for fuck’s sake…

“I drove here.” You lied. 

“What about the food? You need to pay for your portion!”

You rolled your eyes. “All I ordered was water. Should have thought about that before you ordered for me. It was nice meeting you but I have to go. Sorry again.”

You quickly left the restaurant, breathing out a sigh of relief as soon as the chill of the air hit your face. 

An Oscar-worthy performance. Hopefully you’ll never see him again…

You walked to the side of the building and into the alley, scanning the rooftops as you went. Once your gaze caught sight of a familiar figure you couldn’t help but wave up at your friend. He waved back before jumping off the roof, landing softly in front of you despite his size and the thirty foot drop. 

“Man, you have no idea how glad I am to see you.” You breathed out, a wide smile on your face. 

“I think I have some idea.” Donnie chuckled, rolling his shoulders as he stood to his full height. The purple-masked terrapin towered over you but you were used to the difference in height. 

He smiled down at me. “But I think I’d get a better picture if you explained what that was all about.”

You thought back to the events leading up to now and let out a groan. “Fine. How about you take me home first and I’ll order us food while I spill all the gory details. I’m starving.” 

“Well then, let’s not dawdle. Your chariot awaits my dear.” He said in a teasing tone while holding his arms out.

You swallowed down the rush of certain emotions that threatened to break free at those words. “My turtle in shining armor. Or tech gear rather.” You joked as you allowed him to pick you up bridal style. He laughed at that, holding you close as he began to move. 

“Hold on tight.”

Donnie ran across the rooftops with practiced motions, each leap jostling you slightly. Your arms were around his neck as he held you with only one arm, keeping you pressed against his plastron. Soon the two of you were on your balcony. He set you down and followed after you into your apartment. 

Food was ordered and you changed out of your clothes, opting to wear something much more comfortable. Once in your pajamas you gave your cat who was lounging across the foot of your bed a quick pet. You left your bedroom and joined Donnie on the couch. He had taken his goggles and backpack off and set them near the door to your balcony which meant he was planning on staying. Not that you minded. 

“Slow night?” You asked him while positioning your legs to the side so that your sock-clad feet rested against his thigh. 

“Yep, which is surprising for a Friday night. They’ll call me if I’m needed.” 

You nodded at that, knowing his brothers were perfectly capable of handling any situation thrown their way. “Well, thank you for the save back there.”

“For you, anything.”

Don’t say things like that…

“I am curious about what transpired that constituted me swooping in and saving you though. It looked like you were on a date based on the Michelin star restaurant and the way you were dressed.”

You let out a sigh as you thought back to the date. “Long story short, April set me up on a blind date with Casey’s friend because she thought we’d hit it off, but he happened to be a massive asshat.”

“Really?”

“The first thing out of his mouth was ‘Wow, I’m amazed you have the confidence to wear that with all the extra weight you’re carrying around’. He proceeded to tell me how better I’d look if I went to the gym and offered to bring me with him. He was egotistical, misogynistic, and rude, not just to me but to the server as well. He even ordered for me, telling the waiter that all I needed was a side salad since I didn’t need the extra calories.”

Donnie stayed silent as you ranted.

“The nerve of that guy! If I want to enjoy a steak, I have every damn right to! I shouldn’t be surprised really. No matter how many times I try, I end up disappointed because all I seem to attract are shitty men. Maybe there’s something wrong with me…”

“Hey, now. You know that’s not true.” He straightened up, giving you an intense look. “You're kind, beautiful, and you have an amazing mind." 

You flushed a bit at his words. 

"I know that anyone would be lucky to have you…" He trailed off before turning away with a frown. 

The silence that followed was palpable. You got the sense that he stopped himself from saying more which caused your nerves to go haywire. Biting your lip you contemplated speaking up to say that you didn't want just anyone. You wanted him, but the fear that he wouldn't reciprocate your feelings held you back.

Donnie shook his head. “You know… Leo and I talked a few nights ago.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” He let out a huff before continuing. “He made some interesting points about our friendship. About us…”

You frowned in confusion. A pit formed in your stomach as your anxiety levels rose. “Us?” 

“Look…” He spoke your name as his eyes met yours. “You and I have been through so much together. You’re the closest friend I have and I cherish every moment we spend together.”

See, ‘friend’... Nothing more.

“You always brighten up my days with your jokes and your smile. You see me for me, for who I really am.”

Please, stop…

“I just need to know… How much longer are you going to keep pretending?”

Huh…?

“What are you talking about?” You spoke quietly, finding yourself puzzled by his question.

Donnie licked his lips and took a deep breath. “You can’t possibly have no idea how I feel about you dear.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“I- I know I’m not good with words, but since the first night we met you somehow found a home in my heart, so much so that I can’t imagine my life without you. You’re the last thing on my mind before falling asleep and the first when I wake up. I just can’t seem to get you out of my head. I didn’t quite know what these feelings were until that night at the park a few years ago, when you got your promotion and we sat on the swings. You told me everything about your life as we freezed our butts off, but that night all I could think was ‘I love this person and I want them in my life forever’.”

What���? This has to be a dream…

“I just didn’t know how to tell you…” He paused as he began tapping his fingers against his knee, something he often did when he was nervous. “I was so worried you didn’t have similar feelings but Leo, he knocked some sense into me.”

Holy shit, he loves you…

“You deserve the world times two and I want to be the one to give it to you, if you’ll let me…”

HE LOVES YOU!

“Please say something…”

Your mouth opened and closed, unable to find the right words to say or any words for that matter. It was as if you lost the ability to form any coherent thought. So instead, you acted on those years of repressed feelings. 

You pushed yourself onto your knees and took his head in your hands before promptly placing your lips on his. He tensed at your touch at first but quickly found himself melting into the kiss, one hand coming to rest at your hip while the other cupped your face. You poured every unspoken thought into the kiss. Donnie responded in kind, the fingers at your waist twitching as you let out a soft moan. The press of his lips against yours was almost too much. Your heart felt ready to burst, warmth spreading throughout your entire body. 

The two of you parted, foreheads touching as your breaths intertwined. You kept your eyes closed as you felt his thumb brush over your cheek, catching the single tear that you didn’t realize escaped. You swallowed and hesitantly met his gaze, soft hazel eyes full of tenderness.

“I love you too…” You whispered. 

He beamed, his smile contagious as you felt the corners of your lips twitch upward as well. He leaned forward to kiss you again.

Knock-knock knock.

The two of you jumped at the sudden rapping at your front door. You chuckled nervously as you regretfully pulled away from him and stood up from the couch. You answered the door, thanking the delivery person before setting the food on the coffee table and returning to your spot beside him.

Your stomach growled before you could say anything, the scent of the warm food filling your apartment. He chuckled and planted a quick kiss on your temple. “C’mon dear. Let’s eat then we can watch a movie.”

“Will you stay the night?”

“Of course.”

“And you’ll stay for breakfast?”

“Sure. I’ll make your favorite.”

“Avocado toast?”

“Yes, with bacon. Just how you like it.”

“...I love you…”

“I love you too dear…”

#TMNT All 4-1 Challenge #tmnt #bayverse tmnt #bayverse tmnt fanfiction #tmnt fanfiction #donnie x reader #donatello x reader #bayverse donatello x reader #bayverse donnie #TMNT VDAY

[i-did-not-mean-to]

YOTP - February

For V-day, I'll give you the YOTP fic for February.

A reluctant OTP, but an OTP nevertheless...Please, have some Merestor x Glorfindel (with art from @sauroff)

Lots and lots, heaps and heaps, of love for y'all!

Pairing: Glorfindel x Erestor

Prompt: Valentine's Day, Pollen/Fear Gas/Truth Serum, Established Relationship/Long Distance, different, mermaid, "If I kiss you, will you shut up?"

Words: 2 500

Warning: Sacrifice, implied monsterfucking, Merestor is a savage, nudity

(very sexy art and not very sexy fic under the cut!)

“We are sorry,” the councilman whispered as he stood, outlined by ominous darkness on Glorfindel’s threshold. “You have been chosen. We are hoping—”

“I understand,” Glorfindel replied before the old man could rattle off the perfidious reasons for their cruel decision to send one of their most valued warriors to his death. It made sense, he thought, the threat with which the town had been dealing for quite some time now was not one he or anyone else could fight with swords and arrows.

Thus, he had become superfluous—dead weight, really, and he recognised that much without fail.

“Today is a good day to die,” he added, deep sadness making his voice sound as hollow as if it was already coming from the grave. “I cannot bear the festivities anyway.”

“You must find it heartless—”

“Not at all,” Glorfindel interrupted again. “It’s strangely poetic, don’t you think? Give me an hour to put everything in order, tell the neighbours, and distribute what few riches are left to me, and then I shall be all yours.”

“Very well. I am sorry, please believe me,” the man who had known the condemned for many long years breathed softly.

“I know,” Glorfindel said soothingly. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I am not loath to die. Especially not today!”

As he went through his meagre possessions, the golden-haired hero of another time smiled wistfully to himself.

Outside, maidens and young men were giggling breathlessly as they sang songs of love and hope and waved their elaborate bouquets through the fragrant night air—this was their day, the day of lovers, and Glorfindel felt ashamed of his visceral, asphyxiating resentment of their happiness.

Once upon a time, he had been much like them. Returning from a faraway war covered in glory and illustrious distinctions, he had managed to capture the heart and hand of a beautiful, smart, enchanting young man.

For a few blessed years, he and Erestor—for that had been his beloved’s name—had lived in peace and plenty. Every year, they’d light candles on this hallowed night and sit on the porch of their little dwelling to watch the procession of giddy youths, dancing through the street with elation.

Then, one day, Erestor had disappeared. Glorfindel had waited, searched, and despaired, but no trace of his darling had been found.

Looking back now, he realised that the “deep”—an ominous threat that had transformed the previously merry village into a ghost town of whispered conversations and furtive steps—had first made itself known around the same time.

Nobody knew exactly what it was and what it wanted, but it was generally understood that Erestor—Glorfindel’s very own husband—had been its first victim.

From that fateful spring on, cattle, people, and treasures vanished from the riverbanks and the edges of the underground lake that had always been a highly favoured bathing spot for the villagers. Fear fell like a shadow over the hamlet, stifling all life and laughter.

Soon, people avoided all running water, coming up with complex rituals of superstition and idiocy, but Glorfindel was too heartbroken still to even fear for his life; he wanted to know what had happened to his sweetheart.

At first, the elders had refused that he or anyone else should leave the safety of the village to seek out the mysterious creature that had been glimpsed by a few but never fully seen, and Glorfindel had reluctantly bowed to the pressure of public outrage.

Then, the sacrifices had started. Miscreants and rebels, bound and gagged, were left in the cave to feed and soothe the “deep”—and, to everybody’s horror and delight—they were gone by the time the guards came back in to check on them. As the mouth of the cavern was under perpetual surveillance, it was undeniable that it had to be the sea monster that had taken them.

A part of Glorfindel had always known that, sooner or later, he would be picked to be delivered to the pernicious pestilence haunting their home. His adamant refusal to wear the protective amulets or steer clear of the river had branded him an insurgent and a sceptic, and a community ruled by fear could and would not abide such disruptive, potentially dangerous faithlessness.

Thus, on the night of lovers, he was called upon to do what was necessary to keep a society from which he had almost entirely withdrawn safe. This would be his last act of heroism.

Glorfindel felt relieved and almost happy as he walked, flanked by the mayor and the councilman, down to the cave. Maybe, he thought, he’d be able to find out something about his lost lover; either way, he’d be freed of the torturous half-life he had been leading.

As he entered the cave, he was surprised and more than just a little touched to find countless candles burning in every nook and cranny.

The villagers had carved well-wishes into the melting wax or written down their prayers on little scraps of paper that were now buried under the slow-moving tide of pristine white, dripping off every wall.

“We have to…” the mayor looked up at Glorfindel with undisguised misery as he lifted the length of rope he had been kneading in his sweaty hands. “You can keep the clothes to prevent chafing.”

Chuckling wryly, Glorfindel shook his head slowly. He had promised his last possessions—the garments on his back and the bells in his hair—to the two brave men who stood by him as he set out for his last expedition.

“I hope that you’ll at least get a tankard of ale each for these,” he said as he laid the adornments he had cherished through many a hard year into their unworthy palms. “Now tie me up and leave. For all I’ve done for this village and for you, I think that I deserve the dignity of meeting my fate without having to worry about an audience.”

They complied readily, desperate to get away from the dark water lapping rhythmically against the sloping ground of the cave.

In their furious haste, they were less gentle with this season’s sacrifice than he’d have deserved, but Glorfindel was unfazed by the nails scraping heedlessly across his bare skin and the sharp bite of the rope into his tense flesh.

“Where…”

The councilman pointed at a few worn, discoloured pillows at the far end of the cavern, just a stone’s throw away from the frightening, liquid threat of the purling underground lake.

“Tasteful,” Glorfindel commented as he was heaved, pushed, and dragged to the designated spot. In his mind, images of his first successful attempts at seduction danced as if to taunt him.

He was no stranger to promiscuous poses and elaborate bondage, and—on this lonely night of lost love—he could truly appreciate the irony.

“I am ready,” he declared. “Withdraw and save your lives. Think of me fondly, and don’t let this ruin your evening. Go light a candle in my honour. Maybe, look the other way if you come across a particularly adventurous couple, I don’t know…”

He huffed—it annoyed him that he was still the one trying to comfort and calm the men who had condemned him to an undoubtedly horrid demise, but he couldn’t bear their sad, mournful gazes.

“I am not dead yet,” Glorfindel grunted when nobody moved. “Remember me like this—beautiful, alluring, and very much alive!”

Tensing and squirming against the irregular, badly tied knots, he averted his face which finally convinced his two hangmen to scamper away like the vermin they were.

“Let’s hope this monstrosity makes haste at the very least,” Glorfindel mumbled and leaned back against the smelly cushions as much as he could without cutting off his circulation.

Thankfully for the integrity and safety of his limbs, Glorfindel did not have to wait long until minute ripples on the hitherto perfectly placid surface of the lake heralded the imminent arrival of whatever lethal foe was lurking in the murky depths.

“Ah, a new one,” a voice resounded. To the intended victim’s utter astonishment, it sounded tired and impatient rather than gleefully wicked. “Why do they keep pawning their unwanted villagers off on me?”

Spellbound, Glorfindel twisted as much as his bonds allowed to see a shimmering, mesmerising creature cleave through the water.

“Eh, same as ever,” the aquatic being muttered and launched itself out of its watery habitat, twirling like a falling star and filling the stale, damp air with a fine powder that tasted sweet and cloying on Glorfindel’s tongue as he drew a deep breath. “What is it that you truly desire? Do not even try to lie to me—the spores you’ve just inhaled force you to tell the truth.”

“I want to know what happened to my love,” Glorfindel replied immediately, not even trying to struggle against the sudden heaviness pervading his limbs and befuddling his racing mind. “All I want is to find out where Erestor went.”

With a muted splash, the creature fell back into the arms of the inky lake until only a pair of brightly flashing eyes—as eerily familiar and yet entirely foreign as the accents of that enchanting voice—were visible.

Taking the monster’s silence as an invitation and unable to stem the tide of words that had been unleashed by the potent dust he had ingested, Glorfindel kept babbling about the one he had loved and lost, detailing Erestor’s indescribable beauty and admirable wit and sighing longingly.

“I know that you’ve taken him, and I’d beg you to reunite us!” he finally pleaded.

“You think that I have killed your lover,” the creature mused, its words setting off a flurry of bubbles, dancing over the glassy surface of the water. “And you’d be willing to meet that same fate?”

“Yes. Life itself is worth nothing if it’s to be devoid of all joy and love!”

“You have ever been such a soppy fool! I should have known that my sacrifice would come to nought due to your reckless stubbornness!”

Heaving itself from its fluid realm once more, the creature drew inexorably closer.

“Who made those knots? What a mess! Just look at your beautiful skin!” Razor-sharp claws sliced through the rope without hesitation, and Glorfindel sat up, rubbing the sore spots his writhing had left behind.

“Erestor?” he cried as he now fully faced the well-known and desperately missed frame of the one he had sought for endless months.

There was no doubt about it, that visage—gleaming like mother of pearl and gold in the flickering light of the white candles—was the very one he saw in those terrible nightmares that haunted his every moment of respite.

“How? Why? What has happened? How have you come hither? Have you been enslaved against your will? What can I do? I have missed you so much, you can’t imagine! Oh Erestor, my love! Or…did you leave me of your own accord? Was I not a good husband to you? You should have told me that you were unhappy—I would have done anything to alleviate your dissatisfaction—”

“If I kiss you, will you shut up?” Erestor interrupted, and—not waiting for an answer—pressed his cool, wet lips against Glorfindel’s burning mouth in a gentle caress that grew frantic and heated almost instantly.

“Why?” Glorfindel whispered against the fragrant skin for which he had yearned with every fibre of his being.

“Old enemies came for you—you were out, at the market if I recall correctly—and they spoke terrible threats…” Erestor explained sheepishly. “You were always too rash to heed the warning signs of the deeper, darker secrets of the world.”

“But—”

“I’ve offered myself. What else could I do? The town needed you more than they did me!”

“I needed you! To hell with the accursed village—they’ve left me here, bound and naked, to be eaten by some fearsome monstrosity!” Glorfindel cried passionately.

“So they did,” Erestor agreed, anger and regret turning his eyes into splintered onyx. “It seems that I’ve been mistaken in my assessment, a rarity as you well know. I did not expect you to waste your time bemoaning my loss.”

“How dare you?” Glorfindel roared. Not minding the sharp protrusions on Erestor’s fingers or the dangerously pointy teeth flashing in the semi-darkness, he grabbed his lost husband by the shoulders and shook him vehemently. “I have never stopped looking and waiting for you—loving you—and if that ass of a mayor had not been so laughably terrified, I would have found out the truth much sooner!”

“Do they really think I’ve killed all these people?” Erestor inquired, leaning against the comforting, dry warmth of Glorfindel’s chest.

When the golden-haired sacrificial offering of beauty and valour nodded, he tossed back his head and laughed heartily.

“Believe you me, I did no such thing. It is in my power to grant one wish to those who seek me out in exchange for something they treasure—and what idiotic things they were—and so, I’ve helped every single person you’ve thrown down here escape the prison of paranoia and worry into which you’ve seemingly turned our once peaceful village.”

Glorfindel stared until his eyes overflowed with hot tears, leaving warm streaks of salt and salvation on his sculptural, freckled cheeks.

“I am so happy to see you—have you been well?” he asked breathlessly. “You should not have offered yourself that without consulting me! Of all the things to lose, I’d rather lose a limb than you!”

“I can see that now,” Erestor admitted. “I am sorry for doubting your love and your strength—they were very persuasive, and they tapped into my secret insecurity that someone like me—cerebral, somewhat scrawny, and undeniably mean—could never keep the love of one so glorious, handsome, and popular as you. It was all so new, and they made me believe that you’d soon grow tired of me anyway…This sacrifice was meant to be my parting gift.”

“And you dare call me a fool?” Glorfindel rasped as he bundled his merman husband—long, iridescent tail and webbed hands—onto his bare lap fitfully. As soon as that smooth, cool skin collided with his own heated flesh, he felt his body and all its dormant desires and impulses flare back to life.

“My love,” Erestor said warningly as he felt the testament of Glorfindel’s enduring, evidently unconditional ardour press against his scaly rear, “this is hardly the moment. I still have one wish to grant you—choose wisely!”

“Do you enjoy this life?” Glorfindel asked seriously, cupping Erestor’s soft cheek and searching his petulant gaze for any signs of dishonesty.

“Yes,” Erestor admitted after a moment’s reflexion. “It is strange, certainly, but I like it well! You’d…you couldn’t understand…”

“Then my wish is to join you!” Glorfindel exclaimed. “It is my turn to offer my life for your happiness. Make me what you are!”

So, that was my contribution to the YOTP for February!

I hope you've enjoyed this! Lots of love!

-> Masterlist

#og post #Fanfiction #writing #IDNMT writes #jrrt #Tolkien fanfiction #YOTP #yotp 2023 prompts #Glorestor #Glorfindel #Erestor #February #Truth Serum #Long Distance #Established Relationship #Different #Mermaid #Vday #If I kiss you...

[xdeepwaterx]

Have an early V-Day OS with fluff!

After a very drunk Frank prompted Danny, who he barely knew, to ask him out for valentine's, the blonde found himself rather bummed when nothing came. Although he tried to brush it off, a stupid part of him still hoped for it to happen. Little did he know that one of his friends was a traitor, pulling some strings.

Still in disbelief, the younger followed inside and immediately felt out of place. Despite him wearing fresh clothes, Frank couldn’t help the feeling of being too dirty for the home. He scanned the light, tile floor as he kicked his shoes off before looking at the black haired.

“And you’re gonna… teach me pottery?”

Danny shrugged, pointing at the flowers: “I bet you don’t own a vase for those.”

#valentines day #vday fanfiction #fanfic #dead by deadlight #dbd #danny johnson x frank morrison #danny johnson #frank morrison #ghostfrank #ghostface x frank morrison #the legion dbd #ao3 fanfic #fluff

[tasty-ribz]

Why Am I Like This?

look at his sick moves

all he wants is to seduce you

I need therapy, but drawings and bad animations are cheaper

#cardinal popia #copia fanart #copia #papa copia #cardinal copia #papa emeritus fanfiction #papa emeritus iv #rat papa #rat boy #vday #valentine #ghost baby #the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost fandom #ghost band fanart #the ghost band meme #my art #my art🎃

[witchwyfe]

[ pda ] to dote on them publically + Bradley bradshaw please!!

prompt - [pda] to dote on them publicly

pairing - bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x female reader

cw - mentions of food

Bradley is always extra affectionate when he comes home from deployments. He’s already an affectionate guy, and that coupled with him being gone for a few months makes him glued to your side pretty much 24/7 if he can get away with it.

And now you’re at the grocery store, and he’s literally wrapped around you, arms around your waist and chin on your shoulder. He’s already stepped on the back of your shoes a few times, by accident, and murmured quiet apologies into your skin.

“Aw look baby, your favorite cereal.” You say, patting his arm. “I haven’t had this in the house for a few months."

“Hmm, that’s because you don’t like it.” He squeezes your waist teasingly. You grab three boxes and set them in the cart before moving to the next aisle.

“Hand me the list babe, will you?”

He begrudgingly reaches into his jean pocket for the crumpled square of paper and reads you the next couple of items.

“I bet you’re happy, huh bubs? You haven’t had decent food in a while.” You smile thinking about the complaints you received via email, along with the love notes.

He nods in agreement, squeezing you once again. “Just happy to be back with you honey.”

“You’re such a sap.” You chuckle.

You stop the cart again in another aisle and turn in Bradley’s grasp. “Can you run and get the milk? I’m gonna grab stuff from this section.”

He nods, slipping his hands up to cup your face. “Missed you so much baby,” He coos, pressing his lips to your forehead, then nose, then lips.

“I missed you too honey,” You smile. “I wanna finish up to we can go home and cuddle.”

“Yes ma’am.” He drawls with a smile.

© witchwyfe 2023. absolutely no reposting, translating, or modifying, even with credit.

#mine #my work #witchwyfe writing #witchwyfe vday party #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw drabble #bradley rooster bradshaw oneshot #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw oneshot #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you

[kinetic-elaboration]

Wonder

A Bellarke Fic for @skyeward-otp, for the Bellarke Valentines exchange @bellarke-valentines. Happy Valentine's Day!

5,000 words / Rated T / Modern AU

Summary:

After nearly ten years of friendship, pining, almosts, and bad timing, Bellamy and Clarke finally kiss.

…Now what?

(Spoiler: happiness and fluff.)

Excerpt:

In the second that she surges up to meet him and before her mouth touches his, she thinks about every bit of bad timing they've had, nearly ten years' worth of bad timing: how she would have told him about her feelings in college, but he was going to study abroad for a whole semester and it didn’t seem fair; how she was dating Lexa when he was single and he was dating Echo when she was; how she really thought he was going to marry Gina for a while. The two years they lived in different cities and he was just words on a screen or a face on her phone. All the time she convinced herself that her feelings would screw up their friendship or their business or the friend group they've formed around themselves. How they've been just like this, best friends with an aching undercurrent of longing, almost-moments like electricity at every meaningful, carefully rationed touch, that she could not help but convince herself it would always be just this way. He'd always be her what if. She'd always be his could-have-been.

Now she's got her arm around his neck, her palm against his cheek, the tips of her fingers poised against the hard jut of his cheekbone, and he's holding her crushed against him with his arms around her waist. She's kissing him so desperately that it is awkward and messy and difficult to breathe. When they part, their lungs sync, and she feels hard bursts of air from his nose and mouth against her skin.

READ ON AO3.

#the 100 #bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #bellarkevalentines #bellarkevalentines23 #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #mine #my writing #hey it's technically still vday in my timezone that counts as on time

[theold-ultraviolence]

#4 (first time) and #9 (lingerie) with Aemond for the Vday ficlet? :)

Let Me Taste Your Silhouette • Modern!Aemond Targaryen x reader • 18+

Summary: It's a night of firsts, that starts with red lace…NSFW warnings: licking through your underwear if that’s a warning lol. There's nothing too explicit going on besides that. Title is a Måneskin lyric! • 2023 Vday ficlet fest masterlist

Heaving breaths are passed from one mouth to the other like cigarette smoke. Like confessions spilled and drank greedily, as you straddle Aemond’s lap where he sits on the edge of his bed. 

There are candles lit all over his dark bedroom that paint him in warm tones, accentuating the deep blush that’s spreading from his cheeks and down to his chest, the more he strokes and grasps and tugs at your clothes. 

He’s desperate to see you. 

Desperate to finally have you, after having been dancing around each other for far too long. Now, all those days of painful pining have been rewarded, when Aemond yanks down the zipper of your red – his hands instantly covering every inch of exposed skin that prickles with goosebumps. 

You tuck his long silver-blonde hair behind his ears to expose his neck for your kisses while he removes each strap of your dress, tugging the whole piece down to reveal a sight that has his mouth gaping wide and salivating – his one lilac eye turning black with lust. 

You’re wearing a deep red, lace bra that you’d gotten especially for this occasion. After all, this was your first time with Aemond, and you wanted to leave an impression on him that would leave him wanting more. 

A sheer layer barely covers your breasts, and the lace that decorates the cups make intricate, romantic patterns that let the color of your skin be seen through the design, a tease of your nipples peeking through. You were so excited when choosing this set; with the combination of lace and crimson tone making it equal parts cute and sexy. 

His hands, splayed on the expanse of your torso, trail upwards until his thumbs can stroke the curve of your tits, merely feeling the weight of them lightly, before his whole palms fondle and squeeze tenderly.  The size and shape fit his hand in such a perfect way he’d never thought possible. 

“May I taste you?” He hotly whispers, with his lips pressed on your sternum, and his long nose tracing the trim of your bra.   

You nod, breathless. You guide him, with your hand on the back of his silver head, down until his mouth covers one of your tits through the thin fabric of your bra, his ardent tongue licking a broad stripe across your nipple before suckling on it and staining the bra with his spit. He covers your tits with his calloused hands in between licks, moaning at the taste of your skin and the smell of your perfume all over the lace. 

The sound of his low groans as he keeps suckling you fuels the fire in your core, making you grind your clothed pussy on his hard bulge constrained underneath his suit pants. When he unlatches from you, and bunches up your dress around your torso to look at you, he shivers. 

You’re all ruined. 

Your lingerie is all ruined, with your bra all stained from him devouring your tits and now your panties clearly giving away how ready you are to take him for the first time. You’re absolutely soaking through the red material – a big damp circle growing even more as he rubs your clit with his thumb through the panties. 

So ready for the taking – pliant and gushing right here on his lap. He could slip your panties to the side and sink into you so easily, without any resistance. 

And still, it wouldn’t be right if he did that. He wouldn’t be a worthy lover if he just took selfishly on your first time together.

So he takes you in his arms and lays you back on the bed, sliding your dress off completely before pulling you to the edge of the bed, where he kneels right in front of your clothed cunt. Before he could do anything, your fingers gingerly hook on the strap of his eyepatch, in a silent enquiry. 

“May I see you?” you murmur. He looks deeply into your eyes before nodding. You remove the garment delicately, soothing the scarred side of his face – same one he cushions on the pillowy flesh of your inner thigh. It’s also the first time you see him without the eyepatch. A night of firsts. 

You grin, hoping that your gaze will convey just how handsome you think he is, and that the way you’re opening up your legs and gyrating your hips will assure him that you still want him.

Left eye like a pearl, and the right turning to obsidian as he sees that wet spot on your lace panties spreading wider, making him gather up spit in his mouth before sucking you through your underwear. 

It was a night of firsts indeed. 

When you discovered just how loud you could be underneath Aemond Targaryen. 

And he became addicted to the taste of your silhouette in red lace.

A/N: thank you so much for requesting, friends!! hope you enjoy this, and happy valentine's day! x

#aemond targaryen #modern!aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfiction #reader insert #hotd #house of the dragon #ewan mitchell #vday ficlet fest #my writing #aemond targaryen smut

[leclercstarrs]

𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 - ( 𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐣𝐚𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐫 ! )

synopsis -> in which you hate valentines day, yet eren makes it better !

warnings -> not proof read, modern!au, college!au !

“You know what?” You ask your friends, popping another candy heart into your mouth, lying back on your bed. “What?” Mikasa and Sasha ask in unison, sitting next to you. “I fucking hate Valentine’s Day.” You scoff, crunching the candy in your mouth. “What? It’s the best holiday!” Sasha gasps, Mikasa shaking her head. “Nah, I agree with (Y/N). It’s the worst holiday.” She says. “See?! Mika gets it.” You sigh, sitting up and resting your head on Mikasa’s shoulder. “What does Mikasa get?” Connie yells, bursting into your dorm, Eren and Jean behind him. “Oh my god, you’re so extra.” You roll your eyes, grabbing the small box of candy and throwing one of small hearts at him as he enters your room. “Mm, thanks.” He smiles, catching the heart and eating it. Sasha shakes her head, the boys squeezing onto the small couch at the end of your bed. “Well, what does Mikasa get?” Connie rolls his eyes, tossing his head back so he can look at you and your friends. “That Valentine’s Day sucks.” You grumble. “True.” Jean calls out, snatching a bag of candy out of Sasha’s hands. “You and Jean are so bitter! You guys should date at this point.” Connie laughs, hitting Jean’s shoulder. “Ew.” You pretend to gag, Jean sarcastically clutching his chest, “I’m greatly offended.” He says. Eren stays silent, simply glaring at Jean. “What about you, Eren? What’s your opinion on the best holiday?” Sasha questions, breaking him out of his trance. “It’s cheesy.” He shrugs, “You’re a good man.” You joke, Eren shaking his head. “Ugh, I need new friends, you’re all sad.” Sasha groans, you and Mikasa glaring at her. “Well, it’s alright now, I have a Valentine.” You say, Eren immediately turning around. “Connie!” You sing, getting off the bed and sitting on his lap. “Oh, I accept.” He kisses your cheek. “Oh, you’re for real ditching me? I see.” Mikasa pretends to wipe her fake tears, Sasha patting her shoulder. “And me.” Jean raises his hand. “Mine now.” Connie says. “She doesn’t want any of you.” Eren laughs, the group collectively gasping. “Damn.” You breathe out. “Alright, we should probably get going.” Mikasa gets up.

“That party was awful.” You groan, getting out of Eren’s car. “Real.” He sighs, locking the car and moving towards you. “Never again! I refuse to go to anymore corny Valentine’s Day celebrations.” You walk next to him, entering the store. “Everyone else had a good time, though.” He shrugs, trying to find a positive side of the night. “I guess.” You smile, walking down the aisle of candy. “God, it’s all hearts and pink.” You look at all the Valentines themed candy on the shelves, Eren letting out a laugh. “Here, get these.” He shuffles closer to one of the shelves, picking up a bag of bright pink marshmallow hearts, as well as a box of conversation hearts. You take the packages, “Hearts for your…” You pause, reading the box of the candy hearts, “Sweetheart.” You continue. “It’s cute!” He laughs, snatching them from you and tossing them into the shopping basket. “Oh, all of a sudden you love cheesy heart things?” You raise an eyebrow, following him as he walks up another aisle. “Yes, actually.” He grabs a tiny stuffed bear, piling it onto the stack on snacks. “Eren, do you have a secret girlfriend?” You gasp. “Nah.” He dismisses you, shaking his head. “Sure.” You nod, not believing him. “Okay, let’s get out of here.” You add.

Getting into his car, you put on your seatbelt, ready to go home. “Wait.” He says. You raise an eyebrow, turning your head to face him. He reaches into the backseat, grabbing the plastic bag from the store. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” He grins, handing it over to you. Your eyes widen and you open the bag, pulling out the bear and candies from earlier. “Are you making fun of me?” You pretend to be annoyed, glaring at him. “Nope. Happy Valentine’s Day. I know you hate it, but, you know.” He laughs. “Well, thank you.” You grin. He leans closer to you, and you do the same, placing the bag next to you. “I mean it. Happy Valentine’s Day.” He whispers, “I know, and I mean it, thank you, Eren.” You mumble. “Yeah.” He breathes out, pulling you in for a kiss.

#this is so bad sorry yall i just wanted to try some vday fluff cause i hate this holiday 😐👊 #anyways connie is so fine omg #need a 4sum w eren jean and connie rn. #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #aot x you #aot imagines #aot x reader #attack on titan x you #attack on titan x reader #eren jeager headcanons #eren jaeger x reader #connie springer x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #mikasa ackerman x reader